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drvrslcense · 3 years

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devils roll the dice (angels roll their eyes)

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pairing: leo valdez x daughter of athena! reader

summary: you and leo are dared to skinny dip, what happens if your friends run away with your clothes?

warnings: skinny dipping (a bit of nudity), a few curses, mentions of sex (but not really?) - let me know if you see other ones!

notes: request; this takes place years after the events of hoo (toa never happened)

read this fic in ao3!

Leo Valdez is seriously annoying.

The way he smiles as if everything’s okay and his anger is not something you’re feeling like waves hitting you over and over - it’s just annoying. Why can’t he just get it over with and explode in front of you, use his fire powers and all?

With a scoff, you shook your head, averting your gaze from the curly-haired boy to the campfire in front of you.

Truthfully, this event was supposed to be just the seven - Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Frank, Hazel, and Leo. Percy invited you to enjoy this night with his friends. He found you earlier by this beach, kicking sand, and muttering how much Leo Valdez just pissed you off. And he just had the audacity to invite you to an event, saying Leo won’t be here. But here he is - grinning as he was roasting a marshmallow over the fire.

“So, Leo,” Percy turned to Leo. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he grinned.

You saw Percy look at you, smiling, like a monkey who finally grabbed the banana from the tree. "Go skinny dipping with Y/N."

"What!?" I'm sorry, but were you just dragged into something that doesn't even include you? "No. I'm not skinny dipping, especially not with him."

"Wow," Leo said, standing up. "Way to hurt my feelings, Y/N."

"Like you have one," you rolled your eyes.

"So, are you doing this or not?" Leo questioned you, already raising an arm to remove his shirt.

"No, I'm not," you crossed your arms over your chest.

"Your loss," Leo shrugged, shirtless. Your eyes scanned over his body. Realizing what you were doing, you averted your gaze from him into the campfire. "Like what you were seeing?"

You can just feel him smirking across from you. "It's not even my dare, how do I lose?"

"It's a dare and you're involved so get on with it," Percy waved his hand dismissively, smiling mischievously as he took a sip of his blue coke.

"Do they really have to be naked?" Thank the Gods for your sister, Annabeth.

"Yeah," Jason echoed. "We're all going to be scarred forever when Leo goes buck naked."

"Fine," Percy sighed in defeat. "You can keep your underwear."

They all looked at Leo expectantly, who raised his hands up. "Oh no, I'm not doing it if Y/N won't."

"It's your dare, Valdez."

"Yeah, and?"

"It's not mine."

"But Percy said I have to do it with you."

"Ugh," you huffed, standing up to remove your clothing. "I hate you."

"Well, I don't exactly like you either," Leo quipped, unbuckling his pants.

You turned around, raising your arms over your head as you removed your shirt, revealing your balconette bikini top in Victorian blue. The matching bikini was a gift from Piper on your birthday last September. This is only the first time you wore this, but under a white cropped top and denim jeans, thinking you won't have to swim as it is mid-winter in New York.

Unfortunately, Percy is a pain in the ass and dared Leo to go skinny dipping with you.

Annabeth handed you a beach towel you wrapped yourself in. Despite the camp's borders protecting you from extreme weather, the air was still chilly, and it sent a shiver down your spine as it hit you.

You turned around and saw that Leo had the matching blue and floral printed towel wrapped around his waist. "Let's just get this over with."

You walked over towards the edge where the waves meet the sun, leaving Leo to catch up to you. "So, how are we doing this?"

"You just don't think," is what you answered as you threw your towel somewhere behind you, diving into the open beach and swimming as far as you can.

As soon as the cold catches up to you, you stand up; the water reaching your chin. You saw Leo standing still at the edge, looking stunned. "What are you waiting for, you elf?"

Leo only shook his head and followed you. You waited a few moments, looking around the vast ocean, with chattering teeth and ragged breaths. In mid-December, the water current felt like icicles hitting your body over and over in different places. You couldn’t wait to get back out on the shore and sit by the fire for warmth.

You feel something tug at your ankle, pulling you deeper. As you struggled to stay afloat, you kicked whatever it was, deciding ultimately more on your own survival than the welfare of some random sea creature. But it wasn't a random sea creature. Instead, it was Leo, holding a bloody nose as he surfaced beside.

"Fuck you, Y/N," he held his nose, ducking his head a few times to stop the bleeding.

"That's what you get," you shrugged, waving your arms to keep yourself afloat.

"Ugh," Leo groaned. "CAN WE GO BACK NOW?"

"Geez," you covered your ears. "You didn't have to yell that loud."

"YES," you heard Percy yell back, his voice like waves echoing throughout the ocean.

You looked at the campfire, only that it was like a dot of orange in the distance. Your friends were like moving shadows in the distance, dimly lit by the moonlight.

"Come on," Leo started swimming back towards the shore once his nose had slowed down its bleeding. You followed him, careful not to swim too fast and make your head squeeze tighter than it already was. As you surfaced on the edge, you saw Leo yell and tried to run after Percy, who was holding your clothes. “Hey! Get back here.”

Instead of answering, Percy just laughed and ran away towards the parking lot. Leo chased after him.

You stood up, shivering as the chilly air hit you, grabbing your towel and wrapping yourself with it. Instead of running after Leo, you took a seat in front of the fire, with your arm reached out and dangerously close to the flames. Who could blame you for wanting to feel some warmth?

“You could get burned,” Leo commented, making you look at him in surprise. You thought he was with Percy grabbing his clothes, but there he stood, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. Your eyes dangerously drift down towards his collarbone, but you shook your head, focusing your gaze on the dancing flames in front of you.

“At least I could be warm,” is what you told him as your fingers still dance dangerously close to the flames.

“Here,” Leo offered you a hand, and you stared as if it was the most disgusting thing you ever saw. To be honest, it wasn’t disgusting. You noticed his fingers were long and slender and smooth - no calluses in sight. It must be a benefit from producing flames.

“What do I do with it?”

“Hold it.”

“No.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged, taking a seat across from you.

“So, where’s Percy?” You asked him.

“Gone,” he sighed, running his fingers through his curls. “They said we should work everything out and they’ll come to fetch us in the morning.”

Unbelievable. Still, what they had done didn't surprise you. It was like them to do something like this, you should have seen it coming. Instead, the temptation for a good time blinded you.

“Go on,” you told him. “Yell at me.”

“What?” Leo said in disbelief. “What do you want me to yell at you?”

“I don’t know,” you told him, shrugging. “What were you saying about me after we met?”

“I wasn’t saying anything about you,” Leo answered defensively.

“You so were,” you rolled your eyes.

“Really?” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms. “What was I saying then?”

“That I was rude,” you answered him, sitting up straight.

“That’s true,” Leo agreed. “You were rude. And you are being rude now.”

“Well, excuse me if I was being rude,” You laughed humorlessly. “I was busy and stressed that day. I was being chased by monsters all day until Grover and Percy found me, and I was tired."

“But that doesn’t excuse you from being such a jerk at camp,” Leo argued.

“Sorry I wasn’t feeling bright and cheery as you,” you retorted. “Gosh, you were annoying.”

“You think I was annoying?” Leo asked, offended.

“You were!” You stood up, clenching the towel that was wrapped around you. “You came in all Mr. Smiley Pants, greeting me with a cheer, and then you introduced yourself and told me your life story when I’m exhausted. Gods, Leo, I just wanted to rest that day.”

“But you didn’t have to be so rude about it,” Leo stood up too, walking to stand in front of you. If he thought he was towering over you, he was not. He was only a few inches above you, not even intimidating you with his height.

“What’s rude about ‘stop, I want to rest’ when you were all there smiling and I was a bleeding mess with monster cuts on my arms?” You fumed. “Not to mention, you were telling me that time you and your beloved Festus had to stop at a gas station.”

“And what’s wrong about that?” Leo raised his arms in frustration. “Festus was hungry, and I was out of Tabasco, so we had to take a quick stop at the nearest gas station for some motor oil.”

“Okay, you were out of Tabasco sauce,” You raised your free hand in surrender. “But is that necessary for a girl to hear when she’s bleeding out?”

“Oh, would you want me to tell you the story of how my parents conceived me?” Leo retorted. “Because I’ll gladly tell you! My mommy and my daddy-.”

“I want you to stop!” You yelled at him, getting so dangerously close to his face. Leo seriously frustrated you to no end. He can’t just keep his mouth shut. “I want you to stop talking for a long time. Maybe then, I could work everything out by myself and leave you here.”

“And what?” Leo taunted. “Face the woods alone? Ooh, too bad, Y/N, you could get killed.”

“I’ll gladly take that chance,” you said through gritted teeth. “Than be here with you.”

“Wow,” Leo feigned hurt, putting a hand above his heart. “Another girl who’d rather be killed than be with me. Only this time, I didn’t ask her out.”

“What, do you want me to ask you out?” The words that rolled out of your mouth surprised you more than they did to Leo, who looked at you with wide eyes. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, unable to think of anything to follow up on your previous statement.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think that you actually like me,” Leo said slowly, a lopsided grin forming on his face as he crossed his arms.

“Please,” you shivered as a strong chilly wind came, knocking you off of your stern demeanor. Leo grinned at this, knowing he had the upper hand in the situation as he didn’t once shiver from the cold. “You don’t know any better than a coked-up 2-year-old.”

“Oh, really?” Leo’s eyebrow shot up as if what you said was a challenge to him. “I know you’re cold right now.”

“Of course, it’s mid-December,” You threw your free hand in the air, turning back around to sit in front of the fire again. All this arguing with Leo has put you away from the campfire and near to the ocean, as you could feel the cold rushing winds more than the warmth of the fire. “It should be cold.”

“Way to point that out, you genius,” Leo followed you as you sat, taking a seat beside you. It was far enough so that your hands wouldn’t reach him in case you wanted to strangle him, but near enough in case you burned your hand and he had to help you.

You were still shivering even as you sat in silence in front of the fire. Leo was probably not helping the case as he kept getting awed by his own breath forming smoke in front of him.

“Could you please stop?” You said through shaky breaths.

“Here, take my hand,” Leo once again offered his hand. “Come on, I won’t bite. Can’t you feel the warmth radiating off of me?”

Out of options for warmth, you hesitantly reached out, your hand hovering above his, trying to feel any sort of warmth. Then you felt it. That rush of slight heat entered your skin and buried itself there. It felt much like holding a warm cup on a chilly day,

You took his hand, gripping it just to feel any warmth. It must have been a pretty uncomfortable position as both of your hands were stretched out, but you didn’t care as you could feel something other than the cold air around you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying so hard not to think about the fact that you were mad at him earlier and now you were holding his hand for warmth. You felt him scoot a little closer to you, as he pulled your hand a bit and felt him shift. You opened your eyes and narrowed it at him. “Sorry, my hand’s getting sore.” You sighed and just let him sit closer than the two of you intended.

You didn’t know how, but you didn’t fight the feeling of wanting to feel more warmth as you scooted closer to him - dangerously close, almost shoulder to shoulder. You let out a sigh as the warmth coming from him intensified a bit, as you laid your head above his shoulder. You didn't know why, but he didn’t make a move to push you away, not even a bit as he relaxed and laid his head on top of yours.

“Pipes, quick, grab a camera,” you heard Percy loudly whisper. It must have been morning as you hear birds chirping instead of crickets. The harsh sunlight met your hazel eyes as you opened them, making you immediately squint.

You heard a flash go off, and Piper’s voice rang out. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”

“Whoever’s there should just get away,” you grumbled, snuggling against what’s beside you. Despite the harsh sunlight, your eyes flung open and quickly stood up, making your head spin, as you realized what - or who, for the matter - you’re snuggling. You stumbled as you clutched your head in dizziness.

“Careful there,” Jason gripped your arm, steadying you.

“What,” Leo groggily said, just waking up. “What happened?”

“We fell asleep, you idiot,” You threw a flip-flop at him. “It’s morning.”

“Oh,” Leo rubbed the spot where you hit him. “Oh, hey, guys.”

“Hey,” Percy greeted him with a smile. “Looks like you had quite a night, huh?”

“More like it,” Leo lazily smiled at you through squinting eyes.

Despite everything in you screaming to deny everything, you smiled at him. “Yeah. It was nice.”

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aestheticsfandomsandmore · 4 years

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Great, I kinda wrote a continuation of tianshan's last strip, even knowing it will never happen. Again, I have to remind you I'm Italian, so I may have made a few mistakes - I'd be glad if you reported them.

Hope you enjoy.

I posted this on AO3, if you want to read it there.

____________________________

“Put me the fuck down, you chicken dick!”

“Relax~ It's going to be fun.”

“For you, maybe!”

“Yeah, definitely, but you will have fun as well if you stop panicking.”

He Tian puts him down and locks the bathroom door. Then he mischievously smiles at him before heading towards the bathtub in order to fill it with hot water and some bath salts.

Mo tries to open the door but the key disappeared. “Shit, wha- what are you planning to do?”

“Like a said, taking a nice bath with Little Mo. Do you prefer vanilla or chocolate scent?”

“I don't prefer shit. Jesus, He Tian, let me out of here now.”

He Tian looks at him, still smiling but less wider. “Don't be such a damper. I'll go with chocolate then.”

Mo sighs. “I really regret coming here. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps” He Tian walks toward him, once the bath is ready, “you were worried I really meant my last message.”

Fucker. Mo is sure to be blushing because he feels hot all over his face and is even more sure of that when He Tian smirks.

“You wanted to see me and you didn't want us to part. But now you're here with me and you're complaining. Such a complicated lad.”

“Just because I wanted to see you, it doesn't mean I want to take a god damn bath with you!” he screams, feeling angry and exposed at the same time. Yeah, he didn't want to end their relationship, for some reason, but He Tian always has to break any kind of boundaries or concept of personal space, making him wonder why he even bothers trying to be less... less Mo Guan Shan-like.

“So you admit you wanted to see me! That's so cute, Little Mo!”

“I'm not going to take my clothes off. You'll have to undress me yourself.”

He Tian moves dangerously closer, only a few inches between them. “Is that a dare?” he whispers.

Mo gets even more embarrassed and takes a few steps away. “No, it isn't! I'm serious, He Tian, cut this crap, let me out-”

“Why?”

Mo swallows. If he didn't know him better, he'd almost say that He Tian is looking sad. “What's that supposed to mean? I. Don't. Want. To. Take. A. Bloody. Bath. With. You. Is it so hard to understand?”

“Yes” He Tian answers. “I don't understand you sometimes.”

Mo freezes. “Well, that's none of my business, if you can't understand something so simple, it just proves that you're a selfish bastard. Not that I didn't know already. Now give me the ke-”

“Then why have you come? Why did you want to see me, if you think so badly of myself?”

Mo tightens his fists. He doesn't really know what to say: he's been repeating that question to himself for almost a year.

“The answer is that you like me” He Tian hazards. He holds his sides gently and Mo doesn't even push him off, taken off guard. “I know you do. That's why I don't understand why you're always resisting me. I'm right here, right now, and I want you. I'm not gonna lie. So you shouldn't either.”

Mo puts his hands on his chest in order to push him away, but he doesn't really manage to do that. He's sweating, the room is hot, He Tian is hot and he can't handle him when he's so close. “I- I don't- I-” he can't think straight.

He Tian giggles and then says: “Stop thinking. This has nothing to do with your brain. This is just a matter of...” He moves one hand from his side and puts his fingers on Mo's heart. He doesn't complete his sentence but he doesn't really need to. It's a matter of feelings, emotions: painful, terrible, annoying things human beings cannot really control. His heart is racing so fast right now. He's so close to give up. He just needs one more reason...

“I won't do anything funny, I won't even touch you if you don't want me to, I promise. I just want us to hug in the bathtub for a while.”

Sounds reasonable, a small part of his mind tells him. The rest of it is shouting not to trust, not to let him get so close, not to surrender so easily, not to get naked in front of him, in any sense possible.

Mo doesn't listen to all of that. “Okay.”

He Tian smiles, a wide and warm smile that makes something inside Mo's body melt. He's not sure what that is.

“Can I undress you or you want to do that yourself?”

Mo is surprised, almost shocked that He Tian asked for permission and didn't just do it right away. “Uhm-” he's so confused by all that's happening that he's not sure what to answer. “I- I mean... okay.”

What the actual fuck? Has he actually agreed?

He Tian looks like he could explode from too much happiness in any second. Stupid, Mo thinks. But he can't help smiling a little.

He Tian softly grabs the collar of his shirt and takes it off from Mo's shoulders and arms. He is now looking at him like he's about to eat him. Mo can't really believe to be able to make someone feel like that; to make feel like that. He can't just ignore the lust in He Tian's eyes. He takes his shirt off very slowly, caressing the skin of his abdomen and chest almost reverently. He takes a minute to look at his naked bust and Mo feels like every centimeter of his body is getting hot. He can't help but shake a little.

He Tian notices. “Relax” he tells him, “we're just getting started.”

That doesn't really help him relax.

He Tian puts his hand under the elastic band of his pants. Mo swallows. He's not sure he's ready for this, but before he can say anything He Tian makes his pants fall down to his feet.

“M-M-Maybe I... I should... take this off.” Mo mumbles, feeling so extremely embarrassed by the thought of He Tian seeing his penis.

He Tian looks like he's fighting a battle with himself and Mo's sure he is: he would normally continue his doing without even caring about what Mo just said, but right now he probably knows he's already been allowed to do things he normally could have just dreamed of. It's almost like he doesn't want to push his luck. “Okay” he agrees, finally, taking a deep breath before undressing himself.

Shit, he's so fucking gorgeous. His muscular torso, his long legs, his perfect face and his... oh, yeah, he's got a pretty great ass. Mo turns around and takes his pants off, his face completely red. It is not the first time he has been staring at the other's body, but never has without even a piece of clothes on.

“Should we... get inside?” he asks but he doesn't really have the courage to look at him in the eye.

He Tian surprises Mo by hugging him closely. His hands are embracing his shoulders and his chest is all around Mo's back. “Sure” he replies, before giving him a small kiss on the neck.

Mo jumps out of his skin and He Tian laughs. He enters first and Mo follows him right after, quickly, pretty impatient to cover as much skin as possible. The water is warm and scented, he can sense his body already softnening, he feels at ease. He Tian sits behind him and hugs him, just like a minute before but now it's way more intimate. He doesn't mind, though. For tonight, maybe, he should just try to enjoy the moment.

“Feels good, huh?” He Tian asks, near his ear.

Chills all over his body. Damn.

“Uhm, yeah” he says.

They stay silent for a while, He Tian's forehead against Mo's nape, Mo's eyes closed trying to avoid the thought of their naked skin being so fucking close.

“Now I'm going to wash your back” He Tian announces at some point. Mo remembers him saying he would do so. He doesn't have the time to answer, 'cause the other boy has already grabbed a sponge and is now starting to gently rub it against his back. It actually feels... pretty good. He Tian goes from his neck to his shoulders and then rubs his spine, from his nape to his sacrum. That freaks him out: he's too close to his ass.

He Tian notices once again and, surprisingly, stops, heading towards the centre of his back. Mo breathes a sigh of relief: he's glad He Tian didn't break his word not to do anything funny. Once he's finished with his back, he holds him tighter with his left arm while rubbing his torso with his right hand, as slowly as before, almost like he's treasuring every second of it. He probably is.

Mo tries to ignore the fact that he can feel He Tian's dick pressing onto his skin; he's hard. It's such a strange feeling, but he can't help blushing and moaning for a second thinking that he's able to get such a reaction out of him, without even trying. For one, tiny second, he even imagines what He Tian would be like if he just stopped being so stubborn, if he admitted to himself something he is well aware of but is not ready to accept; what He Tian would look like around him if he were able to kiss him and touch him freely. Right now, he basically seems to be in heaven and they aren’t even really doing anything. At one point of them being so incredibly close, he figures themselves in bed and he wonders if, during their first time, He Tian would be gentle or rough or maybe a passionate combination of both. He pictures them...

“Like it?” He Tian asks and Mo jolts, realizing what he was thinking and where he actually is, blushing hard, cursing himself in his mind. When he understands the other's question, he nods. He can sense He Tian's smile on his clavicle.

Maybe he shouldn't regret to have come to his house, after all.

#tianshan #strip continue #fan fiction #19 days #mo guanshan #mo guan shan #he tian #he tian x mo guan shan #he tian x mo guanshan #i really hope something like this is going to happen #even just the dialogue part

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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My Yuletide Exchange fic!

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan! @harringroveholidayexchange <3

“Hey,” Steve whispered, against Billy’s lips, grinning, pinned to his locker with Billy’s fingers clenched in his jacket. "Hey, I, uh. I got the house to myself for a few days. Wanna—”

“They what,” Billy paused, pulling back to frown at him. “They went away for Christmas without you?”

“No,” Steve laughed. “It’s for business, y’know.” He was still smiling, but it didn’t look happy.

“You wanting a sleepover, Harrington?” Billy asked, laughing.

“Wanna unwrap you Christmas morning,” Steve said, and Billy’s blood all rushed to his dick without stopping to let him answer.

“...maybe I can sneak out,” he said hoarsely. He kissed his boyfriend again, breathing in the smell of wet hair care products, exhaust fumes, and melting snow.

Billy’s dad was late again, that night, and he, Max, and Susan chewed long and peacefully at the rubbery meat in her casserole, listening to tinny Christmas carols.

“Neil, uh,” Susan started, then swallowed. “I—I’m—he said to say—”

“Jesus, Mom, talk for yourself,” Max shot over, and Susan bit her lips together, watching her hands.

She sighed. “He has to go out of town,” she told them, and Billy and Max stared at her, Max’s mouth twitching.

“Wait, when?” Max asked, dropping her fork. “How long will he be gone?”

“He’ll be gone for a week,” Susan said softly, her eyes on the casserole bite she was smushing into her plate. “He’s leaving tomorrow—”

“He’ll be gone for Christmas?! Holy hell, best present ever,” she crowed, and Billy drew a breath, trying not to smile like a goon. He choked on his casserole.

The house was already decorated for Christmas—Susan had done it when they were at school—and Billy coughed into a poinsettia-themed napkin.

He slammed his fist into his chest as he rose and grabbed the phone, hauling the cord into the bathroom to dial. “Steve,” he panted into the phone, still coughing. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I can come. I can come for Christmas.”

“You can?!” Steve sounded startled, but delighted. “You—you want to come over here for Christmas? I don’t—there won’t be anything—I can try to cook a—”

“I’m not coming for dinner, moron,” Billy sighed, feeling his cheeks heat as he grinned. “Not into you for your cooking skills.”

“We should get pies or something. Or ice cream,” Steve said, laughing. “Are—are you sure you wanna—you don’t have to, I mean, I’m used to it, it’s fine, I didn’t expect you to—”

“I’m coming,” Billy told him, imagining Steve watching reruns of Family Feud and staring at the wall all Christmas day. “Shut up, doofus, I’m gonna be there, okay.”

“Gimme the phone, Billy!” Max shouted, kicking the door. “I need to call Lucas!”

He surrendered it as she brushed by him on his way out. Susan was alone at the dinner table, her head in her arms.

On Christmas eve, Steve wouldn’t stop prowling the house, so Billy finally grabbed him around the waist and spun him around. “The hell is your deal. You need walkies?”

Steve laughed, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck. “F’we got some food, we could have like a real Christmas, y’know.”

Billy squinted over Steve ‘TV dinners are food’ Harrington’s shoulder at the wall. “Whaddaya mean ‘food’?”

“...like a ham or something,” Steve mumbled, and Billy considered, swaying them around.

“...you wanna go to the store?” he asked, and Steve pulled away to see his face so fast Billy staggered holding him up. He looked delighted, and Billy sighed internally over his planned lazy day of sex. “I can make a pie or something,” he offered, and Steve hugged him.

Billy was stuffed in Steve’s old ski jacket, taking a smoke break behind the Bradley’s Big Buy while Steve bought the entire grocery store, when he heard a woman’s voice shouting, and some loud thumps. He leaned around the corner of the building into the wind to watch her smacking the pay phone around, and wondered which of her kids was getting the verbal beatdown, but then she stumbled back, wiping her face with both wrists, and turned to bang her fist against the hood of her snow-covered car. The wind tried to take her hat, and she smacked her hand down on her head.

