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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Text

Take a Hike

Prompt: When Harry and Y/N take the baby for a hike and end up being followed by fans.

word count: 2.2 k

contains: language, sexual content

Harry was furious. He just wanted to go on a hike - like a normal family on a warm June day in a beautiful foreign country.

You were currently in Madrid - on Harry’s European leg of the tour.

While Harry had been doing press - you and Sasha had taken to the hotel pool where she could splash and enjoy the water all day.

It wasn’t without a eagle-eyed security guard who lurked in the background for shady characters and overzealous fans.

Fans - they wanted picture with you because you were Harry Styles’ wife. Not inherently famous on your own.

It was a bit odd, but you didn’t mind occasionally stopping to snap a pic with a excited fans.

However, when you and Harry were out with the baby - it was completely off limits. Neither Harry nor you would stop for fans and paparazzi if you were toting around your little love.

She didn’t like the crowds and shouts that came along with swarms of people. She would slap her little hands over her ears, dig her face into her parent’s neck, and whimper.

Harry had always been protective of you when it came to these situations. One of the major downfalls of being so famous.

Harry had nearly gotten arrested when a clumsy pap had nearly push you over while you were eight months along.

You and Harry had loaded up all the necessities for the five-mile hike on one of the trails right outside the city.

Sasha had a generous amount of sunscreen on and a little hat to protect her face. She refused to wear the sunglasses.

Harry had a pack for her - so you helped him load your two-year-old onto his back. He knew it was going to ache like a motherfucker but she was a bit too heavy for you. You opted for the backpack with everything in it.

The trail was semi-busy. Both of you donned sunglasses and hats to attempt to disguise yourselves a little bit.

Harry had even pulled on a hoodie - despite the heat - to cover his very recognizable tattoos.

You made it the two and a half miles in without any interruptions.

Sasha falling asleep halfway through the trek with her cheek smushed against her father’s shoulder blade.

You snapped a few pictures in front of the waterfalls and beautiful rock structures. But you had decided not to wake your daughter from her nap.

You and Harry had taken an obligatory kissing selfie that would likely be your new Lock Screen.

You both had made the mistake of taking off your sunglasses for the picture because you can hear muted whispers from other tourists.

“Is that fucking Harry Styles?”

“Yes. Oh my god! That’s his wife and baby!”

“Snap a video, Emilia!”

Harry’s noticeable tenses as he slides his sunglasses back onto his nose. Protective papa bear was in full-force around strangers who knew who he was.

The most important thing in Harry’s mind was his family’s safety.

“Let’s go, lovie,” Harry murmurs softly. His British accent surely giving him away if they heard it.

You nod anxiously - pointedly not making eye contact with the fans and small group that was gathering.

As you begin the journey back down the small mountain - you notice the group trailing behind you. Following you guys.

Jaw clenched, you want to scream at them to stop taking pictures of your sleeping baby. But you attempt to keep your cool.

It wasn’t more than ten teenage girls but it didn’t really matter who it was.

The girls are getting louder, more excited. When one of them squeals in joy of seeing her celebrity crush - who she had ticket for his concert tomorrow as did the rest of the group.

The noise startles the curly-haired baby on Harry’s back awake. She immediately starts crying - her hands coming to grip frantically in her fathers matching curls.

“Daddy,” Sasha sobs, grabbing at him as the girls keep snapping pictures and cooing.

Harry’s face is stone - attempting to keep his anger at bay. He was about to lose his shit and you couldn’t blame him.

He couldn’t always treat people with kindness.

“Down, want down,” she lisps, no longer wanting to be confined in her pack. It was also most likely time for a diaper change.

“Not right now, sweetheart. Please be good for mumma and I,” Harry rasps, reaching back to give her leg a comforting pat.

You look at your husband, “Please - let’s just try to make it out of here as soon as possible.”

Harry sighs, “I’m sorry, love.”

You brush his shoulder lightly, “it isn’t your fault people act this way. I just can’t stand when this happens around her.”

Harry’s slight smile from your reassurance turns into a glare when he realizes the nosy fans were trying to talk to his upset baby - who notably did not like strangers.

He’s quick to unstrap the toddler and shuffle her into your arms. You cradle her and turn you back away from the group.

“Mumma, no cameras,” she whines, her words a little jumbled but you understood.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s going to take care of it,” you coo assuringly. Her fingers finding their way into her mouth to soothe her.

Harry slides her carrier off his shoulders and tosses it next to your feet. He’s trailing over to the jumpy, overly-excited fans.

“Listen,” he states firmly, speaking loudly over their giggles, “y’need to stop following us and takin’ pictures. You’re scaring our baby.”

They chatter a bit, begging from picture and then they promise they’ll leave us alone.

“Absolutely not,” Harry states, trying to stay level headed with these immature teens who adored him.

With that, he’s headed back to you guys. The girls shouting unflattering things at him like “asshole” and “douchebag.”

He decided to ignore it and quickly allows you to strap the baby back into her carrier. His eyes study your face to make sure you’re alright and you give him a calm smile, squeezing at his bicep.

—-

The girls trailed off after a few more minutes of following us. Harry hummed and sang a few nursery rhymes to Sasha to keep her calm but she was still fussy.

Back the hotel, Sasha was freshly bathed and laid down for a nap in the second bedroom. A baby monitor sat on the bathroom countertop as you two showered off the sweat and dirt.

Harry was still upset about the incident so you decided upon a good cuddle in a warm shower. His cheek was rested in the top of you head and his arms holding you to his wet chest.

“Just want to be normal - for one fuckin’ day,” he huffs with frustration.

“We had a totally normal, fun hike. It wasn’t ruined, I promise. It’s our reality so they’re is no use in being upset about it.”

Harry loved how level-headed you were to balance out his irrational, impulsive feelings and actions.

“You’re t’good to me, I love you.”

“At the end of the day, I knew what I was signing up for when you and I got married. I also knew when we had Sasha that paparazzi would still hound you.”

“Didn’t sign up to be harassed constantly though. I just feel so bad about it sometimes. It scares Sasha and it makes me feel like a bad father.”

You knew he was about to throw himself into a downward spiral if you didn’t distract him.

“You know what else I signed up for when I married you?” I murmur into his neck, letting my lips ghost over his hammering pulse.

“Wha’s that?” He asks genuinely, a little slow on the uptake because of how deep in thought he was.

“That you would fuck me whenever I wanted,” you nearly purr, landing a not-so-gentle nip to the vein protruding on his neck.

“Is tha’ right? Put a ring on your finger and now I gotta give you my cock whenever you please?” He grunts at your teeth pinching his sensitive skin.

It’s amazing how it takes little to no effort to get this man in the mood.

“Mmm, if you want to be a good, dutiful husband,” you taunt - knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Am I not a good husband, pet? I fuck you any chance you let me. Give it to you anytime time you wan’ it. You know that.”

His hand is tugging your thigh up roughly, making your centers align with delicious pressure as he slips right between your folds.

“Harry,” Y/N groans, your head falling down to watch where he’s teasingly grinding his cock against your entrance and clit.

“Want me t’put it in, love?” He drawls like he has all the time in the world. The water pelting on his back making him pink.

“Ple-please,” you choke out, nipples harden against his chest even in the warmth of the shower. Sensitive with every brush against his smooth pecs.

“You know what else you signed up for when y’married me?” He asks, his voice as deep and smooth as honey.

“What?” I reply, whining each time he teases at pushing in.

“That when you beg for my prick - you’ll be a good girl and take it.”

With that, he’s thrusting up into you with full force. His sharp hipbones meeting the plushy, soft skin of yours.

“Ooh, oh fuck,” Y/N gasps, wrapping an arm around his neck as he presses brushing marks into your thigh where he’s holding you for leverage.

“C’mon, you can take it,” your husband goads, relentlessly hitting the spot that send licks of flames of your spine.

Your legs are feeling weak with how hard he’s pounding into you. He is so intuned with your body that he moves his hands to you backside.

He lifts you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, and his presses you back into the cold tile wall.

He was so fucking good. How’d you manage to marry him? Unexplainable.

“Am I good husband? Fuck you well enough?” He hisses against your open mouth as you pant heavily.

“So so good, H. Best husband ever,” you whimper, welcoming the friction from his pelvis against your swollen bud.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs happily, “I think you deserve to come”

You throw your head back as he speeds up, fingers reaching to flick at your nerves - just on the right side of painful.

It’s just what you needed to climax. He always somehow knew what you needed. His fingers are consistent as he lets you ride it out.

It is only a few more rough thrusts before he’s cursing and coming as well. His hand grasping harshly at your jaw to bring you into a searing kiss.

“Never gonna get sick of watchin’ you come on my cock,” he chuckles, carefully placing your feet back on the ground but keeping a tight hold of your hips.

You lean in to give him a quick but meaningful kiss before going about cleaning your body again after the mess you two created.

It takes a little longer than necessarily due to you constantly having to bat his wandering hands away from your body.

—-

It dark out now, the city of Madrid illuminated through the large windows of the high-rise hotel.

Sasha was exhausted after the hike and full day at the pool - despite napping twice. She was always out like a light around eight-thirty

You were tightly tucked into Harry’s side, head resting on his shoulder. Your eyes becoming bleary from drowsiness.

Your toddler was sprawled out on Harry’s chest, fast asleep with one of your husband’s large hands resting on her back.

Harry was scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he chuckle softly, handing you his mobile to see what was on the screen.

It was a video-recording of an Instagram Live.

The video forwarded by Jeff. The volume low to not disturb your daughter.

It was a teenager girl who looks unpleasantly familiar.

“Um - yeah. So we saw him and we were hiking freaking out. ‘Cause like we’re going to his concert tomorrow.”

Then girls eyes flick to the commenters to answer questions.

“He had his baby. His wife was there too.”

“No, so he was so unfriendly! He flipped out because we wanted an autograph!”

The girl was mimicking Harry’s thick accent, “when we asked for a picture - he legit said ‘absolutely not.’”

I shake my head at the girl’s antics, “how dare you not take a photo. You’re such a dick.” You tease.

Harry smirks, taking the phone back and tossing it on the cushion. His hand rubbing gentle circles on his sleepy baby.

“None of tha’ matters,” Harry says softly, “I don’t care what anybody but you thinks ‘bout me. At the end of the day, as long as I have you and the bab - I’ll be happy.”

#harry styles fic rec #dad harry styles #husband harry styles #harry styles x reader #Harry styles #harrystylesfanfic #harrystylessmut #harry styles smut #Harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #Harry styles blurb

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discotechque · 3 years

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till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

#abed can be a little bisexual ... as a treat #anyways in this episode abed never says he straight so i am legally allowed for him to have a crisis after a drink is thrown on him #yes i picked the episode where pierce is just stuck at the door and no one gives a fuck about him #i know in 2010 nonbinary probably wasnt a popular term but im using it here bc i dont care #i don't know how much i liked this but i think it was kinda cute #julianscribbles #ch: abed nadir #abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #community x reader #abed nadir imagine #community imagine #abed nadir imagines #community imagines #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #tv: community

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind

We’re going to ignore all typos until I have time to fix them, and also ignore the fact that it’s four am and I have a 9 am class, but this was clearly more important.

Shout out to the anon who sent in the idea for the little blurb that I did that I ended up putting in here!

Prepare for the part all of y’all have been wanting! There’s some smut in this, so be warned that it’s not great leave me be. I still hope you like it!

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

___________________________

“It doesn’t matter if other people think it’s true or not. What matters is that we know it’s true. I love you.”

“Fuck you.”

--------------------

“So, is there a reason it looks like a vacuum attacked Matthew’s neck in his latest Insta post? Did those appear last weekend when I was gone?” Evelina comes barging into your room, phone in hand. “Damn, you actually picked that outfit out?”

You look at yourself in the mirror, your hair and makeup finished, the dress you had on for the charity event that Matthew was supposed to pick you up for any minute now. The black, off the shoulder high-low dress fit you perfectly, accenting every feature of your body in just the right way. But still, you weren’t quite sure if it was right. “It looks ok?” you ask her, going to your closet to find a pair of shoes to wear.

“If you didn’t fuck each other after destroying each others necks while I was gone, you’re going to tonight.” Wiping around, you can’t help but glare at her. You did not love Matthew. But then, why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that. “Hey, I have until you finish the list to keep this up, let me live.”

You were about to fire something back at her when you hear Matthew’s voice call from the living room. “We’re in Y/N’s room!” Evelina answers for you.

“You really abuse that key,” you say, not taking your eyes away from your closet as you try to find shoes to wear. You weren’t ready to look at him just yet. “Ev, help me find the right shoes!”

She gets up as you hear Matthew sitting on your bed, the creak of the frame sending a shiver down your spine. “What about these?” she asks, holding up a pair of heels.

You scrunch up your face, telling her to find another option. “How does he look?” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiles at you, handing you another pair of shoes, “I think you need to look for yourself.”

You put on the shoes, refusing to turn around until the last minute. You almost didn’t want to see what he looked like, but you turn to him anyway. The second you look at each other, you both stop breathing. He gets up from your bed, slowly, making his way to you while Evelina was watching off to the side. He looked perfect. The suit was fitting him just the right way, the tie in your favorite color to match the necklace you were wearing, his hair in a flawless mess, the curls going everywhere yet looking pristine at the same time.

He couldn’t find the words to say to you, taking your hands in his as he scanned your entire body. “W-wow,” he stammers out, swallowing hard as he tries to make any sound. “You look,” he starts, not knowing what word could accurately describe how incredible he found you, “Wow.”

You look down at your hands, intertwining your fingers in his. Everything about holding his hands just felt right. You look up at him, his blue eyes sparkling even in the shitty lighting of your bedroom. “Wow yourself,” you tell him, unable to fight the smile on your face, or control your breathing for that matter.

You stood there standing for what felt like forever, until you were interrupted by Evelina clearing her throat, a smirk on her face. “Don’t you two need to get going?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, breaking away, embarrassed that she just saw that. If she thought you loved him before, that would confirm it now. But you didn’t love him. You didn’t even like him. You had a list of things you hated about him, even if there were only four things on it.

“Are you going to be alright in those shoes tonight?” he asks, looking down at the heels Evelina had picked out for you.

“It’s not like Ev here would let me wear these,” you say, holding up your black, beat up combat boots. You hear her fake gag behind you, throwing them in her direction and purposefully missing so that you don’t break anything of yours.

“Those would ruin the look,” Matthew says, both of you looking shocked that words like that would even come out of him. “Actually, Ev,” he says, changing the subject and finally tearing his eyes away from you, “Elias wanted me to ask you something, privately?” he lies.

You and Evelina exchange glances before you leave your room. Elias has Evelina’s number, why didn’t he just ask her?

“What’s up?” she asks, sitting down on your bed, Matthew sitting next to her. He lets out a low groan, putting his face in his hands. “Y/N looks flawless,” he says, pain in his voice.

“So what are you going to do about it?” she asks, pulling him up. “You both love each other. I know you know that. This whole list thing is ridiculous. She looks great, you look great, act,” she instructs him.

“I have tired. I can’t even kiss her on the lips without some sort of interruption. I can’t control that!” he whines, trying not to get too loud incase you were within ear shot. He’s wanted to do more than just kiss you this entire time. He’s flat out told you that and you somehow still missed the message. “How is it she’s so smart, yet so oblivious?”

Evelina shrugs, pulling him up off the bed, “People who are book smart never have common sense, bub. I’ve been telling her she loves you since you two met. She doesn’t even listen to me.”

“This is hopeless,” he says, practically throwing himself back on your bed.

“Nope, get up,” Evelina says, pulling him back up. Matthew nearly stumbles over and onto the floor, not expecting her to be as strong as she was. “Look, she only has four things on the list,” she explains, “I told you the first night, if she really hated you, she would have more than that. You still have two and a half weeks.”

He looks at her, biting his lip and nodding as the two of them go out to find you waiting on the couch. “Ready to go?” he asks, putting his hand out for you.

You get up, Evelina’s eyes going wide and her mouth falling open. “Wait, you left something in my room, Y/N,” she says, dragging you there. She closes the door behind you, “You’re not wearing underwear!” she tries hard not to scream.

“It would show under the dress!” you try to protest, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I have worn a dress much tighter than that and you couldn’t see mine,” she provokes you, her eyes gleaming, knowing that she was right.

“I have to go,” you sing to her, trying to get past her.

“Admit it!” she yells as you run towards Matthew, taking him by the hand and dragging him out the door.

“Bye, love you!” “I hate you!”

You practically run Matthew to his car, praying that Evelina wasn’t following the two of you. “Do you want to talk about what that was just then?”

“I borrowed one of her shirts and haven’t given it back because I got a stain on it and haven’t done laundry yet,” you spit out the lie. There was no way you would tell Matthew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath the dress. Not yet. “So, uh,” you start to change the subject, “What is this event again?”

“Something with the organization and the season ticket holders? It’s fancy and I was told to wear game day clothes, so, here we are.”

You look at him for a moment, your eyes tracing his jawline like when you went to the liquor store. “You clean up really nicely, Rat Man,” you say, “You look really good.”

He smiles with the left side of his face so you can’t see it. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” he tells you, wishing he could figure out the proper words to say what he really thought. “Excited for tonight?”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see the guys not drunk at a bar.”

“Right because seeing them drunk in a ballroom is better.” You both laugh, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence as your phone buzzes with texts from Evelina.

‘This means you love him!’

