#and hey it's the middle of the night and all of his 'companions' are sweaty tired and sick of his shit

[hauntedwitch04]

Wrong time, right person

Azriel x reader

Words: about 3.3k words

Warnings: smut, smut, Iforgot to say smut, and Azzy himself ;)

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 3: Sex pollen

It's an easy mission they said.

Touch and go, they won't even know you passed by they said.

Assholes. Liars. Bastards. Especially liars though.

This is all I can think of as the Shadowsinger and I find ourselves running through the trees being chased by the guards of the lord we had gone to spy on. Someone must have warned of our arrival, because a few minutes after arriving on the spot, we were already surrounded by enemies. We fought to the end, but were forced to retreat into the woods, seeking safety in escaping through that labyrinth of logs, hoping that those stupid enforcers would not be able to follow us.

It seems like hours that we are running when we finally decide to stop, in the vicinity of a cave, so that we can find refuge from the darkness and our pursuers.

"We finally lost those assholes." My companion comments, sitting back against the cave wall, leaning his head against the rock and showing his neck, leaving it exposed to my gaze.

That simple gesture kindles a fire in me that burns brightly, and I feel compelled to look away. I close my head between my legs and feel Azriel's gaze on me as he approaches. I feel him rest a hand on my shoulder, and I can't help but moan at that simple contact. I feel my cheeks get hot, but he doesn't flinch and asks me worriedly, "Hey, are you okay?" I can't bring myself to look at his face so I nod slightly still with my head between my legs and mutter a nonsensical apology. He still tries for a moment to wrest the truth from my lips, but I don't even flinch for a second. Azriel, seeing then that I did not intend to explain anything, stands up.

"I'm going to gather some wood for the fire, or we'll freeze to death tonight." He says, as he approaches the exit of the cave. I glimpse from below my knees the color of the sky, which is now turning blue.

"Okay, I'll stay here." I tell him in a whisper loud enough for him to hear me. I guess he nods, before walking out of our shelter, leaving me to think about why I took that action earlier. Ever since we escaped from the building I feel a strange sensation permeating my body, but I hadn't given it too much thought before since my priority was to run away from the guards, but it's as if after all that effort that feeling has expanded to the nth degree. It almost feels as if my body no longer belongs to me: I feel a wet sensation between my panties, while the fabric of my T-shirt brushing against the skin of my breasts sends shivers down my spine as my nipples harden against my bra. I squeeze my thighs together trying to ease that sensation, but it all proves futile. I feel a wave of embarrassment rise through my body again, thinking that this is all due only to a small gesture from the Shadowsinger.

Eventually I decide to lie down and try to get some sleep hoping that with a good dose of rest the next day I would wake up feeling better than I am now. I lie down with some difficulty on the floor only to fall unconscious in the arms of Morpheus after a few seconds.

But all is in vain, because in the middle of the night I suddenly wake up all sweaty. I sit up while with one hand I hold my chest. I feel the fire from before writhing in my gut, and on instinct my other hand goes to my center automatically, but realizing my gesture I immediately freeze.

Azriel was sitting in front of the fire, and seeing me feeling so sick he immediately approaches me, touching my forehead to feel if I had a fever. Immediately he retracts his hand feeling how hot I am, and makes me lie of me.

"You try to lie to me one more time about feeling good, and I swear I will never make you go on a mission with me again, and I will make sure Rhysand doesn't either." Says Azriel, as he removes part of my suit, to let the cold night wind cool me down a little. I again find myself letting escape a moan of pleasure as I feel that cool night breeze brush against my warm skin. I feel my nipples becoming turgid as I somehow try to get away from the Shadowsinger's constant touch, which is only making the situation I am in worse.

"I would say now is not the time to lecture me Az." I reply as I try to catch my breath. The Illyrian looks conflicted, but finally stands up and looks me straight in the eye.

"I'll try to do something. You stay here, and in case you give a yell, I'll be back here in less than a second." Says Azriel before disappearing into the night.

I stay looking at the place where he disappeared for a few minutes, trying to distract myself from the feeling of pain and the impossibility of having what my body desires, but finally I give in and begin to slowly run the fingers of my right hand over my center. I immediately feel the pain lessen, but like a drug, this never seems to be enough and I need more and more. My other hand wanders down my body until it rests on my breast and I begin to stimulate one of my nipples. My right hand I run it under my pants and for the first time my fingers come in contact with the wet lips of my pussy.

I remain in that limbo situation for what feels like an eternity experiencing enough pleasure to not die of pain and at the same time not enough to be completely well.

After what seems like hours, I hear Azriel's heavy footsteps getting closer. Quickly I try to look presentable, but immediately the lack of that little antidote causes me more pain than I felt before. I feel twinges in my abdomen that make me bend over, but despite this I look up at the man in front of me, and I cannot help but curse Mother for creating such a perfect being: he has not slept in days, he is drenched in sweat and tired, and yet he continues to be the most attractive person I have ever seen.

He stops to catch his breath, and only then do I realize that he no longer has the cape he was wearing before, in fact now his muscular arms are clearly evident, thanks in part to the tank top he was wearing.

"Where did your cloak go?" I ask, trying to distract myself in a very unsatisfactory way.

"I had to give it to Suriel, to get him to help me understand what you have." He says casually as he approaches me. At that gesture I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me, resting his hands on my shoulders. He then places his lips on my forehead to test whether I still have a fever. That gesture again unleashes a fire capable of burning whole woods in my stomach, and I groan, almost in pain, pushing him away from me.

"Did I hurt you?" Azriel asks worriedly, and I wave him off, so as not to worry him, but he doesn't seem convinced.

"What did Suriel tell you?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, as we were running away you spilled a jar of powders on yourself as we were going through that sorceress's store, remember?" Azriel says, looking at the ground, as if ashamed. I nod, remembering very well that damned jar, which made me sneeze for several minutes.

"You didn't read the label on that jar, did you?" He continues vaguely, so much so that nervous and without patience, I force him to look at me before answering him.

"Of course I didn't have time to look at it Az, go straight to the point." I say impatiently. His cheeks turn red, and he stammers something under his breath that I can't understand at first, so I ask him to repeat it. He raises his eyes and fixes his in mine, before repeating what he had tried to say before.

"It was sex pollen, the one that spilled on you." He says finally, and I feel the blood freeze in my veins, still in shock from the revelation he threw at me. "And according to Suriel, the only way to keep you from dying right now is to...well you know, go along with what your instincts are asking you to do."

"Thank you for explaining in such a nice way that I have to masturbate Az, really very nice." I say almost angry at him, even though I know I'm not really. I'm partly angry at myself for putting myself in that situation, but I can't do anything about it now, and now I'm also in danger of dying.

"Hey, I'm trying my best." He replies, scratching the back of his neck with his right hand, looking embarrassed.

"I know, I know Az, it's just-" I pause for a moment, trying to find a way to say it. I take a big breath and keep talking. "I've already tried touching myself, alone, down there, but it didn't do much good." I confess in a low voice, hoping he won't hear it, but unfortunately Shadowsinger's hearing is too acute to miss my confession. He freezes for a moment as if he is about to reason out what to do, then speaks again.

"I know." Azriel says in a guilty tone.

"What do you mean you know?" I ask shocked as I look at him, not understanding what he was referring to.

"Well the Suriel may or may not have told me that you would not be healed this way. "He continues as he watches the fire casting beams of light on the walls of the cave we are in. I stop again, and begin to reflect on all that I knew about these powders as I feel the pain getting worse and worse. By now I can feel my panties completely wet, as every single contact with what's around me unleashes a series of shivers that reaches to my core.

"I thought that was enough...well you get it. In all the books dealing with pollen with potential danger they say that's enough, be satisfied." I try to explain, as I draw a groan caused by my shifting which resulted in clenching my thighs together.

"I thought so too, but he said this doesn't count if-" He freezes as if he cannot find the words. I, growing more and more impatient, ask him aloud to continue.

"Az just doesn't seem like the time to be shy." I urge him to speak.

"He said it's not enough when you're in close proximity to your mate." He blurts out, standing up sharply. I squint my eyes not believing what my ears have just heard, but I immediately understand that feeling that has long been building in my heart toward my mate. Well I would say more than friend. I feel something forming in my chest that takes shape through a golden thread extending from my sternum to that of Azriel, who is currently turned his back to me as he looks out of the cave as if in the same there is the answer to this problem. Immediately I feel that silly happiness I felt at having found my mate, and that he was the man I actually loved all my life already disintegrating under the idea that he didn't want all that.

"You don't have to." I whisper, in the grip of ever-worsening cramps, but right now they seem like nothing more than mild pain compared to what my heart was feeling.

"You don't understand, if we don't do this, you will die and I won't let you die." He counters by turning around and dropping to his knees at my height looking me straight in the eye.

"I don't want your pity." I reply harshly as I try to get out of his sight, unable to do much given my condition, because I don't want him to see my suffering and the pain his rejection has triggered in me.

"No, I don't want my mate, the woman I've loved all my life to die and I'm pissed off at Mother because I didn't want it to happen like this between us the first time. I wanted to do everything right, take you to dinner, confess under the stars and then make love to you in my bed between the sheets I had specially chosen your favorite color, not on the floor in a stupid cave after risking our lives! When I knew you were my mate I wanted nothing more than to thank Mother, fate or whoever, but now I hate them because they had to pass the anger they vent on me to you, and I don't want to see you suffer because of me." He blurts out as he begins to walk around the cave again, then finishes his speech by looking at me. A strange light sparkles in his eyes, they look like the eyes of someone who loves to the point of being sick, to the point of suffering, and that love right now is directed at me. I can't believe his words, but that connection makes me feel that everything he just said is the truth, and immediately the happiness I lost a few moments ago returns, along with hope.