He meandered towards her, checking his watch—Steve had been buying everything for ages, surely everything had already been bought— as she opened her driver’s-side door and climbed in, slumping against the steering wheel. The snow on her roof and window fell a little with the force of her slam, whirling away into the gray evening, but it started building up again almost immediately.

Her car didn’t move. Billy squinted, crouching, to look in her snowy window, and she just sat there, as the sun set on Christmas eve, huddled in her driver’s seat in the snow. Billy wandered over to knock on the driver’s side windshield, the salted road crunching underfoot.

She rolled it down and sniffled, and he squinted at her, fairly sure she was somebody’s mom. “Hello,” she said, wiping her nose with her wrist, but her eyes were suspiciously red and shiny. “I’m fine!” she said brightly, before he could ask.

“A—are you sure?” Billy asked, noticing her shivering, and the buildup of breath on the inside of the windows.

“Merry Christmas!” she said, her voice shaky, and he squeezed against her door as a car passed.

“Uh,” he said, and tried to weigh being nice, which Steve preferred, but which probably meant listening, against his instinct to call her bullshit. “Bullshit,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

“I-it’s Christmas eve,” she gulped, and started to cry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a last draw on his cigarette, and tossing it behind him into the snowy road. “Doesn’t look too merry, though.” She had to be one of the actual parents of Steve’s kids-by-monster-hunting, he was fairly sure.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled, more at the steering wheel than him, and flailed her arms. “This is—this is crap! Everything is—everything is crap, it’s gone to shit, I don’t—I don’t—”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “Who were you tryin’ to call?”

“My kids!” she yelled, smacking the steering wheel again, which put her as probably the littlest one’s mom, he thought, since he didn’t think Henderson had a brother. Or Lucas, he thought, grimacing. You never know, look at me and Susan, maybe he looks nothing like her. She sighed. “And I’m out of dimes.”

“...I might have a dime,” Billy said, jutting his hip in order to dig around in his tightest jeans, the ones he’d worn thinking Steve would peel off him. He found a hole in his pocket, and sighed.

“It’s no use,” she groaned, clicking her lighter about eleven times trying to light a cigarette, until he gave up and grabbed his lighter instead, holding it out. Between the wind and her shivering so hard, he had to chase the end of the cigarette around, and she groaned, starting to snicker. “Oh, jesus. I’m gonna freeze to death on Christmas Eve.”

“I can’t give you one thin dime?” Billy laughed, catching a little of her hysteria, and laughing. He wiped a snowflake off his eyelashes, his cheeks completely numb.

“I have to get home,” she sighed, leaning her head back to blow smoke at the ceiling. “I got...I got dinner to cook…” she groaned, wiping her eyes. “...somehow.”

Billy stood up to frown at the front of the store. Every time the doors opened there was a wind-muffled riff of Jingle Bells or Winter Wonderland, and he looked up to see Steve still hadn’t come out. He sighed. “Maybe you can use the phone in there?”

She sniffled, nodding. “Probably.” She took a long drag and blew out, frowning at him, and rubbing her hands together. “...you one of Jonathan’s friends?” she shouted over the noise of a passing truck.

Hell no, Billy thought, and cleared his throat. “Steve Harrington’s.”

She raised her eyebrows, nodding. “What are you doing out this late? Just out offering women dimes you don’t have?”

Billy snorted, brushing the snow off his shoulders, and rubbing his arms. “That’s my plan, yeah. Nah, Steve’s shopping for tomorrow. I guess we’re burning a turkey.”

She blinked, and leaned closer. “What? ...you two are making a turkey? Here, come around, get in.”

“Uh,” Billy said, shoving his hands in his pockets, but he walked around and climbed in as she unlocked it, so she could roll up the window. “Y-yeah, he wants a turkey,” he said again, in the quiet of the car, watching her shiver. “I mean, Steve’s parents, they’re always out of town—”

“Oh, he’s going to your house?” she asked, smiling over. “That’s nice of your mom.”

Billy swallowed down she’s not my fucking mom, and it’s nothing to do with her, and fuck you, and settled on, “N-no. I’m going to his place.”

“Oh,” she nodded, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, trying to get her blood moving. “Slumber party. Well, kiddo, I wish you more luck than I have ever had, trying to cook turkeys.” She pulled her knees up, hugging them, and sighed. “First turkey ever I burnt the whole outside, had to open all the windows...carve it outside ‘cause of the smoke...but when we stuck the knife in, it was still bleeding. Goddamn...burn victim on the table. Nearly called 911 for the turkey.” Billy was snickering, but he nearly lost it as she sighed out a trail of smoke, and said, “It was so raw inside I nearly tried CPR.”

“Oh no,” he wheezed, leaning against the side of her car. “We can just eat mashed potatoes, I guess.”

“My mom suggested I try adding a little garlic,” she said, curling up tighter. “She meant powdered garlic. Powdered. We kept hitting raw garlic cloves in the mashed potatoes…”

Billy groaned into his arm, leaning against the side of her car, but couldn’t stop sniggering.

“Want me to go in and make a call?” he asked her, and she swallowed hard, her eyes welling up again. Billy froze, lifting his hands for some stupid reason.

“It’s no good,” she moaned into her knees, waving her cigarette around. “What am I gonna do?! Even if Jonathan comes and gets me, I can’t—I can’t cook—”

“...you didn’t get any better?!” Billy asked, startled, imagining decades of bleeding turkey corpses, like a battlefield.

“I did get better,” she snarled, waving the cigarette at him. “I did! It was...it was pretty okay last year, there were good parts! It was edible! But how the hell am I supposed to cook with no power, huh, answer me that, smartass.”

Billy blinked. “...your power’s out?”

“The storm,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Knocked a tree over, broke the kitchen window—” she sniffled. “And now my car won’t start—” She laughed sharply, looking away, and crossed her arms. “Some mother I am, I can’t even keep the heat on.”

Billy climbed out, checking again for Steve, and he was finally there. “HARRINGTON!” he yelled. “HARRINGTON! Over here!” Steve stopped halfway to his car, frowning around, and Billy slammed the door and ran up as Steve was unloading like 900 bags of groceries into his car. “C’mere,” Billy said, “It’s—that kid’s—mom!”

“What?” Steve asked, squinting, and Billy leaned their heads together to hiss “—the monster house lady.” Steve stared at him. “Joyce Byers? She—there were just monsters, she doesn’t have a monster house—”

“Yeah, that one,” Billy agreed, rolling his eyes and yanking Steve’s arm until he came along to Joyce Byers’ half-buried car.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah,” Billy told her. “You got your jumper cables, Harrington?”

“Always do,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows, before leaning to sweep the snow off her passenger window. “Uh, hey, Mrs. Byers.”

Billy was considering his holidays with Steve as he’d planned them—naked the whole time, and no cooking at all—and sighed, remembering Steve agonizing over the selection of potatoes. He knocked on the roof of her car. “We’ll bring his car ‘round, okay?”

“I’m the grown-up here!” she wailed, then closed her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah,” Billy told her, before walking around to put an arm around Steve. “So,” he said, talking in his normal voice, but it was like a whisper with all the wind.

“Sorry,” Steve told him. “I know you wanna get back, but I can’t just leave her there—”

“Hey, I called you over,” Billy hissed, and Steve grinned at him, his gaze dropping to Billy’s lips as he licked his own. Billy’s whole body warmed, and he wanted to just grab Steve Harrington and haul him behind the building and—he took a slow breath, willing himself to think about something else. “Uh, so. You don’t—you got no idea how to cook all this food.”

“I can figure it out!” Steve protested. “I can read—”

“And her kitchen just got smashed by a tree,” Billy continued. Steve’s mouth dropped open. “She’s got no power, and it’s cold, she said.”

Steve’s eyes were wide and worried, and Billy smashed the lid on the coffin of his sex weekend.

“Isn’t that kid of hers, like, ten? You gonna leave him with no heat on Christmas?”

“No!” Steve breathed. “Uh, that okay, though? I know—I know you wanted…” he trailed off, raising his eyebrows with a grin that was unfair, given the situation, and Billy elbowed him.

“I want you to have your damn turkey,” Billy growled. “Ham. Whatever.”

“I did also buy a turkey,” Steve admitted guiltily, and Billy kicked his ass lightly as it walked away.

When they got back to Joyce, she was starting to turn blue, so Steve bundled her into his passenger seat while they ran his engine. “Come for Christmas,” he said.

“What?!” she squawked.

“Bring...everybody,” Steve sighed, and Billy realized too late he’d doomed them to a whole day with the man Steve’s ex was dating. “Show me how to cook a turkey?”

Joyce opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then groaned, tipping forward to lean against the glove compartment. “I invited Hopper,” she finally yelled, flailing her arms, and Billy started snickering at Steve’s frown of determination.

“But you don’t have heat,” Steve pointed out. “Invite ‘em over, I got a big-ass turkey. Eleven can hang out with Will.”

“I’m supposed to pick Will up from Dustin’s place,” she sighed into the door of the glove compartment, and Billy bit back a snicker, glancing at Steve—sure enough, when the pay phone rang through to the Hendersons, Dustin was appalled.

“You sayin’ I’m not invited, Steve Harrington?” he hissed. “You know what my mom’s got planned? I’m gonna be on the floor next to the cat, choking down some goddamn Fancy Feast, because you can’t invite your best friend to come to your stupid—”

Steve pressed the phone to his chest, and frowned at Billy, wedged against him in the relative warmth of the phone booth. “Dustin wants to come,” Steve said, as though Billy hadn’t heard him. Or met Dustin Henderson.

“So invite him,” Billy shrugged, rubbing his knuckles along Steve’s ribs, and wishing Joyce Byers wasn’t watching them from the car, blowing on her fingers. Steve licked his lips, watching him back, and Billy hissed, “Steve.”

“Right,” Steve said, jerking back to Earth, and lifted the phone again. “If you’re coming, you gotta bring food.”

“Mom’s not gonna let me make a mess, that’s why I gotta—”

“Bring food,” Billy yelled into the receiver, and hung up. He turned his face so Joyce couldn’t see, kissed his fingers, watching Steve’s face, and saw his adam’s apple jerk as he swallowed. Billy reached up and brushed the kiss over Steve’s jaw, and then elbowed the phone booth door open, stumbling back out.

“Love you,” Steve whispered, and Billy shushed him, bumping their shoulders together.

He’d been with Steve Harrington since the previous morning, and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

When they got back in Steve’s car, Joyce was starting to uncoil, going limp like her strings had been cut as she sprawled in front of Steve’s heat and defrost. Billy climbed in behind Steve, listening to Steve try to convince her to bring her kids over that night, to where there was heat.

Billy had a sudden thought. “Harrington,” he hissed, pushing himself forward to grab the back of Steve’s seat, “—we don’t have a tree.”

“Oh shit,” Steve whispered, his eyes wide, and Joyce started snickering at them. “Go get everybody,” he told Joyce, his jaw set. “We’ll get a tree.”

She just smiled at them, cocking her head, and then took a deep shuddery breath and rubbed her face. “Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll get Jonathan to bring some lights. We got a ton of Christmas lights—”

For some reason, Steve winced at this, but she reached over and squeezed his arm. She held it for a long second, then cleared her throat, and climbed out of the car.

Steve nodded, gripping the steering wheel of the car, and Billy barely waited for Joyce to turn away before he hugged Steve from behind, seat and all. “What’s your problem,” he asked, but Steve laughed softly.

“Just wanna kiss you,” he said, grinning in the rearview mirror.

Joyce’s car behind them sputtered to life, and they climbed out to disconnect the cables.

“Maybe don’t turn off the engine ‘til you make it to our house,” Steve told her, yelling as a car went by, and Billy’s heart thudded in his chest, sending his blood to his face and dick and nowhere else when Steve said our house. He tried to hide his face by turning back to Steve’s car and lighting a cigarette.

“Oh,” she laughed a little jaggedly. “It, um, it’s usually...fine. I just should have started it on my lunch break, you know. In this weather. I was a little…”

“We’re going to go get a tree,” Steve told her, firmly. “You have to bring everyone tonight and help us decorate it. I think I made ornaments in school once,” he muttered. “We could make ornaments?”

“You really don’t have to,” Joyce laughed, shaking her head, poised halfway in the car. “Just get a tiny one!”

“I’m getting a huge tree!” Steve hollered back, his feet spread like he was ready to fight for his ginormous tree, and Billy crunched closer through the half-packed snow on the sidewalk and grabbed him around the waist.

“Let’s go,” he whispered. “We gotta go actually buy it.”

“Bring lots of lights!” Steve was yelling at Joyce, who had her head on her steering wheel. It looked like she was...laughing, Billy hoped.

By the time Billy got the ENTIRE GROCERY STORE Steve had bought into the kitchen, Steve was in the front room with the twelve foot tree, trying to get the door they’d had to take off back onto its hinges. He’d drug out six dusty boxes labeled things like ‘galand’ and ‘ligt stands’ and Billy was wondering whether they were stands or strands when Steve came up behind him, sliding his arms around Billy’s waist, and kissing down his neck.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and Billy leaned into it, letting his head fall to the side.

It was warming again, with the door back in place and closed against the snow, and Billy squirmed around to face Steve, pulling him closer to kiss him open-mouthed before everyone showed up. “What’re you thanking me for,” he whispered.

“Helping me with this shit,” Steve whispered back, kissing him again. “Helping Mrs. Byers.”

Steve’s kisses always went straight to Billy’s dick, and he groaned, stepping a few inches back and clearing his throat. “Damn,” Billy said, hoarsely. “Well. You said it was our house,” he told Steve, smirking. “Gotta back up my man, right.”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve mumbled, and sighed. “Wish it was our house. They don’t need to come back,” he laughed, and it had the wistful note in it that had had Billy just about willing to climb out a window every damn day and just take whatever his dad dished out. “I’d rather have you,” Steve said, grabbing the back of Billy’s neck to yank him in for a quick peck on the lips before he stalked over to stare down at the boxes. “Next Christmas I just want you.”

“...careful what you wish for,” Billy told him, crouching to open a box. It contained cassettes, and Billy smushed the lid closed fast, but not fast enough, and in moments Steve had the house filled with John Denver and the Muppets.

“I’m going home,” Billy muttered into the next box, and then Steve grabbed him and spun him around on the hardwood floor of the front room, and Billy yelled “Fuck! Augh! Fuck you!” but Steve laughed, dancing around him until Billy submitted to ‘dancing’, trying to avoid Steve’s elbows, and not get his stockinged feet stomped by Steve’s bare ones.

“Don’t go home, babe,” Steve told him, laughing, and Billy sighed in his arms.

“...like I would.”

There were ornaments. Glass, mostly, and some cut-out plastic ones of Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown. There was a glass stork that said ‘Baby’s first Christmas, 1966’, and one with a picture of Steve on Santa’s lap staring at the camera with huge stricken eyes like he was being flashed in a different sense of the word.

“Come on, help me get the tree up, first,” Steve told him, and Billy nodded, pulling one out with a picture of Steve’s mom and dad, maybe. They looked like movie stars in a glamor shot for a magazine, and Steve looked maybe four, staring into the middle distance. “Billy Hargrove,” Steve called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Billeeeeeeeeeee.”

Billy bit his lips as he got to his feet, and threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders, squeezing him hard. “I’m here, I’m here. Too bad we can’t get the wood stove going.”

“Oh,” Steve blinked at it. “That’d be nice, huh. There are probably pellets somewhere. Now,” Steve said, leaning back into Billy’s chest. He steepled his fingers, and Billy registered that he’d dumped three of the other boxes out in a mess of stockings, lights, and a hollow light-up snowman.

“Our tree is too big for the tree stand I found,” Steve said, like that was a normal problem to have, and Billy started snickering again. “No, no, it’ll work,” Steve mumbled, eyeing the tree and the ceiling, “—I’ll hang it from the ceiling. On a wire. And—and we can stick it in a bucket. It’ll last longer,” he announced, “—like cut flowers!”

“When is Christmas, Harrington,” Billy whispered back. “Today is Christmas eve, so how long does the tree need to last? One day, Harrington. One.”

“It’ll work,” Steve hissed back, and Billy waved as his boyfriend went off to war, a soldier searching the garage for weapons in the fight against a twelve-foot tree.

“Be brave,” Billy called, and Steve flipped him off, shutting the garage door on “—our prayers go with you!” While Steve was gone, Billy ran his fingers through his hair, and sat down to check the lights, plugging each strand into the wall. He groaned at the two that didn’t work, and considered testing every bulb...and then tiptoed to the kitchen, and wedged them into the very bottom of the trash.

Steve returned triumphant, drill in hand, and Billy got the hell out from under the ladder, stomping off to the garage himself to find an extension cord for all the lights. When he returned, Steve was trying to balance the tree on top of the bucket, and Billy tossed the extension cord aside and ran to help, so Steve could climb the ladder and wire the damned thing to the ceiling.

It looked ridiculous. “Feel like I’m in a fucking Macy’s,” Billy growled, and Steve beamed at him.

“Yank on it!” he suggested, and Billy kicked the ladder. Steve swore, glowering down.

“I’m not yanking on your monster tree, you think I wanna die like a vampire, stake through my chest,” Billy muttered, and Steve jumped down and hugged him, his sweater warm, his face cold from the air in the garage. Billy groaned into his shoulder. “...we’re boning under this thing, right,” he asked, long-suffering, and Steve blinked, then nodded.

“Yeah, I mean,” he cleared his throat, biting back a smirk. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Billy sighed again, and set his shoulders. “Okay, then.”

“Fucking love you,” Steve said fondly, and Billy glared at him, and then the piles of lights.

“Yeah?! Yeah, you—you fucking better,” he hissed, when the knock came at the door.

Jonathan and Will Byers wandered in with sleeping bags to stare at Billy’s armload of lights, and he could hear Joyce’s horrified voice when she saw the massive ham in the kitchen, next to the turkey they could have shoved Will inside of.

“Steve’s possessed,” Billy broke it to them, and Steve yelled back something about the spirit of Christmas. Billy nodded slowly, raising his eyebrows at the Byers’, and saw them realize they were as doomed as he was.

“Uh,” said Jonathan, clearing his throat. “Lemme help with the lights?”

Here’s part two!

#Harringrove #found family #Steve wants Christmas #Billy wants him to have everything #Smooches under the tree

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frenemies-to-lovers · 4 years

Text

A Tether, A Bond | A Jude/Cardan Conversation The Morning After QoN

Tags: Canon-Compliant, Post-QoN, Rating: T+, maybe verging on M? I don’t know, Heat Level: Medium | Word count: 3646

Wherein they discuss the benefits of not having to rule alone and try to work through what it means to be married. Also a small argument because it's just who they are as people. Also things get a little spicy. Because honestly, WHY DIDN’T WE GET A FULL DEBRIEFING CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM?!

----

Preview: "I fear that I also have not found ruling alone to be to my taste,” Cardan says.

I am a little overwhelmed by that. By how sincere that admission feels.

“Lucky for both of us that we don’t have to,” I say with a wry smile.

“How fortunate, indeed, that we are bound to each other for at least as long as we reign,” he says quietly, turning his face to press a kiss to the rounded top of my ear.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

I find myself waking with difficulty from a very deep sleep. I feel as though I’ve slept for a hundred years, but the stiffness through my body also makes me want to sleep for a hundred more. I open my eyes slowly, reaching out a hand toward the other side of the bed. . . only to find it empty.

Empty.

My chest lurches in panic as I throw off the covers and launch myself out of bed, all thoughts of soreness forgotten.

“Jude?” Cardan says softly as I whirl around. I put a hand over my thundering heart, relieved to see him sitting in a chair by the fire, a dressing gown draped around him. There is a tray of food and tea things on a low table beside him, and a mug steaming in his elegant hands.

My knees nearly buckle at the sight and I plop ungracefully onto the edge of the bed, still grasping at the front of my night shirt. His shirt. That I wore to sleep in.

“Are you alright?” he asks, giving me a concerned look, and I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat.

“Yeah, I just…” I resist the impulse to deflect, or to lie and say it was a nightmare. We’ve been through too much for me to be embarrassed by the truth, or to feel like he’ll somehow hold this vulnerability against me. He already knows how I feel. “I thought for a second that maybe yesterday hadn’t happened at all. That I had dreamed it all up, and you were still cursed.”

“I really am pleased that you prefer me alive, despite the unbridled power you would have if I were otherwise,” he says, giving me a sly smile.

I roll my eyes. “We’ve already had this conversation. I much prefer you both alive and not as a giant snake. And besides, ruling alone was awful.”

“Is that so?” he asks. His black eyes lock on mine, one eyebrow quirked up. He looks beautiful with his face bare and his hair rumpled from sleep. “I had thought that you would like being fully in charge, not having to share your power with me or worry about whatever nonsense I might be up to that wasn’t in line with your schemes. I am surprised that it wasn’t to your taste.”

He looks equal parts sincere and bemused, and I’m not quite sure what to make of him right now. I am unsure if I will ever fully get used to the idea that we are working together. That we are . . what? A team?

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m not exactly practiced in the art of diplomacy. You’re much better than I am at charming the folk and putting them at ease. Not to mention that I’m widely known to be a liar. And a murderer.”

As I’m speaking, Cardan crosses the floor and sits down next to me, close enough for the length of his thigh to press gently against mine. He rests a hand on the bed behind me, casually leaning in. His warmth beside me, this close, feels comforting in a way I am unaccustomed to. I wonder if he is as aware of every point where our bodies are touching as I am.

“I think those are both strengths for a mortal queen,” he says.

“Perhaps. But I’m afraid I don’t quite have the skillset for ruling alone -- murderous, mortal queen that I am,” I return.

That elicits a soft laugh from him. “Perhaps now you understand some of what I felt when you were prisoner of the Undersea. Only I was foolish enough that I had not considered, even for a moment, that I would truly make a poor king without you running the kingdom for me.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Of course you hadn’t.”

“Truly, I had not realized how much easier my job as High King was with you making all of the decisions and whispering them in my ear. I learned much about ruling while you were prisoner of the Undersea, and more still while you were in the mortal world. Even so, I fear that I also have not found ruling alone to be to my taste.”

I am a little overwhelmed by that. By how sincere that admission feels.

“Lucky for both of us that we don’t have to,” I say with a wry smile.

“How fortunate, indeed, that we are bound to each other for at least as long as we reign,” he says quietly, turning his face to press a kiss to the rounded top of my ear. The brush of his lips and the tickle of his breath on my skin makes me shiver.

I feel his mouth hovering so close to me, feel it pulling me like gravity, and I turn my head to bring my lips to his. He kisses me back — gently and slowly at first, then more deeply and thoroughly. He pushes my hair out of my face and threads his fingers in it, cupping the back of my head. I bring one of my hands to his neck, trailing my fingers down his chest as our mouths continue sliding together, again and again. I want to grab him tighter, or maybe push him down on the bed.

I pull away for a moment, assessing, and Cardan smiles with some satisfaction at the flush on my face. I pivot onto his lap, straddling him and bringing his mouth back to mine greedily as I tangle my fingers into his curls. I expect him to grab me with equal force, but he runs his hands over my back gently. I try to kiss him with more urgency, to tell him what I want, but he remains gentle, slow.

“There’s no need to rush, Jude,” he whispers, pulling his mouth away and resting his forehead against mine. He traces a finger down the mostly open collar of my shirt. The touch down my chest, all the way to my sternum, makes my breath catch. He rests his palm gently over my thundering heart. “I like seeing you in my clothes. In my bed.”

My cheeks heat and I keep my eyes closed, unsure if I can bear whatever is on his face as he watches the effect his words have on me. I am overwhelmed by his touch, as he brushes a hand gently down the length of my spine then trails the outside of my thigh. As he crosses from touching fabric to touching bare skin, I feel a sharp spike of heat through my core. I am completely unaware of what my own hands are doing, only that they are on him. He begins tracing slow circles on my leg, the touch of his fingertips feeling charged with electricity.

I can hear my breathing grow ragged and audible, but I no longer have control of it. I can feel myself clenching my thighs around him, can feel myself arching into him and my head drifting back as he presses a gentle kiss to the hollow of my throat. I have slid into a sense of unreality many times with Cardan, but this feels particularly intoxicating. I am not sure I know how to surrender to this. To his lazy, gentle touches. To the idea that we have all the time in the world.