‘No it does not. Who says I have to wear underwear under a dress?’

‘You never go without underwear. Admit you love him.’

‘I don’t love him.’

‘Do you like him?’

You take a minute to think, looking up from your phone to see Matthew watching the road. Like and love are two different things. You liked Elias, but did you like him in the same way you liked Matthew? Did you like anyone in the way you liked Matthew? ‘Sure.’ You roll your eyes as you hit send when Matthew finally puts the car in park. You didn’t even realize you were at the venue. Matthew gets out of the car, practically running to the passenger side to open the door and help you out. With your arm linked with his, you head inside, “Who would have thought you could be such a gentleman?” you tease.

“Only for you, babe,” he says, sending a wink your way before dropping your arm to greet some of his teammates. “I’m going to get us some drinks?” he says, leaving you before asking you what you wanted.

You wander around, finding Elias and making conversation with him while you wait for Matthew to come back. You had wanted a vodka sour, but would he come back with that?

“You look amazing, Y/N,” Elias starts, a smile on his face not unlike the one Matthew normally gives you.

You feel yourself blushing at his comments, unable to hide the heat that was showing in your cheeks, “You look pretty great, too.”

“Maybe at some point tonight, you’ll save a dance for me?” he asks, moving closer to you. This was the teammate that you’ve had a slight crush on since you met Matthew, so why didn’t you feel the same way with him as you did with Matthew? His hand reaches for your waist, but you move away from him, giving him an innocent smile before turning to see Matthew standing behind you with a drink in each hand.

He tried to hide the pain he felt watching Elias flirt with you. He knew you liked his teammate, and it was clear that Elias was seeing something in you that he hadn’t seen before. But you smile at Matthew, one very different from the one you had given his teammate. A real, genuine smile that reached your eyes. Matthew knew you felt the same way about him as he did about you from that, he just didn’t know if you knew. “Vodka sour for my girl,” he says, handing you the drink you had wanted.

You feel your knees buckle ever so slightly at the sound of hearing Matthew call him your girl, taking your free hand in his, intertwining your fingers. You immediately felt a warmth rushing through you as he gave you a soft smile, taking a sip of drink before starting a conversation with Elias. You start to look around at everyone surrounding you. The dance floor was crowded, you itching to get out there with Matthew. You both finish your drinks, probably too fast, but who cared? “Hey, can we go dance?” you ask Matthew before turning to Elias, “I don’t think you’ll be able to pry my from my guy tonight, Lindy, but if he lets you, I guess you can try.”

You drag him out to the dancefloor, your hands never losing connection as he looks back and smirks at Elias. The look on his face tells Matthew that this was intentional, whatever plan he had concocted working as a slow song came on. Matthew used his free hand to pull you in by the waist, your other hand on his shoulder as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

Your mind starts running free as you think about dance, Matthew chuckling before letting out, “You know something about the history of dance, don’t you?”

“How would you know I know that?” you ask him, shocked that he read your mind for a second time tonight.

He shrugs, spinning you away from him before bringing you close, his front pressed against you back as he whispered, “It just sounds like something you would know.” He spins you back around so you’re facing each other, him beaming down at you. “Go ahead,” he teases you.

“It’s specific towards Canada, is that ok with you?”

He leans down, his curls tickling your face, “Anything you say to me is fine.”

“The first written record of dance in Canada,” you start, “was by Jacques Cartier in the 1530s. He described a group of Indigenous people dancing in modern day Quebec, but it’s obviously likely that this was going on way before he encountered them.” Matthew pulls you in closer, still moving with the music as you rest your head on his shoulder. He plants a soft, long kiss on your head as you continue. “Because of the idea 'assimilate or exterminate,’ where these Indigenous people had to either change their culture to fit that of the European settlers, or risk their culture being destroyed in its entirety, their practices of dance declined until the late 1990s when groups began investing more time into preserving these sacred dances as part of Aboriginal and Canadian culture.”

You lift your head off his shoulder as he starts kissing your neck, everyone around you disappearing as you felt his lips connect with your bare skin. “Europeans settlers brought their own forms of dance to the country, eventually infusing together to create new forms. Famous dancers like Martha Graham, Anna Pavlova and Ruth St. Denis started touring the United States and Canada, leaving their own imprint on the culture.”

He lifts his head, his forehead against yours. You could feel him grow hard the more you talked, his dick pressed against you as you stifled a moan. “Modern dance got its start in Canada nearly a decade before ballet,” you say, Matthew kissing your forehead before connecting his back to yours, “In the 1940s, Montreal became the central hub for modern dance, and stayed that way for a while. Ballet came about in a professional manner, companies developing their own identities before performing and going onto the world stage.”

The song changes and you stop moving. Staring at each other, you finish, “All of it comes together into the dance we know today.”

“Y/N,” Matthew starts, obviously staring at your lips. He wanted to kiss you. He didn’t care that his entire team was around him; he didn’t notice anyone there but you.

You don’t know what to say to him. You take your hands off his shoulders, cupping his face. His grip tightens around your waist, a confused look of his face.

‘Fuck it,’ you think to yourself, just like you did the other day. Your lips connect with his, everything around you melting away as you moved in sync with each other. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging to enter your mouth, you gladly letting him. You can feel him smiling as his hands move up your back, your hands falling down to his chest. You pull away, both of you breathing slightly unevenly. Why did you just do that? You weren’t upset that you did, but why did you just do that?

“Wow,” he whispers to you, kissing you softly again.

“Wow is right,” you let out.

“Hey, uh, Matty?” you hear Elias’ voice behind you. You pull away from each other, both of you slightly embarrassed that he, along with everyone else, probably just saw that. “We’re trying to do a team photo,” he says, looking like he was trying to stifle a laugh or something.

Matthew swallows, nodding and dropping his hands from your body. “I’ll find you later,” he reassures you before leaving.

You try to catch your breath as you run to find your phone. ‘SOS’ you text Evelina, praying that she was looking at her phone and not already asleep.

‘What?’

Your fingers hover over the screen of your phone. Do you tell her what just happened? You tell her everything, so why would you leave this out?

‘I have another thing to add to the list’

‘This list needs to be electronic so I don’t have to get out of bed every time you think of something new’

‘Do you want to know or not’

‘Duh’

‘The way he reads my mind’

‘That’s dumb, but fine. Are you at least having fun?’

‘Yeah.’ You put your phone away before you can say anything else to her. If she found out you kissed each other - no, if she found out you kiss him, she would have a field day. You would never hear the end of it, list or not. All you had to do was rejoin the event and hope you could find Matthew.

Staying off the side, watching the event unfold, you couldn’t find him anywhere. There was something fun about seeing all the guys and their wives and girlfriends dressed up like they were, whatever photo they were doing clearly taken. The season ticket holders and management looked good, even though you had no idea who any of them were.

“Hey,” you hear a man’s voice say to you, taking you out of the trance as you fixated on Johnny and Meridith, admiring the way they looked at each other while they were dancing. If they were back out on the dance floor, Matthew had to be following suit soon, right? “I’m Reggie.” He sticks out his hand, you smiling at him to shake it as you introduce yourself. “So, are you here with someone, or are you a ticket holder?”

“I’m here with one of the guys,” you say, trying to see if you can find him anywhere. Something about this guy wasn’t quite right, and you really prayed for an out from talking with him.

“Really? Which one?”

“Me,” you hear Matthew’s voice say, his arms wrapping around you as you feel your shoulders relax. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.” Reggie just nods and smiles, walking away and leaving the two of you in the position you were in. Matthew holds you tighter, your hands reaching up to touch his. “You are the most beautiful girl here,” he whispers.

“You’re just saying that,” you tell him, feeling his breath on your neck as he lets out a sigh. “What if I said you were the most handsome guy here?”

He freezes, swallowing hard and thankful that he was behind you so you couldn’t see the grin covering his face. Calling you his girl was something he said just to get the guy away, but after that comment, after that kiss, there was nothing more he wanted than to call you that and mean it. “What if we get out of here?” he whispers, kissing you between your shoulder blades.

A chill runs down your shine as he kisses along your back, moving your hair to your shoulder as you can’t help but let out a low moan, “Matthew.”

He moves his way up your neck, ending at your ear, “Come on. Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispers before his teeth connect with your earlobe. You didn’t expect that to do what it did to you.

When he pulls away, you turn to him, mirroring the smile on his face. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Is it too early to leave?” you ask him, running your hands down his chest.

“I’m ready if you are, babe,” he says, kissing you softly on your lips yet again. God, he hoped this was the start of something. Knowing what this was like, he could only imagine what more would be.

He takes your hand, leading you back out to his car. You look back over your shoulder before leaving the building, out of sheer curiosity as to whether or not anyone saw you. You make eye contact with Elias, who winks, raising his glass in the air to you as the two of you disappear through the door. “Your place or mine?” he asks as the two of you practically sprinted to his car. Given what you were both sure was about to happen, he answers his own question, “Mine, got it.”

You couldn’t concentrate the entire way to his place, thinking about what this was going to be like. You both wanted it and didn’t. You didn’t love him. You couldn’t love him. Evelina was in no way right about you being in love with each other. You just were both horny, right? That’s all it was?

Matthews hands don’t leave your body once you get out of the car. Whatever cameras were around the lobby of his building, the elevator, the hallway leading to his door caught everything. He was kissing you passionately, as if doing this was something that he had been waiting for. His hands gripped your butt, so tight that you had to hold back a scream of pleasure as he sucked away at your neck, something he seemed to like doing more than you expected.

You were surprised your clothes were even still on by the time you get to his door. You could only imagine how red and bruised your neck was, the handprints that had to be left on your ass from him, your mind going blank as you were sure you would regret anything.

You practically rip off his suit jacket, both of you impatient to get everything off each other. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?” he stops, his hands on the zipper of your dress as you bounced up and down, dripping with anticipation.

“All you have to do is take off the dress,” you tell him, his eyes going wide.

He swallows hard, “N-nothing underneath?” he asks you. That would mean that you were expecting something to happen tonight, right? Or did it mean nothing? He really hoped it meant the first thing.

“Yes, take it off, come on,” you whine.

He does as you ask, his lips connecting with yours, simultaneously taking off your dress and leaving it in the hallway while you unbutton his shirt and leave it there with it. You were down to nothing as he threw you on the bed, him rushing to take his pants off to climb on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he climbs on top off you, kissing you from your hip bone up to your mouth. “You’re really sure?” he asks you, in a quiet voice.

You nod, taking his face in your hands, “I’m sure,” you say before he kisses you again. You give him all the access he wants, the tip of his dick rubbing against your already wet opening, teasing you as you whined for him, “Fuck me, Matty.”

“I will, baby,” he says, pushing his hips against yours as he enters inside you.

You spend the night, both of you kissing, whining, moaning, begging for each other, everything you had ever imagined with any other guy, you were doing with Matthew. You didn’t want it to be anyone else.

You were so busy, so hungry for everything Matthew had to offer, you didn’t know your phone was buzzing, texts from Evelina flooding your phone.

‘Where are you????’

‘You were supposed to be home by now.’

‘Why isn’t your phone location updating? Elias said you guys left hours ago.’

‘Please tell me you’re ok.’

#Matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

Text

falcon, falcon, goose!

pairing: sam wilson / reader

word count: 3547

summary: there were reports of geese leading people to their soulmates spanning centuries, and it seemed like a cool concept, but why did it have to coincide with you coming out of your writing slump?

warnings: cursing, geese, dumbassery, implied happy au where the avengers get along, iw and endgame who?

a/n: this is an older piece i wrote a couple years ago, decided to brush it up and repost it. and the reader works for snl bc why the hell not? keep in mind that the original was written before everything went to shit w iw & endgame. posted from mobile yet again yall what is wrong w me

it was a sunny day outside, and deciding that you had been cooped up for far too long, you brought your laptop to the park a couple blocks from your studio apartment.

being a writer for saturday night live wasn't always so peachy, what with the lack of a social life outside of your co-workers and constantly explaining your job to confused relatives. you had been in a slump for the past couple weeks, the fact most of your sketch ideas not making the cut for the next episode continuing to throw you off your rhythm.

this week, you were going to change that. Your headphones were playing your concentration playlist full volume and you were hyped to the max. with your laptop on the picnic table in front of you and a warm cup of tea beside it, you were ready to blow the producers away with your next idea.

"honk! honk!"

you felt something nudge your leg, but you were too engrossed into what you were typing to care. after getting through a few more lines, it happened again.

"honk! honk! honk!"

you couldn't hear the sound but the feeling on your leg got a little bit rougher, more demanding. you moved your headphones to the side for a minute and took a moment to look around you. there was no kid running to get their ball back or any squirrels nearby that dropped a nut.

strange.

but you put your headphones back on, trying to keep your groove alive while hoping the interruptions are finished.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" the goose honked louder, pecking at your leg harder than it had earlier.

you were getting frustrated and a little pissed. the creativity was flowing through your veins for the first time in what felt like ages and this — whatever it was — decided that today was the best day to annoy you.

you kicked your legs out with a strange flail and when you came into contact with something large and solid you nearly screamed.

"ow! motherf- oh my god!"

standing on the ground beside your table was a goose. it honked yet again with impatience (geese could do that?) and nipped lightly at your thigh closest to it. looking to the pond nearby, it was nearly an entire gaggle of the damned things.

so here was this goose honking at you and nipping at you like you were supposed to know what the hell it wanted from you.

"i don't have any bread, dumbass. go find someone else to bother." thinking it would leave if you ignored it, you turned away and continued your work.

"HONK! HONK!" it continued to honk and decided to peck you before flapping its wings, landing itself on the table next to your computer.

"get outta here, ya damn goose!" while you were trying to shop it away, it expertly evaded you. "go! shoo! leave me alone!"

it just stayed over on the bench, expertly dodging your attempts to get it to leave.

a few people nearby had heard your altercation with the infernal bird. one of them was an older gentleman that laughed as he sat across from you, the mirth in his eyes glinting as you give him a sarcastic side eye while trying to deal with the current issue.

"that bird won't leave you alone, you know." At his voice, the goose calmed down and waddled a few feet away from your arm's reach.

that was the first time the thing had been seemingly calm since he showed up at your little table.

"what do you mean he won't leave me alone?"

he pauses, part of him enjoying the irritation in your tone. he remembers someone talking to him like he was to you many years ago, and it made his heart smile at the idea of repaying the favor. "have you ever read about soulmate geese?"

"hey we're gonna go for a run, wanna join?" steve’s offer was given with a smirk. ever since reuniting with bucky, the two supersoldiers found so much humor in doing laps around sam every time they went out jogging.

it annoyed the shit out of him, the "on your left" comments from steve and the newer "on your right" jabs from bucky, but it also pushed Sam to work harder during his runs. ultimately he knew his non-enhanced body didn't stand much of a chance beating them, but he enjoyed when he was able to close the gap between their times just a little bit.

"sure, just gimme a few to eat breakfast and I'll join you guys." the blond nodded and turned back to the elevator, having woken up far earlier than sam and therefore already ate.

he hummed otis redding as he laid the bacon flat into the pan, shoulders moving along with his created rhythm while changing the grounds in the coffee filter. this was how he spent most of his mornings, barring the occasional hangovers and missions where he couldn't afford the distraction.

he ate, got dressed, and told FRIDAY to let bucky and steve know he was ready to go. h had his water bottle in hand, giving his body a pep talk in preparation for the run. they met in the common room and soon, the trio was off.

"on your left!"

"on your right!"

"oh, come on!"

he knew it was gonna happen, but for some reason it felt like it happened sooner than normal. either they were trying really hard to mess with him today, or he was off his game. but regardless, he pushed his body harder than he probably should have because when there was something obstructing his path, he didn't pause. no, he charged it straight on through and fell hard.

steve and bucky had seen this from a distance and immediately rushed to get to their friend.

sam rolled onto his back, exhausted and now in terrible pain from the fall. he closed his eyes and just let it all sink in. when he opened his eyes at the sudden foul smell flooding his nostrils, he could feel the palpitations, thinking he was about to have a heart attack.

"holy shit!" sam sat up like a rocket despite the way his body was throbbing from the fall.

the goose stared at him curiously and turned its head toward the pounding footsteps from the approaching brooklynites.

"sam! What happened?" steve was concerned, inspecting sam while bucky noticed the bird. The brunet bent down to meet the goose eye-level and was somewhat surprised that it didn't run away at the close proximity.

"did you trip the dumbass? was it your fault sam landed on his face? Huh, little guy?"

"honk! honk!"

"i thought so. good job, man." bucky pats the animal on the head gently before turning to help steve get sam off the ground.

"nothing’s broken but there's probably a sprain, can't really be sure until we get to cho." sam and bucky lift their friend from the pavement and they have no problem supporting his weight.

they began the walk back to the tower in silence. well, almost silence. there was a faint pitter-patter of tiny, webbed feet behind them that sam and bucky weren't paying attention to.

steve noticed the goose slowly waddling behind the trio and looked at sam with a smile. sam responded to steve’s happy face with a glare, not enjoying any of the situation he found himself in.

"look behind us, guys."

both men took turns looking behind them and see the goose waddling behind them patiently. sam wasn't particularly happy about the culprit from moments before trailing behind him, but bucky thought it was hilarious.

"do you know what this means?"

sam rolled his eyes because he thought the blond was about to make some sort of poetic comment about one thing for another.

bucky had paused to think about the implications of a random goose for a moment before gasping. "dude," bucky nudged sam softly, being conscious of his friend's injuries. "you’re gonna meet your soulmate, man!"