"We can still do it." I confess in a whisper and he immediately turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed over his beautiful eyes. "We can do it once we get home. We'll tell Rhys they can go screw him and his missions, and we'll take some time to figure this out and get used to it, and we can do everything you just said, because believe me I want to do all that with you."

"But?" He asks as he approaches.

"But now all I need is you fucking me as hard as you can in this shitty place so that I can stop dying and talk to you without having to moan every time." I say, as I grab his shirt with one hand, since he was now close enough to me, and kiss him with all the passion in my body.

I feel like I can finally breathe again as my lips on his, and I can already feel the pollen fade as the urge to feel Azriel inside me increases without measure.

"As my lady wishes." Whispers the Illiryan on my lips as we pull away from that breathless kiss. I immediately feel his lips graze my neck, to start biting and sucking on it as if his life depended on it. Every single movement of his lips and tongue made me touch the sky with one finger as I moaned his name as if I were a priestess intent on making a prayer and he the deity I believe in.

His lips then move from my neck to my breasts, where he begins to suck on my nipples like a hungry child. I bring my hands into his hair and pull them every time his tongue touches one of my sensitive spots.

"Baby doll, if you pull my hair one more time, I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from fucking you so hard I'll leave your silhouette on the floor of this place." He says pulling away for a moment to kiss my lips again.

My hands move down, and I begin to open his pants, while he begins to open mine.

"All words, I want to see some action." I reply, trying not to give away how much his words had affected me. He smirks, realizing that he actually made a mark with what he said, just brushing against my panties and feeling how wet they are.

"You will regret saying what you just said baby doll." Az replies, as with a quick gesture he enters of me. I didn't even notice that he had moved both my and his panties, but right now I don't care.

Feeling his cock inside me is an otherworldly experience. I can feel the walls of my pussy tighten around his sizable member as he tries to stay as still as possible to get me used to his size.

"Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel like you can't take it anymore, okay?" He asks softly, as he kisses my sweaty forehead. I feel the cramps from the sex pollen return, and I groan before I answer him.

"Az, I can't take it anymore, either you move or I swear I'm going to flip you over and start doing what I need to do on my own." I say, trying to move my hips slightly and create some friction, but he stops me, resting his hips on mine and giving that silly little smile that makes him so sexy.

"Oh, I can't wait to see you ride my cock, but I'd say leave that experience for another time. Tonight is just for you, and for your pleasure." He comments and then begins to move.

Immediately I feel every single part of the universe fall into place as he gradually increases his speed. My body seems to be persecuted everywhere with shivers of pleasure as his lips rest lightly on my breasts again. Between his mouth, his cock, and the sex pollen in my body my orgasm seems to come with a speed I never expected.

"Please Az, don't stop." I say groaning, feeling the pleasure grow more and more every second.

"Oh baby I could never deprive myself of the feeling of my cock against your cervix. You're going to come, aren't you?" She whispers back as I try to nod. "Then we'll come together love."

"Yes, please Az fill me." I continue, and I feel her muscles tense even more under my touch.

"Honey don't challenge me, you know I could fuck you so hard you wouldn't walk tomorrow even if you prayed to Mother." He counters by increasing his speed.

"It would certainly be worth it." I answer as I now feel I am on the edge of oblivion, just one thrust would be enough to sink into pleasure. I hold my breath for a moment as I feel him move for the last time before my body begins to move in convulsions of pleasure, and my vision becomes totally blurred.

I feel him releasing all his semen inside me shortly after coming, and I feel him lying on top of me, relaxing.

We stay like that for a few minutes before he starts laughing. I look at him not understanding why he is laughing until he explains himself.

"God, I guess in the end I will have Rhys to thank for this mission." Whispers Az.

"Actually it wasn't that bad." I comment, laughing in turn.

"Let's say it had its upsides." He replies with a wink. "But don't think it's over here, wait until you get home, and when I'm done with you the only thing you'll remember is my name."

Yes I would say we definitely have Rhys to thank.

TAGLIST

@horneybeach1 @peachyxrosie @whoreforblackhill @forsiriussake @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @ohemgeewhat @123345566 @kidsaproblem @lust4lucille @lisamanban123 @alina02 @shodowbane09 @supernatural-lvr

#hauntedwitch04's writing #acotar x reader #imagine acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #kinktober 2023

[leanleather]

Peach Whiskey, Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a saloon owner. On what should be a typical shift, a group of cowboys wander in. The leader of said group is Elvis Presley, a man with a reputation for his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger. Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: I was deeply inspired by A Whole Man is Hard to Find, an absolutely gorgeous peace by my now favorite author, @aconflagrationofmyown​. That being said, my knowlegde of the time period is nowhere near as good as Marina’s in that fic. I will be doing more and more research as this fic goes on, but for now I am relying on memory, movies, and Red Dead Redemption (hey, I love cowboys, ok?). This takes place in like the early 1800′s in a little made up town, but I picture it being like Rhodes from RDR2, so we’ll just say it’s in Georgia (my apologies to any from Georgia because I feel like I’m gonna butcher my knowledge of the state). Also I couldn’t find like an actual word for the leader of a cowboy posse? The only one I saw was sheriff so we will roll with it. I haven’t written a series in a LONG time, so bear with me please.

Warnings: Period typical violence, swearing, guns, death threats (not directed toward Y/N), unwanted and uncomfortable flirting, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW), use of the word “daddy” (in reference to an actual father, this is the old south y’all), cowboys, mentions of robbery & murder, jeez this isn’t looking good for just the first chapter, mentions of prostitution, family issues, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread lol

Your daddy had shook his head when you asked to work a couple of hours at The Silver Spur. It had been nearly a fortnight since the incident that made him remove you in the first place. Piggish men deep in their glass just couldn’t keep their tongue still, you had learned. Luckily your daddy had stepped in and escorted the man out, effectively suspending you in the process.

Yet here you stood, leaning against the wooden bar, diligently cleaning a glass with a well-worn cloth. It was a slow night--the occasional customer wandering in and sitting down to get piss fucking drunk--but you didn’t mind. Any citizen of  Lynnburn or wandering stranger could plant their soul in the saloon.

Lynnburn wasn’t a big town, housing no more than five-thousand and seven hundred residents. To any stranger it would have seemed nothing more than a dusty place with poor folks. That was the facade the town was lucky to have, keeping lush farmland hidden within the woods nearby. Corn was what kept the people fed and paid along with the yearly cattle sale. Horse shows had begun to turn a profit in the confines of the town’s stables, but it had only just started to gain the attention of outsiders. It both excited and worried Lynnburn natives. The Silver Spur drew in wanderers from all over the wooded state of Georgia. Your father’s well-known peach whiskey attracted all sorts of folks--most of which being shady business men looking to snatch farming land, or men passing through on their way to the big city.

One of those shady business men was sat at the end of the bar, nursing a drink in his sweaty palms, his eyes baring directly at your body. You paid him no mind as you continued your work. The consistent hum of patrons suddenly hushed, a rhythmic k'duh sound slicing through. Your eyes shifted as the glass was quickly abandoned beneath the counter of the bar. Plastering on a smile, your voice came out soaked in honey. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Finally the men came into view, and by god, the middle man was so pretty.

He had what could only be described as the face of a young adonis. A fine beau with soft, tanned skin covering a toned but equally soft body. The raven black hair pulled the focus to his eyes, bluer than the sky on an autumn day. But you recognized his face for another reason, one that made your hands tremble a bit.

The man and his companions filled the remaining seats at the bar. He pulled the hat off of his head and rested it on the counter. “Hi, honey. We’ll all just be havin’ whiskey, on me.” You gave a nod in response and started pouring the spirit. A few drops slid down the side of the glass, a soft apology leaving your lips.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Presley.” You sat the glass in front of him. Elvis Presley was sitting in your father’s saloon. The same man who had a hand in removing a whole gang from Lynnburn and stolen their loots, blood staining his hands and perhaps his soul, was now asking you for a drink. The cowboy let out a soft chuckle, his calloused hands wrapping around your own.

“You’re alright, darlin’. Ain’t none of us degenerates gon’ hurt you.” Elvis cooed. The skin on your face felt so hot, whether it was out of fear, embarrassment, or flattery, you weren’t sure. His friends gave agreeing nods or laughs of their own, the other patrons in the saloon melting back into their own conversations. “In fact, as long as we’re drinkin’ here, your safety is our priority.” He smiled at you--a big, toothy grin--and you could feel your stomach twist.

It wasn’t long before you had given out the rest of the drinks to his buddies--who you had learned were named Jerry, Sonny, Robert (who they called Red), and Scotty. They had been gentlemanly to you as soon as Elvis gave the word. For a moment, you were sure that the night would go on and end normally.

But that business man could only hold his tongue for so long. He was near red in the face when you approached to take his empty glass. “Sweet thing, how much would a man need to offer to get a night with you?” He rasped. You had to stop yourself from boiling over, instead choosing to stiffen and move away.

“I never.” You practically hissed. Before the man could part his lips to retort, another voice cut through.