“This is weird, right?” I say breathlessly, unable to hold it in, to give myself over to the feeling.

“I believe you started it,” he murmurs, and I can feel him grinning into the skin of my neck. My breath hitches as his hand flattens up my thigh, his fingertips sneaking under the hem of my shirt.

“Not this.” I dig the nails of one hand into the fabric of his dressing gown with a squeeze. “Just. Being on the same side, not fighting, and not in any immediate danger.”

“You realize that’s exactly what I am trying to enjoy right now, right?” His mouth is still at my throat, and each gentle touch of his lips as he speaks sends a shock through my whole body. My hand in his hair clenches into a fist, the tension beginning to overtake me.

“We can find something to fight about, if that would make you feel more comfortable,” he says, the tip of his nose dragging with deliberate, agonizing slowness from my collarbone to my ear.

“That’s not. . .” I begin, but he interrupts me.

“We’ve already discussed your exile at length, but you’re welcome to yell at me again. I haven’t brought up your killing Balekin, against my wishes, because I think perhaps your anger at the exile far outweighed my own.”

His words wash over me like a bucket of ice water, snuffing out that heat that had been building, and I suddenly do want to fight. I pull away far enough to cross my arms in front of my chest and stare him in the face. Does he really think that Balekin gave me any other choice?

“Balekin poisoned you,” I say sharply. “He would have kept trying to kill you. And he was going to kill me if I didn’t kill him first. And it settled our debt with the Court of Termites.”

I expect him to rise to the bait, to argue back, but he just gives me a steady look. Both of his hands now rest on my bare knees, my legs still bracketing his body. “Did you enjoy it?” He asks, a little coldness creeping into his voice.

I withdraw myself from his lap and take a step back, staring down at him with as much indignation as I can muster while wearing nothing but his ridiculous shirt. I am very nearly furious, but his eyes seem sincere. As though this is something he’s wondered for a long time.

“He deserved to die, you know. And not just for poisoning you,” I say defensively.

He is still looking at me, assessing. I take a steadying breath, trying to tamp down my anger. Trying to sort out how I actually feel about killing Balekin, without wearing that defensiveness as my armor. This -- learning to be unguarded with him -- is going to take practice.

“I wasn’t sorry to see him dead, but I didn’t relish the killing,” I add, my voice a little steadier.

We stare each other down for a long, tense moment.

“I suppose I would have been even angrier at you for losing that duel than winning it,” he responds, with a softness in his voice that I have heard a few times before. A softness that I want more of. He reaches out a hand and I let him take my fingers in his, although I still stand and study his face.

“Wait … did you . . .?” I whisper, some knowledge shimmering just outside of my grasp, something I want to believe but can’t quite accept.

“Already love you? Yes.” How he knows precisely what I meant to ask, I have no idea. Perhaps he knows exactly what is written on his face as he looks at me now. “I knew when you were taken by the Undersea. Imagine my surprise when I realized that I was even more anxious than Madoc to secure your return. Imagine my surprise when I missed you. Not just you running the kingdom for me, but being near you. Arguing with you, provoking you, flirting with you, watching you. All of it.”

My heart stops, and I feel I owe him more. Not an apology, exactly, but as close as I can get to one without lying.

“I didn’t intend to kill Balekin when I left to meet him that night. I didn’t even have Nightfell with me. Or a sword at all, for that matter. I know you didn’t exactly have a great relationship, but I didn’t want to have to kill him. He was the person who raised you, after all. And the last living member of your family. Other than Oak, I suppose.”

He squeezes my hand at that, maybe relieved that I didn’t seek out his brother in cold blood. I can see how it would be easy to believe I had.

“You’re forgetting my mother,” he grins. I grimace. I am trying to forget his mother. “Although, as my wife, technically you are now my family.”

My heart stutters. Oh. Oh. I haven’t thought it through this way.

“Wait… that means Lady Asha is my mother in law. And Madoc, who tried to take the crown from you…”

“From both of us,” he corrects me, his face entirely lit with mischief. It is clear to me that he is enjoying witnessing me stumble upon this little revelation — something he has clearly already considered.

“... is your father in law,” I finish, feeling both indignant and somehow awed.

“Yes, I do believe that is how marriage works,” he says dryly. I want to wipe that stupid, mocking smile right off his beautiful face.

“But… Taryn and Vivi are your sisters. And Oak is your brother now, as well as your nephew.”

“Are you really just realizing this?” he teases, his face now full of mock innocence.

“Yes. Obviously,” I grumble.

“You haven’t thought of me once, this entire time, as your husband,” he says, voice soft, all teasing gone. It isn’t a question.

“I couldn’t think of you as my anything,” I snap, feeling suddenly defensive again. “I thought of you as the High King. And a jerk. And I thought of myself as the Queen. But not of you as…” I trail off. I’m the one who feels like a jerk.

“Say it, Jude,” he whispers. He tugs me back toward him, bringing me to stand between his legs as his hands go to my waist. I look down into his black eyes, suddenly feeling unable to speak. My mind is still whirling, rewriting everything I had thought I understood. I feel a little as though the earth is shifting beneath my feet as everything that has happened over the last days, weeks, and months reframes itself through his eyes.

He had told me that the letters he’d written were full of pleading for me to come back. I am so used to being tricked by the folk, that I hadn’t really considered that he had truly meant it, that he wasn’t still just toying with me. I had not thought of him willing me to come back not just to Elfhame, but to come back to him.

Each memory makes me feel as though I am being pummeled by waves, unable to regain my bearings before being knocked down by the next. The way he had spoken to me when I was pretending to be Taryn and he knew it was me. How he had tried to keep Madoc from taking me. The fact that he went to my sisters, to the mortal world, to find me. Vivi said he’d been desperate to find me, but I could not believe that his motives had anything to do with his feelings for me. He himself, Cardan, had come with the Roach to Madoc’s camp to get me out. He had shielded me and given me Mother Marrow’s cloak. He had nearly watched me die, and then let me bleed out onto his sheets for days.

And the whole time, he had loved me.

I feel both wholly unmoored and more steadily anchored than I have ever felt before.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, scanning my face. I have no idea what he sees there.

I realize I have been frozen for a few moments and bring one hand up to cup his face, the other tracing the top of his pointed ear. He leans his cheek into my palm, and I feel my heart speed, feel as though there is not enough room inside my chest for what I am feeling. I still cannot speak.

“Please, Jude,” he whispers, his eyes still on mine.

“I am so used to being tricked by the folk that I didn’t consider you had meant it. That you had wanted anything more than just your freedom from your vow of obedience. And that you used my desire for power to get it in the only way you could,” I finally reply, the words coming out more softly than I intend.

His fingers dig into my waist, and he continues to look up into my face as he says, “Then let me say that I did trick you, but perhaps not in the way you thought. I had begun to fear what would happen when my vow of obedience was up and I was no longer useful to you. If you would depose me from the throne and not ever have need of me again. If you would not make me abdicate before my vow was up, if you would bide your time and join Madoc in finding another way to get Oak on the throne when he was older. I did use your desire for power. Not just to convince you to rescind your power over me, but also to convince you to tether yourself to me for longer than a year and a day. To rule beside me, and to grant me what I hoped would be enough time to win your trust. And perhaps, eventually, your heart as well.”

I lean down and kiss him then, soft and sweet. I know that nothing I say in return could possibly be an adequate response to what he just confessed. So I settle for a confession of my own.

“When I agreed to marry you, I had hoped that it meant I could stop being afraid to love you,” I say.

The way he kisses me in response makes me glad I told him. Although I don’t think either of us knows what to do with this much sincerity, this much trust. All of this is going to take some getting used to.

“I am certain we have many conflicts ahead of us, but I hope never to make you afraid to love me again. I am yours, Jude. I would like for you to think of me as such.”

“As my husband?” I ask, unable to stop the shy smile that is breaking across my face. It’s impossible not to be affected by his words, by the truth of them. “I guess after that little speech, I can do that.”

He pulls me to him and I oblige, ready to climb back onto his lap. But he moves until we are lying on the bed. One of his hands makes its way back into my hair as he brings his mouth to mine again, this time with some of the urgency I was looking for earlier. He is touching me gently, though, one of his hands tracing up the curve of my hip. I clutch him tightly, wanting to feel the press of his body against mine. It is simultaneously too much and not nearly enough, the way he is kissing me over and over again. The heat of him and the weight of him as he rolls me onto my back and settles his body between my legs.

I feel his warm palm drag up the side of my thigh and am dimly aware that the hem of my shirt has ridden up dangerously high. I slip one of my hands inside his dressing gown, which has fallen mostly open, and dig my fingernails into his back as he brings his mouth to my neck. I arch into him.

“Tell me again,” he whispers.

I am about to ask him what he means when I am hit with the memory of the first time his hands were on me like this.

“I hate you,” I say softly into his ear with a smirk. He nips my earlobe in a way that sends a shock of pleasure through my whole body.

“The truth this time, Jude. Please,” he says. But I see that he is smirking, too, as he pulls his face away to look at me. It still feels too intimate to say to him, this close, his gold-rimmed eyes burning with hope and desire. So I close my eyes and close the distance between us again, our mouths sliding together.

“I love you,” I breathe into his mouth between kisses. He stills for a moment, his fingers digging more firmly into my skin.

“I love you,” he returns with equal softness. Then he continues kissing me. My mouth, my ear, my throat. I feel like I am burning up, overcome with a heady combination of affection and desire. It is too much.

I try not to shy away from the feeling, try not to push it down. Instead, I think about how I can feel his heart beating with his body pressed on top of mine. I think about his mouth moving along my throat, my collarbone. I untie his robe and think about his warm skin under my callouses as I drag a hand down his chest, his abdomen, lower. I think about his sharp intake of breath, his low moan against my skin as I touch him.

I think about his hands and nothing else. One is still tangling in my hair. He sweeps the other underneath my clothes quickly, the shirt gathering around my ribs. He traces a slow burning trail down my throat, my chest, my stomach, making his way down, down, down.

I think about how much I have wanted this, and how much more it is than I even allowed myself to want. To be wanted. To be loved.

Then suddenly, blissfully, and without my notice, I am no longer thinking at all.

#tfota #tfota fanfic #jurdan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #pov jude #just talking #fluff #and making out #other things implied #heavily implied #qon spoilers #qon #twk #tcp

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schnoogles · 4 years

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pterolycus: the winged wolf written for the @jonsa-halloween event! Day 4: Monsters/Quotes Read on Ao3

“The Northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leathery wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window.” What if Sansa did have the magic to change into a wolf with big bat-like leathery wings? But set in a modern au! In this modern with magic au, there’s a secret coven of teenage witches that Sansa and Margaery are a part of, and they get into all kinds of fun ;) After knowing him for so long and dating him, Sansa has told Jon everything about her being a witch. It’s just a good time folks 😂

Present time, Monday, 8am

Sansa was gathering her books from her locker. It was a Monday morning and she was tired and exhausted but school doesn’t care about that. She had a long weekend. Did she regret it though? Absolutely not. Once she had everything she needed, she closed her locker door and flinched back in surprise. Leaning up against the other side was none other than Jon Snow.

Sansa held a hand to her heart. She was a little jumpy this morning. “Seven Hells, Jon!”

The boy in question just smirked at her. “Hi, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and walked past him. Jon, not ready to go to class yet, followed.

“You know, I heard the most interesting rumor earlier,” he said, casually throwing an arm over her shoulders, “Have you heard it? It was about a certain ex boyfriend of yours. Joffrey Baratheon.” Ah yes. Joffrey Baratheon. The boy and his family had moved up North just last year and Sansa was immediately smitten by his pretty words. Unfortunately for her, she found out the hard way what a complete ass he was. “Ring any bells?”

If Jon wasn’t looking so intently at her, he wouldn’t have seen the corner of Sansa’s mouth twitch. “Can’t say that I have. What rumors would that be?”

“Apparently, after the party Saturday night, he showed up at his house at nearly five in the morning the next day and was completely incoherent. And practically naked. Started screaming like a banshee and saying things like ‘It was a flying wolf-bat!’ and ‘She turned into a monster!’ It caused such the commotion that the whole block woke up. He was spazzing so hard that-”

Sansa tsked at Jon. “You know how I feel about that word Jon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, that was ableist of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyways, so he was… acting really paranoid, right? Kept looking around as if something would pop up and eat him.” Jon smiled as he continued, “and he wouldn’t let Cersei bring him inside the house, insisting that they take him to the police. ‘Hello yes I would like to make a report: a monster attacked me and took my clothes!’ Can you imagine how that would go?” At this point, Jon couldn’t stop chuckling. If asked, Sansa would say that his laughter was contagious and that’s why she smiled. It’s not like she was there to see the half-naked Joffrey running off.

The night before, Sunday, 2am

Jon gave his girlfriend one more long lasting kiss. “Do you have to do it tonight?” he mumbled into her mouth. Sansa giggled.

“Yes, Jon. And it’s already the hour of the wolf, I should’ve gone back ages ago.” As she made to move out from under him, he grabbed at her waist and snuggled closer.

“Yes yes, your witching hour approaches,” Jon sighed. Then he looked at her mischievously. “One more time? Aren’t orgasms supposed to enhance your powers or something?”

At that, Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “Stranger take me, I’m not going to be performing sex magic!”

“Oh, no?” Jon began trailing kisses down her neck, each one slower and softer than the last. “That’s too bad.”

Sansa sighed at his ministrations. “Yup. Just your standard shifting spell. And… I should… really… I should really go soon. Margie will be waiting.” Despite her words, she made no move to stop Jon’s attentions on her. In fact, she seemed to hold on to him tighter. When Jon’s mouth continued moving lower and lower, she gave in. “Maybe one more won’t hurt.”

“One more. For the road.” He started kissing and sucking in all the right places.

Sansa huffed a laugh. “Yeah. For the road.” She started to moan, her body was being filled with a different kind of magic just then.

Three days ago, Friday, 1pm

“Sansa, Margaery is here!” Sansa opened an eye. She was hoping she just imagined her mother calling her, but she heard another shout for her name. With a groan, she blew out the candles and went to see what Margaery Tyrell wanted. Sansa had a very strange friendship with the girl. When Joffrey broke up with her last year, Sansa was secretly happy. That didn’t stop the sting that she felt when she found out Margaery started dating him a few weeks later though. But that was neither here nor there. She broke up with him for his younger, kinder brother, Tommen.

“Hey Marge,” she greeted her friend. She took one good look at the brunette’s appearance and frowned. Something was wrong.

Margaery gave her a small smile and asked, “Hey Sans, can we talk?” Sansa nodded and gestured for her to follow up the stairs. When they walked in her bedroom, Sansa swore. She forgot to clean up.

“Oh! Did I interrupt?” Margaery smirked at her.

“Just some new incantations I was trying out. You know. So what’s up buttercup?”

Margaery hesitated. She wouldn’t look Sansa in the eye and kept wringing her hands, like she just realized being here was a bad idea. Despite their history, Sansa still cared for her friend. “Margie? What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Margaery sniffled, “I’m sorry I dated Joff. I know it was a shitty thing to do and I don’t think I ever properly apol-”

“Whoa, Margaery,” Sansa raised her hands, as if she were presenting herself as non threatening to the other girl. “That was ages ago. Thought we were passed that.” Sansa smiled then. “And honestly it was kind of the best thing that happened to me.”

“Yeah,” Margaery nodded, “You and Jon are so lucky to have each other.”

Sansa tilted her head, “So are you and Tommen. Unless…?”

“No! No, we’re still very much happy. It’s just…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain. But Sansa knew what she was trying to say.

“It’s just hard when your current boyfriend is brothers with your ex?”

Margaery laughed in a self-deprecated manner, “I sure know how to pick them, right?”

“Hey. Tommen’s good for you.” With that reassurance out of the way, Sansa asked, “So that can’t be why you came here though. What happened?”

“Right. Well I ran into Joff when I was over at Tommen’s. Surprised it took so long really, it was bound to happen.”

“Damn. Did he say something?”

“He said lots of somethings,” her jaw clenched at the memory of what happened. “I believe the words ‘slut’ and ‘easy’ were in the mix.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah.” Margaery scoffed, “Then he asked if I was going for Renly next seeing as Loras and I always share everything.” She looked up at Sansa. “You told me he was a monster and I didn’t listen. You’re really the only one who would understand and I needed someone to talk about this with.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Sansa raised her hand and a book came flying to it. “How bout we teach the little shit a thing or two about what real monsters look like?”

The night before, Sunday 4am

Sansa climbed through the window to Jon’s room. The one he conveniently left open for her. She thought he’d be asleep, but he wasn’t. “Oh? Back so soon already? How’d it go?” She undressed and got under the blankets and snuggled with him.

“It went rather well if I do say so myself.” Sansa was smug. “You know how I’ve been practicing my shapeshifting?”

Jon lifted a brow in interest. “Yeah. Did you finally nail it down?”

“Nope! But it was a blessing in disguise. I couldn’t manage to concentrate properly so I ended up as a wolf with bat wings,” she laughed, “It was utterly terrifying if I’m being honest.”

She went on to explain to Jon how they had managed to trick Joffrey into thinking he would be meeting Marge for a secret rendezvous. How Margaery had been manipulating the plants in her garden to snag at his clothes. How, because of Joff’s fear of wolves, the original plan was for her to change into one and scare him senseless. She told him how Joffrey started to get impatient and called for “the slut to come out” and how Sansa saw red. Her lack of focus caused her to briefly shift back and she panicked and tried to turn back into a wolf, only her concentration was off and she sprouted bat wings. The confusion of what she did made her freak out just a bit and so she spread her wings out and let out a ferocious growl, all the while facing Joffrey, who then wet his pants. By the end of her recap, Jon was in tears.

“Mother have mercy he peed his pants? How fucking embarrassing.”

Present time, Monday, 8am

“Hey guys,” Margaery greeted, “Wild rumors today, right?”

The three of them shared knowing looks.

“You know Sansa, I was thinking, and I’m pretty sure I figured out why you-” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “-shifted back and to a monster so fast.” Margaery straightened her back and smirked at them. When Sansa gave her a questioning look, she continued, “Did you know orgasms don’t just enhance the magic for sex rituals? They’re very good for all sorts of magics. The release of chemicals and hormones in a female, you know?” With one last knowing look, she left the two of them and continued on her way.

“A monster, hmm?” Jon teased.

“Oh shut up. Go to class Jon.”

Before he left though, Jon leaned in and he whispered in her ear, “I think I like that idea. My girl’s a monster in the streets and I’ll be the monster in the sheets.” With a final wink, he walked away, leaving a very breathless Sansa standing in the halls.

Oh, she’ll show him a monster in the sheets.

#jonsa fic #actuallyjonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jonsaff #jonsa halloween #jonsa #jonsaaaaaa #my writing

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between-two-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: Alex’s nervous because the time has come for him to plan a date with Willie. The others assure him Willie will love what he has planned, but Alex second guesses himself until he sees Willie’s eyes light up in the record shop.

Note: Also available on ao3.

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Alex anxiously paced across the garage floor as his mind raced through worse case scenarios. He was well aware of Luke and Reggie sitting on the couch, watching him like a ping pong game. “What if he hates it? I don’t even know if Willie likes music. Maybe I should cancel,” Alex said as he grabbed his phone from his music stand. Luke sighed and crossed the room. Luke reached forward and took the cell from Alex.

“I’m sure Willie’s going to love what you have planned Alex,” Luke said as he placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. From his spot on the couch Reggie nodded then said,

“Dude your skater boy loves you. I doubt he’d hate the record shop. I’m just surprised it’s still standing after all this time.” Alex blushed and Luke collapsed back onto his couch.

“I guess you're right…” Alex said, he checked the time on his phone and realized he was going to be late to his own date. “I should probably get going. It’s almost time.” Reggie stood up and enveloped Alex into a hug,

“If he hurts you we’ll kill him,” Reggie promised as Alex pushed himself out of the hug. Rolling his eyes Luke said,

“He’s a ghost Reg.” Reggie shrugged,

“We’ll find a way to kill a ghost then.” Alex rolled his eyes then poked Reggie’s chest,

“Message delivered, but if you hurt him I’ll kill you.” Reggie held up his hands in a mock-surrender. After giving his bandmates one last hug Alex felt a familiar tugging feeling in his gut as he was pulled away from the garage.

When his feet hit solid ground again he stumbled a bit, still rocky on the landings. He glanced around the street, but it seemed Alex had beaten Willie to their meeting place. “Sorry I’m late,” Willie said, appearing at Alex’s right. Alex let out a yelp in surprise as he whacked Willie’s arm. Realizing who it was Alex relaxed and let Willie pull him closer for a soft forehead kiss.

“I was late too,” Alex said with a light chuckle. The sounds of LA’s nightlife woke around them, clubs and restaurants opening, tourists gathering on the streets. Alex anxiously tugged at the corner of his sleeve. “Do you uh… want to go to the record shop now?” He asked, Willie frowned.

“You’re taking me to a record shop?” He asked, his adorable confused puppy dog look put Luke’s to shame. Alex let out a laugh,

“You’ll see, trust me,” he said as he reached out his hand. Willie took it with a supportive nod and Alex felt their energy combine and they disappeared in a swirl of color. They landed in front of the record shop where the band first met each other. Willie held up his hand as Alex approached the door,

“Hold up, you do realize this place is closed right?” Willie asked, obviously remembering his apprehensiveness when they broke into the museum. Alex shrugged, then let a grin cross his face.

“Come on, this place is important to me. I wanted you to see it,” he said as he walked through the door. He fumbled through the dark, running his hand down the wall looking for a light switch.

“Got it!” Willie shouted from the other side of the room. The dim lights flickered on and Alex grinned when he realized the layout of the store was exactly the same as it was back in the eighties. “Woah,” Willie said as he stared at the long tables filled with boxes of records. Alex smiled sheepishly as they met in the middle of the store.

“This is where the guys and I first met, Luke, Reggie and uh… Bobby were all handing out flyers advertising for a new drummer. They were all dorks and I decided to put them out of their misery and introduce myself.” Willie laughed,

“How nice of you.” Alex let himself melt into Willie’s outstretched arms. Willie pushed him against a table and pressed a long and heated kiss. Reaching around Alex Willie started to paw through a box of cds behind them. Pointing across the room by the cash register Alex said,

“Looks like there’s a player over there, if you find something you like.” A grin crossed Willie’s face as he pressed a chaste kiss against Alex’s forehead. He dug through a few boxes before he found a box near the back of the shelves. Alex leaned back and watched as Willie seemed to be on the hunt for something specific. He managed to dig up a cd case that was buried in the back of a dusty shelf. Willie turned around with a devilish smile and, over his shoulder, Alex could make out the very familiar cover art on it.. At first Alex blushed in embarrassment, then he tried to snatch the Sunset Curve cd from Willie. Unfortunately Willie was faster, and taller than Alex, and was able to duck under Alex’s arm and hold the cd out of his reach. “You can’t use your height to your advantage!” Alex whined as Willie strutted across the room and turned on the cd player. Willie just laughed adorably as he said,

“You snooze you lose Alexander.” Alex just shook his head as he crossed his arms and leaned his back against the shelf lining the wall. Willie turned on the cd player and loaded up the Sunset Curve. The opening of Now or Never started playing through the speakers and Alex couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride wash over him as Luke’s voice floated through the speaker. When he looked up at Willie he laughed as his boyfriend started dancing around the shop. The song ended the two of them collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.

“I know!” Alex exclaimed. He jumped back up and ran to a new section of cds. He flicked through the cases until he found what he wanted. As he read through the songs his eyes widened with excitement. “Disney made more songs?” He asked as Willie’s laugh answered him.

“Yeah dude, you’ve missed out a lot. Maybe a Disney marathon should be our next date huh?” He asked, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist from behind. Alex grinned,

“Definitely!” He pressed a kiss to Willie’s forehead then ejected the Sunset Curve cd and returned it to it’s case. Loading up the Disney Hits cd he grinned when a slow song started playing. Willie grinned back at him and bowed.

Tale as old as time...