"a soulmate goose. man come on, are you out of your mind?"

"steve got his goose back during the war, i think we know enough about it."

sam had only heard vague reports of soulmate geese throughout his life, but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. the goose showed up randomly in the middle of his routine, completely throwing him off, and was now refusing to leave him alone.

"well if this is my soulmate goose, then somebody’s gotta tell tony about our newest avenger." they laughed at the implication, viciously eager to witness tony’s reaction to the newest resident of avengers hq.

it has been three days of dealing with your goose, and you were now teased at work as “bird brain”, walking into your office to see several loaves of bread covering the desk. your goose, that you had named piper once you got home, was excited at the prospect of more food, but you planned on donating most of the bread to local shelters, only keeping a couple loaves for the house.

the guest host that week was mick jagger, and he had emerged into the room “i dream of jeanie” style, startling both you and piper, who honked at him in irritation.

it was time for you to work on the song for your little sketch with him, and you had only two more days before performance night (it was thursday) to finish writing it. after settling down and getting into the right mindset, the writing process had begun.

"alright let's see," mick murmured. "let’s all go to the picnic, let's all have a drink. what rhymes with 'drink'?"

you thought for a moment and said quietly, "think?"

you weren't prepared for the absurd response you received from the man, his accent making him round mean as he barked out a loud "NO!" with an unnecessary hand gesture.

piper just about lost it. she was honking and flapping around your office in a tizzy (but staying away from mick because the man was seen as a stranger she wasn't comfortable with).

you racked your brain for another solution, something else to rhyme with 'drink' and you eventually found it: "sink?"

mick thought about it for a moment before replying with a much lighter "yes!" also paired with unwarranted pointing.

‘motherfucker, is this how you write songs?!'

thursday and friday came and went, and soon it was time for your piece to be performed by mick. du to an accidental ankle twist someone else suffered, you were forced to perform a skit live for the first time in your career. it would have been great, but there was one teensy problem: piper blatantly refused to leave your side when it was time to perform, and she would honk and bite anyone that tried to keep her from you onstage.

even poor bobby, who she had grown fond of, was taking the brunt of it. she was not allowing you to be more than a couple feet away from her, and it was almost endearing if you weren't being broadcast on national television.

apparently, piper would also be making her debut appearance on saturday night live tonight as well.

saturday had arrived, and it was sam’s day of rest. he spent the day doing the bare minimum, eating junk food and watching almost everything on netflix he could find.

he didn't stray too far from tradition, not really. it was just that now he had a goose accompanying him the entire time, honking at this and that and eating occasional pieces of popcorn that sam didn't want to share.

he didn't mind his feathered companion, he was actually quite fond of his goose at this point. whitewing (not to be confused with redwing) was the most calm goose any of them had seen, no biting or nipping and especially no honking at ungodly hours of the night.

steve was perplexed. "Are you sure whitewing hasn't done anything bad? no waking you up at night or bites when you don't feed him soon enough?"

sam would chuckle and shake his head, proud to have such a calm goose. "why are you so keen to see him misbehave? aren’t all soulmate geese like this?"

"for lack of a better word, most geese are assholes. i don't know how whitewing is so well behaved," steve balked at the very idea of all geese being so mellow and decided it was story time.

steve’s goose from the century before was the most rambunctious animal anyone had ever seen. he recounted the first and several occasions following where his soulmate goose, jimmy, fended off the blond man's alleyway attackers.

sam was extremely grateful that whitewing had less feral and goose-like tendencies. whitewing was extremely well behaved and had an almost human way about him, the way he honked in reply to sam or the rest of the team when they talked to him.

it was late in the evening when clint decided to plop down onto the couch and flick the channel to nbc, where tonight's host was mick jagger.

"why are we watching this?" sam was enjoying his sitcoms before the other bird man had showed up.

"i haven't watched it in ages, plus mick jagger is on tonight."

"alright, whatever you want."

the intro played like usual, and whitewing was perfectly complacent. they laughed in the right places with the occasional honking from the bird, and everything was great.

"hey man, look!" clint interrupted, keeping sam from being able to hear the punchline. "i think that's a goose!"

"why is there a goose? The skit has nothing to with-"

sam and clint seemed to come to the same realization at the same time as whitewing, the goose beginning to honk incessantly. he was going absolutely berserk, flapping his wings and hopping off of sam’s lap and onto the coffee table, occasionally pecking at the tv where he saw the other goose.

he was going absolutely bonkers.

"whitewing! whitewing, no! calm down!" sam scrambled to calm down his goose, but he was having none of it. the whole entire skit, whitewing was honking and flapping and being a general nuisance.

he found his soulmate.

whitewing kept at it until the screen went to a commercial, his soulmate off of the screen.

"y’know," clint spoke around a slice of pizza. when did he get pizza? "if you hurry, you could go to the studio and meet your soulmate. the show is about halfway over."

before sam could think over the proposition, tony’s voice was heard from the corridor. "somebody shut that damned bird up before I pay ramsay to cook it!"

"i’m taking care of it!"

with that, sam heads to the armory with whitewing on his tail to get his wings. once he's equipped, sam heads to the window and jumps, immediately setting his course for studio 8h and his soulmate.

you’re released to go back to your office once you finish the skit alongside mick and piper, the show almost over. you’re gathering your things lazily, knowing that you have no other responsibilities for the night.

just as you lock your office and piper is waddling beside you without a care in the world, you see kyle running towards you with a look of fear in his eyes. that fear seems to only triple when his eyes land on piper beside you.

"kyle! what’s-"

"there’s another goose on the set! no one is safe!"

wait, was he bleeding?!

you were going to try and help your friend but one look at piper sent him off the rails, the lanky man nearly falling on his ass in an attempt to skid the corner. you hoped that someone would help calm your panicked friend, seeing as you were literally the worst person for the job at the moment.

without further incident, you are able to say goodbye to cecily and mikey before you're stopped in your tracks by michael, who gives piper a funny look.

"wait, so the goose that attacked kyle wasn't piper?" You shake your head in confusion. "dude, your soulmate must have come to the set!"

piper must have either understood what your co-worker had said or she could sense a change in the studio, but she began to honk erratically and run away from you. the last thing new york needed was two feral geese running around attacking people, so you did what anyone would do and ran after her.

"piper! piper, come back!" michael laughed as you chased after your goose. while you were running, you nearly died when you heard a honk that you knew wasn't from your piper. hers were carved into your brain, and you were positive that you could pick hers out of an entire gaggle of geese, so there was indeed a second goose in the studio.

to your dismay, piper did not stop and wait, she just kept on honking and flapping and scaring people in pursuit of the other goose, poor old you having to chase her.

there was another voice you assumed was yelling at his goose since you didn't know of anyone naming their kid whitewing. your eyes were not looking straight ahead when you suddenly bumped into someone, immediately stumbling a bit before regaining your balance.

piper had stopped her honking and that scared you. did someone hurt her? was she-

her and another goose were making muted honks to each other. they sounded like affectionate honks, which is one of the weirdest sentences you ever constructed in your head. but it was true! they were cuddling close to each other and making really quiet honking noises at each other, and if that wasn’t affectionate then you didn’t know what would be.

so if piper found her soulmate, that means yours was-

"i hope comin' to your job was okay. whitewing wasn't gonna give up until I left, so here we are." your eyes were dragged from the touching scene of piper and her special goose to a pair of dark brown irises that radiated warmth and a promise of happy days.

you were absolutely dumbstruck. your mouth was unable to form coherent words, so you decided to take in the appearance of your soulmate. he was wearing a soft grey tee and sweatpants, and socks without shoes. did he realize how unsanitary the streets of new york were?

but upon further investigation, you realize that he probably didn't walk to the studio. on his back was what you would normally call a jetpack, but when you recognize the face your mind completes the puzzle: your soulmate is sam wilson, otherwise known as the falcon. holy shit.

"uh yeah of course, i guess you flew here? no sane person in new york would walk around barefoot in the street." did you really just say that?!

sam nodded and then remembered that he was in his pajamas in front of his soulmate without any shoes. "yeah, he wasn't gonna stop attacking the tv once he saw uh…"

you realized he was asking for your goose’s name, and so you hastily gave it to him.

"yeah, once he saw piper, he went wild. caused more chaos in five minutes than he did in five days!"

you laugh, the nervousness falling away as you recount the story of you first meeting with piper.

people are staring at the pajama-clad avenger and his soulmate, their geese finally satisfied. after all, it wasn't every day so many people were able to watch soulmate geese (and their people) meet for the first time.

sam gently took your hand, his thumb smoothing the skin on the back of it, just listening to you talk. you asked him a question about whitewing and he was in the middle of telling you when he cut himself off. "i just realized i don't even know your name!"

in most scenarios you’d be slightly put off by this, but you didn't have an issue because of the specific circumstances. if he weren't an avenger you wouldn't have known his either, and plus, no one really pays attention to the little rat writers. you give him your name and smile when he introduces himself, his voice even helping show off the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.

with impeccable goose timing, piper and whitewing honk at you to hurry your introductions and leave the studio.

"do you want to fly back to your place , or can I drive you?" it was a risk to ask him such a question, but you were genuinely concerned. you hoped he wouldn't think you were trying to jump his bones only minutes after meeting him so you used (terrible) humor to show your intentions. "you shouldn't fly so late at night without headlights, no matter how high up you get."

sam’s laughter was infectious and soon you joined him, your geese about to get more irritated with their humans.

"yeah, I'd like that. lead the way, soulmate." piper and whitewing honk as the two of you head to the lobby hand in hand, the birds waddling behind you just as happy as soulmate geese could be.

#falcon #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #mcu #marvel #falcon falcon goose!#sam wilson imagine #falcon imagine #bucky barnes #please don’t judge this mess

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hearts-hunger · 3 years

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dralshy’a ka’ra (brighter stars): chapter four || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Series Summary: In the lake country of Naboo, you and Din romance each other under summer’s brighter stars. || Part Two of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: Din gives you a present, and you both spend the day enjoying it.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, a tiny bit of angst | Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: The penultimate chapter! She’s wordy but she’s cute. No, I am not immune to manufactured angst that is solved by a man being very kind and understanding. Also, reader has a canon maiden name, sorry if that’s weird. I hope you like it! ♡

You woke to a soft but persistent knock on the front door.

You frowned a little as you wrapped a sheet around you and went to see who it was - surely it was just Din, as nobody else knew you were here. You opened the door and immediately wished you’d taken a moment to make yourself more presentable.

A boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve was standing expectantly on the top step, looking entirely too unbothered by your appearance that would have indicated to anyone a slight bit older what exactly you were staying on Naboo for. You hastily wrapped the sheet around you with more intentionality and tried to tame your sleep-mussed hair.

“Miss Tilyria?” the boy asked.

You almost didn’t know what to say. No one had called you that in ages, and it made you slightly wistful to be on Naboo hearing your maiden name again.

“Yes,” you said, a little hesitantly. You wondered if someone from your past had seen you in the city yesterday. “How can I help?”

The boy gave you a smile and held out a package neatly wrapped in brown paper. “The Mandalorian said I was to bring this to you.”

You took it from him, careful of the wrappings, and smiled to yourself. What had Din gone and surprised you with now?

“He also told me to give you a message,” the boy said seriously, and you knew Din had made it out to be a mission of vital importance. Being on speaking terms with a Mandalorian was a very great honor for the boy, you knew, and you smiled at the thought of Din creating a little adventure to fill the boy’s morning.

“What message is that, darling?” you asked. His accent had taken you back to your youth, and you recalled fondly that children on Naboo were called by terms of endearment whether you knew them or not.

He beamed. “I'm to tell you that the Mandalorian’s work kept him out longer than expected, and he hopes you can accept his apology for being late.”

You cradled the package in your hands, knowing the gift was a part of that apology; Din knew he didn’t need to ply you with gifts to keep himself in your good graces, but it was a sweet gesture all the same.

“And the Mandalorian paid you for your trouble?” you asked.

“Yes, miss,” the boy said, nodding earnestly.

You smiled. “Thank you for helping him, dearest. I know we’re both very grateful to you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a proud smile. “Have a good day, miss!”

You gave him a wave as he scampered off down the steps, singing a little nursery rhyme to himself. You started to hum it too, remembering it from time spent playing with your friends as a child.

You took the package inside, your sheet-dress skimming over the floor as you made your way to the table on the terrace. The morning sun was bright and warm on your shoulders, and you felt a flutter of giddiness in your chest as you opened your present.

“Oh, Din,” you gasped, unfolding the layers of soft sea-green silk organza that fell through your fingers like water. It was the most beautiful dress you’d ever seen, vibrant with delicate flowers of every hue stitched into the bodice and sheer sleeves. The fabric caught the sunlight and little silver butterflies hidden among the flowers shimmered every time the dress moved.

You wanted to put it on as soon as you took it out of the wrapping, but you made yourself be patient. You carefully folded it back up and placed it on the settee; your fingers trailed lovingly over the fabric for a moment before you untucked the sheet you wore and put it back on the bed. Your new dress - and the man who’d bought it for you - deserved you looking your best, and you took your time getting ready.

You lathered yourself with flowery soap in the shower, soothing any remaining ache that lingered from your time on the frozen planet. This trip had been just what you and Din needed, and though you knew you’d have to go back to the more demanding pace of your life soon enough, you savored the time you had to simply be with your husband. You rubbed sweet-smelling lotion into your skin as you dried off in the sun, hoping your Mandalorian wouldn’t be too much later in returning to you.

It felt more luxurious than anything you’d done in a long time to lay out on the terrace with nothing on you but the sunshine, letting your hair dry with the slight breeze as you stretched out on the reclining chair and listened to the birdsong. The terrace was hedged on both sides by flowering bushes and willow trees, leaving you safe from any prying eyes, and you drank in the feel of the sun’s warmth all over your body.

When you couldn’t keep your excitement in check any longer, you went back inside and unfurled the dress again. It was so beautiful, more beautiful than any dress you’d owned before you married. You put it on carefully, minding the little silk blooms; it settled a little off your shoulders and swirled over the floor, and you positively glowed with happiness. You were not surprised that it fit perfectly - it was very like Din to know the details of your sizing, as attentive as he was.

You sat at the vanity and added the barest touch of makeup, glossing your lips a little and twining small flowers into your hair. You felt more beautiful than you had in a long time, and you couldn’t wait for your husband to come back so you could thank him.

You didn’t have to wait long. You were tucking the last of the flowers into your hair, trying to make them sit just so, when the door opened behind you. You caught a glimpse of beskar in the mirror and turned with a beaming smile on your face.

“Din!” you said happily, rushing over to him, the hem of your dress trailing behind you over the floor. You threw your arms around his neck and he caught you against him on instinct.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” you said sincerely, looking up at his helmet. You waited for a beat, perhaps a little selfishly, for him to comment on your dress, but he said nothing.

You pulled back and twirled for him; your dress belled out around you and you couldn’t help a giggle at the feeling of the soft fabric. You felt like a princess, and you hoped Din liked it as much as you did.

You gave him an expectant smile, but he still didn’t say anything - he hadn’t removed his helmet, either, so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You felt a sudden flurry of nervousness, casting about for reasons why he wouldn’t be happy. Perhaps it hadn’t been meant for you at all - but no, it could only have been for you. What other Mandalorian knew your maiden name and would send you a gift in the first place?

Perhaps he’d been intending for you to wait to put it on, in which case you could better understand his upset, but still didn’t know why he’d be downright sullen about it to the point of not speaking to you. Then, the worst thought of all - maybe he was angry with you because you hadn’t thanked him, and he felt you were taking his generosity for granted.

Rationally you knew that didn’t seem like him at all, but it didn’t take much for the idea to settle. It was too grand and beautiful of a gift; you probably hadn’t been able to afford it, not really. You suddenly felt much less dazzling than you had, and felt a little embarrassed to be flaunting his gift without even having thanked him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your voice soft with nervousness. You crossed your arms over your chest defensively and couldn’t look up at him.

“Sorry?” he asked. The first thing he’d said to you, and it sounded entirely bewildered even though the modulator. “What are you sorry for?”

You worried the petals of one of the little silk flowers. “I didn’t...” You made yourself look up at him, imploring him to understand you. “I love the dress, Din, more than you know. I know didn’t even thank you for it, and I didn’t mean to make you upset with me, because I - ”

“Cyare,” he said, gently cutting you off. He took off his helmet then and held it under his arm, and you felt a measure of relief when you saw his expression was nothing but kind.

“I’m not upset with you,” he assured you quickly. “You don’t have to thank me. I...” He looked a little bashful. “It was a gift, and I hoped you would like it, and I’m very glad you do. I wasn’t looking for thanks, cyare.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a mix of relief and confusion and a fair bit of sheepishness. Of course he hadn’t been withholding his affection because you hadn’t thanked him. You were foolish to have ever thought so.

And yet...

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked softly, still a little hurt and confused by his lackluster greeting.

He looked very, very apologetic at that.

“I wanted to,” he hurried to explain. “I just... I know it sounds like an excuse but you were so breathtaking, running over to me like that in your new dress, and I absolutely couldn't think of anything intelligent to say to you. Nothing that would have done justice to how radiant and lovely you look right now.”

“Oh,” you said again. You felt your cheeks warm at the look of heartfelt longing on his face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said. “I know I must have. But, cyar’ika...”