“That’s enough. Leave the lady alone.” Elvis sneered. He was standing now, moved closer to the business man with his hands curled down by his sides. The gaggle of men he’d arrived with also focused on the situation with fierce snarls. “Why don’t you just pay your tab n’ go on home, huh?” The distinct click of a revolver hammer followed. A ghostly hue washed over the now disgruntled patron as he dug in his pockets, producing some silver coins and hastily setting them on the counter before rising and hurriedly shuffling out of your father’s business.

Your eyebrows remained raised in surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Presley, but you didn’t have to do that. Usually they take the hint after the first couple times.” You snatched the glass left by the offending male, cleaning it and shoving it below the counter. It was a lie. They didn’t stop, only kept perusing until they lost interest and paid a prostitute, or your father made an appearance and forced them to leave. You were silently thankful that a man with a violent reputation had chosen to have mercy on you that night. Though, you had never heard such things about the Presley gang--who you had heard called the Mephis Mafia by town-goers, on according that the men involved had moved from Memphis, in whispers at the general store or in the corner of the saloon--ever doing anything like that to a woman. But just because nobody thought a person could do something didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. It was a hard truth your mother had sowed in your brain. Love few, and trust even less.

Elvis nodded his head slightly, scooting the coins down to you and moving back to his seat. “I only regret that men speak to you that way. ‘Specially pigs like that, though that’s a dishonor to the swine.” Scotty laughed, swallowing down the last of his drink. “But like I said, nobody’s gon’ talk to ya like that when we’re here. Swear it.” The man looked back to his friends and received grumbled agreeances. “And please, call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my daddy.” That boyish smile made a reappearance, as if he hadn’t just threatened to paint the walls with the blood of another human being. It was sickening in a way--but, it had been in your favor. Elvis looked to the swinging doors, shaking his head softly and stretching. “Well honey, we best be goin’. Never did get yer name though.” It wasn’t a question. Not a ‘could I know your name’? It was almost a demand, but delivered much more gently. “It’s Y/N McCane, sir.” You returned his smile. You swiftly collected the empty glasses together. “Though I suspect you may know my brother, Teddy. He’s always runnin’ around town helpin’ folks with something.” Knowingly, Elvis leaned in.

“I do, actually. Good kid. Tried to recruit him a couple ‘a times, but he said your daddy wouldn’t want our blood money.” The blood running through you froze. The cowboy had been such a gentlemen before, but you couldn’t help the suspicion rising in you that it may have been a threat. “Relax, honey. Told ya. We ain’t that bad. Tell ya what,” Elvis leaned back to look at Jerry and cocked an eyebrow, the other man shrugging, “why don’t you come out to our ranch tomorrow? You can see what we’re really about.“ Shit. There’s no way your family would let you go out there. But, what harm could it do? “It will have to be after church, Mr. Pre- Elvis. Just...just meet me there.” You breathed quietly. The man across from you took your hand again, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Great. We’ll see you then. Come on boys, we got chores to wrap up!” Elvis reached into his pocket, pulling out what you quickly noticed was far too much money and setting it down. He left you no time to object before he ushered his posse out. Your elbows lifted to rest on the counter, your head landing in your hands with a sigh.

Once you’d closed The Silver Spur for the night, you hobbled up the stairs to your family’s abode, your stomach rumbling as you caught the smell of your momma’s cooking. You made no attempt to do anything but sit in the chair at the dining table. As you sat and locked hands with your family, your mother said grace and that was that. Not a word was spoken between mouthfuls. That was, until your father spoke. “How was work, Y/N?” It had startled you, nearly making you choke on the roasted chicken in your mouth.

“Mm, it was fine.” You replied as you wiped your face. The fork in your hand jabbed at the food on the plate. Your mind was at war with your mouth and it was unsure which would win. “Oh, uhm, Elvis Presley stopped in. Wanted me to visit his ranch.” The words spilled out of you so fast you’d barely avoided cutting yourself off with another mouthful of food.

Your father, however, became downright stiff. His utensils were abandoned on the table. “You let Elvis Presley convince you to visit his home? Good god...” Fingers grasped at the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fucking kidnap you now that he knows where to find you. What were you thinking?” He chastised. You dared not look at him, instead meeting the eyes of Teddy. His expression was sympathetic. He knew they weren’t completely awful, but his lips remained tight.

“Daddy, he ain’t that bad. Defended my damn honor and paid me more than enough for his buddies’ drinks.” You retorted, finishing your food. Long ago had you tired of his over-protectiveness. “I am grown. I can go where I please, when I please. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but just this once, please trust me.” It was pleading. Even a man as stoic as your father couldn’t resist giving in.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But please, take your gun? And at the first sign of anything going down, get the fuck outta there. Hear me?” You nodded excitedly. That was your cue to retire for the night, saying your goodnights to the family before heading to the room you and your brother shared. Laying in bed, you could not still your thoughts. Maybe you would ride along side the gang, hooves thundering beneath you, free as the hawks that soared the farmland looking for mice. Or maybe your father would be right, maybe you’d end up in a room in the middle of nowhere, praying for the same mercy shown to you tonight. All you could do was wait, hope, and make sure your gun was tucked into the garter on your thigh.

#elvis x reader #elvis imagine #cowboy!elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #cowboy elvis #Peach Whiskey fanfic #period piece #Peach Whiskey

[ms-hunybunny]

Dance of the Raven ch.1

Today, it was a gray, cold , and rainy October morning, just like it had been the day before and the day before that. The little drops of rain could be heard against the brightly colored circus tents that lined the camp grounds, each had different colored stripes so that it identified its purpose. 

The largest tent stood in the middle of the grounds; a beautiful Blue and white tent strung across its fabrics, this was where the main show was held each night after sundown.

During the day it was full of performers practicing their tricks and perfecting their craft.

Quite suddenly, the entrance to the dressing room had flown open, the wind from outside catching the wind chimes twinkling loudly. The cause of such an intuition had been a grumpy looking woman no taller than 5’4. Her wet, black hair hung down over her face. Her dress was soaked and dripping, her shoes leaving small puddles as she walked. She stopped for a moment to ring out her hair and catch her breath in the empty dressing room. 

Looking just past the curtain was a large circular room full of performers, occasionally you’d see a trapeze artist fly through the air, or a knife just barely miss its target.

“You keep being late like this Morrisa will have your head” the girl was met with a rag being thrown at her face

“Like you’re one to talk, Vincent,” the girl replied, patting her dress dry. 

“Hey, I’m not the one who put a target on her back,” Vincent chuckled, retreating back out into the main room. “That honor goes to you Petra.” she heard him reply from off in the distance. 

“Don’t get me started on her, I swear she expects me to perform miracles.” She trotted through the curtains catching up to her friend. 

“You are a magician.”

“Why do I keep you around again?”

“It must be my charming personality” Vincent bowed dramatically.

Vincent was a charming man that Amathea had befriended over the past few years of traveling with the circus His name was Vincent primrose, and he was quite the interesting individual, yet she had found a trusted companion in the man. He could always make her laugh with his weird sense of humor and was always a reliable friend, a faithful friend, someone she could trust. She was always struck with how different he was; his beauty held no comparison, seemingly sculpted by the hands of a talented artist with his mahogany brown hair, deep amber eyes, and full lips, yet he could be so goody with her. He had an intriguing heart, and you could not help but be drawn to his smile. Vincent, with all his oddities, was always there for her whenever she needed him. He once told her that he joined the circus to hide from his father but that was all he ever let on about his past.

“Come on let’s go”

The girl nodded and turned to follow him into the main room.

“Why are you here anyway? Aren’t you the doctor?” She asked the man.

“There is a reason, and I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Please don’t tell me, "Petra grumbled

At their first meeting, Petra had gotten the feeling that Morrisa didn’t really like anyone. By the end of her first session, it was made clear that she especially loathed Petra. 

She oversaw planning the show and training the performers. She was a talented acrobat, and everyone was impressed by her abilities and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they were nothing more than animals who lacked discipline to this woman. After doing trick after trick for her, none of them had pleased Morrisa. 

Morrisa always taught in the big top, every day before the main show but sometimes, always by surprise, they all had to take out all the equipment and nets to accommodate all the performers at once, then take them down to start the show. This wouldn’t be such a hustle if the main crew was allowed to help. Morrisa made sure only the performers set up everything, she insisted it build muscles, but most of the time they just ended up tired and sweaty.

Morrisa started every session with a roll call, yet she never called Petra by her name.

“and yes,” she said sharply. “The magician, late again I see.” Petra trotted into line with the rest of the performers. Morissa jotted down a few notes on her clipboard before she was approached by a younger looking blonde man, whispering something in her ear. 

Morrisa nodded, waving him away, “primrose, go see blackbourne right away he wishes to speak with you.” 

Vincent shot Petra a sympathetic smile before making his way out of the big top. Bowen and the knife thrower snickered behind her. 

“You are here to please a crowd, '' she began. Speaking  with such a ferocity that it demanded silence and perfection. No one dared make a sound. “As there are some of you who have been making a mockery of this fine circus, many of you will be cut from the upcoming shows. I do not expect you to understand the beauty of a trapeze artist flying through the air or a knife flying faster than you can previse. I can teach you greatness- sadly, most of you are complete idiots.”

More silence followed the speech, a few people exchanged looks with raised eyebrows, others expected this from her simply rolling their eyes. She said this every time, but she would never cut anyone, we barely had enough people to begin with. 