“May I have this dance my prince?” Willie asked, grabbing Alex’s hand without waiting for a response. Alex fidgeted awkwardly as the song continued to play.

True as it can be...

“Uh I’m not exactly the best dancer. We play rock ‘n roll, not slow stuff.” Willie smiled at Alex as he put Alex’s hands on his shoulders, and Willie placed his hands on Alex’s hips.

“You don’t need to be a good dancer Alex. Don’t really need to focus on anything either,” Willie said as their foreheads touched. “Just follow my lead and sway.” Alex nodded and found he enjoyed himself slow-dancing, and wondered why he never did it before he died. Willie made it seem easy, and Alex let the skater boy guide him around the tables stacked with boxes of cds. Willie spun him around with a giggle, then as the song slowed to a stop he poofed them onto the roof of the store. Alex laid on top of Willie, resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest. He curled up onto his side,

“Did you have a good time?” Alex asked. Willie nodded with a smile that lit up Alex’s entire world.

“Of course I did, I’ll always have a good time if I’m with you.” Alex buried himself further into Willie’s hoodie-covered chest.

“You’re warm,” Alex muttered. Willie wrapped his arms tighter around him.

“So are you,” Willie said as he tucked Alex’s head under his chin. Alex laid content, as he listened to the nightlife of Las Vegas pass them by on the street below them.

#Julie and the Phantoms #one shot #fanfiction #willex #jatp alex #jatp willie #two gays being adorable #I'm not sorry #fluff #soft gays #they can't kill their gays off because their already dead #netflix #season 2 #needs to happen #luke petterson #jatp reggie #supportive friends

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voleurdesoleil-archive · 3 years

Text

Hallelujah

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Male detective (Jonah Rafferty) x Adam x Nate

Word count: 1.7k

read on ao3

‘Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall and the major lift,

The baffled King composing Hallelujah.”

Music was coming from Jonah’s apartment and Nate, even before opening the door, knew exactly what he would find in there and he couldn’t help but frown as he thought of a moment he had sadly been accustomed to. He opened the door that Jonah had left open for them in case he was already asleep by the time they were done with their patrol, and let Adam in before closing it behind him.

The sight he had upon standing in the doorway was sadly endearing.

Adam had immediately walked to the window but for once he wasn’t staring outside. His eyes were set on their boyfriend, laying on the floor next to his turntable, with Bo sleeping at his feet. Although his gaze was very soft, it was also full of concern. The lingering scent of lasagna, Jonah’s comfort food, was filling the air and the moonlight was coming through the window as the pitter-patter of the rain could be heard outside.

Without a word, Nate closed the distance between them and laid down on the floor next to Jonah who, with his eyes still closed, instinctively reached for his hand.

Jonah slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple times to adjust to the darkness of the room. “Hi Nate…” He turned to him, giving him the most beautiful smile the vampire had ever seen.

“Stressful day?” Nate asked.

“Mhm…” Jonah simply mumbled as he lifted his head to catch a glance of Adam. “Hi Adam…"

"Hi Jonah.” The vampire answered as he turned away to look out the window, Jonah letting out a soft chuckle as he did so.

Jonah, rolling over, scooted closer to Nate, seeking out some warmth and nuzzled his head in the crook of his neck as the vampire wrapped his arms around him.

Nate couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that, but all he knew was that he didn’t want for this moment to ever end.

The quiet enveloping them was sometimes broken by Jonah humming to the song or when Bo was seeking affection, pulling the cutest sneak attacks to get belly rubs.

As Adam walked past them, Jonah quickly sat up and grabbed his hand to pull him down. The stern vampire, caught off guard by Jonah’s sudden movement, lost his balance and fell on his knees.

Adam was now kneeling next to them, his gaze focused on Jonah’s hand wrapped around his. His cheeks had turned a bright red and Nate could hear his heart pounding wildly in his chest. The corner of his lips twitched slightly as he tried to repress a smile.

“Nate is not the only one I want to cuddle with…” Jonah whispered and Nate could have sworn Adam’s heart had missed a beat upon hearing that.

Adam tried to pull away his hand, which only resulted in Jonah clutching it a bit tighter. Seeing Jonah’s pleading eyes, it only took a few seconds for Adam to surrender and lay down next to Jonah.

There was a certain shyness in the way Adam wrapped his arms around Jonah, resting his chin on his shoulder. Jonah could feel his heart beating way too fast against his back, but Adam’s grip on his waist was firm, almost as if he was scared to let him go.

“You know, I used to live alone before I knew you,

And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch,

And love is not a victory march.”

The room was now only filled with Jeff Buckley’s voice and the sound of the rain hitting the window. In that instant, none of them could have thought of a better place to be than the floor of Jonah’s apartment, basking in each other’s presence.

___

They had been listening to the song on repeat for an hour, maybe more, and Jonah was now sound asleep in Adam’s arms and the latter was slightly dozing off too. Seeing the vampire so relaxed and vulnerable was a first for Nate and he knew he had to appreciate every second of this moment before Adam’s distant facade was back on.

But as Jonah shivered, he realized the detective probably needed a better place to sleep than the wooden floor of his apartment. Putting Bo down, Nate kneeled next to Adam and, , running his fingers along his jawline, barely grazing his skin, called the vampire’s name. “Adam?"

"Hmm?” The vampire blinked a couple times but was careful not to make any sudden moves, to avoid waking up Jonah.

“We should put Jonah in his bed.” Nate suggested, to which Adam simply nodded. “Here let me take him…” He said as he held out his arms.

Holding Jonah was like lifting a couple of grapes to him, but the waft of Jonah’s scent suddenly made him weak and his legs shook under the weight of his own feelings.

Adam was already in Jonah’s room, pulling away the sheets and Nate softly put him down.

“Well there was a time when you let me know,

What’s really going on below,

But now you never show that to me, do you?"

Tucking Jonah in his bed, Nate pressed a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room while Adam lingered a bit before closing the door. Nate was smiling fondly at him.

"What?"

"Nothing, it’s just nice seeing you that peaceful.” Nate whispered, afraid that if he were to speak louder it would burst the bubble they had immersed themselves in.

Adam had no idea how to react to that and he just stood there, fumbling on words to just quickly walk to the window.

“I don’t mean anything wrong with that, Adam.”

“I know…” Adam turned to Nate, scratching his neck in embarrassment. “I simply have no idea what to say.” To which Nate simply gave a nod of understandment.

Minutes passed and they were once again surrounded by silence. Nate had turned off Jonah’s turntable and Adam was once again staring out the window, but he was looking at anything. It seemed to Nate that he was lost in thoughts.

“I’m scared Nate.” Adam eventually spoke up. “I’m scared of everything, all those feelings…”

“Jonah’s not gonna leave, you’ll have time to deal wi-”

“I’m talking about my feelings for you Nate!” Adam’s voice had come out a bit louder than he had expected and they both turned towards Jonah’s door as they heard him mumble but the detective didn’t wake up.

“Your feelings about me?” Nate repeated as he tried to process Adam’s sudden confession.

“I’m not sure what they are, yet, and I’m scared to dig deeper. I’m scared it’s going to change everything…” Nate was too shocked to react in any way so Adam took it as an invitation to continue as his gaze followed a drop of rain sliding down the window. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, I just have no idea how to deal with all of that Nate…”

Nate moved to sit on the Jonah and patted the space next to him to tell Adam to join him, which he did. Adam’s hands were resting on his knees and Nate softly put his on top of them.

“You don’t have to know how you’re feeling all the time. I myself am not entirely sure how I’m feeling, about you I mean. Feelings developed, a long time ago-” Nate chuckled at the memory. “- but by then, you had made it clear you weren’t interested in any sorts of relationship so I kept them for myself, even when we grew closer, because I couldn’t risk damaging whatever bond we were creating or compromising our mission at the time, and I thought that whatever I was feeling might go away with time, but oh was I wrong.” Nate was the one to divert his gaze this time. Talking about his feelings for the brooding vampire, outloud, for the first time was more challenging than he thought, but Adam putting a hand on his forearm gave him the courage to continue. "Feelings only grew stronger and harder to control so I learned to love you without you realizing. So if you need time to think about your feelings, take it. I’ve been waiting almost a century for you to reciprocate those feelings so I can wait a little bit more.”

Adam squeezed Nate’s hand slightly in his own, and that simple gesture carried more than Nate needed to know. It was a promise. A promise that those unrequited feelings he had had for years were finally being reciprocated.

___

The next morning, Jonah was woken up by the sunlight sliding through the blinds of his bedroom window. He took a glance at his alarm clock. 08:26. He was surprised Bo hadn’t woken him earlier to go on a walk, that’s when he realized that his door was closed and that he was still fully clothed.

He searched his memory of the previous night, but all he remembered was Nate and Adam coming back from their patrol as he was listening to Hallelujah.

He threw away the bedsheets and stumbled out of bed.

Upon opening the door, he had expected Bo to jump on him, but the dog was sitting quietly before the sofa, in between the tangled legs of his two boyfriends. Jonah stood in the doorway for a few minutes, capturing every detail of this endearing scene.

The two vampires were all snuggled up against each other and Nate, despite his height, seemed so small surrounded with Adam’s arms. His head was resting in the crook of his neck, while his left hand was holding tight onto Adam’s. It looked like Adam had tried to throw a blanket over Nate after he had fallen asleep, as it was barely covering them.

Knowing this kind of moment wouldn’t happen before a long while, Jonah grabbed his phone and captured the scene.

Softly, he planted a kiss on their forehead and crouched down, taking Bo who let out a little whining as he was taken away from the vampires.

“Come on Bo, it’s time to go on a walk” Jonah whispered. The dog lazily walked to the door after his owner had put him down and waited patiently for Jonah to put on his harness.

After he had found Bo’s leash, Jonah left a note on the fridge and closed the door on his two lovers, a fond smile plastered on his face.

#oc: jonah rafferty #adam x jonah x nate #nate sewell #adam du mortain #twc adam #twc nate #twc fanfic #the wayhaven chronicles #polyamory #ali's writing #y'all can ignore that i'm just reposting stuff from my other account

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mo-nighean-rouge · 4 years

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Gone - V

Jamie Fraser prepares to send Claire and Faith through the stones. A last-minute interference puts them all at stake.

A/N: Huge thanks to @ianmuyrray for dedicating a lot of time and patience to help me clean this up, as well as @lady-o-ren for always saying something kind.

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Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | AO3

Previously:

Murtagh was being pulled down from Donas by two Redcoats. As they set his feet on the ground, he met Claire’s eye, his own full of guilt and shame.

She slid down from her own horse and sidled up to Jamie’s back as he tried to make himself impossibly bigger to hide her, lowering Faith to her arms.

Over his shoulder, she studied the English officers in the dim light. There was something oddly familiar about one of them.

April 17, 1746 | Scottish Countryside

“Please.” Jamie’s voice rang clear in the still morning. “Leave him be.”

Claire’s eyes flooded as she watched him march toward the scene in surrender. She pressed her forehead into Faith’s mangled curls to hide her tears.

“I’ll wager ye know who I am,” Jamie said decidedly. “Take me, and let my companions go free. I’ll no’ fight.”

The silence was deafening as each party studied the other.

“James Fraser,” the ranking officer bellowed from his mount. “Notorious Jacobite.”

One of the younger men holding Murtagh in a vice grip paled at the obvious confirmation.

“Then this could only be the Stuart Witch in your company, Mr. Fraser?” The officer continued, breaking into a dark chuckle. “It seems we’d be foolish to let any of you get too far today.”

“No!” Jamie shouted, but it was too late. He thrashed violently even as three men surrounded him. All Claire could see was the sun shining against his brilliant red hair as the men dragged him away.

The remaining soldiers approached Claire and Fergus, gripping them indelicately as they led them on a solemn march toward the camp just visible through the clearing. Even though no one tried to remove her, Claire tightened her grip around Faith’s middle until the little girl began to squirm and whimper.

Each unfriendly face they passed jeered at them, recognition of the long-awaited captives flashing in their eyes.

They were all forced into a semi-circle together, surrounded by their captors.

Claire lowered herself to the ground, hit with another bout of nausea. Little wonder, as they’d had nothing to eat since supper the night before.

“Mama?” Faith whined softly, the impatient tones of a temper tantrum in her voice.

Jamie dropped to his knees beside them, using dirty palms to check each of them over for injury. “I’m sorry. Sae sorry Claire. So verra sorry,” he whispered, shaking.

Claire palmed his cheek in return. There was nothing he could have done. They had chosen their path, knowing the consequences it might bring.

She leaned into him and together they shielded Faith, sure these were their last moments but uncertain what they might bring.

Claire barely registered the weary young man from before as he slowly backed away from his post and then dashed toward the largest tent at the edge of camp.

The commanding officer approached their huddle. “Captain Jacobs, at your service,” he sneered. “As long-sought after criminals in a losing battle, we’re certain you have plenty of information to share with us. Who knows, in the end your cooperation just may give us leave to be more lenient.”

Claire felt Jamie tense, her own breathing growing shallower. All they’d lost already, and their lives still on the line.

“Now,” Jacobs began. “I’d like to question each of you individually, starting with…” his cold eyes narrowed on Claire.

A throat cleared behind him, and the captain straightened. “Colonel.”

The colonel inclined his head as his inferior officer bowed.

“If you’re quite done, Captain… James and Mistress Fraser, I presume?” he asked them formally. He turned. “And Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser. And…” he tilted his head at the sight of Fergus. “Hello, young man. If you’d all accompany me to my quarters, it seems we have much to discuss.”

Jamie gave a slight nod. His face was the mask Claire knew would cover his thoughts, but he quickly rose, pulling Faith and her up with him.

As they walked, Faith dove toward Jamie and he caught her easily. Her eyes slipped closed at last, tucked against her da’s chest. It was likely for the best, as Claire herself hardly wanted to see what happened next.

________________________________________

As they ducked under the entryway of the large tent, the colonel motioned them toward a long table.

They’d need to keep their story straight. Balancing Faith’s slumbering form in one hand, Jamie ruffled Fergus's hair with the other, imploring him to keep quiet with a stern glance. Then Jamie reached for Claire, who accepted his touch, gripping his thigh firmly with her free hand.

After ensuring the tent flap was secure behind him, the colonel sat opposite them at the table. “I believe I’ve been remiss in introducing myself.” He straightened in the high-backed chair. “Colonel Harold Grey, Duke of Pardloe.”

Jamie frowned at the surname. Why did he know the name Grey?

“I’m told you’re all in acquaintance with my younger brother,” Grey continued. The young soldier from earlier stepped around a fold in the tent, flushed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Fraser, meet John William Grey.”

Surprised and a bit uneasy, Jamie and Claire glanced at each other before fully acknowledging the young man.

“Mr. Grey, pleasure to make your acquaintance again.”

“Mr. Fraser, Mistress Fraser, I trust you are both in good health.”

“Aye lad, at least my wife tells me so.” Jamie stroked Claire’s palm with his thumb.

John Grey nodded, smirking. “I suppose I should have guessed as much that night at Carryarrick, Sir.”

“As my brother reminds me,” Colonel Grey began, rubbing his temples. “He swore to you an oath of honor in exchange for his life.” He paused, looking from one Fraser to another. “It seems to fall on me to fulfill that promise today.”

“Just what will that mean, Colonel?” Jamie asked, his voice dropping to hide his nerves.

“I wonder if you’re familiar, Mr. Fraser, with Captain of Dragoons, Jonathan Randall?”

Claire’s nails dug into Jamie’s thigh as he shifted in his chair. “We’ve heard a bit in passing, aye. Most of it isna good.”

“Is he as nasty a man as they say?” Claire asked, trying to hide her emotions.

The colonel rose and fetched a decanter, pouring himself a drink before offering one to his guests. Jamie and Murtagh accepted, while Claire refused. Jamie knew she’d have a hard time stomaching ale on an empty belly.

“I’m afraid that everything you’ve heard, Mistress Fraser, pales in comparison to the truth. Allegations of abuse have followed him for years. But he always manages to shake them off before the consequences reach him.”

“That’s a shame.” Jamie swirled the drink in his mug. “But how does it relate to myself and my family?”

“We received word just this morning that Captain Randall met his end before the battle yesterday.”

Claire inhaled sharply.

Seemingly oblivious to their reactions, the colonel continued, pacing back and forth. “There was an outbreak of influenza in the camp. Terrible conditions, as you might imagine.”

Jamie shrugged, lifting one shoulder in response.

“As it turns out, he left behind a young widow with no other family to speak of. Mrs. Randall will be on her own to establish her inherited estate in Paris. She is also expecting his child.”

“I can’t imagine,” Claire whispered, rubbing her own belly underneath the table and trying not to shudder at the casual use of her friend’s married name.

“So, to conclude, I’m offering you both parole to her property in France. If you accept, you’ll leave on the next ship.”

“Mmmph.” Jamie nodded slowly, considering.

“Otherwise, I’m afraid there aren’t many options left in Scotland than the noose. For any of you.”

Jamie leaned forward, careful not to jostle Faith. “And what about my godfather, Murtagh?” he asked, his voice low.

The colonel turned his attention to the man in question. “I suppose any additional service would be to Mrs. Randall’s benefit.”

“And the children?” Claire asked. She rubbed Faith’s back.

Fergus perked up at this, looking between Claire and the colonel.

Grey cleared his throat. “As long as Mrs. Randall is willing to accommodate them, I see no issue in sending them along with you.”

“Ye should know,” Jamie warned. “I signed my estate away to my nephew. There will be no need to harass its residents.”

The colonel fixed his gaze on Jamie. “I have no desire to disturb properties that no longer belong to you, Mr. Fraser.”

Jamie and Claire exhaled together. “You have our gratitude, Colonel.”

Grey nodded. “To tell you the truth, I’ve watched many men fall over the past months. If only a few…” He cleared his throat again. “You’ll be detained here until our ship leaves in three days’ time, but you may move about the grounds as you wish. We will post any letters you wish to write before you leave. They will, of course, be read by myself first.”

________________________________________

Claire knelt by the stream with Faith in her arms, the remnant of a gooey bar of soap clenched in her palm.

“Time to get cleaned up, lovey.” She trailed a wet finger down Faith’s cheek.

Faith giggled, dropping her chin to her chest to get away. When her mother paused, she looked into Claire’s eyes and placed a hand on her cheek. “S’okay, Mama?”

Claire paused and gathered her baby tighter to her. “Yes, my love. Things are looking up for us.” She pulled back to meet her eye. “But you are safe no matter what, do you understand?”

Faith nodded, turning around and leaning back as Claire lathered her hair with soap.

“Stay close, but out of the water,” Claire reminded her gently as she started her own ablutions. She needn’t have worried though, as a quick glance over her shoulder assured her that Jamie was standing guard at the tree line.

She grimaced as she felt water hit her back. She turned around in time to see Faith standing by the shallow of the creek, splashing. She shook her head and chuckled, sweeping Faith up and spinning her around, her little girl giggling madly.

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

Claire stripped down to her shift as night finally fell over the camp. Fergus was tucked into a separate tent with Murtagh. The dour old man had scoffed at their accommodations, but Claire caught the grin he tried to hide as Jamie pulled the blanket snug over Fergus’s shoulders.

She checked on Faith one more time, snoozing soundly on her pallet at the other end of the tent. Smoothing out her bedroll, she dropped down next to Jamie, who had left on only his shirt. Even as she curled into him, he continued staring a hole through the wall of their tent.

“Ready to get some rest, soldier?” she asked, smoothing her hand over his freshly shaved cheek.

Jamie caught her hand in his, and placed a kiss on her palm, but said nothing.

Claire sighed. This was no good. “You know I’m feeling different than last time. You don’t suppose it could be twins?” She caressed her belly.

He jerked around to face her, then rolled his eyes when he caught her smug grin. “Och. So ye’re a wee jokester tonight, eh?”

“What is it?” she asked, stroking the hand she had healed for him with delicate fingers.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he said softly.

She tilted her head. “Whatever for? Things looked dodgy there for a moment, but we’ve a way out now.”

One side of Jamie’s mouth ticked upward. “Aye, and I’m grateful for that, but once again it seems that being here has put ye in danger.”

Claire shifted to hold his face in her hands. “We’ll be fine,” she whispered. “There’s nothing we can’t do, together.”

Jamie squeezed his eyes shut. “I just canna help thinkin’ it was my fault.”

She hesitated before nodding, slowly, with an air of finality. “You’re right.”

He went still for a moment, her sarcasm taking a second to fully settle on him.

Claire shifted to drag their bodies fully together, nestling against his neck. His arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“You nearly gave up everything to make sure the children and I were safe.” She bit his earlobe. “When we get a chance to be alone,” she purred, pulling his mouth close to hers by the collar of his shirt. “You’ll find out whether I’m more inclined to punish or reward you for it.”

Jamie smiled at her and gripped her bottom. “I’ll hold ye to that.” He met her with a kiss, rubbing circles into her lower back. “I do love ye, Sassenach.”

“Mmm, you’ve mentioned that a time or two.”

He rolled to his back, folding her into his side with her palm over his heartbeat.

Claire could feel the heady tug of her exhaustion, and she was ready for sleep. But Jamie’s fingers tapping on her hip wouldn’t cease.

“Jamie?”

“Ach, sorry.” He stilled his hand into a grip instead.

“What’s on your mind??” Claire wondered.

Jamie looked at her in surprise. “Sassenach,we’re surrounded by men that have likely no’ seen a woman in months. I willna give them a chance at ye.”

“We’re 15 paces from Colonel Grey’s tent. I don’t think anyone is bold enough to try anything.”

“Mmmph. That Captain Jacobs. Dinna like the way he was looking at ye.”

Claire sighed, thumping her head against his shoulder. “Even in sleep, you’ll know if he shows up.” She scratched the back of his head, knowing his eyes would droop as she did.

His body relaxed. “Will ye wake me if anything’s amiss?”

“Of course. And I can defend myself, you know.”

“Aye.” He smirked. “But ye shouldna have to.” He pressed a kiss to her temple before letting his eyes drift shut at last.

________________________________________

Jamie’s family patiently stood to the side as Colonel Grey conferred with the harbormaster -- almost patiently.

Faith wriggled in Jamie’s arms as she rubbed her eyes and adjusted her position against his shoulder again. Fergus paced back and forth under Murtagh’s nose, causing the older man to mutter under his breath.

And Jamie himself twitched in the breeches provided to him by Redcoats. Colonel Grey insisted that tartan was outlawed and didn’t want his prisoner wearing a kilt in front of his colleagues. Jamie complied, albeit reluctantly. It wasn’t just the loss of his kilt that bothered him, nor Claire’s tartan shawl that he’d spread her out over more times than he could count. It was their last day in Scotland for an indeterminable amount of time. He couldn’t say when the next time he’d see Lallybroch or even a patch of heather would be.

But then Claire tightened her grip on his elbow, leaning her head against his shoulder. Regardless of what he was going to lose, he’d managed to keep his wife. His family. Everything else could bide.

Jamie came to attention as Grey turned back toward them. He didn’t like the look on the man’s face.

“Colonel?”

Grey’s face was drawn. “It seems that demand for passage is quite high. Only official prisoners are allowed transport.” He met Jamie’s eye. “Now, your… Fergus… I can assign parole status, but your daughter…”

Jamie felt himself begin to quake. Claire went white beside him.

“I’d be more than obliged to have some of my men deliver her to your family estate while I accompany you to France…”

“Ye said you would leave Lallybroch alone,” Jamie bit out.

“It would remain safe, Mr. Fraser, it would be a simple business matter— ”

“We go as one, or not at all. I canna…” His eyes fell to Claire’s silver ring, remembering all it represented. To leave part of his heart in another country for years… The carpet bag in Claire’s hand caught his eye.

The piece was clean, if threadbare, also provided by Grey. Perhaps it was fortunate after all that their belongings had barely covered the bottom.

“I’ve an idea, if ye’d be agreeable, Colonel.”

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

The bones of Jamie’s hand ground into Claire’s as they crossed the dock toward the awaiting ship. His other arm held the carpet bag against his hip.

“Halt,” barked the harbormaster . “We have orders from the Crown to check your cargo. They suspect you lot may try to smuggle contraband to whatever miserable place you’re headed.”