He closed the distance between you, and you felt a thrill of desire and affection wash through you at your big, beskar-clad husband looking at you so lovingly.

“You are the most captivating thing I have ever laid eyes on,” he said tenderly, ardently. He tipped your face up with a gentle touch. “In all the galaxy, there is nothing as beautiful as you.”

You let him kiss you, dazed with how much you loved him. You felt a secret bit of pride that you’d so undone your Mandalorian as to render him speechless, and for as lovely as the dress had made you feel, a word from Din could make you feel that beautiful no matter what you wore.

“Thank you,” you said, shy and earnest. You showered his face in kisses, and he laughed.

“You’re welcome, cyare,” he said warmly. “I’m very happy you like it.”

You pressed closer to him, feeling the cool of his beskar through the fabric of your dress. “Come have lunch with me on the terrace,” you said. “You’re probably hungry after all that very important errand-running, aren’t you?”

He hummed in agreement. “A little,” he admitted. “Let me clean up a bit before I join you, alright?”

You relinquished your hold on him with a parting kiss. “Don’t take too long, my love.”

You set yourself to putting lunch out on the table by the pool while he removed his armor and went for a shower. The pantry had all sorts of delicious food you hadn’t enjoyed in a long time - fruits and cheese and bottles of sunberry wine. Most of what you had aboard the Crest was good but not quite so frivolous, and you were glad you didn’t have to worry about cooking a whole meal.

Din came out looking refreshed, his curls damp and his scruff a little more neatly trimmed. He’d dressed in a soft white shirt and dark trousers, and you were happy to see him so relaxed as he took his glass of wine and tapped it against yours in greeting.

“Thank you for making lunch, cyar’ika,” he said.

You smiled. “You’re welcome. It took a lot of effort to get it set up so pretty for you.”

He chuckled and picked an orange from the fruit bowl. “What did you get up to while I was gone?”

You took half of the orange slices when he offered them to you. “I was asleep until your little friend came knocking.”

“How did that go? At first I thought it was clever of me to use your maiden name, and then I remembered that anyone who knows here would know you by that name.”

He touched a few fingers to his temple to indicate his foolishness, and it was such an endearing little gesture that you couldn’t help a laugh.

“It was a little surprising to hear it,” you admitted. “It was kind of nice, but not as nice as being called Mrs. Djarin.”

You followed him over to the balcony, watching as he leaned on the railing and looked out at the mountains.

He thumbed the rim of his wine glass. “I’m sorry you don’t get called that very often,” he said. He looked over at you. “I can’t imagine it’s any easier for you than it is for me to stay so... anonymous.”

To your knowledge, only a handful of people knew his name - you, Cara, Greef, and Omera. Your parents, too, and you knew how much it meant that he’d given them his full name when he asked to court you. Part of it was just the anonymity that Mandalorians valued so highly - they were simply harder to find if you didn’t know their names or faces.

The other part had come with your baby: now that you were technically on the run, his name was the most valuable piece of information the New Republic or Imperial warlords could get their hands on. Din Djarin was a man with a past, with a link to something they could use as leverage; a nameless Mandalorian was just that, and there were an indeterminate number of them to sift through to find the right person.

For you to be called by his last name would be very risky for all of you, so in most cases, you were merely “the Mandalorian’s wife”. Some encounters were better left completely void of your attachment to him at all, and you had played the part of the nursemaid more than once. You’d had to play a slave girl once, and that had sent your husband into an emotional turmoil you had a hard time untangling. You eventually realized he was torn between guilt at feeling like he’d degraded you and a wild, irresistible lust for you, and you helped him work that out in a way that ended with your skimpy little costume shredded on the floor of the Crest’s refresher.

There at the balcony, you ran an affectionate hand over his back and tried to ease the slight tension he held across his shoulders.

“Thank you for saying so,” you said gently. “I wish we didn’t have to be so careful about it, but if it keeps you and our baby safe, it’s alright if you’re the only one who calls me that.”

He looked over at you and smiled. “I love you, Mrs. Djarin.”

You leaned close and kissed him; he was sweet with wine and fruit, and his cheeks were warm with sunshine.

“You look so pretty in your new dress, cyar’ika,” he said sweetly. He nosed against your jaw and breathed deeply. “You smell nice, too.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I wanted to get all dolled up for you,” you said. “It’s not every day we get to lounge around without a toddler to mind or a ship to pilot.”

He set his wine glass on the railing and put his hands on your waist, drawing you close. “We should get back to them in a few days,” he said. “I don’t want to leave him for too long.”

“Me either,” you said truthfully, though with the way your husband was kissing your neck, you weren’t sure anything could have convinced you to leave just then.

“But for right now, I want to be here with you,” he said, dipping his head to kiss your collarbone. “And I want to see what’s under that pretty new dress of yours.”

You bit your lip as he sank to his knees in front of you, steadying yourself against the railing as he took the hem of your dress and tucked it neatly into the ribbon belt.

He gave an appreciative hum. “Well, then. Nothing under your dress, I see. How scandalous of you, Mrs. Djarin.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your thigh. “Seems like you were hoping this afternoon might go a certain way, hm?”

You almost rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself.

“You’d never have known if you hadn’t been so keen to look, Mando,” you said cooly.

He looked up at you and grinned. “Fine, you got me.” He traced his fingers over the backs of your thighs. “May I show you just how much I like you in this dress, my love?”

You nodded, every bit of your cool, teasing demeanor lost to you as he gently brought your leg over his shoulder.

“Din,” you breathed, gripping the railing as his tongue parted your folds and started in on you with an admirable enthusiasm. You leaned your head back as he lapped at your heat; he was being a bit less careful than usual, but no less skillful. You gave a breathy moan as he sucked on your clit, and his own groan of desire made you shudder with pleasure.

“Oh, Din, Din - ” you gasped, feeling yourself quickly lose any thread of control as he eased his fingers inside of you, his tongue still on your clit. He curled his fingers inside of you and you quickly came undone, tangling your fingers in his hair as you moaned his name through your orgasm.

“Love it when you call my name like that,” he said, standing to give you a bruising kiss. Your legs still shook with pleasure and you steadied yourself against him, bracketed protectively by his arms as he held your waist.

“I want to try something,” he said. His voice was rough with desire, and you didn’t think you could deny him anything in your power to give.

“Okay,” you agreed. He picked you up by your waist and sat you on the balcony railing; in a brief panic, you grabbed at his shoulders and pressed closer to him.

He chuckled. “I’m not going to let you fall, cyar’ika,” he said, holding you close to comfort you for a moment. He sucked love marks into your neck and circled your waist with his arm.

“Let me take you right here, cyare,” he said. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

And oh, you would have said yes in a heartbeat to something like that, his possessiveness alone enough to flood your whole body with heat. You were still a little uneasy with the balcony, though, and wanted convincing.

“And if I tumble right off to my death?” you asked.

He smiled against your skin. “You won’t, I promise. I’ve tussled with things a lot bigger than you, and falling off a cliff wasn’t what killed them.”

“No?” you asked. His hands on your breasts were awfully distracting.

“I am a man of some honor,” he said, kissing the top of your breastbone. “And I figure letting someone tumble off a cliff isn’t a very noble kill.”

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” you said. “You’ll keep me close when you kill me, then.”

He laughed. “No one’s killing anyone, cyar’ika. You trust me, don’t you?”

He had you there, and he knew it. “Of course I trust you, Din.”

“Okay then,” he said with a smile, punctuating it with a kiss. “Relax, cyare. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You let yourself sink into his touch, cradling his face as he kissed you. He kept one arm around you, steady and safe, and gave his cock a few quick strokes before he settled himself between your legs.

“Easy, cyar’ika,” he said affectionately as you held tightly to him. You hooked your legs around his waist as he pushed into you, leaning back against his hand that rested steadily on the small of your back, taking him as deeply as you could. You kind of liked it, the headiness of depending on him so completely to keep you safe as you took him inside of you.

“Maker,” he breathed. “You take me so well, my love.”

That was certainly a compliment, considering how well-endowed he was. You remembered how wide-eyed you’d been at him your first night together, and how he’d lavished you with praise for how well you’d done.

That night, he’d whisked you away to your love nest after all the guests were gone, both of you eager for him to finally remove his helmet for you and take you to bed for the first time. The place you’d honeymooned was nearer to your village in the country, a small lake house that had been in your family for generations and had probably seen many a young bride and her new husband discover each other. Din had been very slow and gentle with you, and despite neither of you knowing what you were doing, it ended up an enjoyable night for both of you.

It seemed your husband was remembering that night too.

“I thought you would break, the first time you took me inside of you,” he said. He laughed a little and you felt his cheeks warm against yours.

“That sounded awfully prideful, forgive me,” he amended. “I really have no clue how I compare to anyone else in terms of... size, so I shouldn’t be very big-headed about it.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek, endeared by his humility. “Let me put it this way, darling,” you said. “You’re very well-hung.”

He laughed out loud at that, bright and warm and beautiful.

“Well, that’s encouraging to know,” he said. “Thank you, cyare.”

You smiled when you kissed him.

“I was just so afraid to hurt you,” he said, his hands wandering over you. “I was so used to violence, and you were the softest, most beautiful thing I’d touched in all my life. I didn’t know if I could... if I was good enough, or kind enough to treat you how you deserved.”

Despite your nervousness that night, you’d known he wouldn’t hurt you. Din was incapable of it, of really hurting you, and even at his roughest he was still an attentive and selfless lover.

“I thought I would break too,” you said, teasing him gently. “But we fit together, you and me - perfect for each other.”

He started to move, and you sighed against his shoulder as he drew out of you and sheathed himself to the hilt again. He took his time and built up your pace slowly, kissing you deeply. You gripped his shoulders as he snapped his hips against yours.

“Perfect for each other,” he agreed against your skin, running his hands over your thigh. “Ner mesh’la riduur.”

“Din,” you managed, giving a broken gasp when he reached between you to circle your clit. Maker, he was so good to you. You carded your fingers through his hair and raised your legs to draw him deeper.

You moaned his name as he took you, possessive and a little rough with pleasure. Like he'd wanted, everyone within hearing distance of your balcony heard who exactly was bedding you so well.

“I’m close, cyare,” he groaned into your neck. You felt yourself tighten around him and leaned your head back in pleasure.

“Me too,” you gasped. “Cum with me, please.”

He gave one, two, three more strokes, circling your clit as he buried himself deep inside you and came with a desperate groan. You came when he did, riding out his last sloppy thrusts as he rubbed you through your orgasm.

“Osi’kyr,” he breathed as he kissed you.

“You only say that when we get into dogfights,” you said with a laugh. Without fail, every time he had to do some fancy flying to get someone off your tail, you’d hear that exclamation from the cockpit.

He gave a tired laugh. “Yes, well, I’d much rather be saying it with you than while trying to get away from some X-Wings.”

He pulled out of you and you drew him close, wanting him against you still. You brushed his curls back from his face.

“Thanks for not letting me fall off the balcony,” you said with a kiss.

“Any time, cyar’ika,” he said, and you could feel his smile against your mouth.

You spent the rest of the day on the terrace, dipping your feet in the pool and sharing slices of shuura fruit and oranges. You got wine and sun-drunk, both of you giggling like school kids at funny stories you took turns telling and little jokes you'd built up with each other over the years. You loved that nothing had to take him away from you - he could stay, as long as he wanted, and you hung off him as if to make up for all of the times you couldn't.

"You're tired of me, aren't you?" you teased. He'd found a seat at the table while you went in to get another bottle of wine, and instead of getting your own chair, you were sitting in his lap.

He smiled as you kissed over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, pink and warm with the sun.

"No," he said sincerely. "I could never be tired of you."

He traced patterns against your hips, content you let you kiss him as the sun started to set. The air was steadily growing cooler, and you cuddled closer to him.

"Would you like to live here?" he asked. "If we ever got the chance to settle down?"

You smiled. "You mean if you and our son ever stop being fugitives from the law?"

He chuckled. "If we're ever lucky enough for that to happen, yes."

You considered that, looking out over the mountains as the sun sank behind them and cast marvelous pinks and oranges over the surface of the lake.

"I hadn't really thought about it," you admitted. "It's hard to plan or dream about our future when everything seems so immediate, day to day. Of course I would love for our children to grow up somewhere safe, but if that's the Crest, then I'd be just as happy there as anywhere else."

He curled his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. "Do you think so?" he asked, and you knew he wasn't sure you were telling the truth, whether consciously or not.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. The Crest is the only place I've called home, really. And I know it's your home too, but you grew up on one planet, with the same friends and school teachers through your whole childhood. You don't want that for our kids?"

You drew his hand over your stomach and held it there, drawing circles over his knuckles. You hoped you would be pregnant soon - now that you knew it was what you both wanted, you found yourself daydreaming about how different and wonderful your life would be with a new baby.

It would be hard to have two babies on the Crest. There really wasn’t room for a family of four; it was a bachelor’s ship, and you’d made it comfortable enough for the three of you, but it would only get harder if you had more children. You didn’t want to leave the Crest - it was your home, your first home with your husband, familiar and safe like an old friend. But Din was right; if you were honest with yourself, you had envisioned your children growing up like you had, not with the transient childhood that Din had gone through.

You sighed. “I don’t know,” you said. “I guess I do. But...”

You trailed off, unsure you even wanted to talk about something that seemed so unachievable. Of course you wanted to settle down with him and raise your family - but it wasn’t feasible right now, and it made you confused and sad to think about it.

He sensed your hesitation and twined his fingers with yours.

“It’s ok,” he said. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

You ran your fingers over his collarbone. “I want to talk about it sometime,” you said. “When we’re closer to being able to do it, you know? Right now everything just seems so... jumbled.”

His laugh was a little melancholic. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You were both quiet for a moment; then, sensing your lovers’ getaway drifting into more serious territory than you wanted, you sat up and gave him a quick, deep kiss.

“We have our whole lives to worry about those sorts of things,” you said. You stood and offered him a hand. “Come on, Mando. Let’s go jump on the bed or something.”

He grinned up at you as he took your hand. “Don’t fuss if I start a pillow fight, then.”

You smirked. “I won’t fuss if you let me win.”

He let you kiss him and take him by the hand; your worries about the future were soon forgotten in a flurry of feathers, and you held on to every single moment like it was something precious.

Read chapter five!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡

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#the fact that i didn't know i was already 4 chapters into this abjshbjdhb #i hope you like it!#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #maddie writes stuff!#dralshy'a ka'ra

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

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songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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vikingqueer · 3 years

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music recommendations because i have some thoughts™

i don't wanna be that person who's like "my music taste is so weird lol" but i find that very often most of my friends don't really care for the music i like so i thought i'd just make a long ass post about it on tumblr instead. Fair warning, I'm very passionate about MIKA and The Mechanisms and so this very quickly got VERY long because it is part of my ongoing campaign to convince people to listen to mika and the mechs.

1) MIKA in general, but especially My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019) and No Place In Heaven (2015) (especially the Deluxe version!!)

MIKA is a kind of British singer (half Lebanese, grew up in France blabla), and you probably know him for Grace Kelly and Relax, Take It Easy from his first album Life In Cartoon Motion from 2007. He writes a lot of FUN music, interspersed with the occasional slightly sadder song, especially when looking at an album like No Place In Heaven, which contains a lot of songs with gay themes, resulting in some songs that are just a little bit ouch. He's originally classically trained and has a frankly RIDICULOUS range and idk he just writes very good pop music. Also I have so much respect for that time he talked about how a lot of pop is very fake, with like expensive cars and stilettos and mini skirts in the snow and said "Because I walk down the street, and I don't see any of that. I see fat women and gay men. I don't know... That's real". He's written 5 albums; My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019), No Place In Heaven (2015), The Origin Of Love (2012), The Boy Who Knew Too Much (2009), and Life In Cartoon Motion (2007).

For starters, I recommend listening to Last Party, Origin Of Love, Grace Kelly, Blame It On The Girls, Blue, Happy Ending, Pick Up Off The Floor, Last Party, Underwater, Tomorrow and Tiny Love (yes this is a long list but i REALLY love MIKA). If you want a slightly broader palette that's not just my favourites, I recommend the Mika starter pack on spotify.

2) The Mechanisms. I warn you. I am making this a thing. I have been obsessed with the mechs since last march.

Boy, where to start? The Mechanisms were a British 9 member space pirate story-telling cabaret that "died" in January 2020. They rewrite songs to fit retellings of various stories. I don't even know what genre I'd describe them as, but probably folk but steam-punk?? Their 4 "main" albums are concept albums, and I honestly just recommend listening to the from beginning to end in chronological order. A good way to get into the mechs is also to listen to UDAD and then watching the live show on youtube or alternately try giving Death To The Mechanisms a listen, to get good quality live show audio of TBI and various other stuff. Also, it was streamed on YouTube and someone combined the footage with the album audio and it rocks. Really, I think the mechs' best selling points are honestly just their concept albums:

Once Upon a Time (In Space) Their first album from 2012. I'd say this is the most "easily digestible" for the general public, since it's a retelling of various fairytales. So, what if Old King Cole was in fact not merry, but rather a cold-blooded dictator, intent on colonising as much of the galaxy as possible. What if Snow White was a general, looking to avenge what King Cole did to her sister, Rose. What if Cinderella was to be wedded to Rose the day that King Cole attacked in order to kidnap Rose? But y'know, In Space and also like every other mechs album it's a beautiful tragedy. Fave songs are Old King Cole, Pump Shanty, and No Happy Ending.