With the wave of a hand everyone was sent off to their separate stations. Morrisa taught in groups, but you were free to practice whatever you wanted until she made it to your group and found every little thing wrong in your act, and very rarely would add something new to the show. 

Petra stood on a box and placed a few small rocks at her feet. For the past week she had been trying to make the rocks pop like fireworks when she threw them. But she couldn’t even do it while they were standing still.

Petra had been a sorry excuse for a wizard she couldn’t even perform without a stinging pain shooting through her left arm. still she steadied her hands best she could and squinted her eyes, holding her hands out towards the rocks. She could feel it pulsing through her body like a wave flowing from her feet and out the tips of her fingers. One of the rocks had started to glow a faint purple-

“You know, staring at these rocks isn’t going to do anything,” A voice interrupted.

“Hello Sasha.” Petra replied casually, although feeling uncomfortable with his closeness. It was the blonde man she had seen standing next to Morisa during her role call from earlier, Sasha blackbourne. He was a taller man with shaggy blonde hair usually tied up in a ponytail, an eyepatch over his left eye, and no sense of when to leave women alone. And he was her boss.

“I just want to show you how much I love you sweetheart.” He placed a hand on her chin, lifting her focus from the rocks.

“Cut the crap Sasha,” she slapped his hand away. The only thing he had been interested in since Petra had arrived at the circus was what was in her draws.

“You know you would like it if you gave it a chance, let me ruin that beautiful skin of yours.” He sneered 

“Can you please just leave me alone for once, I’m trying to work here.” She tried to refocus her attention on the rocks in front of her.

“It’ll be quick, I can take you back to-“

“Miss Oppelt I hope you’ve been doing more than jovial chit-chat.” For once Petra had been pleased to see Morrisa 

The old woman watched her with little interest and a growing uncertainty in her craft. She made a crystal ball into a bubble; turned a piece of cloth into flowers, a glass of water into a handful of water, A five of spades into a twelve of spades, and a cat into a goldfish. Each time Morissa looked more and more displeased. She would glaze quickly at Petra with eyes that said, “You have to be kidding me.” Once she made a fresh seed sprout into a rose in seconds, even though the original turned out to be sunflower seed. 

Morissa’s lips turned into a sneer.

“Do you think an audience would believe that?”

“I don’t know mam.” She replied, her shoulders falling to her sides.

“Well, it looks like magician’s aren’t all they are cracked up to be.”

She ignored Petra’s protest.

“Let us try this again and try to be entertaining.”

Petra searched for her mind for a trick she knew that would make her even remotely smile. She reached into the pockets of her dress for a small bottle filled with a semi-translucent liquid. Opening the lid, she dabbed a few drops on her hands. Rubbing them together she rose them to her face, parting her hands as the liquid stretched and stretched. Taking a deep breath, she blew into the liquid. Small bubbles popped out flowing through the air. A few of them popped in Ms. Morrisa's face.

Petra had to hold back her laughter, looking at the woman's face now curled into the dumbest face she had ever seen, it had curled in one of disgust not to unlike a troll she had seen a few years ago. A few people laughed; she caught Luna’s eye, and Luna winked. Morrisa, however, was not pleased.

“Get back to work, the lot of you!” She snapped her face now burning red with rage. “For your information, witch, people do not want your parlor tricks, they do not want you sweet words, and as long as I breathe you will not perform in my circus. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a sudden rush of people getting back to practice. Over the noise Morrisa said, “And I would watch yourself, I wouldn’t step out of line again if I were you.”

Thankfully after that things got better. Morrisa left her alone to work, and Sasha had moved on to one of the acrobats. After a few hours Morrisa had gathered all the main performers for a run through the show. And Petra was excused to go attend to her other duties.

One of the many that she cycled through was to help with food prep. Mostly defeathering chickens and peeling potatoes to which she was doing the ladder. It was nice to just sit and peel potatoes along with other veggies, she was able to just sit and think for a while after getting into a flow. 

The rain had stopped after a bit and she was able to move her chair a little closer to the entrance of the kitchen, just to get some fresh air. Looking out she could see a small raven sitting on one of the flag poles close by. Petra had always loved ravens, they were smart, and funny. Her mother had always said they just had that look to them, that she just knew they were magic. The memory made her smile, throwing one of the potato skins towards the bird. 

“Ay, Petra, I’ve been looking for you!” The sudden voice had caused her hand to slip, cutting her finger in the process. 

“Gods be damned Cass, a little warning would be nice!?” Petra wrapped the now bleeding finger in her handkerchief 

“What do you want me to do? Knock on the tent, ``ooh hey Petra is it okay if I come in?” Cassandra, a burley dwarven woman, said sarcastically, jokingly mimicking the movement. 

Petra just held her injured finger glaring at her, eyes in semi-annoyance, but couldn’t stay mad at her forever, Cass was another good friend of hers and worked as a dwarven cannonball. “What did you need Cass?” 

“Vincent’s lookin for ya. Wants you to meet him at the new show tent, you know the one over by the oddities show you work at. Cass said grinning.

“Alright, I’ll head over there when I can.” Petra replied.

“Don’t keep 'em waitin, he said it’s something interesting.” With that Cass took her leave. Looking back, she headed into the kitchen, the now bloody handkerchief wrapped around her finger, 

“Hey Galamesh! I need to go to the medical tent!” she called out to him. The half-orc looked from behind his pots and pans.

“A small cut won't stop you from cooking, you're fine.”

“Well then I hope you like blood in your soup.” She replied, holding up her bloodied hand.

“Fine, fine, just be back soon, you still got work to do,” he huffed. 

“Be back before you can miss me.” Petra replied, taking her leave. It wasn’t necessarily a lie, Vincent was a doctor after all.

She knew she would have to be careful sneaking in, the tent Vincent had mentioned wasn’t far from the big top and she could make it unnoticed pretty easily. 

Very carefully Petra had made her way to another tent situated about ten yards from the big top, carefully hidden by several bushes along the way. Pushing through the back entrance a sudden chill went up her spine as a whisper came from behind her. 

“Everything is set up for the show tonight.” Petra quickly analyzed the room in front of her looking for something to hide away in; but the only thing big enough for someone her size had been an old cleaned out wine barrel. She made her way inside hugging her knees to her chest so as to fit comfortably inside. And just in time too as the footsteps got closer a familiar voice spoke out. 

“Did you manage to get the damn thing out of its cage?” It had been the voice of the ringmaster, Mr.blackbourne. He was an intimidating man standing six and a half feet tall but it felt like seven if you stood in front of him. The first thing you noticed when you looked at him was the large scar running down his face, most would assume it had come from what was once the lion now hanging from his neck acting as a sudo cape. 

Petra watched the two walk past her letting out a sigh of relief. Carefully as she could she lifted the barrel and backed away as slowly as she could, doing her best to not alert the two. Whatever Vincent wanted to show her it better be worth it. 

“Petra is that you?”

She nearly jumped out of her own skin, her face twisting in annoyance. “Vincent I swear…” she paused, resisting the urge to slap him across the face. “This better be worth it”

Vincent’s face lit up in a mix of a smile and a smirk, “oh, he is.” Vincent had just as suddenly grabbed Petra’s hand guiding her towards another area of the tent, stumbling through the back area and hiding them behind a couple boxes close to the main stage.

Atop the stage stood a tank filled with semi-translucent water, a few decorative rocks placed around it to help give the stage a more natural look. At the top of the stage was Mr. Blackbourne looking down into the water, a long golden batton gripped in his hand, a small glowing crystal glowing on its tip. 

The two watched as a small harbor seal swam past the glass, his coal shimmering a beautiful silver. 

“So it's just a harbor seal,” whispered Petra. “I mean it’s cool and all but not worth risking my ass over it.” 

“Just watch” Vincent hissed back, giving her a good nudge on the shoulder. 

Looking back at the stage Petra watched as Blackborne took out the whistle hanging it on his neck. Yet Petra could not hear the sound it made. 

Time seemed to slow down in front of her eyes as the harbor seal jumped from the water, the droplets melting away the silver coat as it flew through the air revealing a man underneath before he once again dove back into the water. 

Petra could feel her heart racing, ‘what was that.’ She waited in stunned silence, never in all her years had she seen something so beautiful. Most creatures of their world had been vicious and ugly, yes there were the outliers but they were never seen. Hiding away out of fear of man. Hiding in forests that never dwindle, using magic of their own to hide themselves away. But this, this creature was real, just as real as her. Not one of the cheap replicas they had outside. 

“His name is Lir” Vincent said under his breath 

“Lir..” Petra repeated. 

“They are calling him a selkie.” Vincent explained, “Do you see the coat he’s wearing?” Petra nodded. “Well that’s the skin of the seal that was in the tank, that is his true form. Blackborne bought the skin off some smuggler from Icarus and now Lir belongs to him.” 

“Wait belongs? I thought slave trade was outlawed all across our travel routes.” Asked Petra

“On our routes yes, but the selkie is a loophole, it's considered a bound contract, in most cases owning a selkie’s coat is a sign of marriage. I think in this case it’s more ownership than marriage though.”

“How do you know all this anyway?” She asked, slumping down behind the boxes. 

“Remember when Blackbourne called me to his office earlier, well a few days ago he had asked me to be Lir’s caretaker, today was the first time I got to see him in person. I think he wants me to be Lir's caretaker for a while so I can keep an eye on his health.” Vincent sighed. 