Grey nodded as the dockhands moved to pop his trunk open, but cleared his throat as they reached for the bag Jamie carried. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The harbormaster, a fellow Redcoat, looked at him suspiciously. “And why would you say that?”

Grey leaned toward the man sternly. “I’ve checked their belongings already. I don’t imagine the discipline that would follow second guessing me is worth peering inside Mistress Fraser’s medical kit. You can only imagine the ghastly methods that pass for medical treatment in the Highlands -- dead toads, mummified crickets, and something that strangely resembles a man’s toe…” He shuddered.

“You folks are free to board,” the harbormaster blanched.

Murtagh and Fergus carried little cargo, and nothing the dockhands were willing to risk investigating.

They hastened onto the ship and locked themselves away in their respective cabins, while Grey went to introduce himself to the ship’s captain and explain their unusual situation.

Jamie watched the carpetbag wiggle as Claire undid its fastenings, followed by the appearance of a curly head.

Before Faith could react, Jamie plucked her from it and pulled her to him, embracing her so hard she squawked.

“Wonderful, Lovey.” Claire crushed herself into their embrace.

“Da is sae proud of ye, a nighean,” Jamie whispered into her ruffled curls. “I ken ye dinna understand now, but ye will someday.”

Faith raised her finger to her lips. “Shhh!”

“Yes, you were very brave.” Claire smiled. “But you don’t have to be anymore.”

________________________________________

Claire smoothed the blanket over Faith’s slumbering form, then stood up from the bottom bunk and closed the door softly behind her. She knocked on Murtagh’s door and asked him to listen for Faith.

She climbed to the deck of the ship, spotting her husband leaning over the railing in the darkness. She wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“You’re not thinking of abandoning ship are you? All this effort would have been quite a waste.”

Jamie turned in her arms and wrapped her in his own. “Nae. ‘Tis just such a beautiful a night.”

“Hmm. Any seasickness yet?” Claire turned in his embrace, her back to his chest.

“Not yet. I think my heid’s working too hard to catch up with all that’s happened.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “And all I have to be grateful for. But what about ye?” He rubbed his hand in a circle over her belly.

“Nothing to report yet.” She shook her head. “But I have a feeling it might return with a vengeance in the morning.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help ye with it,” he murmured into her hair.

“Just be with me,” she sighed.

They looked out over the moon-lit water together, swaying gently.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Claire whispered. “When we took that first ship ride?”

Jamie exhaled. “No’ at all. I could scarcely imagine putting the parts of me back together to make a whole man. But ye did that.” He turned her to face him, lifting her chin to meet his eye. “Now the Scotland I knew is gone, but me and mine and hale are provided for.” He placed a hand on her bottom. “And my bonnie wife has already given me two and a half bairns to cherish.”

Claire laughed as her lips met his. Not even a week ago, she’d expected to find herself pregnant and alone with a toddler, preparing to face a man she’d let go of first physically, then emotionally.

Instead, they’d fought for each other, and their family. Though they would part one day, it wouldn’t be today. Nor any day soon, if they had anything to say about it.

epilogue to follow

#Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Faith Fraser #Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser #Fergus Fraser #Gone #Canon Divergence au #Outlander #Outlander fanfic #my fic

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years

Text

Kiss of Death: Chapter 2

Friends with the Monster series

Fall Out Boy Fanfiction

Summary: After nearly killing your best friend and Patrick, you try to fight off the demon taking up residence in your brain. She still haunts your dreams. She knows more about the cult than you or Patrick originally thought. And is it true that she doesn’t have emotions?

Warning: language and graphic smut near the end

Words: 6022

A/N: I’m really sorry for not updating or posting new stories. Fanfiction just hasn’t been coming easily to me recently. I’ll try to get the next chapter up in a more timely fashion.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

The dreams persisted through the next couple days. This other me is trying to take over my head and it’s not comfortable in the slightest. It felt like I always had a migraine. I can hardly focus anymore. It’s even worse because I keep waking Patrick up in the middle of the night. He says it doesn’t bother him but I wasn’t blind. I could see the dark circles forming.

I’ve had to put my editing services on hold until we could figure out how I could control the other me. So that’s less income and makes it harder to pay bills. Patrick has a job too but he doesn’t work it often.

When we first started dating, I had asked him how he managed to pay his bills while only working part time. He seemed embarrassed to admit he could be considered a ‘trust fund baby.’ His parents left him quite a bit of money when he decided to move out. He said he tried to not touch it but it pretty much covered the amount of times he moved around.

I shot upright in bed. Sweat dripped down my neck and I ran a hand through my hair. It was always bloody. Always images of people I love coming after me then me killing them. Patrick snored softly next to me. He must be exhausted. With both work and now trying to deal with my episodes and figure out what’s wrong with me.

I crawled out of bed to get water from the bathroom. The little nightlight covered the room in a soft blue glow. I splashed my face a couple times, hoping that it would help chase the night terrors away.

I met my own gaze in the mirror. If I look hard enough, could I see her? The dark hallway seemed to stretch behind me. I shivered and shook my head. No need to freak myself out.

I hurried back to our bedroom where Patrick still laid peacefully. I looked down at him and smiled. I reached down and brushed a piece of hair out of his face. He could be an angel.

Just wrap your hands around his throat. It’d be so easy…

I jerked my hand away as pain ripped through my skull. I let out a whimper and stumbled backward. Her claws sunk into my brain as she tried to climb out. My back hit the dresser and knocked an alarm clock to the floor.

“Stop… please,” I begged, falling to the floor.

A pair of arms wrapped around me and I thrashed. She couldn’t have me! Tears streamed down my face. Why me?

“Hey! (Y/N) you’re ok. I’m here. It’s Patrick.” His arms wrapped tighter around me, restricting my movement.

Get away from him. He’s going to hurt you!

I didn’t know how to reason against her. Patrick wouldn’t hurt me. But what if he did? But he wouldn’t. Not if you kill him.

“Get out of my head!” I yelled and dragged my nails down my arm, the pain serving as an anchor.

My ears rang and I could feel her retreating for the time being. My shoulders shook and I began recognizing my surroundings again. Patrick still had his arms wrapped tightly around me and I slowly relaxed against him. He pressed his lips to my hair. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. One of his hands ran through my sweat soaked hair.

“You don’t need to apologize.” I tried to push away from him but he only held me tighter. I tried to protest but soon he was lifting me up and placing me on the bed. I finally looked up at him.

I couldn’t see him very well but his face looked puffy, as though he had been crying too. I reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. He turned towards it and kissed my palm.

“I’ll go get you some hot chocolate.” I nodded and pulled the blankets around me. I was a mess. I didn’t understand how Patrick could put up with me.

He walked back into the room holding a steaming cup. He set it down on the nightstand before sitting on the bed with me. I reached for his hand. He pulled me forward into another hug. He was my safe space. But lately, I was a danger to that.

“Patrick?” Another tear slipped down my face.

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” I sniffled out. He pulled away from me and held my face in his hands. He smiled gently at me. He leaned forward and kissed my head.

“Drink some of the hot chocolate and then get some rest. I’ll stay up until you fall asleep.”

“You deserve rest, too. Maybe you should spend some time with the guys so you can sleep,” I said, holding the warm cup in my hands. He shook his head.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you go through this alone and I meant it.” I frowned and took a sip of the liquid. I just wanted to take care of him like he took care of me.

I woke up to sunlight peeking through the blinds. I cracked my eyes open and saw my cup from this morning. My back was pressed against Patrick’s chest. I heard him snoring softly. I remember laying down and him petting me. At least he didn’t stay up all night.

Thankfully there were no more nightmares. At least for the night. I turned in his arms to watch his face. I hadn’t seen his face so relaxed in a while. The guilt of my condition creeped up on me. I tried to move away but his arms tightened around me.

“Trying to sneak away from me?” He cracked an eye open and smiled softly at me. I couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Never. I was just feeling a bit hungry.” Patrick closed his eyes again but pulled me tighter against him. He leaned over and kissed my head.

“Eh, that can wait for now.” I giggled as he rolled on top of me, kissing my face. I could have sworn I heard a fake gagging noise come from my head but I tried to shove it back.

Patrick’s hands were all over my body, tickling and squeezing. I let out a small gasp as his lips trailed over my neck. I ran my hands through his hair as he moved lower, leaving small nips as he went.

“Did you need something, Trick,” I teased?

“Just you,” he mumbled. His hands found their way under his t-shirt that I wore to bed. His fingers set my skin on fire as they worked their way to my breasts. I arched my back into him, making him groan.

His lips found mine again as he moved the shirt up, only breaking from me to remove it. Our chests pressed against each other and I wrapped my legs around him. He chuckled and his hands returned to my hips, moving them against his.

We both jumped at the loud knocking from the front door.

“Just ignore it,” I said, pulling him back down to me. He shrugged and kissed me again but whoever was there was no going to be ignored. They knocked again, but harder. I groaned and released him.

“I’ll just make sure it’s nothing important,” he said, climbing out of bed and pulling on pants and a t-shirt. I pulled the covers around myself and willed the person to go away. I heard Patrick open the door and talk to whoever it was quietly. I picked up my phone, to check the time. It was well after 9 but who was knocking on doors this early?

“Y/N, it’s Kayla,” Patrick called from the front room. I shot out of bed and grabbed whatever sweatshirt I could find. Hopefully she didn’t mind me looking like a bum.

I rushed out to the front room, tears pricking my eyes. Had she forgiven me? I stopped at the doorway, trying to make sure I didn’t scare her.

She looked exhausted, dark bags, frumpy clothes, messy hair. Whatever she had been thinking about the last few days, it certainly wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. Her eyes ran over me, her body tense. I took a cautious step forward and she held her hand up to me.

“Stay right there. Who are you?” Patrick started to talk to try and calm her down but she shushed him too.

“I’m me. Your best friend. Y/N.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Last time I checked, best friends didn’t try to kill each other,” she said, voice shaking. The tears threatened to overflow.

“Kayla please understand. That wasn’t me. It was something else. Like I was possessed.” She let out a humorless laugh.

“Right. So, you’re not even human now or something?” Her voice raised an octave, her body shaking. I glanced over at Patrick. I didn’t know how to explain this. Was I allowed to explain it? Or maybe I should just let her think I’m crazy to keep all of this a secret. Her gaze followed mine and she backed up against the door in fear.

“Did you do this to her? You wanted her to hurt me?” She glared at Patrick. The she pulled a pocket knife out of her hoodie. Patrick jumped back, raising his hands in surrender. I jumped forward, rushing to explain.

“No! No, Kayla please. This isn’t his fault.”

Stay back. She’s going to hurt you.

I shook my head and winced at the sudden throbbing. She was not going to get the best of me. I could feel her scratching at my brain but I shoved her down, of course only increasing the pain. I noticed a look of worry pass over Kayla’s face.

“Please Kayla. What you saw wasn’t me. It was something else,” I said as calmly as possible.

“What else was it,” she asked, lowering the knife slowly. I glanced at Patrick again. He shook his head and shrugged. He wasn’t sure either. I didn’t want to lie.

“It’s like… an alter ego. A different personality.” Her hand gripped the knife. I vaguely wondered where Don was and why he let her out in this state.

“Like… that disorder that has multiple personalities?” I nodded slowly. I was more than comfortable sticking to a scientific explanation right now. “But doesn’t that come from… like… extremely traumatic experiences?” I nodded again. Her shoulders relaxed slowly.

“Can you put the knife down Kayla? Please,” Patrick said gently, hands still raised. He moved slowly and placed a hand face up, asking for the weapon. Kayla looked between us and closed the knife, but she didn’t hand it over.

“Where’s Don,” I asked.

“He’s at work. Why?” Her shoulders tensed again.

“I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t go home just to be alone with your thoughts. I know this is a lot. And I know you’re freaked out. But I can swear, that I won’t hurt you. Never again. I’m getting help.” I took another cautious step toward her. She didn’t back away this time so I slowly walked toward her until she was arm’s length away.

“I want you to trust me. Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re still my best friend and it would really suck if I lost you.”

She cracked a small smile but was gone as soon as it was there. She lifted a hand and reached toward me, resting it on my arm. She still trembled but seemed to be fighting it. I smiled at her and rested my hand on hers. She glanced over my shoulder at Patrick again.

“He didn’t hurt you, right?” she whispered. I shook my head.

“No. He’s trying to help me.” She nodded. “Why don’t you get some rest? You look like you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could say the same for you.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Can I come check in on you later?” She thought for a moment then nodded. “Go home and sleep ok?”

The door clicked shut behind her and my shoulders sagged. I hadn’t realized how exhausting that whole situation had been. Patrick’s hand rested on my lower back and I relaxed against him.

“That was more than I wanted to deal with today,” I mumbled.

“Well why don’t you take your own advice and go rest some more. I’ll make some eggs.” I glared at him.

“Only if you leave the jalapeños out this time.” He laughed and pushed me gently toward the bedroom.

“I promise I’ll leave all semblance of flavor out,” he teased. I made my way towards the bathroom, deciding instead to shower. It should help me relax.

The warm water ran over me as I rubbed the tension out of my shoulders. Maybe I should have asked Patrick to do that. Self-massages never work as well.

Ugh you really make me sick. You don’t need him.

The pain wasn’t as sharp. As though she didn’t want out. She was just talking? I shook my head, trying to ignore her.

You can’t ignore me. Sadly, we’re stuck together. And the least I could do for you is make you realize that you don’t need anyone.

“That sounds lonely,” I said out loud.

No. It’s just safer that way. Emotions are worthless. They do nothing except hold you back. There are only urges. Food. Water. And survival.

‘We’re not feral animals.’

Who says? Science? People are too comfortable. When those people come for the world, everyone will die. Unless they know how to survive.

“Wait. What do you mean ‘when they come?’” Silence. Damnit. I finished rinsing and hopped out of the shower, nearly slipping on the wet floor. I rushed to pull on jogging pants and a tank top, hair dripping down my back.

“Patrick! We have a problem,” I said as I walked out.

“I said I wouldn’t put—” He stopped when he saw my face. His head ticked to the side. “What happened? Did she try to get out again?” I shook my head.

“No but… She did speak to me.” He raised an eyebrow. Patrick looked over me, as though something might have changed.

“That’s weird. It took forever before me and the other guy could communicate. Literally years. Are you sure you’re ok?” He ran his hands over my arms and up to turn my head gently. I knew I was completely sane. At least I thought so.

“I’m fine. She just said some weird stuff. Like, I really don’t think she has emotions. And I think she knows what those people are planning.” His eyes could have fallen out of his head. He blinked a few times and I saw the yellow creep out around his pupils.

I backed away from him, not entirely trusting the other him because of what he had done last time. I thought I heard a satisfied snicker from inside my head but I couldn’t be sure. That bitch wanted this to happen.

Patrick took a couple steps toward me. And I put my hand up to stop him.

“Stay right there. You don’t get to come near me right now.” He let out a heavy sigh but kept his distance anyway.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I did last time but hey, we learned stuff.”

“And almost killed yourself in the process,” I pointed out. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Babe, I find it really funny that you think you or that little demon in there could take me.” I glared at him then flinched. Her claws started scratching at my head. Not hard, but noticeable.

This guy pisses me off. Why can’t I just rip his throat out?

“Shut up,” I groaned out, holding my head. I noticed Patrick’s feet in front of me and his hands ran through my hair gently. I looked up and the bright yellow was still there but I could almost see the real Patrick behind it.

I wanted to be angry with him for trying to kill me. I wanted to shove him away. But his hands touched me so gently I found it hard to believe he would have ever hurt me like that. I leaned my head on his shoulder, relaxing against him.

God, stop! He’s going to fucking kill us. If you don’t let me deal with it…

‘No. This isn’t danger. This is where I feel the safest.’ I wish I could have seen the shock that I felt from her. My heart racing wasn’t from panic or fear. I just needed the safety of the person I loved.

Patrick pressed his lips against my head as his fingers ran down my spine, giving me chills. I felt his head tick but wasn’t sure which one was still holding me so gently. I looked up at him, getting lost in the golden blue pools.

Don’t get any closer!

I flinched and I watched as the yellow took over again. Good. He seemed both angry and worried. But I needed his methods of distraction.

“Kiss me. Please.” I don’t think I ever saw this Patrick blush but the pink on his cheeks didn’t lie. I giggled softly. “Why are you blushing?”

“The way you looked at me… it just… fuck just shut up,” he said, grabbing my face gently. His lips found mine easily, enticing me to respond. I wrapped my arms around him, running my hands through his hair.

Hands off!

“No,” he growled. I could feel her resolve wavering. Patrick poked around my head but I didn’t care. If he could fight her in there, I’d much prefer it. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I pulled his body flush against mine. I nipped at his lip and found myself against a wall.

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

“Would that be so bad,” I said, running my hands down his chest.

Yes!

Instead of responding to her, I kissed him again. His hands ran over my hips and under the sweatshirt. I sighed and he took the opportunity to bite my lip.

“Have I mentioned how intoxicating you are?” I giggled at the compliment. His hands moved to my thighs and he lifted me up effortlessly. I wrapped myself around him as he carried me to the bedroom. There was still scratching against my brain but I didn’t care. I’m to focused on the man above me.

Patrick tossed me on the bed, sending me into another fit of giggles. He was feeling playful today. Fine by me. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring at me in wonder. The heat from his eyes transferred to the space between my legs.

I sat up and pulled my shirts off, left in leggings. I bit my lip, beckoning him to me. He crawled onto the bed after me, looking every bit like a demon. He stopped in front of me, placing a hand behind my head. His fingers gripped my hair, pulling it gently. He smirked as I moaned softly.

“What do you want, Y/N? All you have to do is ask.” I smirked at him and launched forward, tackling him so I was on top. The only reason it worked was because he let it. But I appreciated him letting me take control.

“I want to please you. So lay there and let me,” I whispered seductively. He groaned and let his eyes fall closed as I leaned down to kiss his neck. I kissed every part I could reach that wasn’t covered by his clothes.

I pushed his shirt up and he helped with the full removal. But he still let me do as I wished. Kissing down his chest and stomach, his hands brushed over my arms. I couldn’t have that. I grabbed his hands and trapped them with mine. He chuckled.

“So that’s how you want to play this?” I hummed in response, releasing his hands so I could pull his sweatpants down. I looked up at him through my lashes. He watched me with a cocky smirk, but I had a plan to get rid of that.

After I tossed his pants to the ground I crawled back up his body, littering kisses everywhere. He groaned as I pressed my lips against his again. His cock pressed against me, making me grin. I let my hand wrap around him, moving slowly. He nipped at my lip.

“You’re teasing. That’s not very nice,” he mumbled.

“I never claimed to be,” I said sweetly. Leaving his lips to fall open, I ran my fingers over his body. His cock throbbed in my hand. I hushed him as I ran my lips over his hips and down his legs. I glanced up at him as he groaned, eyes shut in bliss.

I traced my mouth over his dick, leaving dry kisses. I felt his hand moved and I retreated, grabbing his wrists and holding them down. He could break out if he really wanted but I hoped he’d let me play for a bit longer. I thought I heard him growl but decided to ignore it.

Returning my attention to his cock, I took the head into my mouth, licking it slowly. I string of curses slipped from Patrick’s lips. I grinned at his impatience.

“A man only has so much control, baby girl.” His pet name sent shivers down my spine. I released him long enough to taunt him.

“And I expect you to exercise all of that control,” I said sweetly. I took him into my mouth again, suckling the head before moving my mouth farther down him. Patrick gripped the sheets and I chuckled, causing his hips to jerk up. I couldn’t have that.

I removed myself from him completely except for my hands on his wrists. Bright yellow glared down at me and the scratching in my skull returned. Get out! Run! I shook my head and smiled at Patrick.

“No moving. Otherwise I stop.” He let out a dry laugh. I was almost scared, but more turned on. I knew I wouldn’t complain if he lost control. I may have even wanted him to.

“Are you really trying to give me orders? It’s cute. But I can’t promise I’ll follow them,” he said smugly. I shrugged and wrapped my had around him again, squeezing. He groaned almost involuntarily.

“I’m prepared for that.” Without a warning I wrapped my lips around him completely. I did my best to relax my throat as he hit the back of it. He cursed again, hands and fingers twitching. I moved slowly, feeling his hips flex but never move. My tongue traced patterns over him.

“Fuck, Y/N. If you don’t stop I’m gunna come.” His words only served to make me move faster, taking him as deep as I could. His hips started to roll, probably without his consent, but I removed myself. A frustrated growl ripped from his throat. I licked my lips as I looked at him.

“I said not to move. Besides, didn’t you want me to stop?” His fingers dug into the mattress as he glared. I crawled up his body, touching him as little as possible. I placed a soft kiss on his mouth, then nipped at him. His eyes were pleading, almost looking like the real Patrick. I moved my hands to cup his face, touch feather light.

“You’re playing with fire sweet thing.” I smiled and moved my lips to his neck. I kissed until he tilted his head to give me better access. I bid down on the spot I had been kissing and sucking. I grinded my hips against his, the need between my legs becoming too much.

I stared up at the ceiling, arms pinned above my head. Patrick settled between my legs, a wild look in his eyes. I tugged my lip between my teeth. I was never scared of him, even though she seemed to think I should be.

“I warned you. Now it’s my turn. Are you going to let me mark you like you did me?” My eyes wandered to the bruise forming on his lower neck. Not exactly the easiest place to hide. But to be honest, I didn’t want to hide it. I turned my head, exposing my neck. He cursed and released my arms, though I didn’t move them.

He hooked his thumbs into the waist of my pants, yanking them down along with my underwear. I helped kick them off and Patrick grabbed my hips pulling me against him. I gasped at the contact against my core. He didn’t enter me but I could feel him throbbing against me.

Patrick lifted me up so I was sitting on his thighs, my legs wrapped around him. He kissed my neck, tongue leaving a wet path up to my ear. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, nails digging into his back.

“I’m going to lose it if you don’t stop. I’m going to take you and I won’t be gentle.” He bit my neck to emphasize his point. I rolled my hips against him, making him growl. “Y/N…”

“I don’t want gentle,” I mumbled back to him. He grabbed my face, bright yellow stared into my soul. He was looking for uncertainty where he wouldn’t find any. “Please. I want you. Please.”

Patrick crushed his mouth against mine and I wished I could fuse my body to his. He moved my hips, lining my entrance up with his cock. I had teased him to the point of orgasm but somehow I doubted this was going to be quick.

He was inside in one thrust, making me moan and pull him as close as our bodies would allow. I felt his teeth on my neck again, biting and sucking a bruise onto my skin. My mind went blank as he began moving inside me.

His hips jerked forward with every gasp of air. I dragged my nails over him, making him groan. I definitely missed this. He felt so good. Knew exactly how to make me want him more. He lifted his head to meet my eyes. Blue and gold swirled and he was so beautiful.

“Talk to me babe. Tell me who you belong to,” he said, hand winding up into my hair. I moaned as he tugged on it and stopped moving. I tried to move my hips but he held me still.

“Fuck… you…” I panted out. He pulled harder on my hair and bit my neck again.

“That’s not an answer,” he growled.

“You! Damnit Trick. You own all of me.” I watched the smirk spread across his face then he was gone. I couldn’t feel him inside of me. I suddenly faced my dresser and met my own eyes in the mirror.

Patrick’s arms were wrapped around me and I met his gaze. One hand gently griping my neck, the other running over my stomach down to my clit. My back arched as he touched me. I tried to focus on him. But that damn scratching in my head…

I’ll give him this. At least he knows how to fuck.

I blinked at myself in the mirror and watched as one of my eyes changed to yellow. But I still had complete control over my body. Nothing hurt. Everything became so clear.

I could feel every callus on his hands. Every breath he took felt like silk on my skin. I could hear his racing heart. Everywhere he touched me felt like electricity. It wasn’t enough. I needed more.

“Patrick please. I need you inside me again.” My legs shook but he held me up. He smirked, moving his hand and pushing his fingers inside me. My back arched toward the feeling.

“Like this? Or maybe you wanted something else?” I wanted to choke him. He’s teasing. And he would tease me until I came. I met his eyes in the mirror. “Oh, look who came out to play. Tired of the teasing?” He chuckled and pushed a third finger inside of me. I rocked my hips against his hand, needing more stimulation.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now, you’ll regret it.” He gripped my throat tighter but not enough to hurt.