Ulysses Dies at Dawn You guessed it, it's a story about Odysseus, or Ulysses because I guess Ulysses is easier to rhyme or fit in the meter or something, idk. Ulysses is a war hero of unknown gender who is said to keep something that could take down the corrupt Olympians, meanest families in the City, in a vault to which only they know the passcode. Oedipus, Heracles, Orpheus, and Ariadne have been hired by Hades, who happens to be The Mechs' quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, to get into Ulysses' vault. I didn't care much for udad at first, but honestly it's got some real bangers and the story is really good. UDAD weirdly stands out as the only of the concept albums to not feature any gay relationships, per se. Fave songs are Riddle of the Sphinx, Favoured Son, and Underworld Blues.

High Noon over Camelot This is my favourite mehcs album. So basically, this is Arthurian legend, but it's a space western and Jonny D'Ville does a bad southern accent. This is the story of the cowboy lovers Arther, Lancelot, and Guinevere searching for the Galfridian Restricted Acces Interface Login, or GRAIL, in order to stop their world from falling into the sun. Meanwhile, Mordred and Gawaine are ruling Camelot, and Mordred has convinced Gawaine to try to establish peace with the Saxons by whom Mordred was raised, but Gawaine hates viciously. If you love getting your heart broken and songs by a fucking off the rails batshit preacher I HIGHLY recommend hnoc. Fave songs are Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard, Blood and Whiskey, and Once and Future King. Honorary mention for Hellfire because it awakens something animalistic in me.

The Bifrost Incident TBI is the frankly only good adaptation of norse mythology I've ever known of, and I say that as Dane who was literally forced to learn things about norse mythology in school because it's my heritage or whatever. I've been listening to TBI a lot lately because it's VERY good. It's definitely the most refined of the mechs' albums (because it's the newest) but also I just love a little bit of cosmic horror. 80 years ago, Odin, the All-Mother, ruler of Asgaard, launched a train through the wormhole Bifrost that would reduce the travel between Asgaard and Midgaard from 3 months to 3 days, but things didn't go quite as planned. Lyfrassir Edda of the New Midgaard Transport Police is trying to solve the case of why suddenly the train has arrived 80 years late; to figure out whether it was accident or maybe it was sabotaged by Loki, who was allegedly sentence to death her murder of Baldur, by the Midgaardian resistance led by Loki's wife Sigyn, or maybe by Thor, who was to take over after Odin, and who holds quite the grudge because he used to be a friend of Loki's. You might've heard the song Thor from this album, it's apparently quite popular. Fave songs are Loki, Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting, and Ragnarok V: End of The Line. Yet again an honorary mention: Red Signal because while Lovecraft was a bitch, his invocations are fucking RAW.

Basically, the Mechanisms do all of their performances in character as captain first mate Jonny D'Ville, quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, pilot DrumBot Brian, master-at-arms Gunpowder Tim, science officer Raphaella la Cognizi, doctor Baron Marius Von Raum (neither a baron, nor a doctor), archivist Ivy Alexandria, engineer Nastya Rasputina, and The Toy Soldier, who is, as usual, present. You can find very obscure lore about the crew of the Aurora here, tidbits on Tales To Be Told and TTBT Vol. 2, such as One Eyed Jacks, The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard, Gunpowder Tim vs. The Moon Kaiser, Lucky Sevens, and Lost in the Cosmos.

If you feel like listening to a full 40-50 minute album to find out if you like a band is a bit much, I recommend listening to one of the mini stories Alice, Swan Song, or Frankenstein, which are about 12, 5 and 9:30 minutes respectively.

3) The Amazing Devil You know that guy who played Jaskier in the Witcher? I got into The Amazing Devil from spotify recommending them because I listened to the mechs, and apparently Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil is the same Joey Batey who was in the Witcher. Both him and Madeleine Hyland are VERY talented singers and songwriters and their second album The Horror and the Wild makes me go out into the forest and SCREAM. I listened to it on repeat for like a month straight. I guess they'd also be considered folk, but like. New Folk. Also yes, this is another British artist, I don't know why I'm like this. I've never really gotten that into their first album, Love Run, but King slaps. As I understand there's this whole lore about the Blue Furious Boy and Scarlet Scarlet, Joey and Madeleine respectively, but unlike the Mechanisms it's actually possible to find out things about the actual real people and harder to find the obscure lore? I'm open for people to please help me. Fave songs are The Horror and the Wild, Farewell Wanderlust, and That Unwanted Animal, which is literally a third of their second album, but again. I haven't really listened to Love Run that much, and I just LOVE the harmonies on THATW. (also im gay and dramatic leave me alone)

4) dodie I have so much love for this woman. Like many others, I first knew dodie as doddleoddle on youtube. I think I first stumbled across her in probably 2015, because I distinctly already knew her before she released her first EP Sick of Losing Soulmates in 2016. I think I watched probably every video she's ever made in the span of a few weeks. I just loved her quiet sound and was absolutely HOOKED. Also she's actually the reason I got into MIKA originally, so thanks for that. Dodie just realeased her first album Build A Problem (in addition to her three EP's; the one mentioned above, You, and Human) and it slaps. Yes dodie is also British Fave songs are probably Monster, Rainbow, and In The Middle.

5) Cladia Boleyn Unfortunately, Claudia Boleyn only has three singles and that's it. She's been making content on youtube for quite a while, and that's how I first discovered her. I don't know what genre her music is, but I like it. The songs are Celesta, George, and Mother Maiden Crone, of which the latter is my favourite. I'm not saying Claudia Boleyn invented women in 2017 when she released Mother Maiden Crone, but she did. Also you guessed it, Claudia Boleyn is British.

6) Hozier I'm not about to tell you about Hozier. You know who he is. Listen to Nina Cried Power, Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene, and Shrike. Also Hozier isn't stricly British in that he is definitely from A British Isle, but Ireland is not part of the UK. Give me a break.

7) Oh Land Oh Land IS DANISH. I like her early music best, because I'm not that into the electronic sound. I guess Oh Land is just you regular old pop, but with the occasional weird vibe? Oddly enough, I like her first album Fauna best. Unfortunately I haven't really listened to her newest album Family Tree much, but it seems good? Fave songs are Frostbite, Love You Better and Family Tree. I cried on the bus, first time I listened to the Danish version of Love You Better, Elsker Dig Mer because my mother tongue always just hits harder. Also Frostbite is Oh Land doing a duet with herself which is pretty cool.

8) Oysterband This is a live recommendation. I mean they're a decent folk band and all, but they're a fucking experience live. If you like folk and you ever get the opportunity to see Oysterband live, do it. Unfortunately, yes. They are British. Either way, they are incredible on a scene and I think they deserve a mention for that.

9) Ben Platt Honestly don't know much about this guy, but he's not British and he was in Dear Evan Hansen. He released an album in 2019, Sing To Me Instead, and I just think it's a good album, there isn't really not much more to it. Fave songs are Grow As We Go, Bad Habit, and In Case You Don't Live Forever.

and thats all for now. this has been a ramble. shout out to you if you actually read all of this, especially the mechs part.

#music stuff #amalie.txt #music recommendations #mika #the mechanisms #the amazing devil #dodie #claudia boleyn #hozier #oh land #oysterband #ben platt

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eternalpassions · 3 years

Text

He’s a Beast!

Summary: Kagome's life changes forever as her brother Sesshoumaru makes his way back into her life. What happens when two siblings with unlikable personalities are forced to live together? A tale of a beautiful beast and a tomboyish Belle.

Warnings: Incest, Language, Mentions of homophobia, suggestiveness

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752492

@chierafied

My Kagome Art

Kagome frowns at her reflection, annoyed, and a bit angry for a few reasons: one being she has to dress feminine which she doesn't normally do. She’s tried being feminine, it just doesn't work. Her hair always sticks out on all sides no matter how she fixes it. She can't walk in heels even if her life depended on it. She prefers wearing straight-cut jeans, tennis shoes, and hoodies.The only reason why she’s kept her hair long all this time is because her stupid parents and stupid best friend Inuyasha told her not to cut it because she’d look “funny”.

Snorting at her reflection she plucks at a fly-away hair. Tugging at the dress she was wearing, feeling completely out of her element in the 3-inch heels she absolutely refused to wear the stockings her mother had provided. Glancing over to where they lay on the dresser she sneered at them.

The only reason why Kagome is wearing this ridiculous outfit today is because she is being forced by her parents for the occasion. Which brings her to the other reason why she is so put out right now...her stupid brother Sesshomaru.

The brother who she hardly knew besides a few old rusty memories. She remembers her being pushed high in the swings when she was younger, her older brother gathering his full force to send her flying into the sky with her hair dancing in her face, laughing uncontrollably, and his small smile behind her.

It has been ten years since she has seen him. They used to be close when she was little, but now he was practically a stranger to her. He moved out of the house when he turned 18 she was just a child at the age of 10 then. When he left it was like he had cut all ties, the memories she had she packed away never to look back on again. When he left it hurt, she had missed him at one point but now it was like she was an only child honestly sometimes she forgot that she wasn’t an only child.

He moved into a big bustling city for university leaving behind his old home in the rural countryside. When he had finished school he stayed in the city to attend law school snagging a top-shot position at some big firm. After that, he was nowhere to be seen except for the occasional holiday and those were rare, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him since he moved out.

His lavish life with High society, big fancy events, and other vain things he never bothered keeping in touch with her. Her brows knit together as a frown further marred her face at the thought of how he probably thought he was too good for the life he left behind.

What’s worse is that even when he did decide to grace his old home with his presence, he hardly acknowledged her. The only thing he would do was greet her shortly by saying her name as he walked by.

Had he always been so stoic?

His demeanor put her off, he felt so cold, callous, and uncaring. It was so different from the brother of her memories. It was like he was a completely different person.

How did he make it through life with that kind of personality?

“Stupid brother” She muttered to herself.

A knock on her door brought her out of her bitter thoughts. She turned towards it and sighed

“Kagome, hurry up! Everyone is waiting! What’s taking so long?” Her mom scolds from behind the door.

“Yea, yea I’m almost done” Kagome grumbles

She hears the muffled sigh before her mom adds “Don't even think about coming down with an attitude either.”

‘Hmph’ Kagome thinks to herself as she crosses her arms indignantly. Knowing herself as she did, she didn't know if she could really make it through this night without showing a bit of ‘attitude’. She was supposed to get all dolled up to see her brother who really just seemed like some extended family member that no one really knew or cared about.

Kagome walks out the door stumbling slightly, catching herself on the doorway. She curses under her breath. Taking a moment to steady herself she makes it to the stairs. ‘Maybe I should just take these damn shoes off until I get to the bottom’ She thinks as she looks apprehensively down the stairs. Her mothers face appears at the bottom with an impatient scowl. Clutching to the railing of the stairs as if it's a life line she cautiously makes her way down taking hesitant steps down the stairs. As she gets closer to the floor, she can hear warm laughter coming from the living room.

As soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs her breath hitches in her throat. The man she sees sitting on the couch looks nothing like that young man who came to visit on rare occasions. He was dressed in a black suit with a red tie that stood out in a stark contrast against the silver of his hair that was inherited from their father. She thought it was odd that her parents were okay with his hair being at such a long length when they would nitpick at her and judge her appearance and choices as harshly as they did.

She’d never seen a man with hair that length in the countryside they grew up in. What stood out most of all and completely took her breath away was his eyes. In her earliest memories of him she remembered them being a hazel color bordering on yellow but now as she looked at them she could see that the yellow they bordered on was now a bright golden color.

Those golden eyes blinked as he caught sight of her standing in the living room. She couldn’t read his eyes, but they made her forget about her nerves .She felt herself become enslaved by those eyes and for some reason, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t notice how the reason she was able to see those golden eyes so clearly was because he was also gazing at her with just as much intent.

She’d lost track of how long she stood there staring at her brother until her father cleared his throat and their mother coughed, dragging her away from the trance that held them both captive.

“Kagome! What are you doing just standing there! Come, greet your brother!” Her dad scolds from where he is sitting on the couch next to her mother.

Kagome jolts into action feeling her face heat up a bit in her embarrassment. She carefully makes her way over to where her brother is. She felt like she was walking on ice and at any moment she would lose her balance and come crashing down on the floor. Standing in front of him she finds herself feeling nervous now being in close and direct sight to the brother she hadn't seen properly in so long. Her heart beats erratically against her chest.

Finally standing in front of him she can’t help but notice how he towers above her. Now, she hadn't remembered him being that tall.Through the tightness of the white shirt under his suit jacket she can see that it accents the muscles hidden there. She definitely didn’t remember those being there!

Her thoughts are whirling around and her mind can’t seem to catch up with the present and as a result she stutters “ Ses-Sesshomaru.” which is completely unlike her.

‘What’s going on with you?’ She wonders to herself. She wasn’t one to cower like this, to display weaknesses so openly.

‘This guy is nothing to you besides someone you share blood with.’ Kagome scolds herself.

“Kagome, it's a pleasure to finally see you again.” He says.

Those golden eyes seem to brighten, holding her prisoner once more in place as he gently takes her hand in his and raises it to his lips placing a soft and fleeting kiss there. It feels like an out of body experience she has no control over the moment once his lips meet her skin she feels her blood run hot and she can feel the blush rising from her neck to her face.

She wonders what he is thinking at that moment as those eyes seem to smile at her but she can't read him, she can't tell what’s going on in his mind. His face remains a stoic mask as he regards her. She feels like he is laughing at her but she can’t be sure as unnamed emotions flash through those intense eyes of his.

“I love how we’re finally together as a family again. Let's head over to the kitchen. The food is ready, we have important things to talk about” Her mother beams, not noticing the strange interaction between the two.

“After you” Sesshoumaru gestures in front of her with a flourish of his hands.

Kagome nods with a tight smile, her footsteps heavy and awkward as she walks ahead of him. She didn't know what would await her tonight, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for it. Not knowing what was so important that her family would get together like this made her wonder if it was good or bad.

It made her feel like a bird trapped in a cage ready and vulnerable to an attack. It made her think of that nursery rhyme she had been teased with all her life. ‘Kagome, Kagome bird in a cage.’ She flinched internally as it popped into her mind.

‘Fuck that’ she thought.

She tries to distract herself from her anxiety of what was to come from this dinner by thinking about her brother. She didn't know what to make of him, he seemed polite and well-mannered. That was good right? There was still something about him that made her feel like maybe he was a predator waiting outside of her cage tonight. She tried to shake those thoughts away, maybe she was being paranoid about the whole thing. Maybe this really was going to be a nice, warm family dinner after all.

Her parents sat across from each other in their usual spots, Kagome took her seat beside her father, leaving the chair directly in front of her for Sesshomaru. Her parents happily chatted, recounting old memories that were almost lost to Kagome. Sometimes people needed other people to remember for them so the memory wouldn’t be lost forever.

“I remember how Kagome would get bullied by the neighborhood kids for being such a tom-boy, and for the boyish way she dressed.” Her mother recounted her memory of the day when she sent Kagome out of the house to school in an adorable and girly outfit that she deemed ‘appropriate’ only for Kagome to sneak out of the house with a pair of her brother's old pants and a tee shirt that she had changed into. On the way home one of the neighborhood boys had pushed her to the ground while telling her that she was a girl and that she would never be allowed to play with him and the other boys.

“Sesshoumaru would have none of it. He would step in front of Kagome and just glare at them and that was enough to have them running for the hills,” Her mother looked across the table over to Kagome sighing in defeat. “Ever since she was little our Kagome was always a little strange.” She finished her memory shaking her head and chuckling.

That comment had Kagome’s mood sour as her face pinched in annoyance. She didn't like her parents making such comments right in front of her as if she wasn’t there. She knew she was a little different than other girls her age, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t sting being called strange by her own parents.

Yes, she was unconventional to say the least. She started to wear the boys uniform when she reached middle school. She didn't like the way the girl's uniform looked on her; it made her feel awkward. It exposed her legs to the point it made her uncomfortable. She preferred the boys uniform, it didn’t show anywhere near as much skin and made her feel more comfortable.

“ What’s your point?” Kagome snapped as her mood darkened. Leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. She gave her mother a taunting smile silently daring her to continue making her feel as if she wasn’t there.

“ Nothing, nothing honey we’re simply making conversation, anyway speaking of that we have an announcement-” her mother tries to continue on.

“No, No let’s keep having that conversation” Kagome leans back to the table steeling herself ready to fight. She knew how this conversation went. They went through this all the damn time. If her mother didn’t want her to have an attitude she certainly was not picking peaceful conversations for dinner. It was like she was provoking her instead.

“Am I strange because I wear jeans instead of skirts? Because I wear hoodies? Because I like sports? Because I listen to Lady Gaga? Or is it because I kiss girls”

The room goes silent. Kagome knows she has done exactly what her mother told her not to do. She had an attitude. Well more than that, she’s probably ruined the whole dinner. She really needed to do something about that mouth of hers, it got her in trouble far too much.

“It seems that she’s learned to fend herself just fine without me” Sesshoumaru speaks up after what feels like a long time. Kagome is not sure if her eyes are playing tricks on her but she sees his eyes glimmer .

“Kagome, honey, speaking of that we have something to announce” Her mother clears her throat.