Looking over his face Petra could see he was worried, he had certain tells that she had learned to read over the past couple years like how he would bite the inside of his cheeks . “There’s something you’re not telling me Vincent.” She placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.  He shrugged it off.

“We should go, I don’t want us getting caught here.”

 Petra had gotten up to leave when Blackbourne’s yelling rang through the silence, turning back to look towards the stage. At this point Lir had gotten back into the water swimming towards the edge. 

“Give back the coat seabeast, don’t make me take it from you.” Blackbourne gripped the staff harder. Lir just shook his head diving below the water. The two of them watched as blackbourne reached under the water pulling the selkie out by his hair. He struggled to escape his grasp, writhing in pain. Blackbourne pulled out the staff, shoving into Lir’s stomach, flashes of light lit up the room, electricity crackling through his body. 

Petra felt she wanted to scream, opening her mouth to pretest, Vincent quickly pulled Petra back behind the barrels, quickly silencing her potential scream. He turned her towards him and whispered. 

“There’s nothing we can do Petra” Vincent avoided her eyes. Her lip trembled; the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She looked back at the stage, Vincent not bothering to stop her this time. She saw blackbourne throw Lir to the ground, blood splattering across the stage and in one fell swoop he took the coat from the selkie’s hands. 

“Primrose, get in here!” Blackbourne called. 

Vincent turned Petra's face back towards him, “Petra, go back to your post. I have to go now.” His words were cold and unmoving. Petra nodded and left the way she had come; her worlds had left her. She made her way back to her shared train cart, she needed a moment to process everything that had just happened, the selkie, the staff, the blood. All of it felt to much the thoughts twisting her stomach into a knot, her eyelids felt heavy and her feet like stone. She buried herself into her pillow, even her breath trembled. She had to get back to work, but she could spare a few minutes.

#fantasy #irish mythology #irish folklore #selkie #novel #book #fanfic #circus #dnd #dnd homebrew #raven #raven queen

[elkian]

also personally my favorite (feasible-ish) HC for why you survive is that Benny is a cheapass bitch who uses shitty, ancient Surplus ammo and it does way less damage than he expected

#benny gecko #fnv #fallout new vegas #elk text #13th #November #2021 #November 13th 2021 #ask to tag #and hey it's the middle of the night and all of his 'companions' are sweaty tired and sick of his shit #so no one checks too close #basically it like. misfired or decayed or something

[the-passenger-if]

A prompt for the angst but!! How would the ros deal/treat/react to a newman that had frequent panic attacks? (If your comfortable answering, and no ones asked before) I imagine since the whole reason we're on earth is because we're trying to hide from this eldritch diety who wants to inhale us whole, and to top it all off newman doesnt even have enough energy to leave. That would cause any being an extreme of stress and anxiety. Especially after Tzr'nekre actually finally locates us

combining it with

if its not too spoilery, how would the ROs react to the MC waking up from a nightmare (say, one in which the RO got possessed by tzr'nekre?) and MC just clings to them, crying, after waking up, and refusing to explain but its obvious they had a terrible nightmare?

This isn’t what Fiama imagined when she was awaken by Newman’s warm face pressing against her breasts, ragged breathing and all. She wants to grab a hold of their head, hold them there, but as her hand brushes their cheek, she finds it damp. Maybe with sweat, maybe with tears.

“Baby?” she asks in a hushed whisper. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The only reply she gets is a stuttering intake of breath. And then her partner’s arms are sneaking around her—one under her neck, the other around her waist—and Newman is squeezing her tight.

Fiama is strong, she has always been. Her mother once told her—not in kind terms—that she truly took after her father’s sisters; their arms, made to keep children from ripping one another’s eyes out, their legs to carry drunken husbands back home. Now, trapped in Newman’s strong embrace, she feels like the type of dainty, unobtrusive creature her mom wished she had grown into.

She takes a deep breath—as deep as she's able to within her lover’s tight grip—and tries again. “Babe… you’re… crushing me.”

The hold eases up an instant later, but Newman doesn’t let go. They bury their wet face in Fiama’s neck, still silent. It’s alarming to say the least, but she keeps her voice calm. “Are you hurting?” Newman shakes their head. “Are you sad?” She hugs them, feels them shaking in her arms—Newman doesn’t shake like this. “Are you scared?” She didn’t want to sound so flabbergasted (so ‘judgy’ her mother would say) but she can’t help it.

Once again, Newman doesn’t answer, but they do bury their face deeper into Fiama. It takes her by surprise; they have always seemed so unaffected by everything…

She hugs them tight and says the only thing she can think of, “I’m here, babe. And I’ll always be. I don’t know what or who is making you feel like this, but you aren’t alone. I’m with you.” She kisses the top of their head, murmuring every promise she knows she can keep.

A few minutes later, Newman is fast asleep again.

---

Sleeping next to another person in a bed that wasn’t made to be shared by two adults is uncomfortable, but it was late and Newman hadn’t brought their bike, ignoring that Joaquin’s car was at the shop, and Lucia had taken hers that night.

It’s ok, Jonny thinks to himself while he stares at the ceiling, we’ll just wait until my folks leave for work tomorrow. It doesn’t have to get awkward for anyone.

When was the last time he’d shared a bed? Probably when he was around twelve and Quino got scared by a storm and woke him up in the middle of the night, cold hands slipping under the sheets and touching the back of his neck. Dumbass always did the same thing, no matter how many times Jonny punched him to dissuade him. Of course Jonny could never stay mad at his twin for long, and they would share the bed in the end—Jonny grousing about Quino’s cold hands and Quino whining about Jonny hogging the covers.

As if invoking his brother, he feels hands around his neck now; cold, sweaty hands. Even though they don't belong to Quino, the way they’re clinging to him is pretty reminiscent of the way his twin used to squeeze him whenever lightning stroke too close.

“Are you ok?” he asks stupidly. Of course they aren’t; Newman is scared. “What is it?” he tries again, but Newman says nothing, they only keep tightening their grasp around Jonny. He takes their hands and tries to free himself. “Newman, you’re going to choke me.”

Slowly, those cold fingers loosen, giving him a chance to sit up.

“Don’t go!”

“Hush,” Jonny hisses. “Damn it, Newman. Remember we aren’t alone.” He takes the hand that is now gripping the front of his shirt and tries to hold it, but Newman doesn’t budge. “Please,” he whispers.

“Don’t go,” it’s the barely audible plea he gets as a reply.

“I won’t,” he assures them. After another second, Newman lets go, and Jonny takes the hand and gently rubs it between his. “Come here,” he whispers, and Newman doesn’t need to be told twice. They get between his legs and rest on their side and against Jonny’s chest. Jonny takes the covers and pulls them over both of them, and there, with an arm around Newman’s shoulder, he can feel their muscles begin to slowly relax.

---

Roach didn’t usually do this; lying down in bed while their conquests sleep. They had realized that there was so much one could do to pass the time, and watching people drooling was amusing just the first dozen times.

They turn another page of the magazine they stole from that gas station three towns over, the one with the old, balding clerk that had given Roach the evil eye from the moment they dared to set a foot in his territory.

The light is off but that’s ok because Roach doesn’t need it to read, the same way they don’t need it to sneak glances at Newman’s sleeping form. It’s something they do, they tell themself, to pass the time, and not because Newman’s face is nice to look at or anything like that. They aren’t expecting to find their companion awake the next time they look their way, least of all with a terrified look set on their face.

Roach opens their mouth to ask what’s going on, but the words die out as they are wrapped in a tight embrace. The fact that they were so distracted by Newman’s expression that their reflexes vanished for a hot minute, says something. Something Roach doesn’t want to acknowledge right now, so they don’t. Instead, they let their body go limp in Newman’s arms, let them squeeze and squash until they seem to come out of their trance.

“R-Roach?”

“Yes?” they ask in return.

“Are you… ok?”

Roach wriggles to put some distance between Newman and them—as much as their companion’s steel grip allows, anyway—and runs a hand over Newman’s face, wiping off the sweat. “Just a couple broken ribs,” they say, “I’ll live. What about you? What had you panicking like this?”

Newman retracts from those words like a shy snail. It really takes Roach by surprise. They can’t think of many things that might scare Newman, which at least makes the list of suspects quite short.

“Hey,” they whisper in a way that they hope sounds both unaffected and reassuring, “I would know, remember? There’s only you and me here, no third roommate. You can relax.”

Their words, true as they are, do very little to calm Newman down, so Roach sighs and nuzzles against their jaw. “Squeeze away then,” they mutter and kiss Newman’s skin. “I’ll be the prettiest stress ball you’ll ever have.”

---

It isn’t a gentle awakening. Horizon’s muddled thoughts crash into one another as the Domini unsuccessfully tries to slip away from the tight embrace they are being subjected to. What’s going on? their mind asks, half asleep, half panicking.

Memories from last night come back to them as if slogging through a swamp; they remember having dinner with Newman, chatting and somehow ending up in bed together. They remember the tenderness of the moment, the way they felt like they could melt as Newman and they cuddled together...

Horizon strains their neck trying to look over their shoulder, but even with the rays of moonlight seeping through the window, the only thing they have an eyeful of it’s their own dark curls. Newman’s chest is pressed against Horizon’s back and now that the Domini is fully awake, they can feel the other’s racing heartbeat. It scares Horizon, it makes them want to ask what’s going on, what happened to Newman, what, what, what…

They fight those urges. They take a deep breath, find one of Newman’s hands and softly cover it with theirs. “You are in my cabin,” they whisper, “you are in ranch 48, in Luna Ridge. We had diner and I asked you to spend the night. Remember that?”