“Giving me orders now? Of course, I can never say no to you,” he said. He removed his hand and pushed me forward, grabbing my hair. I could still see him grinning down at me but I couldn’t focus on it for long.

He pushed his cock into me with little warning. My head fell forward but he pulled it back up. Every thrust made the fire burn hotter. I could feel the impending orgasm and there was no stopping it. I was so close…

Then he was gone again. I glared at him in the mirror, my legs shook and my body screamed for release. I balled my fists in the sheets.

“Beg.” My eyes went wide. The half of my brain that she occupied revolted. I ground my teeth, trying to silence her curses.

“Trick. Please,” I whined. He shook his head. Not enough. “I’m so close, please. You can’t just leave me like this,” I pleaded. He pushed just the head inside me. I tried to move back onto him but he just moved away.

“I wanna come too so you better get to begging,” he said smugly.

“Fucking hell, Trick. Please! I need you inside me! I want to come with you inside me. I need it. Please!” He laughed and thrust inside me.

“That’s a good girl.” He grabbed my torso, pulling me up so my back was against him. I felt like I was going to explode. He slammed inside me again and again. No chance of slowing down. I felt his fingers against my clit again and I pressed against him, moaning his name. I could hear him whisper my name in my ear. “Fuck do you know how crazy you make me?” Every word pushed me closer. “Come on baby girl. Come for me,” he whispered, nipping at my ear.

As if my body was waiting for his permission, pleasure raced through me. I moaned loudly, feeling every movement he made. My legs shook but he didn’t stop. He growled as he thrust into me rougher. His hand never stopped moving and I didn’t have time to finish riding through my first orgasm before the second ripped through me.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Patrick groaned. He shoved himself deep inside me and I could feel him throbbing. He moved slowly, riding out the waves of his orgasm. I could feel his body trembling along with mine.

He started placing gentle kisses along my shoulder, still holding me up. He pulled out of me, maneuvering us to lay down. I turned in his arms, and he had his eyes closed, smiling so adorably.

I ran my hands over his face and giggled. His eyes fluttered open, gold still taking up most of the color, but the blue was creeping back in. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m jealous of me sometimes. Is that a weird thing to say?” I rolled my eyes.

“Very.” He ran a finger over my left eyelid gently.

“Not yellow anymore. How did she slip out?” I shrugged as much as I could while laying down.

“I don’t know. I just suddenly felt everything about ten times as intensely. I was still in control through the whole thing.” Patrick pulled me against him, pressing kisses against my hair.

“Yea. Perks of being a demon. Heightened senses. It sounds like she actually did something nice for you.” He chuckled.

Don’t get used to it. But if we’re gunna share a body then I’m going to make it feel good for me.

I winched at the rough scratching. She might not have emotions but she must feel sensation. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bothered.

“She talking to you?” I nodded.

‘So, are you done trying to kill him now?’

He’s still a threat. If you let me out fully I could eliminate it.

“She still hates you,” I said, annoyed. Patrick snorted a laugh.

“Use me then throw me away, huh? Didn’t know you were so cold babe,” he said sarcastically. I shoved him lightly.

“I don’t think this is the time to be making jokes.” He rolled his eyes at me. His head ticked to the side. “How long have you been shoving him back? Let him out,” I scolded. He sighed and let his eyes fall closed.

“Like I said. Jealous,” Patrick muttered. When his eyes fluttered back open, he smiled, pulling me against him.

“At least he listens to you,” he joked. I tucked my head under his chin, ignoring the scratching at my brain.

They’re going to come for us. You lying around isn’t exactly helping our chances of survival. Get out of here. End his miserable existence and leave.

‘You mean the cult, right? Patrick and his friends are figuring that out.’

I wouldn’t trust them. And I’m sure that pig demon is just leading them on a goose chase.

‘Patrick said they found some shallow graves and masks. That doesn’t sound like a goose chase.’

Then they’ve already started. You need to figure out your priorities. Living or this stupid boy.

‘Started what?’

Remember that invasion I talked about?

A chill ran down my spine, entire body going stiff. I heard Patrick say my name but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Did they want to kill everyone or just let demons like the one in my head run rampant?

“Hey! Are you ok? What’s going on?” I blinked a few times and looked up at Patrick. His eyebrows were drawn together.

“They’re coming. Those graves you found. It was the beginning.” The color drained from his face. He rolled away from me and out of the bed, grabbing his phone. I followed his lead. Pulling on the clothing that had been discarded around the room.

“Pete. We have a problem… It’s the cult. We think the invasion already started… Call Joe and Andy and we’ll meet you at the river.” Patrick looked over his shoulder at me.

“What’s the plan,” I asked. Ignoring the fact that he hadn’t put any clothes on yet. It was not the time to be thinking of a round two.

“I know you promised that you would visit Kayla later today but you might have to reschedule. I’m afraid the end of the world might be more important.” He pulled on underwear and pants with alarming elegance. A quick flash of gold caught my eye. Back already? I guess the impending end of the world justified that.

He pushed past me, pulling on his shirt and grabbing a leather jacket in one fluid movement. I didn’t move for a moment. I looked around our room. It had become a safe haven for both of us. But we might never get to spend time in here again.

“Y/N. We gotta go.” I shook my head and turned on my heels. Patrick was pulling on boots when I walked up to him.

“Patrick,” I said softly, pulling on my own shoes. He finished lacing the boots and stood in front of me. He seemed closed off, like he was looking through me. I lifted my hands to his face. He blinked a couple times before his gaze softened.

I pressed my lips against his softly. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time. But I knew as soon as we walked out the door, it would be a quest to save the world from complete chaos. He wrapped his arms around me tightly.

“I love you,” he said, pressing his head against mine.

“And I love you.” He kissed me one more time before tearing away from me and walking out the door. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to go either. But this could be bigger than both of us.

#patrick stump imagine #fall out boy fanfiction #multi chapter #patrick stump x reader #friends with the monster series #mild horror #smut #fluff #my writing #fanfiction #band imagine #demon patrick au

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everykindofnerd13 · 4 years

Text

“So, like uh, what’s it do?” Hunk asked, looking at Lance, who was curled in on himself in pain, obviously extremely uncomfortable.

“I don’t know...” Corna admitted, looking at some books, licking his thumb to look through pages. Lance suddenly let out a pained whine that sent Hunk’s hand shooting forward. Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and Keith were all gathered around his bed, concerned looks painting their faces.

“Uh... what’s it... doing?” Keith asked, stepping forward and reaching out to brush a hand across Lance’s forehead, intending to show them the blue spreading there, but alongside that, Lance immediately calmed, seemingly ridded of the pain as Keith touched him.

“Woah! What did you do!” Hunk exclaimed b

looking at Keith’s hand, which the big quickly yanked away, only for Lance to shriek in pain and writhe again. Keith flinched and rubbed his arms.

“Wait! Keith your hand did something, do something! Touch him!” Pidge exclaimed, Keith hesitated and reached out to Lance, setting one hand on his forehead, where the blue began to retreat, and Lance calmed, soothed. Keith’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Why though?” Shiro asked, looking between Keith, Lance, and Coran.

“I don’t know, it’s strange, maybe it’s something that’s got to do with physical contact?” Pidge suggested. Hunk shook his head.

“No, cause I carried him here, but he never seemed to stop hurting...” He pointed out, rubbing his arm up and down Lance’s arm as the boy seemed exhausted. Keith moved to sit on the bed and moved his hand down to Lance’s shoulder, before Lance grabbed his hand and held it close to his chest. Keith’s eyes widened but he left his hand where it was.

“Is he conscious?” Shiro asked, still looking very concerned.

“Maybe, yes, but probably also delirious if so,” Coran said, watching as Lance’s temperature dropped to normal again as he hugged Keith’s arm.

“Mm not delirious, I’m in pain you asshole,” Lance muttered, squeezing Keith’s arm harder. Pidge and Keith both laughed while Shiro and Hunk looked astonished.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Shiro asked, sitting down on Lance’s other side.

“Because for the first fifteen minutes we were in here I was too busy feeling like my skin was melting off my bones to even form a proper thought, and then I was busy trying to revel in my newfound comfort.” Lance grunted, snuggling into Keith’s arm. Keith blushes bright red, and while Pidge would normally point it out, this was not the time.

“So uh, why Keith?” Pidge asked, looking at Lance expectantly.

“I have no idea and I honestly don’t really care if I have to sew myself to him I don’t want to feel that again.” He spat, with a glare pointed over his shoulder at Pidge. Pidge raises her hands in surrender while Lance went back to smothering Keith’s arm. Keith awkwardly reached out with other arm to run up down Lance’s back. The boy arched his back like a cat, happy for pats,

“So uh, I want to test something...” Coran muttered quietly, which had a glare being pointed at him from Lance.

“What do you want to do Coran?” Shiro asked and Corna opened his mouth to speak, but seemingly thought better of it and turned to Hunk and Pidge.

“I think it’s best if you leave the room,” he said to them. Hunk narrowed his eyes at the Altean and glared heatedly, but, while she also didn’t want to leave Lance, Pidge reluctantly pulled him out of the room. Coran turned back to Keith, Lance, and Shiro.

“Keith, I need you to pull away.” He stated firmly. Lance snapped around to look at him so angrily if looks could kill Coran would be minced meat.

“No! Lance shouted as Keith started to back away, clinging tighter, “no no no no no no no no no no no no! No please it hurts!” Keith finally got away and Lance screamed curling in on himself immediately. He held his stomach while Coran saw his temperature rise rapidly. Lance began breathing heavily, groaning and screaming every few seconds. Keith looked like it hurt almost as much to watch as it did to feel it. He reached out for Lance again but Coran held him back, still looking at the monitor.

“He’s not a lab rat! Stop it!” Keith shouted, trying to get past Corna and to the pained blue Paladin. Shiro moves forward to hold Keith back until Coran gave the go ahead. Keith watched as Lance looked at him, terrified and in pain, and it was like something snapped. Keith kicked Shiro in the shin, sending him stumbling backward and pushed Coran out of the way, also sending him straight to the ground. He grabbed Lance’s hand just as it seemed that like the boy might pass out from the pain. Lance whimpered, squeezing his hand so tight it almost hurt Keith, and pulled it to his chest again. Keith sat down on the bed and Lance pulled him closer around the middle, nuzzling Keith’s stomach.

Keith glared as Coran and Shiro stood and approached the bed. He could feel his skin tingling in some places. The tips of his fingers, the tips of his ears, his nose and his toes. The tell-take sign that he was going Galra. That was when Shiro finally backed down, going back to where he stood before. Keith visibly calmed, but didn’t let go of his tight grip on Lance.

“Alright, what the hell Coran?” Keith asked turning to look angrily at the other man.

“Well, I was going to see if his temperature continued to rise, but you stopped it all before that could happen,” Coran said matter fo factly. The purple on Keith’s ears reached his cheeks and the purple on his nose spread around his eyes. His hands were now also purple along with his legs up to his mid calf. Keith audibly growled, and his fingernails and ears were growing out. Shiro sighed, Keith was protective of Lance, he wanted the boy to be as happy and comfortable as possible at all times.

“To the point of him passing out, or were you trying to make him spontaneously combust?” Keith asked sharply as the fur on his now feline ears grew out and his face and arms turned completely purple. Coran sighed.

“I wouldn’t have killed him, I wanted to see if we could get him higher than 105 degrees so then we could test to see if anyone else’s touch would lower it at all.” Keith glared at the alien heatedly.

“No, shut up, we’re not doing that. Over 105 degrees would kill him and I literally couldn’t care less don’t even think about it,” Keith leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, hauling Lance up to lay against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his legs on either side of him.

“Okay, well, goodbye number 4, number 3, number 2, come with me.” Coran left the infirmary, closely followed by Shiro, who threw one last disapproving look to Keith who growled warning my and tightened his arms further around Lance, who was now sleeping against Keith’s chest. He was exhausted, from the pain, from the mission, from the early start, he deserved the rest. Keith settles in as well, trying to return his body to normal even though he knew that he would probably take a few hours to fully turn human again. Lance nosed his neck and Keith let out a purr.

“Thank you...” he muttered feebly into Keith’s shoulder, Keith shook his head and rubbed Lance’s back.

“It was the right thing to do, Keith muttered back, “now go to sleep, you’re exhausted,” Lance only nodded and cuddled impossibly closer to slowly fall asleep. Keith hummed, rubbing his back soothingly.

So, this is HEAVILY inspired by @vrepit_nah on Ao3’s story Touch Me More. It’s really cute, I recommend it if you have already read it.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron legendary disaster #vld #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #vld coran #vld allura #pidge gunderson #klance #klance fluff #hunk garret #garrison trio

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em-gray · 5 years

Text

A Fine Thing To Be

(spoilers for Lady’s Guide)

so my friend @coolpolarbear123 and I were talking about what must’ve been going through Monty’s head when he arrived to pick up Felicity from Platt toward the end of Lady’s Guide, which led to us writing the encounter from Monty’s POV!

also on ao3

---

I stand at the front of the house, waiting for the door to be answered. Months of searching led up to this moment, and I pray that this was the right place, that Felicity is inside this house, and I can swoop in to rescue her like the charming older brother she loves, whether she admits it or not.

The door swings open, and I am face to face with a tall and sunburnt fellow. He clearly doesn’t suspect a thing, for he smiles politely at me and says: “Good afternoon, sir. You must be captain Boswell.”

“Indeed I am.” I try to peer around him, but he is blocking the view of the interior of the house. I reach out my hand and he grasps it in a firm shake. “And you are?”

“Stafford, sir. Come right in.” Stafford sidesteps, letting me enter. I take a brief glance around the not-so-modest quarters, but am quickly distracted by voices up ahead.

“...have not saved anyone!” someone says. It’s low, but I’d know that voice anywhere. Never before in my life could I have thought hearing it would bring me so much relief. “Not me, not Johanna, not yourself,” my sister states. Every step I take is a step closer to Felicity. My heart is beating fast, all the anticipation I’ve built up over the past few months reaching its peak. It makes me want to rush in, but I keep my pace steady.

A tired voice I don’t recognize speaks. “You don’t understand.”

I step into the doorway of the parlor, and immediately pick out out my sister. She seems alright, but it’s hard to tell from where I’m standing. Her back is to me, and she’s sitting with someone that looks vaguely familiar. It takes a second, but I realize that this must be Johanna Hoffman. I don’t remember much of her, just her rather dramatic quarrel with Felicity and her old habit of making googly eyes at Percy. I haven’t seen her in years, and I have to admit she’s become quite the lovely figure.

“Neither do you!” Felicity replies sharply. It brings me back to the situation. “At least I know enough not to delude myself into thinking imprisonment is a kindness.”

“Imprisonment?” I can’t help making a bit of a scene as I announce my presence. “That’s very dramatic. Will she make this much of a theater about everything?”

I saunter inside, doing my very best to avoid eye contact with my sister, though I notice her straightening at the sound of my voice before turning to look at me eyes wide and gaping.

The commander begins to make introductions, and I introduce myself as well. “Captain James Boswell, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I shake his hand and begin to discuss payment, making a fuss about what’s paid up front as if we’ll ever receive the latter half. It’s all formalities and I know I can’t hurry them along without looking suspicious, but it’s hard to not turn myself around and fling my arms around Felicity.

It feels like a lifetime has passed before everything is in order, and I finally turn to get a good look at my sister, taking in all that the past months have done to her. I can see more bones and her dress is torn, mirroring what she looked like on the adventure of a tour we took the previous year. Her hair resembles a bird’s nest more than a braid. Percy might be sent into shock at the sight.

And of course she’s grinning through all of that. A few years ago, I would never see a look like that on her face--especially directed at me. But now, here I am, wishing I could return it. I realize that all of the relief I’ve been feeling isn’t because of the long, long journey coming to an end, but because I have been so anxious over my sister, that seeing her again is flooding me with emotions I never knew I could feel towards her. I can’t return her grin, so I go for the next best thing a brother can do after being reunited with his little sister: I go for a little mockery.

“How much trouble can I expect?” I speak to Platt, cocking my head slightly towards him, though not taking my eyes off Felicity. “They look contrary.”

“No trouble,” Platt replies, his voice a warning directed at the two girls.

I point at Felicity, and keeping my face straight costs me inhumane effort. I’m enjoying this, I’ll admit it. “That one’s got a squint like she reads too many books.”

I can feel how much she wants to roll her eyes at me; it’s radiating off of her in waves. It’s almost entertaining.

Stafford continues, “Feel free to use any restraint you see fit. And upon the delivery of this letter--” I take the parchment that’s being handed to me, restraining from scowling at it-- “you can expect sufficient compensation from her father.”

The words almost sway me. I should have been expecting them, as we were talking about payments only moments before. I smile at him, pretending that any sort of exchange with my father would be a wonderful prize.

As Stafford and myself guide the girls toward the docks, I briefly entertain the childish idea of pushing Felicity into the water, purely to take vengeance for what had transpired in London. But I can’t, so I simply lean in, and murmur as quietly as I can: “Dear sister, look what you get yourself into when I’m not around.”

I can’t help it. Every reprimanding look or snide comment she gave me whenever I messed up comes to mind, and I thoroughly enjoy not being the cause of anyone getting in trouble for once in my life.

“Dear brother,” she says, “I have never been gladder to see you.”

I wasn’t expecting that--I was preparing myself for a snarky reply or at the very least an eye roll. I spare a glance at her, wondering what exactly she went through. Could it be worse than what I was imagining? Than what she was letting on? The ideas start to form a rock in my stomach. The amount of concern I had stored up surprises me yet again. Perhaps I do have it in me to be somewhat of a decent older brother.

I had only jokingly agreed before, but Felicity was right. Love has truly made me soft.

The Eleftheria comes into view, and I hear Felicity’s breath release as her shoulders slump slightly. I let her go and exchange my last formalities with Stafford, shaking his hand with my own that I shall need to clean as soon as I can.

I take both Johanna and Felicity up into the ship, passing everyone on the top deck except Ebrahim, who I make eye contact with, exchanging a silent conversation to let him know he is free to follow. The four of us go below the deck, me going down first so I could lend a hand to the ladies. Felicity takes it with a smile and descends, but when I extend the same helping hand to Johanna, she snatches her own close to her chest, as if the mere idea of my aid insults her, and leaps down herself. There, I am painfully reminded of the fact that she is unaware that she is being rescued when she, completely unprompted, kicks me between the legs.

Doubling over in pain, every foul word I’ve ever heard runs through my head, one or two escaping me. It doesn’t help that Johanna seems nowhere near being finished.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” she cries out, and I feel something hit the back of my head as I’m still bent over. Her voice is high pitched and she clearly believes to be making the stand of her life. “You are a terrible man for accepting money to deliver human cargo who are obviously taken against their will. You’re no better than a slaver and a pirate!”

“Johanna-- ” Felicity calls, but she is ignored.

“I don’t care what he does to me! I don’t care what any of these bastards do! There’s nothing left to take from me, and I just want to hit something!” I feel the muff again.

Felicity manages to grab her. “Johanna, stop! Stop it, he’s not going to hurt you.”

“Well, I want to hurt him!”

“Stop it, Johanna. He’s not a sailor. This is my brother.”

“What?” I hear fabric ruffle as she turns. “Henry Montague?”

I groan and stand up, carefully protecting the still very painful area in case she might try anything again. “Miss Hoffman,” I manage. “My compliments to your cobbler. What are those shoes made of and from where exactly was it mined?” A bit of wit never hurt to soothe things over.

“You’re… weren’t you…” Johanna’s eyes dart between Felicity and me, then, composing herself, she states, “I remember him taller.”

Before I can reply, Felicity says, “You and him both.” My pride wounded, I make a sour face that I’m not sure either of them sees.

“Oh. Well then.” She runs her hands along her dress. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

Not exactly the apology I was hoping for. “Not sorry for the kick?”

“No, not particularly.” The last thing I need is two Felicitys on board to harass me.

I hear footsteps, and Percy joins us belowdecks. As always when I see him, my heart flutters. Not wasting a single second, he embraces my sister tightly. ‘Felicity Montague, I’ve been sick over you.’

Extraordinarily, Felicity doesn’t even seem to mind the embrace. I surrender to the urge I’ve been holding back since I first saw her again, and wrap my arms around both of the most important people in my life. I press my head to Felicity’s and squeeze tighter. I take a deep breath, seemingly for the first time since my sister ran away from us in London. Taking in the moment, I feel eternally grateful that she is all right.

If love has made me soft, I think that it’s a fine thing to be.

#the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue #tggtvav #the lady's guide to petticoats and piracy #tlgtpap #henry montague #felicity montague #percy newton #johanna hoffman

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extremelynormalblog · 5 years

Text

Q/El dancers AU

@goseaward asked for: “Quentin/Eliot as dancers, Q has always thought he's straight then Eliot...”

(”Three scenes!” I told myself, and then.... This. Obviously AU - Q is NOT a dancer by any means. Explicit!)

Now also on AO3!

“Jesus, Alice, I’ve been hanging out in dressing rooms with naked guys since I was, um, 7 years old. You don’t think I would know by now?”

Q takes a deep drag of his cigarette, jumping from one foot to the other lightly to try and keep his muscles warm despite the cold air on the rooftop.

“That’s actually a very common misconception,” Alice says, because of course she does. She doesn’t seem cold at all, bundled up as she is in her giant coat and scarf. “But sexuality is fluid, Q. Just because you were never attracted to guys before doesn’t mean you can’t be attracted to guys now. Or, like, to one guy, I suppose.”

He sighs. Alice waves the smoke away from her with a disapproving frown.

Q stubs out his cigarette onto the wall and puts the unsmoked half back into the pack. Their break is probably almost over, they have to get back down to the studio. “I just feel way too old to be having a sexuality crisis,” he mutters.

“Well, first of all, no you’re not,” she counters. “And second, it doesn’t have to be a crisis. It can be like, a sexuality awakening, or just, I don’t know, an exception. It doesn’t have to-- This could just be a good thing, a new thing, if you stop being such a Q about it.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, but her eyes are fond when he looks up at her. Fuck, Q loves Alice, he really does, but he wishes she weren’t always so right about everything.

“See you at the bar, Q!” Eliot calls as he leaves, Margo tucked under his arm. It isn’t a question - it doesn’t need to be a question, because of course Q will be there, just like he’s been there after every single rehearsal since the beginning of this crazy project that’s brought both their companies together.

It makes no sense, on paper. A contemporary dance/puppetry/theatre company and a ballet company in the same show, that’s just not how you do things. (What you do is, you take the classically trained ballet dancers, the Eliots and the Margos of the world, and you teach them how to do the other stuff, the stuff that regular people have been training their whole lives for, and then they do it perfectly because life’s unfair like that.)

But apparently Mayakovski had insisted, and Fogg must have seen the potential, and they were right - it’s becoming clearer and clearer with every new rehearsal that it does work.

It’s hard not to see the parallels with Quentin’s own situation.

Eliot had taken to him instantly, for some reason Q couldn’t fathom - Eliot, who was clearly the king of his group, who was tall and lean and handsome and naturally graceful and everything that Q wasn’t despite working so hard at it; Eliot, who made Q feel, more than ever, like he was out of place and didn’t quite belong.

But when they moved together, it just made sense, in a way that took so much effort when Q was partnered with someone else, even Alice, who he’d been working with for years and years now.

And Eliot, who’d seemed so haughty and unapproachable at first, had opened up to Q like it was nothing. He’d shared his own struggles and offered up his advice and his praise, and Q had drunk it all in, and one day he’d been looking at Eliot’s red, sweaty face across the studio, and Eliot had caught his eyes and smiled at him instantly and waved across the room, like he was so happy to see Q looking at him, and Q had smiled back before he could even tell he was doing it and he’d felt so pleased and bright and warm and like he wanted to-- Ooh.

“So, are finally you going to talk to him?” Alice asks, making Q jump.

“I don’t know, Alice,” Q says. “What if I’m reading this all wrong?” He doesn’t think he could keep dancing with Eliot every day if he put himself out there and Eliot shot him down.