Kagome raises an eyebrow, curious at what the announcement was. It had to be something important or else why else had they invited her brother and made it a family affairThere had to be a reason why her parents decided to host this dinner and invite this “brother” of hers and play the role of the happy family for once. Her mind is temporarily distracted from the argument her mother had provoked. She’s curious to hear what the big announcement is supposed to be.

Suddenly that feeling of apprehension and unpleasantness returns to her like an uncomfortable chill creeping up her body.

Kagome begins to understand what this night is really about when the doublespeak begins as soon as her mother begins talking.

As Kagome listens to the excuses being told,she begins to translate the doublespeak in her head.

"We were talking to Sesshomaru a few days ago about how you’ve struggled with your teachers and school and you haven’t made the best choices”

Translation: She has failed to meet demands, she’s insubordinate, a failure, and her choice of friends suck.

“So because of this we think it might be best for you to move in with your brother for some time. It might help put things into perspective for you on how one should behave while also giving you the time and space you need to learn who you are, as well as what it expected of you."

Translation: We think dumping you off to your brother who’s practically a stranger to you might teach you to grow up. Learning from the successful sibling will help you become less of a failure.

“We’re afraid you have irrational tendencies, you don’t consider how your actions make others feel and you need to know what’s expected of you”

Translation: She’s showed some bisexual tendencies, which we find deeply shameful and she needs to be straightened out.

“Living in the city will be better for you than the countryside. We don’t think you’ll flourish here, moving to the city could be a better option for you.”

Translation: We’re sick of having you here, we’re kicking you out

“ We want the best for you, and this means we can't put this off any longer,” her mother continues and Kagome can feel the air getting thinner as she breathed.

Translation: Get the fuck out of here!

Kagome feels as if she has been kicked in the stomach. The air leaves her, brain momentarily shutting down, and she feels dizzy. Eyes darting back from her father to her mother looking for confirmation of what was just said. As silence drags on, she becomes more angry at the affirmation of the reality she doesn’t want to face. Kagome stands slamming her hands on the table knocking over the chair.

The chair hits the floor with a crash.

“Are you serious?” She screams, noticing how her father and Sesshomaru flinch at the tone in her voice. She doesn’t care about their reactions, she has had it with this so-called family. This family that pushed all these decisions on her and gave her no choices of her own.

Kagome’s voice booms across the room. “So you’re telling me I have to move in with my 'brother', That's a stranger to me because I’ve failed to meet your expectations!”

“ Honey you know it's not that” Her father finally speaks up after what feels like a long time. Kagome had almost forgotten about his presence. He’s only smiled passively the whole night not saying anything of much substance besides the usual affirmation. He almost blends into the walls with his passivity and lack of presence.

“ Yes it is! What choice do I have? You just decided that once I’m 18 and you have no legal obligation to me anymore you’d ship me off to this man I don’t know! It's either go with him or go to the streets right?!” Kagome tries to laugh tauntingly to cover up for the tears of anger that were on the verge of rippling and falling down her face.

“Kagome, I know this might seem hard but-” Sesshoumaru says as he carefully stands up. He really was trying his best to keep up this proper brother act wasn’t he?!

Kagome forgets the previous nerves she felt being near her brother and she feels anger pour out of her. So she was right to be apprehensive of him. He didn’t come here without any kind motives. He came here to trick her with his fake politeness and fancy appearance to drag her out of the only home she ever knew!

“No you shut up!” Kagome turns to Sesshoumaru and scowls. She points to him angrily “ I don't want to hear anything from someone who I’ m supposed to call my brother, but who I’ve hardly seen in 10 years and who only graces me with his presence to take me away from my home!”

“Kagome” Her father tries to chime in. He moves his hands in a downward motion to try to calm the situation and Kagome.

“IT’S BEEN DAMN NEAR 10 YEARS since he has really been around and you're telling me that you have just decided yourselves that I Should just go on and get out of the only home I have known just because I don’t follow the social norms that you expect of me? Are you kidding me?!?” She interrupts.They have said enough it's time for them to hear her now. If there’s one thing she didn’t know how to do was going down without a fight.

“We just want what is best for you Kagome. It doesn’t matter anyway things have been set up and you don’t really have a choice in this.You have an awful attitude, you are ungrateful and it seems like you are going to need to learn to grow up the hard way. You can go with Sesshomaru or not either way you will not be staying here.” When their mother finishes her new rant, shock plays across Kagome’s face with intense anger.

Kagome feels the tears begin to stream down on her face.She looks at her parents faces and sees their faces full of resigned conviction. She looks at Sesshoumaru’s face and she isn't sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, but she sees his eyes look deeply troubled and almost guilty. Against her will she feels herself once again drawn into those golden eyes. She feels as if there’s something more hidden under the depths of the gold in his eyes. As if there’s a mask falling off.

“Kagome” He opens his mouth to speak but it is too late Kagome has already stormed out of the room.She kicks off the heels she is wearing and dashes out of the front door. She didn’t want to look into those eyes any longer, she was afraid she’d find something she wasn’t ready to see. What she needed to do was get away and be angry.

Yes, she needed to be angry at the world, angry at him .Sesshoumaru she thinks in disdain. He probably didn’t even feel bad for being the one to drag her out of her home under the guise of a caring older brother. He probably only felt bad since now he was the one taking on this burden of a sister!

Yes he was just an Idiot brother! She ran faster as she used the adrenaline of her speed and anger to fuel her. She felt she was bordering on insanity as she smiled through the tears as she pushed her body harder.

She didn't know for how long she had been running laps around the neighborhood before she stopped in front of the large maple tree in the middle of town.

She heaves and uses the last bit of her energy to jog near the swings, She collapses on the ground and against her will begins to remember the swings that hold the one memory of her idiot brother that she remembers fondly. She stares up at the sky occasionally wiping away a tear of anger from her face. The moon is waning tonight it's crescent shape shining brightly in the night sky.

It's not long before Kagome notices that she is no longer alone as she looks to her left and spots the clean, pristine shoes of her brother, She looks up and sees the bright golden eyes of her brother almost looking like they are expecting her, “What do you want?” She hisses. Of course the one time he does come around all of her choices are being taken from her and her parents hold a celebratory dinner to kick her out of the house. Now he probably wanted to play the concerned brother. Idiot.

“Kagome,” His voice comes out smooth like velvet to her ears and she suppresses the shiver that wants to travel down her spine.She reminds herself that she should be angry at him.

Now of all times he wanted to play the role of the caring brother who wants to check up on his little sister? It was rather ironic coming from the man who only showed up to trick her and side with those who saw her as nothing more than a burden.

“No, you know what. I don’t care what you want. Save the good brother act. I know you don’t give a fuck about me or what I want.” Kagome swears venom his way.

“ All you came here to do was trick me and do what they wanted which was to drag me away from my home. Which lets be honest you probably don't even want to do since you see me as a burden like everyone else does” her voice begins to break down. Shit why was she beginning to cry again?!

At this point she feels the tears gliding down her face at an increasing speed. She feels like an idiot, turning into a sobbing mess in front of this brother she hardly knew.

“ Kagome, you must know that wasn’t my intention-”

“Oh yea then what was it then? To waltz in here, charm me, play the good brother who didn't leave and ignore me all this time then laugh at me as you kick me out of my home?”

She watches him through glassy eyes. He stands with his hands awkwardly in his pants seemingly unsure of what to do. She looks into his golden eyes and for a brief moment she thinks she sees that conflicted Sesshoumaru from before. But it was gone before she could confirm it.

“ Fine, don’t believe me, do what you want, I am simply following our parents wishes.I am leaving tomorrow morning, make up your mind by then” He waves dismissively and walks off.

Kagome watches as he began to walk away. She sits up and watches his soulette in confusion at how his mood changed so easily. Did she imagine that look of conflict earlier? It almost reminded her of that look on his face he got as children when he worried about her, back when he used to care for her.

“Hmph” Kagome grumbled, that couldn’t be the case. She saw what he did back there. Tried to charm her, make her lose her composure, appear all polite and kind, then backstab her along with their parents and kick her out of her house! Then he comes to act worried about her, then acts like he doesnt care and acts like she has any choice in the matter! He’s just messing with her!

He’s wicked! Kagome says to herself. She almost felt like she was Bell from Beauty and the Beast. Dragged out of her home, against her will, to live with what might as well be a beast!

Yes, because Sesshoumaru was like a beast! She told herself. He didn’t look like one with his poltie appearance, pristine manners, fancy clothes, and beautiful face. Beautiful face? She exclaimed?! Why was she thinking this about her brother?!?

She slaps her face with both hands in an attempt to calm herself. She was probably still high from the adrenaline rush of the run. She had a bad habit of looking for highs to ironically calm herself. Running, sex, drugs, you name it. She really needed to calm down and get a grip.

Within a night, her brother was able to do what no one else could do: trick her and humiliate her. She really didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction that he got to her more than he already had. He’s seen her cry for shit’s sake.

“Focus kagome” She sighed and took a deep breath as she looked up at the stars in an attempt to calm herself.

It seems like she was in a stalemate situation. Her parents wern’t going to budge, stupid Sesshoumaru was just in it to do their parents bidding and she was trapped in this situation. He said she had to decide what she wanted to do by morning. Was he mocking her, because she really had no choice in this!

Suddenly a realization comes to Kagome’s mind. She can’t go against the decision made by her parents, but she could act like she agreed to go with Sesshoumaru. That way she could tell people she left on her own accord and she wouldn’t have to give her parents nor Sesshoumaru the satisfaction of knowing they dragged her out of her home! She may have to live with a beast, but she wasn’t going down without a fight! She’d do what they wanted her to do, she’d go live in the city, she’d go to university there, she’d work at the firm, but she'd do it all to spite them!

“Watch out Sesshoumaru,” Kagome says to herself, smiling, full of conviction. She knew what she was going to do.

#sesskag big bang 2021 #sesskag #kagome higurashi #sesshoumaru

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Encore - Part of your World - Harry Hook x Reader - part 18 - quiet

suuuch a fluffy chapter lol

You slowly woke up as beams of sunlight hit your face, you cracked open your yees and groaned, sitting up slightly to avoid the sun.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, smacking your lips together and dropping your hands on the sheets covering your legs.

Glancing at the clock you sighed.

7:37 am.

You hated waking up early on your days off, but you were still exhausted from the night before so you hopped out of bed, closed the shades to the window, and walked back over to your bed. flopping back down into the mattress and curling up underneath the sheets, turning your back to the window.

You fell back to sleep, face buried into Harry's pillow.

Harry stepped into the room minutes later, taking off his hat and tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room.

He sighed, shaking his head and running his head through his sweat-soaked hair.

He was glad Uma had enchanted the lost revenge 2.0 with a constant temperature of 70°, so no matter how hot it was outside the ship, it was always comfortable.

A smile broke out on Harry's face as he spotted your sleeping form on the bed, the blankets curled around your form. He took tentative steps towards the bed and leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your exposed forehead.

He stood up straight and walked over to the bathroom, stripping out of his sweat-soaked clothes and tossed them into the hamper.

You woke up to the sound of the shower and sat up, blearily looking around the room.

You noticed Harry's shirt hanging halfway out of the hamper and his boots just outside of the bathroom door.

‘Harrys back from dock work’ you thought, stretching your arms, groaning as your back popped and hopped out of bed, walking over to your dresser and getting out some clothes for the day.

You stopped as the light from the reopened window hit your new ring, the ruby shining in your face. You smiled and brought your hand close to your face, biting your lip as you remembered Harry's sweet proposal.

Deciding to dress comfortably for the day, you grabbed one of Harry's tank tops and a pair of black leggings.

You tossed them on the bed and opened the top drawer, digging out a red sports bra and some socks, tossing those on the bed.

Mentally deciding on your black converse you turned and walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the door.

“come in!” Harrys muffled voice echoed back. You opened the door and stepped in, closing it behind you. “hi love” Harry purred, poking his head out from behind the shower curtain.

“hi~” you chirped, tiptoeing over to him and pressing a kiss to his lips “you’re wet”

“im takin’ a shower” Harry chuckled, slicking his long bangs back and shaking his head at you. He dipped back behind the curtain and continued to wash his hair.

You turned to the sink and did your morning routine.

A couple of minutes later the shower stopped, harry stepping out of the shower, and standing behind you, he leaned over you and kissed your cheek, giggling as you squeaked and smacked his shoulder.

He backed up and grabbed a towel drying off his hair before wrapping it around his waist. “thought yeh were gonna sleep in?” Harry asked, raising his brow at you as you tried to talk with toothpaste in your mouth.

“ughgh” you spit the paste out into the sink, turning to pout at Harry. “you woke me up”

“aw im sorry love” Harry chuckled, walking out of the bathroom and over to your shared dresser. As he got his clothes out you finished your routine, patting your face with a towel and walking out of the bathroom, a smirk growing on your lips as you passed by Harry who was leaning over the dresser.

*SMACK*

Harry stood straight, a small yelp ripping from his lips as he spun around, his cheeks a blazing red “(y/n)!!” he yelled, mouth gaping open in shock as he watched you giggle to yourself.

“i-im sorry!” you looked back at him, scrunching your nose “I couldn’t resist~ you just got too good of a butt to not smack it!”

Harry pouted at you and shook his head, turning back to his dresser and grabbed the rest of his clothes for the day.

You bit your lip as he dropped his towel and pulled out a pair of boxer-briefs, covering up that sculpted butt of his “yer staring” Harry chuckled, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his now too long bangs hanging over his eyes.

“im your fiancée” you snorted, rolling your ryes “I have a right to stare at your butt and you need a hair cut, hey that rhymed!” Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes and sighed.

“aye right,” he muttered, turning to you and walking over to the bed, setting his clothes next to yours. “ so what's the plan fer today?” Harry asked, shrugging on a tight white t-shirt, accenting his biceps.

“well, you already filled your quota for today for Uma and it's my day off, soooooo…..date day?”

“date day” Harry confirmed, leaning over and pecking your cheek, hopping into his pants and sitting down next to you to get his socks and shoes on.

Harry tied off his shoes and turned to you, raising his brow as he looked at your still pajama-wearing self “uh, yeh gonna get dressed?”

You perked up, looking down at your clothes “oh, I was just going to go like this? Problem?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head “well I wouldn’t have a problem” he eyed your exposed thighs “buuuut-“

“Alright alright,” you snorted, pushing his face away, breaking his eye contact with you “im getting dressed.”

Harry swung your hands between the two of you as you walked the path of the enchanted forest, his other hand holding his chocolate shake.

The two of you decided on a simple date for the day, get breakfast, hang out at the lost revenge watching movies, get lunch, go to the enchanted lake through the forest and just chill watching videos on your phone.

To you, it was perfect, just spending a day with the love of your life.

You finished off your shake as you arrived at the lake, you released Harry's hand and skipped down into the grotto, hearing Harry chuckle behind you as he followed.

Harry set down the fast-food bag on the ground, settling down next to it and pulling off his backpack, he took out a root beer and (fav soda/drink) and set them down next to the bag.

He watched you as you took off your shoes, rolled up your leggings, and wadded into the water, starting to dig around the rocks.

“yee” you grinned, standing up with a nice shiny black and clear crystal rock “I think it's obsidian and quarts!” Harry tilted his head at you as you wadded towards the grotto “yeh sure?”

“I said I think, not that it is” you snarked, lifting yourself onto the grotto platform and shaking your legs to rid of the excess water “you sure you got your hearing ears on?”

“ouch” Harry snorted, grabbing the food bag and clutching his chest “no food fer yeh then”

“bitch I paid for it! give me my food!” you dropped to your knees next to harry, reaching for the bag as he cackled and leaned away from you, lifting the bag in the air.

“no~” he sang, yelping as you lifted your leg and placed your knee in his hip, halfway straddling him and grabbing the bag “hey!” you mocked his laugh and kissed him on the nose, turning around and sitting on his thigh.

Harry let out a small huff and buried his face in the crook of your neck, watching as you took out the food from the bag.

You set down Harry's burger and took out your (preferred fast food item) and started to eat, rearranging yourself to let Harry eat.

It was quiet as you ate and listened to the music coming from Harry’s phone and the waterfall in the distance.

You finished your food and crumbled the wrapper and tossed it in the bag, sipping at your drink as you leaned back against Harry.

“so,” Harry started, licking his lips “when’s an appropriate time ta talk ‘bout weddin’ stuff?”

“anytime really” you muttered, closing your eyes and resting your head on Harry's shoulder.

“soooo” Harry hummed, letting his cheek rest against your head “um, cake?”

“my aunts already on it” you chuckled “she offered to do it free of charge but I said we would pay her”

“of course” Harry smirked “she's a damn good baker, can't let her efforts going unpaid”

“Yep yep” you laughed “Evie offered to make my dress, and im gonna let her do that but im designing it mainly” you muttered with a slight tone of nonchalance.

“Is this about those Mal and Ben wedding stuff from yer world?” Harry asked, glancing down at you.

“yeah” you groaned “those designs were not Disneys best, nor were they Evie’s, so im designing and Evies making”

Harry nodded, grabbing his root beer and taking a sip “um, is she also-“ “yeah” you interrupted, glancing up at harry “shes also making yours”

“alright that takes care of tha’” Harry muttered, “where?”

“mmmm” you went deep in thought, tapping your chin “well we could to a beach wedding, a forest wedding, a classic cathedral wedding, we could get married on the revenge, anywhere really, im not picky as long as I get to marry you” Harry felt his face flush and he buried his burning face into your neck. “fuuuck I love yeh” he muttered, feeling your hand reach up and run through his hair.