There’s a long pause, then Horizon feels them nodding against their back. A couple seconds later the iron grip eases up. It gives the Domini a chance to turn around, and very gently press their forehead against Newman’s damp one. “Deep breaths,” they whisper and then are doing just that, hoping Newman will follow their example. An instant later, they are.

Feeling Newman’s muscles relax as they get their breathing under control brings a smile to the Domini’s face.

#ask #tp fiama #tp jonny #tp roach #tp horizon

[from-a-reckless-writer]

because, i think it's stupid that lena wouldn't have a back-up plan after alex took the device from her...

“Hey, Alex,” Lena calls, jogging to where Alex was putting her jacket on. Everyone was already gearing up to go home and she’s been thinking about this for the past hour. 

So, Lena shoots her shot.

“Yeah?” Alex turns to her, motor helmet in hand and already clad in her leather jacket.

“I was wondering if I can bring home the tracker? I know it’s a long shot but I was thinking maybe if I get another look at it, I can reverse engineer some of its properties and try to come up with a another way to get Kara back, I know Nia’s already doing the time-travel the but it can’t hurt to-”

Alex mercifully puts a stop to her rambling and puts a hand on her arm to stop her nervous fidgeting.

“I left it on top of the workstation.” She smiles in reassurance. “Of course you can take another look at it. Anything to help Kara.”

Lena lets out a relieved sigh. After everything that’s happened today she’s still a bit wary of stepping on anybody’s toes. That showdown with Alex was really something not to mention that talk after.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.”

“Alright. Good night.”

She sprints to the lab--which looks like more of an awkward gallop in her high heels--and snatches the tube-like device from the table.

She doesn’t even realize she’s hitching an elevator ride with Nia and Brainy—too caught up with planning out what to do with the device—till Nia speaks up, “Hey, that wasn’t bad for a first day.”

Lena looks up from the device in her hands, meeting Nia’s eyes.

“What’d I tell you, Nia Nal? Lena has always been extraordinary,” Brainy states, pressing for the ground floor.

“T-thank you,” she says, voice shaky and shy, but who can blame her? She isn’t used to this kind of appreciation. She still can’t believe they’ve accepted her like this, even though she very nearly ruined the whole mission by choosing Kara above everything else. 

It was a good thing Alex was there to call the shots.

Nia gives her a small smile before slowly closing her eyes and resting her head against Brainy’s shoulder.

They say their goodbye’s at the door and then Lena’s speeding her way to her apartment.

***

The device worked with Kara’s DNA before it got recalibrated, if, and that’s a big if, Lena thinks.

If she can extract Kara’s DNA, replace the core of the device, and input it in, then she can recreate the same tech she did earlier.

She already knows she’s not going to get any sleep tonight.

She pulls up in front of her building and heads straight for her penthouse.

Kara hasn’t been here for a year, what with their falling out and everything that’s happened with Lex. They didn’t even have a chance for one last movie night before Kara disappeared.

Her eyes start to sting with unshed tears at the thought, but knowing the work she has to do tonight, she quickly pushes it down.

Despite Kara not having visited her home recently, Lena knows there are many traces of her in this place. Namely, the lavender hairbrush living in her second bathroom drawer, the one she didn’t have the heart to throw away even during their fight.

She quickly makes for her bathroom, throws open the drawers, grabs the brush and puts it in a clean zip-lock, one she pulled from the kitchen.

She didn’t even bother changing clothes.

She was too busy outlining tonight’s lab work in her head to bother with something as trivial as changing clothes.

There are more important things to do, like busting inside the LuthorCorp tower, and down to what used to be her private lab. Lex hasn’t changed security. This, she knows. Therefore, she also knows that Mr. Johnson still works the night shifts and if she plays her cards right, she can sway him to open the door for her and keep it discreet.

Of course, you must be wondering why doesn’t she just use her private lab at home, instead? The reason being, her private lab is strictly an engineering and physics lab. What she needs right now, is enzymatic reagents and buffers; a gel electrophoresis machine and a PCR machine.

All of which can be found in LuthorCorp’s cutting-edge Biochemistry laboratory.

***

Turns out, she was right.

Mr. Johnson still does the nightshift and he was only a tad bit surprised to see her there. Already used to Lena staying holed up all night long, in her lab in the past.

He tells her he’s on her side despite the bad news about the Luthor Children’s Hospital, tells her that most of them here dearly misses Miss Luthor and hopes that Lex as CEO is only a temporary thing. He also tells her thank you again for the thousandth time for Lena saving his daughter’s life. Lena smiles warmly and asks if he can keep this visit under wraps if he doesn’t mind, to which he immediately agrees. Lena fights the urge to let out another sigh of relief.

See, Lex? It pays to treat people kindly.

It’s 11 pm when Lena reaches the labs. It was already dark, save for the lights of the big freezers. She knows there’ll be footage of her little excursion here but that’s an easy enough problem to solve when you have a Twelfth-Level intellect as back-up.

When she said she isn’t going to sleep tonight, she really genuinely means she isn’t going to sleep tonight.

See, it’s already 11 and she needs at least an hour to sterilize all equipment, another hour to sift through the clump of hair in the brush and look for an intact hair shaft. Then, she estimates 2 hours for extracting the DNA from the hair shaft using enzymes and she knows all too well how long a time it takes for a pipette to find the right fit during electrophoresis, not to mention the PCR machine can take 2-4 hours.

And even then, Lena still has to test the device, link it to her transmatter portal in order to open a portal once she gets Kara’s coordinates and after all that she isn’t really sure if this is going to be effective.

She has half a mind to call Brainy here and run her through all the probabilities.

But she knows this is something she needs to do alone.

***

It’s been so long since she’s had to do anything with physiology that she has to spend at least 30 minutes reading up the lab manual.

Extracting cattle DNA like she did back in college was an easy enough task with someone with the brains as hers, but a Kryptonian’s?

Lena had to do some extra calculations on what temperature to set and how much solution to use to get through Kara’s hair of steel.

In the end, she figured it out and soon enough the hum of the PCR machine becomes her only companion. It took a while to denature Kara’s DNA, she had to double the amount of Taq polymerase before actually getting it to the PCR machine.

It’s 4 am now, and she only has two hours before the LuthorCorp employees show up; two hours before her brother pulls up.

Thank God, for state of the art PCR machines that get things done in under an hour.

***

She’s been actively avoiding thinking of Kara throughout all of this.

But now, she’s home and in her private lab with Kara’s DNA strands in vials inside the LuthorCorp sterile container.

If she pulls this off, if this works, Kara would be home.

She won’t have to talk to holograms anymore, she won’t have to dream about bloody capes, she won’t have to feel incomplete anymore. Kara would be home. She can bring Kara home.

With a newfound determination, she sets on recalibrating the device. She takes out a vial of Kara’s DNA; gloved hands carefully inserting it unto the core of the device.

Now, onto the second part; linking her transmatter portal to open up at the exact coordinates the tracker points.

The whole process took her at least two hours. By the time she trudges to her bedroom to test the device, the sun was already peeking up from the horizon.

She opts to do it in her bedroom, granted that her physics lab was nothing more but the size of two small rooms mashed together. Her bedroom was more spacious and in the event that Kara needs to lie down, her bed would only be three steps away.

The device feels heavy in Lena’s hand, it actually feels alive. Lena supposes, it is. 

It does have Kara’s DNA in it after all.

She feels like this is one of those moments where it will be ingrained in your brain for forever. That small in-between in the middle of the Before and After. The realization of how important this moment is clears up her mind.

So, with sweaty hands she raises the device, clicks something on her wristwatch, watches as the tube fills with a blue hue getting brighter and brighter, till a streak of blue-white light beams out from the device and from a single point starts to form the beginnings of a portal.

Lena’s seen one too many portal openings for a lifetime to know in the next instant that this is it, it works.

She fucking did it.

***

A gust of ice cold air is the first thing that hits Lena once the portal fully opens.

The next was the sight of Supergirl. Kara. She was slumped against a boulder; cape tattered, hair dirty and face begrimed. She looked tired, exhausted, and in those first few seconds, Kara had her eyes closed.

Before it hits Lena all at once, Kara’s right there! She’s right there! She found Kara! Kara is right there, just three steps away—

“KARA!” She shouts, runs to the portal and into the Phantom Zone.

Kara jerks at the call of her name, squints her eyes at the bright blue portal before she realizes a figure is barreling straight for her, screaming her name.

A figure she knows all too well, a voice she knows all too well.

Before she knows it Lena’s crashing unto her place on the ground, two arms wrapping at Kara’s neck, sobbing, “It worked! Oh, God, it worked, I found you! I found you, I found you-”

All Kara could do was mutter a Lena in response, still suspended in disbelief.

Lena pulls back to touch her face and Kara finally takes a good look at her. Lena knows her hair was a far cry from her prim ponytails, she’s been tugging at it since midnight, her face was blotchy with tears and her eyes must’ve screamed exhaustion. But she couldn’t care less about her appearance, because Kara was here, she found Kara.

Kara was here and she’s crying too, also bringing a hand to Lena’s face and wiping at her tears.