“Oh, Quentin,” she says. “How can someone so smart be so wrong so much of the time.”

Yeah, my point exactly, Q wants to say, but then she’s grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door in the direction of the bar.

“Wait, Eliot, before we-- I don’t know if I’m-- I mean, I’ve never--,” Q stutters out, much, much later, against Eliot’s lips. He’d drunk enough that he’d had the balls to ask Eliot up, and then to kiss him, soft and awkward, and Eliot had looked at him with surprise and delight and kissed him back, steady and sure.

Now they’ve been kissing so long that he’s sobered up, and his mouth feels swollen, raw, and the skin all around it tingles from Eliot’s stubble. It feels fucking amazing. Q would like nothing more than to shut off his brain and keep being kissed by Eliot like this, possibly forever, but.

“That’s okay,” Eliot says. His hands run through Q’s hair again, nails raking against his scalp, making him shiver all over. He’s pressed up against Q, caging him in against the wall of Q’s tiny apartment. Q has to stand in relevé to reach him properly. He will probably regret it tomorrow when his calves cramp up, but right now...

“It’s just... All this time I thought I was straight,” Q’s confesses.

Eliot takes a step back. His mouth looks swollen, too. He’s breathing hard. Good, Q thinks.

“Q. Are you enjoying this?” Eliot asks, eyes intent, voice kind.

Q nods. ‘Enjoying’ feels like an understatement.

“Do you want to stop?”

Q shakes his head frantically. “Fuck, no, please.”

Eliot’s eyes darken at that, and he steps back into Q’s space. He leans down a little, brushes his lips against Q’s ear.

“How are you feeling? Are you hard?”

Another shiver runs down Q’s spine. Fuck, he is so hard, it feels a little like he might come before Eliot ever actually touches him. He wraps his arms around Eliot’s torso and cants his hips forward, pushing his cock into Eliot’s thigh, trying to show him what he can’t tell him.

“Oh yeah you are, aren’t you,” Eliot whispers. “You are so hard for me, baby, and I’m going to make you feel so fucking good. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

Q whimpers at that, a high, needy sound he’s never heard himself make before.

“Fuck, Q, listen to yourself,” Eliot says, and then he’s kissing him again, engulfing Q into his arms, taking him over, pushing his leg between Q’s thighs and almost lifting him off of the ground, and Q wants nothing more than to let Eliot lift him up, to surrender to him, to let Eliot kiss him and touch him and hold him and give him all the things Q never even knew he wanted, before Eliot.

“Are you sure,” Eliot asks, a little while later, when they’re both naked on top of Q’s covers. “It’s okay if this is more than you signed up for.”

“Shut up, I’m sure,” Q says, even though somewhere in his brain, a voice is still screaming “If you do this you can never call yourself straight again!”

It’s a very small part, though, and it’s sounding further and further away with each second that he’s looking at Eliot’s dick and fucking salivating.

“You don’t have anything to prov-- Oh, okay, alright, fuck!”

Eliot stops making sentences then, when Q puts his mouth on him - on Eliot’s dick, and fuck, this is it, Q’s got a dick in his mouth and he’s fucking-- he’s loving it, because it’s making Eliot sound like this, raw and uncontrolled and real, like Q doing this is stripping all his carefully cultivated layers, like maybe Q is making Eliot feel as out of control as Eliot’s made him feel, ever since the first time he opened his mouth and said Q’s name.

He tries to fit as much as he can into his mouth but it’s not that easy; Eliot’s fucking big. Q knew it intellectually (you don’t dance with someone for weeks without finding this kind of thing out) but now he knows it, he’s learning it with his hands and his lips and his tongue.

“Don’t try to--” Eliot starts, and Q lets him go and, feeling bold, says: “Yeah, teach me how to suck you, El.”

Eliot groans. His dick jerks, leaving a wet trail on his stomach.

“I knew you were going to fucking kill me,” he says. “Okay, come on then.”

He talks Q through it, and it’s the hottest thing Q’s ever experienced – Eliot’s voice, low and rough, getting breathier and breathier as he guides Q step by step – “Use your saliva, make it wet,” and “Move your hand, tighter, yeah, like that, oh god, just like that, keep doing that,” and Q shuts his brain off and follows along, blissfully, listening to the music of Eliot’s voice and just moving, just like dancing, until Eliot suddenly tenses and says “Oh god, don’t, don’t, you’ll make me come,” and Q does it anyway, pushes down with his finger right there, and Eliot’s whole body jerks, uncoordinated and graceless for the first time, and he shoots right into Q’s mouth with a long moan.

“Mmpf,” Q says, vaguely panicked. He thought he wanted to swallow when Eliot came but now he’s not so sure.

Eliot is there in a flash, though, hand extended in front of Q’s mouth, laughing a little. “I know right? Spit it out, it’s okay,” and Q does gratefully, his face burning. Eliot looks around for a second and then wipes off his hand onto his discarded tshirt with a shrug.

“You okay?” he checks.

Q nods fervently. “Fuck, yeah. That was, uh. Fucking amazing, El. Thank you.” He can taste Eliot with each word he says. Licking his lips makes him shiver.

Eliot shakes his head incredulously. “You’re incredible,” he says. “Come here, this was supposed to be about you and I haven’t even done anything for you yet.”

‘You have,’ Q wants to say, but Eliot is pulling Q across his lap, and Q goes eagerly, straddling Eliot’s legs. He bends down to kiss him, and Eliot surges up to meet him, putting one hand around Q’s neck and the other on Q’s dick – oh yeah, he’s still hard, he’d almost forgotten about it, he’d been so focused on Eliot – and he strokes him hard and fast and just right, and it takes no time at all for Q to come, spraying Eliot’s chest, rocking and whining through it, making Eliot fall backwards onto the bed when he collapses against him, spent and breathless and fucking ecstatic.

“So,” Eliot says a while later, as he’s tracing idle patterns up and down Q’s arm. Q’s lying with his head on Eliot’s chest, their legs intertwined. They should really be asleep – Mayakovski and Fogg will tear them new ones if they can’t keep up tomorrow – but Q’s brain is fighting sleep even as his eyes are closing inexorably. He doesn’t want this to end.

“Hm?”

“You still worried you’re straight?” It sounds light, like it could be a joke, but Q knows it’s not from the careful way Eliot’s still touching him.

He thinks about it.

“I don’t feel any different,” he says truthfully.

Eliot hums.

“Maybe I was never really straight,” he sighs. “Or maybe Alice is right and it just doesn’t matter.”

He shuffles against Eliot, drawing the sheet up over them both and settling into a more comfortable position. He can feel himself losing the fight against sleep. He hopes Eliot’s set an alarm. He hopes Eliot wants to do this again.

“Alice the wise,” Eliot murmurs, and Q nods, and then he’s gone.

#queliot fic #the magicians #i made this #meme fill #goseaward #quentin x eliot #one day my ficlets will stay short #also one day i will stop writing dancing AUs #but clearly not this day #though this is only a dancing AU in the loosest of terms #anyway enjoy :D

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

All of Me - Chapter 5

TITLE: All of Me

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5

AUTHOR: a7xing-forever

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being captivated by your voice while you perform at one of Tony’s formal charity events.

RATING: T+ (Mild Language)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome back! It took a little while longer with this chapter since it’s pretty lengthy and I was asking myself for the longest time how I wanted to set this out, but I feel like I’ve nailed the layout now. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, let me know if you would like to be tagged whether it be replying to this post or sending me an ask/message at my blog a7xing-forever. The next chapter will most likely be the finale and I might even do an epilogue if I feel the need to, so it would be totally worth it if you’ve stuck around this far! :3

Read it on AO3 / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

This was it, the big day, and you couldn’t determine whether what you were feeling was horrific anxiety or tremendous excitement.

The dress had arrived early that morning with all the adjustments in place, but just to make sure it fit while there was still time to make reparations, you slipped it on in front of your mirror.

Marco had done a wonderful job, making you feel a little guilty that you had even doubted him in the first place. It fit perfectly and your mind was now at ease knowing that the possibilities of a wardrobe malfunction had been erased.

While you were still admiring your form in the mirror, you heard a knock at the door followed by Tony’s voice.

“Hey Whitney Houston, open up! Did my PA bring you your dress?”

You promptly crossed the room to open the door and Tony quickly noticed you were wearing the garment.

“See for yourself.” You smiled and gave him a twirl.

“Hey, look at you!” He exclaimed. A huge smile appeared on his face. “You look fabulous, it totally suits you!”

“You think?” You questioned.

“Of course, though I must admit, I’ve seen Marco’s dress collection. What made you go with one of his simpler designs?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been the extravagant type I guess. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” You said while smirking at him.

“First of all, I’m gonna go ahead and take that as a compliment, which by the way, thank you very much, and second of all I just came here to let you know that there’s been a venue change. The event is now gonna be at the grand prospect hall in Brooklyn and it starts at around 6pm. It will go on till about midnight. You’ll take the stage at around 8pm, but I want you to be there at least an hour before then to prep. However, besides that, it’s up to you what time you want to be there. I understand that socialising with the attendees won’t be something that’s high on your list of priorities.” He explained, making various hand gestures whilst doing so.

“Yeah, I’m not that great at small talk. That’s when my social anxiety comes out to play.” You said, bringing up you right hand to rub your left arm rather sheepishly.

“Which is why I arranged a dressing room for you. If you want you can just bring all your stuff and get ready there, but it also acts as an escape for when you don’t feel like being social.” He said in response.

It was your turn to hug him this time. You wrapped your arms around his waist, slightly winding him in the process. He chuckled in response and ruffled your hair that was still a tangled mess from having just gotten up not even an hour ago.

“Thank you so much!” You squeezed him a bit tighter but not too much to avoid damaging the metallic arc reator fitted into his chest. “But how did you know about my social anxiety?” You asked, releasing your grip slightly and looking up at him.

“We all have it to an extent. Some are just better at pretending than others.” He smiled and winked at you. You scoffed and pushed him away but softly in a playful manner.

“Anyway, what time do you want Happy to pick you up?” He asked, returning to the conversation topic.

“Uh, well I’d actually prefer to get there just before everyone arrives to beat the crowds. It will also give me an opportunity to hang with the rest of the ‘gang’ since they’ll all be in one room and not scattered all around the globe for once.” You said and it was true. The Avengers were like your family you only got to see during the holidays since most of them were always kept on their toes with various missions, so you were looking forward to seeing them there. “Oh and I’d appreciate it if you got the timing arrangements right this time.” You said bitterly, referring to yesterdays morning events. Of course you hadn’t let him off the hook without giving him an earful upon your return the previous evening.

“It was an easy mistake! You’re lucky I was only an hour off.”

“Being only an hour late was more than enough to turn Happy into Furious." You said sternly.

"Fine. It takes just under two hours to get there, so F.R.I.D.A.Y, let Happy know that (Y/N) wants to be picked up at 4pm today.” He said, looking up and around as most people did when talking to F.R.I.D.A.Y. Not that they had much choice given that F.R.I.D.A.Y had no physical form.

“Harold Hogan has been notified, sir.” F.R.I.D.A.Y responded.

“There you go.” Tony said now looking back to you. “If there’s anything else you need or if something comes up, be sure to let me know.” He told you before turning and beginning to make his way back down the corridor.

“Will do.” You replied and went to close the door, until you heard Tony yell in pain. You quickly opened the door again to see Clint who had appeared at the end of the hallway with his, now empty, nerf bow in hand and a look of thunder across his face. Tony was clutching his forehead and mumbling profanities under his breath.

“I know what you did to the ice cream machine.” He stated, his voice calm yet intimidating.

“You had it coming, Legolas! Who the fuck doesn’t like mint choc chip!?” Tony shouted furiously.

“Me! It tastes like toothpaste!!” Clint exclaimed.

“That, my friend, leads me to believe that either you’ve never actually had mint choc chip, or you’ve never brushed your teeth and I hope that for the love of god the latter isn’t true."

"FIX IT!!” Clint yelled, loading the bow and drawing it back as fast as lightning.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Tony replied, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Admittedly, the sight of Tony Stark, the billionaire with the iron suit who was seen by many as hero, being forced into submission by nothing more than a children’s toy, was quite the sight to behold. You tried your hardest to suppress your laughter.

“I forgive you.” Clint said coolly, but then took the opportunity to ping Tony right between the eyes while his hands were still up. Tony yelped again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, prep my suit.” Tony asked calmly while holding eye contact with Clint.

“I’m sorry sir, but I cannot allow that.” F.R.I.D.A.Y responded.

“Why the hell not!?” Tony snapped.

“Director Fury would most certainly not appreciate history repeating itself.” She replied, clearly referring to the hangar incident…

“Guess I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way then.” Tony said before launching himself at Clint. Clint swiftly dodged Tony’s attack and bolted out of sight with Tony hot on his heels, leaving you in hysterics.

~ ~ ~

It was midday when there came a knock at your door again. Upon opening it, you yet again found Loki, this time the three books you had given to him in his hand. Taking one look at the books, it didn’t take long to figure out why he was visiting.

“Finished already?? Jesus Christ, do you read or absorb literature?” You exclaimed, taking the books from his grasp. He chuckled in response.

“Well, what else have I to do? Choose from my own selection of literature?” He replied, sarcasm coating his tone.

“Right, forget I asked.” You smiled and turned from his gaze to walk over to the bookshelf; substituting the books he had read for the next two books in the Throne of Glass series. It was almost as if you were his personal librarian.

“How are you finding the series so far?” You asked over your shoulder, knowing that he would have invited himself in by now.

“It is quite spectacular. Aelin is such an extraordinary being and that Captain of the Guard was an oaf for ever betraying her.” He enthused.

“I thought you might enjoy it. I mean, other worlds? Magic? Thrones? It’s like the author tapped into your head.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it does start to sound like my life story doesn’t it?” He speculated giving a slight smile.

“Yeah, minus the whole Fae getup. Though, being a frost giant sounds pretty cool.”

Loki’s Jotun heritage had become common knowledge among the Avengers recently, thanks to Thor, but no one seemed to address it in fear of stirring up a hornet’s nest. The fact that you had bought it up was a risky move, but something told you that Loki had no intentions of harming you anytime soon. You turned to gauge his reaction, but noticed that he was studying your dress that was hanging from the door of your wardrobe.

“This must be the gown all that fuss was about yesterday.” He said. He held his hands behind his back as if surveying a piece at a contemporary art display.

“Indeed it is. Do you like it?” You asked, curious as to what he was thinking.

“It’s…red…."

"Well aren’t you observant.” You said sarcastically whilst walking up to him, the two novels now in your possession.

“Interesting.” He stated.

“Okay? Not a fan of red I see.”

“It doesn’t matter. You made a lovely choice.” He said but you felt no sincerity behind the comment.

“Anyway, here’s the next two books in the series. I’m sure this shall keep you occupied tonight while there’s no one around for you to pester with your tricks.” You said, handing him the books. He took the books and chuckled at your comment.

“Well, I look forward to, as you say, absorbing these this evening.” He looked down at the novels in his hand then looked back up to you.

“I’d appreciate the solitude if I were you. While you’re busy reading in the comfort of your own room, I’m going to be up on stage praying to the gods that I don’t make an absolute fool of myself.” Loki just grinned and made his way towards the door.

“Unless I see you before you leave, I just wanted to say good luck and, um, what was that midgardian phrase?”

“Break a leg?”

“That’s the one, but do me a favour, love, and don’t take that too literally.” He said and made to leave the room, but stopping before he did and turning to face you once more. “Unless of course, you really do want that spotlight you’ve been so desperately trying to avoid.” Leaving his final statement in place, he exited the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. You giggled at his comment. The idea of breaking a limb in order to gain everyone’s attention was preposterous, yet so easy to picture him doing it.

~ ~ ~

To say the venue was fancy was the understatement of the century.

Tony had told you that this event would be formal, but apparently neglected to mention how extravagant it would be. In fact, it was almost as if someone had taken a room straight out of Buckingham Palace and placed it in Brooklyn.

You had arrived with your large bag of makeup, hair products and dress particularly early to get yourself ready in your dressing room before everyone started showing up. Upon entering the hall, you saw that a few others had arrived too. Nat and Bruce were sitting at the bar at the end of the hall opposite the stage conversing with each other as they usually were. They both looked fancy in their expensive clothes with Bruce in a navy blue three piece suit and Nat in a low cut, short but elegant, deep blue velvet dress to match Bruce. Steve, in a white v neck and black sweatpants, was helping three other men to lift what appeared to be a large statue of one of Tony’s suits. Pepper, in her short and white business-woman-looking dress, was directing them on where to place the huge statue of Iron Man while also making sure that the man himself, dressed in his classic Stark suit, didn’t eat the entire buffet table before everyone arrived.

Almost instantly, Tony had spotted you and waved you over to the left of the hall where the buffet table had been set up. He might have even called you Adele had it not been for the chicken wing stuffed in his mouth.

“Do you ever stop eating?” You asked whilst cocking an eyebrow and walking over to him.

“Sure. When I’m in the suit, the rare occasions when I actually sleep, in the shower…wait no, there was that one time…” He said nonchalantly before stuffing a carrot stick in his mouth, making him look like a rabbit with his food stuffed cheeks and the carrot sticking out of his mouth. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of him.

“Anyway, where’s my dressing room?” You asked, and he pointed to a door just left of the stage while swallowing enough to allow him to speak.

“Right through there.” He finally managed to say. “Once you’re through there, it’s the last door on the left. I even put your name on it, it’s impossible to miss."

"You mean my actual name and not some famous female singer?”

“Shit, you mean your name isn’t Barbra Streisand??” He asked, making himself look shocked. You shot him the 'haha very funny’ glare before making your way over to the door.

Once you were at the end of the corridor, sure enough, there it was.

’(Y/N) (Y/L/N)’ was written inside a gold star that was stuck to the door. You rolled your eyes, not surprised at the fact that Tony had been extra enough to have a personalised star made for you, and then entered the dressing room.

People started flooding in just after 6. The murmuring of conversing crowds and the occasional outbreak of laughter amongst groups of individuals reverberated throughout the hall. The quartet had even arrived and were accompanying the sounds of conversation with the plucking of their stringed instruments in tuning.

Now fully glammed up in your dress and makeup with your hair curled just the way you like it, you stood just outside the door into the hall just observing the crowd, taking in the way these individuals were dressed and behaving. It was still early so the abundance of people were rather sparse making it so that you could see Nat and Bruce still in the same spot, but this time with Steve who was now dressed in a black tux. Deciding to settle with being in a social situation with people you were familiar with, you weaved your way through the sea of people taking up the space of the dance floor.

Nat was the first to spy you coming towards them.

“Ohh, someone’s looking extra fancy!” She said, making Bruce and Steve turn their attention towards you. You smiled at her comment.

“Well I wasn’t exactly going to show up in a t shirt and sweatpants like some people.” You said, looking at Steve.

“Hey, I didn’t want to get my suit all sweaty from lifting Tony’s stupidly heavy stuff.” He retorted. "Anyway, what time you going on?“

"In about two hours after everyone has arrived, but wait, how did you know I was performing? I didn’t think Tony had told anyone.” You asked.

“Are you kidding?? He wouldn’t shut up about it.” Steve exclaimed.

“Yeah, he was like a proud dad.” Nat said, earning a chuckle from both Steve and Bruce.

“Well I’m flattered that Tony considers me to be the daughter he never wanted.” You said, giving a slight shrug. When it came to gossip, Tony was no better than a teenage girl, which is why it came as no surprise that he had told everyone within his vicinity.

Nat opened her mouth to say something but before she did, Thor appeared with both arms in the air as if going in for a group hug with one hand containing a drink.

“Ah, my friends! How are you all this fine evening?” He boomed, making the whole room aware of his presence while beaming from ear to ear. It was almost as if his happiness was contagious as you all started smiling at the sight of his delight.

“Thor!” You said, almost in a shout as you went to hug him tightly. You hadn’t seen Thor in what seemed like forever since he was never one to be satisfied with lounging about the compound. He always had a desire to be out exploring the world and who could blame him? This was his home now after the fall of Asgard and it was entirely new to him. There was still so much more for him to discover and explore but he enjoyed every second of it.

He bought his huge arms down to hug you back the best he could given the height difference.

“Lady (Y/N)! What a pleasure to see you again! You look absolutely stunning!” He exclaimed, stepping back to take in your appearance.

“Thanks! You look rather spiffing, yourself.” You said, looking at the black tuxedo he just fit into.

“Why thank you! This Midgardian attire is starting to grow on me.”

“Looks like it needs to grow a little bigger.” Steve said into his glass as he took a swig. Everyone broke into laughter at the comment, including Thor himself.

“Has anyone seen my brother this evening?” Thor asked once the laughter had died down.

“Uhh, well, I’m pretty confident in saying that I don’t think we’ll be seeing him at all tonight.” You replied, picturing Loki back in his room, his nose in one of your books.

“Ah, what a shame, I was looking forward to seeing him again. Though, it doesn’t surprise me. He always did favour solitude.”

'That makes the both of us’ you thought to yourself, wishing that you were back in your room enjoying your own company.

The conversation between you all continued from there. Thor recounted his Midgardian experiences while Nat, Bruce and Steve bought him up to speed on what they had been up to mission wise. Thor was about to go into explicit detail about his Indian food experiences (more focussing on the day after effects) when suddenly he was cut off by Tony at the mic on the stage.

“Good evening friends, associates and bitter exes. Boy, what a night we have in store for you all. We have Alex Abaev and his quartet from Art-Strings to provide you with the finest classical music to grace your ears. We have an open bar, curtesy of the venue, huge thank you to Grand Prospect Hall for hosting this shin-dig at such late notice by the way, can I get a round of applause?” Tony started clapping as the sounds of applause arose from the crowd and reverberated through the hall, accompanied by a few whistles here and there. The applause died down and Tony continued.

“We have a buffet table, also curtesy of the hall which will be serving all night long so don’t even think about sneaking out to get Wendy’s.” He pointed jokingly to multiple people in the crowd then following up his action with a smirk. “It is also with great pleasure that I introduce you all to the star of the evening. This is her first performance in front of a large audience so go easy on her, where are you, sweetheart?” He asked, scanning the audience for you. You raised your hand and waved at him and his eyes fell on you and he then gestured for you to join him on stage. You started to make your way forward and the crowd split in front of you as you walked, making you feel somewhat important. When you finally stood next to him onstage, he gestured towards you as if you were a valuable piece that was up for auction. “Ladies and gents, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” He announced and the crowd gave you a warm round of applause, making you blush slightly.

During the applause however, the doors of the venue burst open, catching your attention. Your eyes slightly widened at the figure that waltzed in.

It was Loki, dressed in an all black suit with his raven hair slicked back to avoid obstructing his visage. He strutted in, his hands in his pockets, making him look calm and collected despite being out of his comfort zone. It didn’t take long for him to notice that you were on the stage and his gaze locked onto you. Tony had begun to address the audience again but you weren’t hearing a word as Loki began to smirk and gave you a wink before breaking the stare and sashaying over to where Thor and the others had remained. You quickly composed yourself after remembering that you were on stage, the audience probably thinking that you’d seen a ghost by now, and tuned back into what Tony was saying.

“And of course, a huge thank you to the person who even made this possible. The organiser of this event, CEO of Stark Industries and the love of my life, Miss Pepper Potts.” He said, looking at Pepper who was stood just offstage, most likely in preparation to interject if Tony started to say something that could get himself or the company in trouble…again. When she came up onto the stage, Tony wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as the crowd cheered.

While they were having their moment, you slipped away behind them to rejoin your little clique at the bar where Thor had begun to tell stories of what he and Loki got up to when they were younger with his arm around his adopted sibling.

"…and when we were children, he used to cast an illusion on himself to make it look as if he were bleeding when we got into a brotherly brawl and threatened to show mother. Of course it came as no surprise to me the day he earned the title of the god of mischief!“ He laughed, giving a rather disgruntled looking Loki a slight shake while the mischievous man stood stiffly with his arms folded.

"Ah, Lady (Y/N)! You never told me you were a singer!”

“Well I mean, it’s not something I parade around. It’s just a hobby I suppose.” You shrugged.