“I love you too harry” you giggled, tuning and kissing his forehead. You relaxed back against him and closed your eyes, smiling as you felt harry grab your left hand and start to mess with your fingers and ring.

“still hard ta believe that this is all real” he muttered, you snorted.

“consider what it's like for me, im from a world where yall are fictional characters, how do I know this isn’t my dream” you hummed, squeaking as harry wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into further into his lap.

“if it was I would scavenge the multiverse to find you” he muttered in your ear.

You felt tears burn at your eyes and you hurriedly wiped your eyes “gosh your such a sap” you sniffed, turning in his lap and pressing your lips to his.

Harry hummed into the kiss and tilted his head, hands trailing up your back and landing on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

You groaned into the kiss as your phone suddenly went off, you leaned out of the kiss and almost fell out of Harry's lap reaching for your phone, if not for Harry's arms falling to your waist to hold you.

You picked up the phone and rose your brow at the id.

-AUNTIE

You pressed the answer button and set it on speakerphone.

“Hey what's up,” you said aloud, leaning back into Harry and tucking under his chin

‘hi hon, just a quick question, and I was busy so that’s why I didn’t just text you, im making some test batches for your cake and I was wondering what your favorite flavors are?’

“Ummm” you glanced up at Harry who nodded at his almost empty shake “harry likes chocolate, you know what I like, ummmm, maybe something light too? Like angel food?”

‘oooh~ angel food, okay thanks hon!’

“bye” you clicked off your phone as the dial tone sounded and set it back down on the ground. You leaned back and rose your brow as harry stared at you “you good?”

“mmhm” he hummed, bumping his forehead into yours and closing his eyes. You smiled at him, closing your eyes and once more relaxed against him.

It was a quiet date, just leaning against each other and watching videos as you spent the next two hours at the enchanted lake.

Around 3 pm you both decided to pack up and head back to the ship, Harry picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder, tossing his arm over your shoulder, and walking out of the grotto with you.

“that was nice” you hummed, tossing the black and clear crystal rock in your hands “we should do that more often”

“aye,” Harry nodded, messing with his phone and pocketing it as music started to play. “I have next Tuesday off?”

“same here, then its set, day date next Tuesday!” you cheered, grabbing Harry's hand and swinging it in the air.

Harry chuckled and smiled at you, holding onto your hand and bringing it to his lips. “I can't wait ta be yers”

Your face burned and you let out a nervous snicker, sidestepping into Harry's side and rubbing your cheek into his arm “same”

“same?” Harry laughed, scrunching his nose “that’s all yeh have to say? Same?”

“shhhhhuuut up” you rolled your eyes, pushing away from him and upturning your nose “if you’re gonna make fun of me you can walk on your own” you speed-walked to make some distance.

“noooo” Harry pouted, running after you, a smile breaking on his face as you started to run. “hey!”

You cackled as you ran, “race you back to the ship!” “yer on!”

-end of part 18-

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @rintheemolion

@random-thoughts-003 @remembered-license

@imtryingthisout @verboetoperee

taglist that i forgot existed im sorry

@dpaccione

@Ibuck121

#disney descendants #descendants #Descendents #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #encore #reprise #rewrite #part of your world

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ralphspina · 3 years

Text

Landing

A fun little something I wrote to fill one of the BoB LoveFest Prompts!

Prompt: It's D-Day; George and Gene land near each other in Normandy and need to go find their company.

Read on AO3

----------------------

Helluva day.

It`s Luz`s first thought after he hits the ground and takes stock of his situation. It's dark and he's alone. He also seems to have lost his weapon and the damned leg bag. And his radio must have caught some shrapnel or something given the mini crater it now sports. His first day at war and he's already a mess. Fantastic. He gathers himself and the few belongings he has left and begins to make his way towards the tree line. After only a few feet, he hears a rustling sound just ahead of him.

“Flash!”

“Luz?”

The answering voice is immediately recognizable - only one person has that particular smooth accent.

“I don't think that's the right answer, Doc.”

There's a bit more rustling before Roe appears just in front of him with a half smile.

“Guess it's a good thing it was you then. You land okay? Anythin’ hurt?” Luz watches as Roe`s eyes wander over him, checking to make sure he looks uninjured.

“All good, Doc. You?”

“I'm alright. You seen anyone else?”

“Nope, looks like it's just you and me.” Luz smiles at Roe, comforted a bit by the fact he managed to land near the medic. “Guess we'll have to go find everyone else. Good thing I'm a hide and seek champ.”

They set off, Luz, upon his insistence, taking point, despite them both being equally weaponless. They move quietly for some time, glued to each others’ sides, only ever stopping to quickly consult their map and compass.

Even with the sky just beginning to lighten as dawn approaches, it's still quite dark out as they make their way through what appears to be a long abandoned farm. Luz leads them towards the crumbling farmhouse, eyes trained a bit too much on their destination and not enough on the ground in front of him. There`s a loud crack followed half a moment later by an almost equally loud thud and then a quiet exclamation of oh fuck.

Luz sits in shock for a moment, eyes darting around his new, less than ideal, position several feet underground. There`s a scrambling sound and what Luz can only assume must be the Cajun version of oh fuck. Looking up towards the noise, he finds Roe`s familiar face peering down at him through a rather large hole framed by broken, rotting pieces of wood.

“You alright?!”

“Doing peachy, Doc! What do you think of my foxhole? Might be a bit deep, huh?”

The grin on Luz`s face is quickly wiped away by the sudden, near crushing, presence of Roe as he damn near lands on top of him.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“You hurt? How's your legs?” Roe is already kneeling next to him, poking and prodding Luz`s body, looking for injuries, as he asks the questions.

“I`m fine. And look, I'm touched, flattered even, that you would jump into a hole for me, but you do understand that we are now both stuck in this hole?”

Roe stops his examination to glance first at Luz`s face, then up at the hole he had just jumped through, and then around at their new surroundings.

“Must be an old cellar or somethin’.”

“That's nice. Glad we get to spend our very first day at war stuck in a dusty old cellar. Hey, what`s Cajun for guess we’re fucked?”

“George-”

“Ha! It sort of sounds like my name!”

The exasperated look on Roe`s face only makes Luz smile wider.

“Anyone ever tell you you look like an annoyed puppy when you make that face?”

The only response he gets is an eye roll as Roe gets up to look around. Luz follows suit.

“Maybe we’re lucky and this is where they stored all their ladders.”

There's a small amused snort from Roe`s direction as they search in the darkness. The space they find themselves in is both bigger than expected and emptier than hoped for.

“You really ain't hurt?”

“Jesus, Gene, I`m fine. You don't have to fuss.”

Roe huffs at the accusation of fussing, “Ain`t fussin’. Just seein’ if you`re alright to give me a boost.”

“Now that I can do! Can`t shoot any krauts or avoid falling into cellars but I can be a damn good step stool.” The ridiculously large grin on Luz`s face is met, well, with a look somewhere between amusement and mild irritation.

The added height of Roe on Luz`s shoulders ends up being just enough for Roe to grab onto one of the steadier pieces of board and haul himself out. He disappears from sight as soon as he's out and stays out of sight for longer than Luz cares for.

“Doc? Hey, Doc!”

No answer.

“Doc! Don`t forget your favorite radioman!”

Still no answer.

Luz begins pacing, staring up into the dark, impatiently waiting for Roe to reappear. After what feels like a thousand minutes but is actually closer to five, Luz calls out again.

“Gene! Gene, buddy! I don't want to die in a hole! Gene, I-”

“I`m right here! ‘S alright! I just went to look for a rope in the farmhouse.”

“Well, did you find any?”

The large box that comes crashing down into the hole beside him is the answer.

“Jesus, you really gotta give a guy warning before you hurl stuff down a hole!”

“Found a box.”

“I see that.”

“Stand on it and it should be enough for me to grab you and pull you out.”

“Yeah, alright. Just don`t drop me, okay? I`m a valuable resource.”

Roe does drop him. Several times. But eventually, the plan works and Luz is successfully rescued from the old cellar with only a few bruises and scrapes. As they sit catching their breath, Luz rips out a handful of grass and tosses it at Roe.

“You didn't have to grunt like you were hauling up a baby elephant, you know. I'm light as a feather! Maybe you need to work on those muscles, Doc.” Luz winks over at Roe who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sure, if that feather`s made of lead. And glued to a baby elephant.”

Luz can't help the burst of laughter from the unexpected joke. Roe quickly clamps his hand over Luz`s mouth, shushing him as he does.

“I know I`m funnier than you, but you gotta keep it down.”

“Funnier than me?!” Luz`s words come out in a barely attempted whisper as they both clamber to their feet.

“Mhmm. I`ll teach ya how to make real jokes later, but first we gotta find the rest of Easy.”

Roe grabs Luz by the hand and yanks him along. They walk like that for several minutes, Roe leading the way, determined, and Luz trailing just behind him in quiet amusement, his hand clamped firmly in Roe`s.

“You planning on holding my hand the whole way, Doc?”

Roe glances down at their clasped hands at the comment, quickly letting go and mumbling a quiet sorry, didn't realize.

“No worries. When we get to a road, you can hold my hand as we cross it.”

Roe merely shakes his head and keeps moving.

“You know, it's okay to admit you enjoy my company, Gene. I`m an enjoyable guy.”

“My mama taught me not to lie, Georgie.” Roe mentally kicks himself as soon as the overly affectionate nickname leaves his mouth and he can't hide the shade of pink spreading across his cheeks.

“Georgie?” Luz`s voice rises, delighted by the surprising endearment.

Roe makes a small sound in the back of his throat as his brain scrambles for something to say.

“Yeah, Georgie, like the rhyme. Georgie Porgie, pudding pie, kissed the girls ‘n’ made them cry.”

“For the record, no one has ever complained, or cried, over my kissing ability.”

“That you know of.”

All the while, as they bantered back and forth and slowly made their way in the direction of their company, Luz`s fingers had slowly curled into a fist, savoring the leftover warmth from Roe`s hand.

Helluva day.

#band of brothers #band of brothers love fest 2021 #eugene roe #george luz #LuzRoe

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

Text

For my beloved bean @solas-disapproves , and @dadrunkwriting! Please enjoy my poor attempts at writing bawdy tavern songs, making things rhyme is HARD but at least I made myself laugh.

Pairing: Dorian Pavus/Tristan Trevelyan

Read here or on AO3!

******

“I don’t like this place.”

Trevelyan’s voice came muffled from within his mug, his eyes scanning the room as he took a long draught of ale. The inn they had stopped at on their way to Val Royeaux was humble, to say the least; rustic, even. A shithole, if Dorian was being honest about it. The scent of cheap ale wafted from every corner, crass jokes followed by raucous laughter and fists banging on tables mingled with the minstrel’s tune, that was barely audible now. Which was probably fortunate, since the man’s lute was out of tune, his voice even more so. Really, a goose squawking and flapping its wings would be far preferable to this. At least the animal might come close to something resembling a rhythm.

“Come on, Boss, it’s not so bad,” Iron Bull said, sipping on his ale. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Dorian replied with a roll of his eyes. He still couldn’t understand why they were there to begin with. Sister Leliana had received an anonymous tip from someone claiming they had inside information about Duke Gaspard and the movements of his army in the Dales. They had specified the time and place they were to meet, and it just so happened to be this disaster of a tavern they were now sitting in. Leliana had assured them that her agents had found no suspicious movements, that it was unlikely to be a trap. “Even if it is,” she’d said with a small smile, “you’re more than capable of taking care of it.”

Dorian set his cup down, clearing his throat that had been half burnt by the acidic brew they called wine around those parts. At that point, he almost wished it was a trap. Anything that would save him from staying in that Maker forsaken place for one more minute.

“Right,” Trevelyan said, slapping his palms on the table and pushing himself up, “I’m going out for some fresh air.”

“What’s wrong with the air here? Not enough feckin’ roses for his Inquisitorial-ness?” Sera cackled, downing her drink.

“A couple roses never hurt anybody,” Trevelyan muttered petulantly before turning around and pushing his way to the door. It wasn’t long before Dorian went after him, dusting his robes.

“If you’re in need of roses, I think I might be able to procure a few,” he said teasingly, sauntering towards him. “But it might cost you.”

Full, rosy coloured lips widened in a smirk. Trevelyan’s hands wound around his waist, pulling Dorian close. “Is that so?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

“And what will it cost me, exactly?”

“Let’s see,” Dorian hummed, tilting his head up as Trevelyan placed a kiss under his jaw, one tender enough to make Dorian’s hair stand on end. “A decent room, for a start. With a decent bed that’s not infested with lice. Oh, and I believe a tub instead of a barrel isn’t too much to ask for. And how about some wine that doesn’t taste like last year’s vinegar?”

Trevelyan scoffed, a little puff of air that warmed Dorian’s neck. “In this place we’re in, you might as well be asking for a miracle.”

“You’re the Herald of Andraste. I’m sure you could whip something up,” he grinned.

The rough sound of boots on gravel and a pained yelp made them both jolt. Dorian blinked in surprise when he saw Bull dragging a scrawny man by the collar, his lip already bleeding from where the Qunari had hit him, Sera in tow.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Trevelyan demanded, pushing himself upright.

“Saw this one creeping after you,” he said, tossing the sorry wretch on the ground before their feet.

Dorian tilted his head to the side, studying the man. “Could it be the informant?”

“An informant with a drawn dagger, skulking in the shadows like a thief? Don’t think so, Boss.”

“What are these- these ludicrous accusations? I was only trying to defend myself!” the man protested in a thick Orlesian accent. “I’m no informant, nor was I about to attack anyone! Not before your beast attacked me,” he spat.

Trevelyan narrowed his eyes, folding his arms before his chest. “You’re not making your position any better.”

The man cowered, glancing away and back. “I didn’t mean to scare you, messer, I swear it. On my honour! On my life!” he mumbled. “I-I just came out for some air, and-”

“Who are you?” Trevelyan asked, cutting him short. “Why are you here?”

“Bardeaux,” he said quickly. “Vincent Bardeaux. I’m a minstrel. Just a minstrel. Looking for work. Heard this place might need someone to play a song or two and came to check. I was just about to leave before-”

“If you’re a minstrel,” Sera said, perching herself atop a barrel, “where’s your lute?”

“I-” The supposed minstrel paled. “It broke. In a brawl, last night.”

“How convenient,” Dorian said with a sweet smile.

“I swear it! Find me a lute and I’ll play any tune you like.”

Bull lifted a brow, glancing at Sera. Grinning, she kicked off the barrel, sneaking inside the tavern. A few minutes later, she re-appeared with a small lute and a mug of ale she had managed to swipe off a table in passing.

“There you go, fancy pants,” she told the man, handing him the lute. “Now play us a song.”

Bardeaux cleared his throat, wincing when he plucked the strings and a jarring, discordant sound escaped. He tuned the lute and straightened, clearing his throat again, more loudly this time. “ O lovely rose, my sweet soul-”

“Does this look like a Chantry gathering?” Bull smirked leaned against the wall. “You must know something better than that.”

“I know… some songs,” the man said, squinting. “But I would hardly call them appropriate. If you catch my drift.”

“That’s the kind we like,” Sera said with a wicked grin. “What are you waiting for? Get on with it, mate, ain’t got all day!”

“I… suppose I shall.” Bardeaux prepared to start again, when Bull stopped him once more.

“Wait! You must know some about him too, right?” he nodded to Trevelyan, his eye glittering with mischief. “About the Herald of Andraste?”

“The Herald of Andraste?” The minstrel’s cheeks were bright red as he looked from Trevelyan to Bull and back. “I suppose… I do know some songs. Just a few, mind you.”

Trevelyan rolled his eyes and huffed. “Bull, no.”

“Come on, Boss, it’ll be fun! You never get to hear any of the good stuff in the Herald’s Rest. Might as well hear it now, right?”

Dorian placed his hand on Trevelyan’s back, leaning close to his ear. “Bull is right. I think it’ll be interesting. We could see what the people say about you in this part of the world, too, hm?”

Trevelyan shot him a sideways look before his scowl broke, his lips pursing only slightly. “...fine.”

“Right!” Sera leaned back against the wall, sipping on her beer. “Crack on, then, what are you waiting for?”

“Ah… alright.” The minstrel slanted a nervous glance at Trevelyan before his fingers started running deftly down the strings.

“The Herald fancied a dark-haired lad,

With sharp eyes and a sharper tongue,

A magician he was, of great renown,

People gathered when he came to town,

He played with fire, tamed the storms,

He juggled balls and swallowed swords-”

“I’m not that kind of magician,” Dorian grumbled, already regretting having urged Trevelyan to listen to the dratted song. “That makes it sound like I go around performing petty parlour tricks!”

“I think he’s talking about a different kind of tricks, Vint,” Bull chuckled, before Sera shushed them both sharply.

“'Such skill,” cried the Herald, “such finesse!

My love to him I must confess.”

He knelt before the mage’s feet,

And took his mighty hand in his,

“There are no eyes, no lips like thine,

Your silken hair, your form divine,

I want thee with a throbbing need,

‘Tis a matter of urgency indeed,

You hold the key to my heart’s lock,

I shall not rest until I’ve had your-'"

“For the Maker’s sake,” Dorian rolled his eyes as Bull howled with laughter. “Do we really have to listen to this?” He yelped when Sera punched him on the arm.