They were crying and smiling and sobbing in each other’s arms.

“You found me.”

Lena leans in to Kara’s touch, both hands cradling Kara’s hand on her cheek, smiles in between sniffles and nods.

“I did, Kara I did. I found you. I'll always find you.”

“Take me home, Lena.”

***

Alex picks up on the third ring.

“Lena?” she answers, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I found her, Alex, I found her, she’s home.”

“What? Who? Lena what-”

“Kara. Kara’s home, Alex.”

The next thing Lena hears were sobs. She passes the phone to Kara, who was still in her filthy supersuit, sitting on the edge of Lena’s queen bed probably making it dirty beyond saving but Lena cannot find in her to care.

“Hi, Alex.”

She exits the room to give the Danvers sisters some privacy and also to prepare Kara a shower, grabs a couple of Kara’s clothes from when they still had sleepovers and left it in the bathroom counter.

By the time she comes back again, Kara’s put the phone down, still sitting on the bed and fiddling with her thumbs. Kara looked small like this and there’s nothing more Lena wants to do than to embrace her.

So, she does.

“Hi,” Kara says, as she holds Lena close, Lena straddling her lap, foreheads pressed together.

“Hi back,” she whispers, smile in her voice, Kara’s blue eyes were filled with exhaustion but still beaming bright just for her. “Would you like to take a shower? I’ve prepared the bath for you.”

Kara nods, refusing to pull away, “Okay, okay, great,” she mutters even though the both of them make no move to pull away from each other, choosing to remain in this quiet existence of overwhelming love for each other’s presence, instead.

There’s still so much to say and so much to do, but all of that can wait, everything can wait, there’s no rush.

Her hero is finally home after all.

***

When she opens the door, Alex crashes into her with an embrace so tight, Lena had trouble breathing. Kelly closes the door for them, they drove here still in pajamas Lena notices, as Kelly gives her a smile from over Alex’s shoulder.

“Where is she?” Alex gasps out, tears springing from her eyes at the sight of Kara’s supersuit on the floor, right next to her grimy red boots. Concrete proof that her sister really is home, that Lena really did the impossible.

“In the shower,” Lena murmurs, giving Kelly a cup of tea as Alex paces in anticipation, Lena was half-afraid she’d wear a hole in her hardwood floors.

“H-how?” Alex asks, too emotional to let out a full sentence.

“Well,” Lena begins, and takes them through the entire process of what she had done the night before, how she didn’t sleep, how she kind of needs Brainy to scrub clean the LuthorCorp surveillance system, how she replicated Kara’s DNA as substitute for the life force in that crystal, how the portal had opened in her bedroom.

Alex took all of this in with quiet tears streaming down her face and Kelly’s hand tight in hers.

“Thank you, Lena. Thank you.”

***

The sight of the Danvers sisters reuniting was something that would make even a grown man weep.

Alex collides into Kara, before she even gets the chance to say her name.

“Rao, Alex, I missed you.”

Alex couldn’t respond to hearing her sister’s voice again for the first time, so she just sobs into the embrace.

Lena has to wipe away a stray tear or two before turning around, feeling like this moment was something too precious to intrude on.

This moment belonged to Kara and Alex, not her.

Kelly did the same and asked Lena if it would be okay to use her kitchen, she wanted to fix Kara her first breakfast.

***

“Are you sure you’d rather stay the night here?” Lena murmurs unto the crown of Kara’s head.

They were both laid in Lena’s bed, she doesn’t why she asked, when the both of them are already in pajamas and are two seconds away from slumber still Lena can’t help but ask.

Surely, Kara would want to spend her first night back in her own bed rather than here, right?

“M’sure, I’m right where I want to be,” Kara says around a yawn, pressing close to Lena, and nuzzling into her neck. She was clearly wearied, which was totally understandable, hell the both of them were. Lena’s been up for 24 hours. She’s amazed her body hasn’t knocked her out yet.

After that emotional morning, Alex insisted Kara be checked in The Tower. And so they did, everything was fine with her vitals, though they all still insisted she stay a couple of hours under the sunlamps. All of them knows, there was no sunlight in the Phantom Zone.

Nia, Brainy and M’gann all had teary reunions with Kara. Although, Nia’s was the most amusing one, “I’m sorry, in advance,” she said between sniffles, “But I just couldn’t think of anything and- and- Andrea was grilling me so I just said you were with Cat,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, Nia,” Kara laughs, “We’ll work on it together,” she promises.

Seeing Kara back with everyone, seeing her in her pastel clothes, seeing her without her glasses; laughing and soft and safe has Lena crying quietly again at the memory.

“Hey? Why are you crying? This is a happy day, remember? I’m home. You brought me home. No more crying, okay?” Kara tells her from her place in the bed.

“I know.” Lena quickly wipes a tear, “I’m sorry, I’m just happy. So, so happy.”

She is. She really, really is. Especially right now, finally laying in bed with Kara after a long two weeks of lonely nights.

Kara requested to be held tonight, asking Lena shyly, “C-can you hold me? For tonight? Please?”

Lena was powerless and now here they were.

“For the record,” Lena says, “I’m right where I want to be, too.”

#ignore the science part i read like one article from ncbi and then wrote that shit in #sdfjklasdjf thats like stock knowledge from my past biochem lessons #anyways yeah cos i really think it's stupid that lena wouldn't have a back up plan or at least a replica of the tech #the reckless writer writes #supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp #supercorp fic #supergirl spoilers #rcklss writes

[sableseb]

Dirty Disco

Harry Styles x f!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, rough & quick, choking, grinding, slight name calling, use of drugs, slight peer pressure

tags: @meetmeatyourworst​ @greeneyedblondie44​

a/n: This is a request that wanted a story based off the photo below! To the person who wanted this, I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.x

The club is in full swing. Hot, sweaty bodies pressed against one another, music vibrating the dance floor, and couples occupying each darkened corner. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than right here. You craved a night out. And what better place to go than one of the most elite nightclubs in New York? 

You squeeze your way into the mass of people to join in on the sleazy dance floor behavior. You let the music take over your movements. Hips winding against a man’s, chest pressed against a woman’s and completely lost in the feeling of the erotic nature of being between two people in such a compromising way.

Suddenly, you couldn’t feel anyone against you. Until, two hands pull you in close from behind to rub himself to the beat against you. You had it in mind to turn around and tell this asshole he couldn’t just touch you as he pleased and maybe even smack him for good measure. But, all those thoughts left as soon as they entered when you meet a pair of eyes that are the prettiest shade of green you’ve seen, complemented by the mop of brown hair.

You find yourself wanting to be smacked by him. He chuckles at the way your mouth is slightly agape, obviously expecting to see an ugly weirdo with grimy hands. Instead, you got the most handsome weirdo with grimy hands. And that made all the difference. You get your mind straight and turn back around letting him guide you against him.

You grind against one another to the music shaking the walls. The smooth material of his pants feels good against your heated skin. He’s taking his time with you, moving your ass against his hard on he got when he first laid his eyes on you in that mini skirt and shirt that’s barely keeping your chest concealed. 

Grasping the hem of your skirt, you lift it up a bit and bend over to give him a glance of your perfectly plump ass straining against the black mesh. You gasp as his hands move from your hips to palm the firm flesh. You wanted to feel those rings everywhere. The cool metal excites you even more.

After letting him have his fun for a moment, you straighten back up to lace your fingers through his thick hair and pull him against your neck, backside still moving along with his front. You feel the hot puffs of air he’s emitting and it sends shivers down your spine, straight to your aching heat. His hands wander up your torso to rub and grab at your chest causing you to arch forward in his grasp.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” 

His voice catches you off guard for a moment. His accent is thick, annunciations as slow as honey dripping from the comb. 

“Looking for an escape is all.” you reply next to his mouth, trying to catch a taste of him.

He spins you forward and leans in close to your ear, lips grazing the shell of yours as he says, “I can help with that if you're interested.”

If he didn’t catch your attention before, he surely has it now. He’s tall and lean, clad in a tight vest that showcases his firm chest with a cross resting upon it. Tattoos splattered all along his tan skin. This man is trouble. Lucky for you, trouble is exactly what you’re looking for.

“How can you help?” you question with a glint in your eyes.

He smirks and takes your hand to lead you away from the dance floor. The music is but a low vibration in the back room you find yourself in with a man who’s name you don’t know. You don’t want to know it, you’re not here for formalities and neither is he.

It’s dark with hues of red from the low lighting. The leather couch looks expensive...and so does the glass table with bags of illegal substances littered across it. Now you’re nervous. You’ve never done any sort of drug. But, the man pulling you along and whispering lowly in your ear, “It’ll be fun. I got you.” is very persuasive. Especially, when he looks so appealing. 

He places you next to him on the couch, the leather sticking uncomfortably to your heated thighs. You watch as those long fingers reach for a bag with little white squares in them. He digs one out and places it upon his tongue, he leans in to you, waiting for you to get the hint and take the tab from his mouth.

You’re hesitant, but that mouth is calling to you. You tangle your tongue with his, slowly kissing him in the process. He grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His taste is addicting. Alcohol mixed with something sweet, you almost forgot you took the acid...almost. You pull away with worry etched in your features.

He takes notice and chuckles. “Such a good girl for me, you know that?” He takes another tab for himself and downs it. It’s always exciting to share this experience with another. It’s really exciting though, when his companion is a figure from a wet dream.