“If singing at the top of your lungs in the kitchen counts as 'not parading it around’, then I guess you’re correct.” Loki chimed in, one of his evil grins showing up on his face. You glared at him, irritated at the fact that he’d spilled something you’d rather be kept a secret to your closest friends.

’So you were listening.’ your look seemed to say.

Everyone looked at him and then at you with visible confusion. They didn’t know whether to believe him given the fact that he had frequent tendencies to lie and that his accusation completely contradicted your quiet personality. At that moment, you lost all motivation to remain social and decided to retreat back to the dressing room. That was partly the reason Tony had organised it for you anyway. Clearing your throat, you quickly thought of an excuse to leave.

“Well if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to do some vocal warm ups in my dressing room. See you all later!” You said quickly and sped walked through the clusters of people back to your dressing room.

You couldn’t help but ponder. Why was Loki here? What’s he planning? Is it to mess with you again? Because he sure as hell wasn’t here to socialise.

“It’s rather rude to dismiss yourself amidst a conversation, you know.” A voice came from behind you from where you sat at your dressing table and startled you.

“Yeah and it’s rather rude to tell people’s secrets and enter their room without their permission but apparently that doesn’t stop you.” You spat, acknowledging Loki without looking at him while was stood across the room with his hands once again in his pockets.

“Again with the hostility. Might want to save that fire for when you’re on stage, pet.” He said, walking towards you.

“Why are you even here? Wouldn’t you rather be in your room consuming books till the crack of dawn?” You said rather angrily as you swivelled in your seat to glare at him.

“Tempting as that may be, I just couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you steal the show.”

“You don’t care about my singing.”

“Initially perhaps. But once I heard your voice echoing through the halls of the facility a few days ago, well, to say you piqued my interest would be quite the understatement.” You stood and looked at him in confusion.

“You could have just told me you enjoyed my singing without messing with me and taunting me in front of my friends.”

“Oh but where would be the fun in that?”

“Of course, because everything’s a game to you, isn’t it.”

“No need to be so bitter, love. Besides, I come bearing a gift.”

“And what would that be? Did you steal my makeup bag again but replace all the products with snakes this time?”

“I’ll admit, that would have been devilish, but no.” Loki stated tilted his gaze down towards your torso. Looking down at yourself, you were alarmed to realise that the dress on your body had started to glow a green colour and began to change shape. Soon when the glow had faded, you were in a completely different dress and it didn’t take long to realise that it was the dress he had caught you admiring, but instead it was a deep emerald colour. You let out a sound concocted of surprise and joy.

“It’s beautiful! But the one I saw was red…” You said in confusion.

“Consider it my mark. If you’re going to be wearing something as a gift from me I’d rather it not be tarnished with the colour of my brother’s wardrobe.”

“But why would you do this for me?” You gave him a perplexed look.

Loki proceeded to close the distance between you, placing his fingers underneath your chin and brushing your lips with his. His kiss was soft, sweet and tender leaving you breathless. He leaned back to look you in the eye.

“It appears as though I’ve grown rather fond of you my dear, and I wish of nothing more than to see you stun the crowd with your magnificent vocal talent.” He said in an almost whisper, his voice low and smooth.

“Well, I go on in about an hour. How about you let me get some vocal warm ups in so I can grant your wish?” You requested and Loki chuckled.

“Of course, my love. But allow me to give you a little something for good luck before I leave.”

He placed his hands on your hips and leaned in to kiss you once more, this time kissing you more deeply, entwining his tongue with yours. You fastened your hands around the back of his neck and sunk into a heavenly bliss, which only made you feel a larger pang of disappointment when he withdrew.

“Break a leg…” He said with a smirk before going to leave. “…and remember love, don’t forget to breathe. Would be a pity if you were to pass out before your chance to shine.”

————————————————————-

A/N: You probably thought the performance would be in this chapter, but where’s the fun in just skipping to the main event? Hehe.

The comment about mint ice cream tasting like toothpaste was inspired by a post somewhere, I’m sure it was tumblr, but sadly I couldn’t find it. However, I can 100% confirm that that would be something Tony would say so I chucked it in there anyway.

Also holy crap, isn’t Grand Prospect Hall such a gorgeous place?? It’s 100% real, and I honestly hope I get to visit it one day, it’s rather spectacular looking.

Thought I’d also mention that Alex Abaev and his quartet are real too. They’re based in NYC and do events like weddings and other gatherings, their performances are phenomenal. Here’s their YouTube channel if you’re interested c:

As always, your kudos are much appreciated! I read and respond to every comment whether it be on this post or on AO3. If you have any ideas or criticism then I would love to hear it! I came up with the idea of Tony tampering with the ice cream machine just to piss Clint off myself but I didn’t really have a reason why until cravingmustard suggested that it was because Clint deserves to be punished for not liking mint choc chip in the first place and I loved that! Anyway, next chapter will be the performance I promise! Hope you all have a wonderful day, my lovelies <3

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #All of me #chapter 5 #a7xing-forever #captivating #perform #tony stark #formal #charity events

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anarchetypalarchive · 6 years

Text

the summer is ended and we are not saved

aka that bfu shane/ryan demon fic i decided to write even though it’s been done seven hundred times already lowkey cowritten by @slaughtervoid via discord chat rating: explicit, but not like. extremely explicit? you get me. like there’s no outright sex but don’t read this in front of your mother probably content: holy water guns, shane’s creepy and makes vague murder threats, ryan gets fear boners, i’m giving this a pretentious title in spite of the slapstick on ao3 excerpt:

Ryan drops the holy water gun with a shout and stumbles back, fueled by blind panic as he turns and sprints past their sleeping bags for the attic door.

Behind him, he hears Shane sigh almost calmly despite his flesh still burning. “Don't— C’mon, seriously, do we really have to make this a whole thing— You've seen horror movies, you know how this is gonna—” Apparently still annoyed, he breaks off, and the door in front of Ryan slams shut on its own.

Ryan skids to a stop and reaches for the knob, rattling it ineffectively. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“So many horror movies,” Shane says, voice much closer now, and Ryan spins around. “I’m just saying, can we not make this a thing right out of TV Tropes, you know, that’s just boring for both of us.”

It’s the stupid holy water gun that fucks him over.

It’d seemed like such a good idea at the time. Hilarious, at least, in terms of views, and if he’s honest, the concept of rapid-fire holy water just seemed smart. It seemed smart, and it made him feel more secure, and he could use the humor of the device to save himself at least a little ridicule, hopefully.

He and Shane had been wandering a supposedly haunted mansion—and, yeah, the Disney theme park allusions from Shane hadn’t exactly been infrequent—for most of the night, and Ryan had to admit that the scariest thing about the place so far was the mold in the walls and the structurally-unsound foundation.

They decided to settle for the night in the attic, clearing away some dusty storage boxes (junk, Ryan, it’s junk, look at this, I bet you’d put this on your antiques shelf, let’s take it, do you think the ghosts would mind) and laying their sleeping bags down.

As usual, they tried to sleep, but nerves eventually got Ryan out of his sleeping bag, and Ryan’s pestering got Shane out of his.

And then Ryan had to go and start joking around.

“I’m just saying, I’ve got pinpoint accuracy,” Ryan says, grabbing the plastic gun from its holster and pretending to shoot at random corners of the attic they’re in.

“Pinpoint accuracy at absolutely nothing,” Shane responds easily, sitting on the sill of the attic window and holding the camera.

Ryan rolls his eyes, then grins and spins on his heel. “Watch it, demon!” he shouts dramatically, and squeezes the trigger of the gun to send a stream of holy water at Shane.

Shane holds his hand out instinctively, and then instead of the protesting complaint he expects to hear, there’s the sound of what Ryan can only describe as sizzling. Shane yelps, bringing his hand to his chest protectively, and what Ryan can see of his hand and wrist is red and splotchy.

“Ow,” Shane says irritably.

Ryan stares, suddenly feeling cold. “What— What the hell was that.”

Shane shakes his hand out and sighs. For a long moment, he stares at Ryan, then looks resigned. “Yeah, alright, this was bound to happen eventually.”

Ryan takes an automatic step back. “What was bound to happen eventually?” He gestures at Shane’s hand as it slowly goes from blistered red to pink.

Shane sighs again and pushes himself away from the windowsill. “Alright, calm down—”

“What the hell was that?”

Laughing, Shane takes a few steps towards him. “I mean, honestly, Ryan, what did it look like?” All at once, his pupils seem to eclipse the whites of his eyes and his irises. “Use your critical thinking skills.”

Ryan takes equal steps back, wide-eyed. Later, he’ll admit that maybe he shouldn’t ever be trusted with an actual firearm, because when Shane takes another step forward, Ryan starts frantically squirting the water gun in terror.

Shane jerks back, hands in front of himself protectively again as he cringes when Ryan manages to hit any part of him not covered by clothing. “Ow— Ow, Ryan, stop, Jesus Christ— Ugh,” he says finally, looking more annoyed than agonized. He reaches out and motions slightly with a blistered hand.

The gun crumples in on itself.

Ryan drops it with a shout and stumbles back, fueled by blind panic as he turns and sprints past their sleeping bags for the attic door.

Ryan skids to a stop and reaches for the knob, rattling it ineffectively. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Boring,” Ryan repeats, voice shaking. He presses his back to the door as Shane approaches him. Struggling to screw up any amount of courage he can find, he takes a deep breath. “Get away from me, Shane—or—whatever the hell you are, get away from me, get out of my friend—”

“Hey, now, I’m the same guy you know and love,” Shane says, looking offended. “You’re the one that befriended a demon, what’s that say about you?”

“What?”

“And, I mean, okay,” Shane continues, slowly closing the distance between them. “Your initial fight reaction? I’m so proud. Very brave. Where’s the fraidy cat from season one, huh?”

Ryan, now flattening his back against the door, puts his hands up like there’s a weapon trained on him. He’s vaguely aware of his own harsh breathing, the tightness in his lungs. He’s pretty sure he’s hyperventilating. Shane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Stupid,” he adds, taking the last couple of steps towards Ryan and grabbing his jaw with a blistered hand. “But brave.”

Ryan can’t manage to get his mind to slow down long enough to process anything beyond he’s a demon, he’s a demon and you’re trapped in here with him.

“And let’s be honest, you're lucky I claimed you and not some other bump-in-the-night creature. Anyone else would’ve seen your precious, untainted soul and ruined you before you could even figure out what was going on.”

Ryan shudders, trying to free himself from Shane’s grip. His jaw aches. “But—you haven’t.”

Shane smiles. “I like to play with my food.”

Ryan jerks back, but Shane doesn’t let go, just looks down at him, calm as anything. He fumbles mentally, desperately, for some means of fighting back, but his holy water is gone and he doesn’t know any prayers and his arms and legs feel like sluggish, heavy tree trunks.

He wonders if he could even run away if he had the option.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Shane says, and maybe he means to be soothing but everything just sounds ominous now. “You’re the most entertaining thing I’ve played with in—wow, decades, at least.”

“I’m not a thing,” Ryan snaps.

Shane releases his jaw to wave a hand dismissively. “Point is, I haven’t had so much fun in years. You’re so easy.”

Ryan rubs his jaw, frustration struggling to win out over the poignant, raw stabbing of terror. “Is that why you’re always fucking—trying to rile things up wherever we go? Offering me up as—as bait all the time?”

“It’s a joke, obviously, because you’re mine,” Shane says. “It’s not like I’d say, hey, goatman, why don’t you come tear off Ryan’s legs if I thought it’d actually happen. Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“But you just get so spooked,” Shane continues, grinning a little. “I can’t help myself. And, y’know, it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Are you just going to keep repeating the last word I say? Makes for a dull conversation, Ryan. Don’t bore me; I get extra demon-y when I’m bored.”

“Shut up, Shane.” The words come out automatically. Ryan flinches, expecting the worst, but Shane just laughs.

“You’re so afraid of this—” he gestures at the mansion as a whole, “—and you throw yourself into it anyway. Why? To prove something? Well, hey.” He turns and waves at one of the cameras standing on a tripod in the corner of the attic. “You’ve proved something! How’s that working out for you?”

“I—”

“Personally, I think it gets you off.”

Ryan goes wide-eyed. His face feels hot all of a sudden. “What?”

“The fear. You get off on being scared.” Shane says it matter-of-factly. “Admit it. You think people don’t notice—maybe most people don’t. But me?”

Shane reaches out and strokes the bruise forming on Ryan’s jaw with his thumb.

“I notice everything.”

Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to shiver. And here’s the thing: Shane isn’t wrong. He’s not wrong, and Ryan’s been aroused since Shane cornered him and grabbed him like Ryan was just a thing he owned.

“I’ve thought about killing you,” Shane says, almost cheerful. “Entertained the notion, you know, thought about just how I’d do it. And I bet if I pinned you here and told you all the grim details, you’d come in your jeans in less than a minute. Wouldn’t you.”

Ryan can’t make himself respond, too overwhelmed by fear and arousal and the absolute, raw horror of the situation.

“Ryan.”

He screws his eyes shut tighter.

“Ryan.”

He shakes his head, trembling.

“Ryan, open your eyes.”

Shane’s broad hands are cupping his face. Ryan flinches.

“Wake up!”

Ryan’s eyes snap open, and he gasps out a shuddery breath as he lurches upright in his sleeping bag.

Shane’s kneeling next to him, brow knitted in concern and his hands up in a surrender position. “Whoa! Hey, relax!”

“What—” Ryan groans dizzily, rubbing his eyes and trying to orient himself. “Fuck.”

“You were, like, whimpering in your sleep,” Shane says. Ryan can see the faint glow of an approaching sunrise in the window of the attic. “Guess you were so disappointed we didn’t find anything supernatural-y that your subconscious decided to give you a scare to make up for it?” He laughs a little.

Ryan looks at Shane suspiciously for a moment. Normal eyes. Uninjured hands. Nothing demon-like at all. He sighs and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck no.” Ryan stretches and shifts, prepared to get out of his sleeping bag and get the fuck out of this place, and then he freezes.

Personally, I think it gets you off.

He shifts again.

His boxers are damp and clinging to him. His sweatpants don’t feel like they’ve fared much better. An overstimulated pang of arousal hits him.

Ryan shuts his eyes, groaning in defeat, and buries himself back in his sleeping bag.

Shane raises an eyebrow. “What, you need more sleep? I thought you’d wanna get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get up in a minute,” Ryan says. His face is hot. “You just—uh, you go ahead, I’ll meet you down there. I just need to, uh. I need a minute to relax.”

Shane shrugs and gets to his feet. “Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.”

#anarchetypal writes #shyan #i'm terrible at writing serious fic i just couldn't do it #shipfeed

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askullinajar · 7 years

Text

The Shattered Frame (Part 5/7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Fic info: this is a sequel to my previous fic, The Living Ghost so go read that or this won’t make sense. Rating: General. Pairings: Lucy/Lockwood, Holly/Rani. Ao3 link: here.

A cluster of hauntings in a decrepit manor and the dripping spectre of a woman dressed all in black hits a little too close to home for Lockwood & Co’s newest member.

WARNING: There’s some detail about near-drowning at the start. Idk if anyone will be affected by that, but if you are, I won’t be offended if you skip it. Just Ctrl + F your way to ‘strong hands’. Happy reading, everyone!

Part 5 – An Icy Swim

The cold hit me all at once, seeping into my clothes, biting into my skin. My heart raced, blood rushed in my ears, I almost gasped for air in my blind panic. As a reflex, I thrashed around, frantically trying to get back to the surface, but I’d fallen in at an odd angle and struggled to contort my body the right way around.

After a terrifying few seconds, I managed to force my way to the surface, but I barely had time to gasp for air, and to see Lockwood being blasted back from the pool with Elizabeth reaching out for him, before the water churned around me and dragged me under again.

Lockwood. He needed help. I needed to help him.

I kicked my legs frantically, trying to fight against the heavy equipment on my belt that was pulling me down, but my hefty boots weighed my legs down. That, the numbing cold, the ghost lock creeping into my heart… it all made my movements sluggish.

I reached out and grasped at the edge of the pool, but my hands slid on the slimy tiles. My lungs screamed for oxygen. I tried to keep a grip on the edge of the pool, tried to gather enough strength to haul myself up.

Distantly, I heard people shouting. I recognised my friends’ voices; George and Kipps, then Holly and Skully. They’d help Lockwood. He’d be okay.

My head pounded painfully, my chest burned. I was cold, so cold. And tired.

I couldn’t stifle my reflexes anymore. I gasped for air, and water rushed into my lungs in its place. My fingers slipped from the tiles…

Then strong hands grabbed my arms and hauled me out of the water.

I sat there, on the wet grass, pressed up against Lockwood’s chest and coughing water up.

“Lucy? Lucy, are you alright?”

I gasped for air between coughing fits, and each breath seemed to rip my throat apart on the way down. I clutched at the arm Lockwood had around my torso for support, shivering violently. He was staring at me, eyes wide and frantic.

“Oh, I’m just dandy,” I croaked out at last, though I guess I didn’t convince him because he removed his coat and wrapped it tightly around me.

The others stood nearby, looking terrified as they gazed down at me.

“What happened?” I said.

“We got here just as it… Elizabeth was about to touch Lockwood,” Holly said. “Skully sort of…blasted her away.”

I looked over at my friend. He seemed pale and was staring into space with hollow eyes.

George seemed to have noticed, too. “Alright there, Skully? You look like –”

“If you say like I’ve seen a ghost, I’m cutting you,” Skully said, looking up abruptly to shoot George a glare.

“Jeez, why’re you so tetchy?” George said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“Maybe because my best friend nearly drowned!”

“Oh, so now you care about people?”

“Lucy? Sure. If you wanted to take a dip in the pool, however –”

“Stop it!” I shouted. “Both of you, stop it! You’ll only make her stronger if you fight.”

“Maybe we should just call it a night,” Kipps suggested.

“No,” I said. “We can get this place cleared tonight, I know we can. I’m not letting that bitch hang around, so she can try and drown anyone else.”

“Lucy, you’re soaking wet and freezing,” Holly tried to reason. “You need to warm up or you’ll catch a cold. Or worse.”

“There’s a fireplace in the living room, we should be able to start a fire,” said Lockwood. “At least stay there and warm up while the rest of us handle this.”

I didn’t want to agree with him – I wanted to track that ghost’s source down and snuff it out for good – but I guess I wouldn’t be much use in the state I was in, so I nodded.

Holly still looked concerned. “It’ll take forever for your clothes to dry. You could still get sick.”

“I’ll dry her off first,” said Skully.

George raised an eyebrow at him. “And how d’you plan on doing that?”

Skully cracked his knuckles. “I have my ways. Luce, see that porch railing? Go hang onto it as tight as you can.”

It was with great apprehension that I slipped out of Lockwood’s coat and approached the railing, but I was desperate to warm up; my sopping clothes weighed me down and I was numb all over. I wrapped my stiff fingers as tight as I could around the railing.

“Ready?” said Skully.

“No.”

The gust of psychic wind nearly sent me flying, but I held on even tighter and squeezed my eyes closed. My hair whipped painfully against my face, my clothes flapped harshly around me. It wasn’t nearly as cold as most ghostly winds, I’d give him that, but still far from pleasant, and when it finally died down, I glared daggers at Skully.

“I h-h-hate y-you,” I said as my teeth chattered together and I shivered violently.

“You’re welcome,” said Skully, as Lockwood came over and wrapped his coat back around me. I was still freezing, but at least my clothes were now relatively dry, if completely wrinkled.

I sat, cross-legged, in the centre of the iron chain in the living room while the others ran around collecting firewood and building a fire. I don’t know how she’d managed to find them, but Holly bundled me up in several moth-eaten blankets, so Lockwood could have his coat back.

“Try not to smother her, Hol,” George said, snickering as Holly continued to fuss over me, pouring me mugs of boiling tea from our thermoses. I didn’t mind so much; with the roaring fire, the piles of blankets, and the warm cup of tea in my hands, feeling was finally starting to return to my body. It hurt like hell, but at least it was something.

Lockwood eyed Skully, who was still seeming a little off; he hadn’t insulted George in a whole ten minutes, it was kind of disconcerting. Lockwood clapped a hand on his shoulder. “How about you stay here and keep an eye on Lucy. Make sure she stays out of trouble.”

Skully shrugged. “I mean, I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”

I shot both of them an unimpressed look.

Lockwood came over to where I was sitting and knelt in front of me. “You sure you’re okay, Luce? You gave me a fright there.”

I smiled at him. “I’m fine. Had to add nearly drowning to my list of near-death experiences at some point, I guess.” I didn’t tell him that my lungs still burned. That I could still feel the water pressing in on me.

Lockwood laughed, but it was short and sounded forced. “I’d rather you stopped having any near-death experiences at all.”

“Yeah, well, join the club.”

Lockwood just looked at me for a moment, his brows pulled slightly together, and his mouth tugged up a little at the corners. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Then he leant forwards and pressed his lips to my forehead.

“We’ll get this place sorted out. Stay safe, Lucy.”

“You too, Anthony.”

His cheeks got a faint pink dusting at that, and I committed that look to memory. Then I watched as he, George, Kipps, and Holly ventured back out of the living room to confront the Visitors, leaving me alone with Skully.

He walked forwards and sat beside me in the iron circle. I unwrapped the top blanket layer and draped it over both our shoulders.

“You okay?” I said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem a little off, that’s all. Do you wanna talk about it?”

I was met with silence. I took that as a no and looked back at the fire.

“My family are only a few hours away from here,” I said, changing the subject. “I’m half tempted to pay a visit.”

“Why don’t you?”

I shrugged. “My sisters are all scattered. I don’t really get along with my mum. I could always just visit Mary, I suppose.”

“She your favourite?”

I glanced over at him. “Didn’t you have a favourite sibling?”

There was a pause, then, “My twin, I guess.”

I nearly spat out the tea I’d been sipping on. “Twin?! There was more than one of you in the world?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Twin sister.”

“Marginally better, I suppose,” I conceded. “Which one of you was born first?”

He huffed. “She was. But that made me the incredible seventh child, so can’t complain much.”

I frowned. “I’m a seventh child. Why’s that so special?”

“Not heard all the folklore around seventh children?” he said. “Why d’you think your Talents are so strong? Why d’you think Bickerstaff hired me?”

I shrugged it off, though I had been wondering why my Talent had been doing the opposite of fading as I got older. “What was your sister like?”

He shrugged. “Stubborn, bit of a temper, wanted people to think she was all strong and mature but she was actually a huge dork.”

The description sounded like someone I knew, but I couldn’t quite think who. “She sounds cool.”

He picked at a loose thread in the blanket. “Yeah, she was.”

He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation, so I let the matter drop. I shuffled closer and rested my head on his shoulder.

“You’re being soppy again,” he told me.

“I nearly froze to death. I need the warmth.”

“I don’t know how much warmth you’re gonna get from a half-dead guy.”

“Shut up and let me be soppy.”

We sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the flames dance and listening to the wood crackle. I could hear a few distant sounds – water dripping, faint voices – but no Visitors bothered us in the living room.

“Thanks for saving Lockwood, by the way,” I said, after a while.

“You would’ve killed me if I didn’t,” Skully replied.

“True, but we both know that’s not why. You’re becoming best buds.”

Skully scoffed. “Sure. I’ll be the best man at your wedding.”

I ignored the way my heart jolted at the thought of marrying Lockwood one day. “Shut up,” I told him. “Besides, you can’t do that when you’re giving me away.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I, now?”

“I mean, my dad’s dead. I don’t have any uncles or brothers or anything. You’ll have to do.”

“Charming.”

We heard a crash come from downstairs. I sat bolt upright, listening. I heard a scream – Kipps, I think – followed by a shout from Lockwood, then, faintly, the gush of water.

I lurched to my feet and grabbed my discarded rapier.

“Lucy,” Skully warned. “You need to rest. They can handle it.” But I was already charging out of the door, towards the stairs to the basement.

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#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #locklyle #lucewood #jonathan stroud #fanfic #fic #teg #post teg #i didn't make you wait too long this time #youre welcome #lets just ignore the fact that i have an essay due in like a week #i have a cold anyway #also #i figure after what i just put lucy through i should let her swear #heads up the next chapters gonna be super angsty #sorry in advance #rowan writes

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