“Oi!” She glared at both of them, waving her mug in the air and spilling beer in every direction. “He was just getting to the good part, ye daft tits!”

Trevelyan chuckled, the blade of his dagger catching the light as he twirled it around his fingers. “You seem a decent fellow,” he told the minstrel. “I hate to kill you.”

The man’s face, who had lit up momentarily with hope, twisted in a grimace of despair. “R-rock! I was going to say rock!” He bit his lip, wringing his hands. “I implore you, messer. I meant no harm! I’m just a minstrel-” He paused, gaping when Trevelyan’s blade pressed against his neck.

“You tell me who sent you now,” he hissed, his expression turning stony, “or you won’t sing another song about ‘rocks’ again. Yes?”

The minstrel, pale as a sheet, nodded with a whimper.

“So he was an assassin after all,” Dorian said, lying on the soft bed of their new room; the largest one the tavern possessed. It was warm and comfortable, all things considered, yet he still had to make due with an old wine barrel full of tepid water instead of a tub for his bath that night. Dratted South, he reflected acidly. “Who would have thought.”

“I did.” Trevelyan kicked off his boots and flopped on the mattress beside him. “And you. And Bull. I believe Sera knew before any of us did. Plain as day, really.”

“Hmm. I believe Leliana is getting rusty.”

“So am I.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “That was more than enough excitement for a day, thank you very much.”

“Are you quite sure about that? You do, after all, have a certain reputation to keep.” Dorian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, propping himself on his elbow.

Trevelyan cracked his eyes open to peek at him, his lips widening in a smirk. “I do?”

“Oh, yes. Remind me where the minstrel left off…? Something about rocks and locks, was it? Or perhaps-” Dorian chuckled when a suddenly very energetic Trevelyan rolled on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head.

“How odd. I can’t remember. I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me.” He flashed him a wry grin. “Or show me.”

Dorian hummed in amusement, a shiver running down his spine when Trevelyan's plush lips closed softly over his own. “Gladly,” he whispered.

#dadrunkwriting #dorian pavus #dorian pavus x trevelyan #dorian pavus/trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #dorian x tristan trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/inquisitor #pavelyan #johaerys writes

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theawesomeally · 3 years

Text

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

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gardenofdelight · 3 years

Text

✨OC Questionnaire: Peaseblossom✨

a.k.a. Pixie Reader from Fairies May Cry

Full name

???????????????

Preferred name/nickname

Lil Pea, Lil Blossom, Sweet Pea

Generally referred to as

Peaseblossom

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

SEX: Female

HEIGHT: Just barely 5 inches in pixie form, 5 feet in human form.

WEIGHT: Light as a feather in pixie form, lightweight in human form.

BUILD: Lithe and slender.

HAIR: long, soft, and platinum blond. Usually braided with tiny flowers, but it comes down past her bottom when loose.

SKIN: White. Smooth and sunkissed from daily naps under the sun.

EYES: Purple like lilac flowers.They’re a bit wide and always seem to sparkle with mirth and mischief. Long eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Perfectly straight teeth and pure white.

NOSE: Small and rounded with a cute point at the tip and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small with short fingernails.

FEET: Small and dainty with short nails.

SCARS: None.

CLOTHES: Colorful dresses handmade from real flowers, but she prefers to be nude with a sprinkling of her fairy dust on her body most of the time

OTHER FEATURES: She has 2 pairs of iridescent wings much like a dragonfly.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: She has a “fairy light” that changes color depending on her current mood.

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: Fairly neutral.

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to repeat words when she’s overly excited about something. And she stumbles over her words when taken by surprise.

LANGUAGE: She can speak all known languages so long as she can hear it verbally first thanks to a little fairy magic.

ARTICULATION: She can be a little clumsy with words while explaining things but she does so on purpose sometimes if she’s hoping to get the upper hand in a deal.

EDUCATION: She prefers to use short and simple words but she’s learned a few big words that are hard for her to pronounce correctly.

LAUGHTER: Sounds like the tinkling of tiny bells in the wind, and she laughs and giggles a lot everyday.

GRUMP: She pouts, grumbles, and sneers whenever she’s annoyed or angry.

BREATHING: She gasps, humphs, and sighs a lot.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face and has a hard time hiding emotions on her face unless she’s working out a deal...then she has the best damn poker face in existence.

HANDS: She makes a lot of hand gestures whenever she’s excited or mad. Lots of arm crossing, finger wagging, curious poking, and happy clapping.

LEGS/FEET: She kicks her feet sometimes while flying and stomps her foot down when she’s angry.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: Her capricious nature makes her very prone to emotional outbursts. Crying and yelling when she’s upset and laughing and bouncing around when she’s happy.

HABITS: She likes to hum sometimes while hunting for lost trinkets and sing lullabies while making flower dresses.

POSTURE: She tends to slump a little while standing or sitting, but her posture straightens out whenever she’s very happy, angry, or taken by surprise.

WALKING POSTURE: She skips around gleefully when she’s in good, but she tends to stomp around when she’s in a bad mood.

SITTING POSTURE: She likes to sit with her legs crossed beneath her with a slouched posture.

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn't have much of a personal bubble and tends to encroach on others’ personal space without realizing it.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: She’s really good at noticing what’s around her thanks to her constant hunt for the next best trinket.

OTHER: Her fairy light changes color depending on her mood. And her fairy wings tend to snap out when she’s surprised, droop when she’s feeling down, and flutter faster when they're buzzing with rage.

Health

DIET: Two words: liqueur and sweets! She loves fruity wines and sugary treats...it’s not really healthy and definitely not a well-balanced diet but pixies have an extremely high metabolism. She rarely eats vegetables and scoffs at anything boring and bitter.

SLEEP: She takes a lot of short naps throughout the day. Pixies don’t sleep for very long unless they’re completely exhausted. Many of her dreams consist of brave adventures with her trusty steed (a rat named Sir Hawthrone) and romantic dances with Pretty Boy (Vergil).

EXERCISE: Not very much but flying around and searching through all the nooks and crannies for lost trinkets is a bit of an exercise!

ACTIVITY: She works hard when she wants to, especially if she’s really excited about something...that’s usually when she pushes herself to exhaustion. But she can be pretty lazy some days...it all just depends on her mood at the moment.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes in the morning dew she creates every morning for her flowers. But sometimes she takes a shower with Pretty Boy when he’s not looking…!

ODOUR: Like a meadow of sweet flowers by a tranquil pond.

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: No...unless you count the obsessive need to make deals and having a sweet tooth as an addiction.

ILLNESS: No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: To be determined.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: She’s an exuberant extrovert. Lil Pea doesn’t let her small size get in the way of being social and outgoing, especially when it comes to things that pique her curiosity.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: Definitely an optimist.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She has no set preference in regards to sex and/or gender. So long as they’re a very nice person with a kind soul. Any display of intentional cruelty or just general “meanie-ness” will make her look the other way.

ROMANTIC: Absolutely loves all the romance!

MEMORY: She has a very chaotic memory, usually wavering between highly accurate to absurdly silly.

PLANNING: She’s a terrible planner and just leaps right into things with a wide grin.

PENSIVE: She doesn’t spend a lot of time pondering about life...she’d much rather live in the now and not then or yet to come.

INTUITION: She has really good intuition so long as she isn’t figuring things out on an empty stomach.

PROBLEM SOLVING: She’s very good at solving puzzles and problems so long as it's very clever or in rhyming form.

GOALS: To find the greatest lost trinket in the world!

INSECURITIES: She thinks her wings aren’t as pretty as some of the other fairies with their beautiful butterfly wings. But she hides her insecurities well behind her cute and bubbly personality.

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s very proud of her trinket collection and her ability to make Pretty Boy blush!

ANXIETY: Being trapped like a bug in a jar and Pretty Boy being in danger makes her super anxious.

OVERWHELMED: She only feels like things are too much when she’s stressed out.

SELF-HELP: She simply ignores her problems and moves on with life.

COMFORTS: Liquor, sweet treats, naps among the flowers, and Pretty Boy kisses.

BAD HABITS: She tends to exaggerate a lot which sometimes leads to more problems.

PHILOSOPHY: Not religious but does follow the creed of all fairies: always seek to make clever deals through trickery and under no circumstances are you to break a deal.

TRIGGERS: Glass jars and bird cages.

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She doesn’t have parents per se...more like a mysterious guardian who brought her into existence with powerful magic. And they get along very well but haven’t seen each other in over a millennium.

SCHOOL: She never went to school...unless you count causing mischief a few times during some classes to make children laugh at the teacher’s expense.

ADOLESCENCE: She was never an adolescent.

LEAVING HOME: It was very exciting for her the first time since she’s always heard how much the mortal realm can be! But then she became a permanent resident when she escaped from the mages holding her captive.

FURTHER EDUCATION: She never went to college but wouldn’t mind causing some mischief there too.

FIRST JOB: She helped her guardian with his garden by tending to the flowers. She enjoyed putting dew on the blooms every morning and healing to sickly buds with her bell-like singing.

LIFE EVENTS: Making a deal with one of the Princes of the Seelie Court definitely brought more cheer into her life. But having that same Prince fail to protect her when she got captured by mages and enduring captivity brought pain and sorrow. And now finding a new protector has renewed her hope and continues to bring her joy every day.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She was captured by mage and held prisoner for various vile experiments.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Pretty Boy kissed her back.

LESSONS: Never trust someone solely on their looks...you must peer into their soul and judge them by their spirit. Never hide in the dark alone. Don’t eat too much strawberry ice cream or else you’ll suffer from the worst stomach EVER! And it only takes one fairy’s sugar to make Pretty Boy smile and sometimes blush!

LOOKING BACK: If Lil Pea could re-play her life and do something differently, she would’ve not joined the Prince’s revelry in the mortal world that fateful day.

Relationships

FAMILY: The crew at Devil May Cry are pretty much her family now.

FRIENDSHIPS: She has a lot of friends! Most of them are critters living in and around the shop...but they’re very loyal and love to go on adventures with her.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She will always be there for her friends with fairy dust to cheer them up...she’ll also offer to even the score if someone is the source of her friend’s troubles. This usually involves some elaborate pranks and tiny raspberries right in their face.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She usually seeks the comfort of her flowers and critter friends first...but sometimes she’ll go to her human friends when she needs help or advice. It just depends on her mood at the time.

ANNOYANCES: She gets annoyed very easily but reciprocates with swift pranks and raspberries right in the face when really irked.

ROMANCE: She’s a bit overt with her advances and has no problem giving her romantic interest pretty gifts. She’s attracted to people with a good and just soul...and being tall and strong doesn’t hurt either.

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She’s not married but she’d probably ignore the problem until forced to deal with it...and then her capriciousness would take over and it’ll either turn out very good or very bad but confusing nonetheless.

ADVERSARIES: She doesn’t like big meanies who ruin all the fun!

ENEMIES: Anyone who would hurt Pretty Boy or defenseless animals and children is an enemy to her. She also gets VERY angry when flowers are needlessly destroyed.

STRANGERS: She tends to hide from strangers since you never know if they’re real nice or a big meanie!

FUN STUFF: She loves to sing, dance, pull pranks, hunt for lost trinkets, make pretty dresses, and feast on all the sweets and booze!

DATING: She loves to dance with her romantic partner and will always be ready for a feast with good booze. But she finds a stroll among the flowers and fireflies at night very romantic.

BEST FRIEND: Her trusty rat steed, Sir Hawthorne...but Scruffy Boy and Sweet Lady have become close friends too!

LOVE: Her devilish protector will always have her tiny heart.

WORST ENEMY: Anyone who has terrible manners and harms flowers or Pretty Boy.

Interactions

MINGLING: She gets along with others so long as they have good manners and aren’t big meanies!

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s comfortable talking to people but will steer the conversation by any means necessary if they stumble upon a touchy subject. The only time she’s uncomfortable is when people ask too many questions or focus too much on the past and future.

PHYSICAL: She’s very touchy-feely! Loves to give hugs and poke noses no matter her size at the moment.

GROUPS: She’s comfortable in a big group so long as she knows everybody, but even that doesn’t stop her since she’s very good at hanging around while not being noticed. But sometimes she wants to spend time alone with one or two people who’ll give her plenty of attention.

OPENNESS: She opens up very easily up to a certain extent. It’ll take some patience and gentle prying to get her to talk openly up about her past.

GENEROSITY: She likes to give gifts to those who prove a friend to the Fae. She’d gladly lend money to a friend...so long as they make a deal with her in return. And it makes her very happy to receive gifts from others.

JEALOUSY: Anyone that takes her Pretty Boy’s attention away from her makes her feel incredibly jealous! But pulling a few pranks on the offender always makes her feel better.

TEMPER: She’s easily worked up thanks to the capricious nature of pixies.

EMPATHY: She can empathize but sometimes she doesn’t understand the reasons behind some mortal’s feelings, which leads to a misunderstanding if no one explains.

AFFECTION: Lots of hugs and “fairy’s sugar” with the occasional gift or helping hand with her fairy dust.

DISTASTE: Her fairy light will flash red as she blows many raspberries right in their face...and a few pranks if she REALLY dislikes someone.

ETIQUETTE: She has very good manners just like any fairy worth their salt! But most mortals don’t know the proper etiquette of the Fae...which may look very rude and inappropriate to them.

RESPONSIBILITY: She doesn’t like to admit when she’s wrong but will face the music when it all falls apart. Then, she’ll try to make up for her mistakes by any means possible.

SELF ESTEEM: She’s always had to stick up for herself until meeting the Prince since many of the Fae treat fairies born through non-fairy magic like her very poorly.

CONFIDENCE: She’s very confident in herself and her abilities despite being treated differently from her own kind.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind unless she’s up to some mischief or feels that it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s a little of both. She usually follows but can take the lead if needed.

PARTY TRICKS: She’s an expert trinket finder, flower dressmaker, and can put dew on all the flowers in a meadow before the first ray of sunrise! And she also knows how to make pretty half devils blush.

PRAISE: Compliments and praise make her fairy light turn pink with joy.

FAILURES: Her capricious attitude can be irritating to some but her constant need to pull pranks is highly annoying.

CRITICISM: She doesn’t take criticism very well...she’d either burst into tears or swear pretty pixie vengeance on the unfortunate critic!

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She’ll fire back with one of her inventive insults at some, but then get teary eyed at others.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but it still happens whenever she’s taken by surprise. Her fairy light turns pink and red as she scurries away to hide whenever she’s embarrassed.

FLIRTING: She’s VERY flirty...absolutely adores the way people light up and blush at her cute compliments.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has a very short attention span and tends to get easily distracted.

SITUATIONS: She’s very good at breaking up difficult situations but has a hard time dealing with them through patient conversation.

Life

CAREER: Expert trinket finder and very pretty pixie for Pretty Boy! It’s a very fulfilling career for a fairy.

PROMOTION: She’s eyeing the promotion known as “girlfriend” at the moment.

BOSS: She has a great relationship with her boss so long as she doesn’t tease him too much.

DUTY: She assists Pretty Boy with her unique talents and magical fairy dust.

TECH: She has no idea how to use modern technology but would find it very fascinating if she ever gave it a try!

POLITICS: Not political at all.

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s very good at blinding people with her fairy dust and is proficient in mounted combat on her ratty stead with her needle sword.

HOME: She keeps her personal space very tidy and filled with many different flowers.

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with an eager wonder of unknown adventures that might happen along the way.

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since escaping the mages to live in the human world.

COOKING: She can’t really cook but loves to help from time to time by sprinkling her fairy dust over food.

BUILDING: She can’t do basic DIY but she tries to help with her fairy magic!

CLEANING: She always tries to keep her personal space clean but her fairy dust remains always present all over her pile of flowers where she usually sleeps.

SHOPPING: She doesn’t really shop due to her small stature and shyness around a group of strangers, but she likes to accompany her friends on shopping trips. But if she ever got her hands on some funds while in her bigger form...Ooh she’d be the most impulsive buyer in the human world!

DRIVING: She doesn’t know how to drive but it always looked like so much fun whenever she rode in the van with Crazy Lady and Baby Boy!

FINANCES: She has the biggest trinket hoard in all the shop! But she doesn’t quite understand why mortals value pieces of paper with pictures of old people.

MARRIAGE: Not married. She doesn’t know why mortals need a huge ceremony to spend eternity together, but she loves all the pretty dresses and flowers at weddings!

KIDS: No kids. And she has no plans to have kids herself, but she loves to make children smile and laugh with her mischievous antics.

PETS: No pets.

DEPENDANTS: No.

LAW: To human standards? Definitely. But to fairy standards? No.

COURT: She’s never been to court.

PRISON: No.

TRAVELLING: She’s been to many places around various worlds and different realities.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t trust doctors and always makes sure to have an apple on hand whenever someone needs to keep them away.

ILLNESS: No.

WORRIES: She worries for Pretty Boy whenever nightmares plague his dreams at night.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet but there’s music in the air around her thanks to her own whimsical singing.

PARTYING: She LOVES to go out partying whenever possible! There’s nothing like a good revel with lively music and vast feasts!

HOBBIES: She collects lost trinkets, makes dresses out of flowers, and finds mischief in the unlikeliest places!

#peaseblossom #pixie reader #oc questionnaire #Fairies May Cry #time see what lies behind a very pretty pixie! ✨🧚‍♀️✨#harlot writes #harlot speaks

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