You can feel your body loosen and mind clear, your present and not all there at the same time. The man to your left closes in on you. His smell hits you harder than before, dark and musky with a hint of something floral. You pull him against you, leaning back so he can cage your body with his.

He looks at you thoroughly this time. The way your eyes have already dilated, the way your chest is begging to be released from that ridiculously tight shirt, and especially the way you lick your lips, almost like you’re tempting him to ruin you. And you were doing just that, tempting.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, genuinely curious. He would hate to have to rush you to the hospital.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against you. He lets out a groan from the abrupt contact of your center against his front. Pulling his head down to meet yours, you whisper against his lips, “I’d feel better if you were inside me.”

He’s caught off guard for a moment, not expecting you to be that brazen. Drugs can work wonders on a person’s mind. Who is he to deny your request? He couldn’t even if he tried, not when you have him pressed so firmly against you and you start rocking against him.

The moan he lets past his lips is a sound that makes you wetter. The need for this stranger is so great that you don’t even care about the foreplay. You need him inside you now. He picks up on your urgency and makes quick work of his tailored pants. He releases himself from the confines of his underwear as you kick yours off your heeled feet.

He pushes the tight fabric of your skirt up past your hips. His eyes feast on how wet you are for him. Your arousal is already pooling against the leather of the couch. 

“Please.” you beg. “Just fuck me.” 

He pushes his dick against you, using your wetness to cover his shaft for an easy in. The sensation of him finally pushing in has you seeing colors. You aren’t sure if it’s the drugs or how good he fills you up. But whatever it is, you want more.

Seeing you whimper and writhe underneath him unlocks the primal urge to have you brain dead for his cock. He picks up his pace, your chest bouncing with each snap of his hips. He can’t stand not seeing your bare flesh moving freely, so he rips your shirt down the middle. 

You gasp at his roughness. Before you could let out a whiny, “Hey,” he latches onto your breast. Licking and biting while his hand preoccupies the other. Grabbing and pinching till you didn’t know what to focus on, him pounding into you with no abandon or the way his wet, hot mouth and calloused hands are working wonders on your sensitive nipples.

“So responsive.” he groans between the valley of your breasts. “What? Nobody ever fuck you this good?”

The blood rushes to your face. His words egging on your inevitable climax. You’re speechless as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that has your abdomen flexing and toes curling. The only sounds coming from you are the high pitched moans he’s pulling from you.

He doesn’t like how loud you’ve gotten. His hand flies up to your throat. The rings feel nice against your heated pulse. Until he starts squeezing. Your eyes go wide and your sounds seize, but your cunt latches down on him harder than before.

“My pretty girl likes being choked? That’s right. Take it you fucking slut.” he says through clenched teeth. 

And take it you do. His pelvis keeps kissing your bundle of nerves as you buck up towards him. His other hand that’s not restricting your breathing finds your clit, giving you even more pleasure than before. The warm feeling creeping up your neck, the way your ears ring, you know you’re cumming as your legs tremble around the man between them.

He let’s go of your throat in time for you to let a scream of pleasure escape. Your orgasm triggers his own and he’s fucking you deep into the couch to get as close as possible to you. He has to prop himself up on his hands so he doesn’t crush you as his high washes over him.

You both lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the euphoria from the sex and drugs. He pulls out of you and helps you into your panties. As you stand, you can feel his spent pool in the fabric. Making you horny all over again. 

“Round two at my place?” the words leave your mouth before you even process them. You just want this man in every position possible. A grin makes its way upon his features. He places his hand in yours to help you through the club and out into the cool night air.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

[spaceskam]

8 for Malex? Thanks!

*hiding because this took an embarrassing amount of time I'm sorry*

tags: high school au, slight mental health stuff goin’ on, bed sharing

8. bedtime stories [ao3]

Alex never claimed to be subtle.

He watched Michael openly, his thumb between his teeth as he eyed the way he pulled his shirt over his head. He knew this was probably inappropriate. However, Michael was hot and had yet to tell him to stop staring. Sometimes it seemed like he deliberately did things to make Alex stare. So Alex kept on and hoped that, if he was only doing this to make fun of Alex, at least he got something nice to look at.

“Hey, Alex,” Michael called, tossing his sweaty shirt into his bag and grabbing a dry one, “Do you think your brother would mind if I stayed over tonight? I don’t feel like going home.”

Alex swallowed and sat up straight. He looked around at the other guys in the locker room. He was sure one of them would say something. Magically, they didn’t. 

“Clay won’t care,” Alex said, trying to seem nonchalant. Michael closed his locker and looked at him with a massive grin as he pulled his shirt down. His hair was still damp with sweat and it stuck to his forehead. Both of those things together were too much for Alex’s sanity.

“Cool. Meet you after school at my truck?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Michael leaned close into Alex’s face and gave a mocking, “Okay, yeah,” before he laughed and walked around Alex. He twisted on the bench and followed him with his eyes as he went to the other side of the locker room where his other friends were. They instantly started talking about the game next Friday and how they were playing Carlsbad and how their team’s cheerleaders were hot. Michael didn’t deny it and Alex tried not to feel weird about it.

Instead, he grabbed his back and quickly headed out of the locker room. He hated gym and had put it off until his senior year, but now he was stuck doing it with basically no one to talk to except sophomore loners who seemed content to fail the class. He felt that.

The only highlight of it was Michael Guerin who he got to watch work up a sweat for 45 minutes every single day of the week. He got to watch him play dodgeball with too much enthusiasm and run the mile at the fastest in the class and play put-out with his friends. Alex had, somehow, befriended him when they were freshmen and both the youngest in their math class, so they stuck together. Then sophomore year they had Spanish together, junior year they had chemistry, this year they had gym. It wasn’t much but it was enough to spark an unlikely class-only friendship that turned into a school-only friendship that turned into an actual one.

He was Alex’s favorite person in the world.

The next two classes passed by relatively quickly, solely relying on the fact that Alex wasn’t paying attention and instead doodling aimlessly in his notes. Science was boring, math was easy.

Alex let himself into Michael’s truck because he was a dumbass who never locked it and sat in the passenger seat. His notebook stayed in his lap and he kept shading in the boat he was working on as the parking lot filled with other people going to their cars and people going to their buses. Michael always talked to his fellow football players before he left considering they couldn’t leave until the buses did anyway, so Alex wasn’t in a rush.

When Michael did climb in, he raised his head to get a good look at him. Because he always wanted to get a good look at him. Today, just like most days, he looked gorgeous and lit up from the inside and he was already staring at Alex.

“What’cha drawing?” he asked, scooting to the middle to look at Alex’s book. He pressed up against his side and eyed it, nodding his head. “Nice. I’m gonna get one of those tattooed on me one day.”

“What? A boat?”

“No, one of your pieces,” Michael laughed, shaking his head as he moved back to the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and Alex stared at the side of his face. “Whichever one you think I should. Think about it.”

And Alex would think about it. It wasn’t even the first time he thought about it. Michael had spoken of getting one of his drawings on him before and the thought was quite possibly the most erotic thing Alex could think of which was ridiculous. There was nothing sexy about that in reality. But… Michael shirtless and having something Alex created permanently on his skin was just so good.

He went back to the drawing before he could entertain putting his tongue on it.

Michael turned up the radio before backing out of his spot and then they were on their way to Alex’s house. He put his drawing down in favor of watching out the window as Michael badly sang along to Nirvana and Beck.

Junior year was the first time Michael had come over to his house and it had felt weird to acknowledge that the person he’d spoken to nearly every day for over two years knew approximately nothing about his home life. Alex had half-assed an explanation about how his mother left and his dad was in jail, so Alex only lived with his brothers. Michael hadn’t judged him, only loudly made it clear he thought Clay was badass for stepping up when he was freshly 18 to make sure the rest of them didn’t get too screwed.

It was a few more after school hangouts after that that Michael confided that he’d been in the foster care system since he was a baby and had been in a group home for the last few years. Teenage boys were a hard sell to foster parents, apparently.

Clay had no problem giving his number to the group home to call for check-ins whenever Michael started staying over. 

“Please tell me he got spicy Doritos because I‒hell yeah,” Michael said, letting himself roam freely around the kitchen. He pulled the bag of spicy nacho Doritos labeled Michael out of the pantry and ripped them open, a grin on his face. Alex could watch it all day.

“Can I steal the bar mix that you haven’t touched in, like, a month?” Flint asked, his gaze stuck on his computer where he was doing homework. His eyebrows were pulled into an angry glare at it.

“Yeah, sure, if it’s still good,” Michael answered, falling onto the couch right beside Alex and holding out the bag to him. Alex shook his head. Michael often got food obsessions and would go a month where that was all he wanted, but during bad days it was the only thing he could eat that didn’t make him lose his appetite. 

Despite the fact that he was all smiles, Alex had memorized the warning signs and knew he wouldn’t be eating dinner.

“Sweet,” Flint said, sliding to the pantry to grab the remnants of Michael’s last food obsession.

One of the warning signs that Michael wasn’t doing great, despite the fact that he’d asked to come over at all and hadn’t just invited himself, was the fact that he had taken any excuse all day to be tactile Alex. He’d spent all lunch and gym with him instead of with his football buddies, he’d wanted to sit closer in the truck, he immediately sat practically on top of him on the couch.

Later that night, he sat beside him at dinner and picked at it, only eating the crunchy asparagus and the edges of the tortilla part of his quesadilla. Alex ate what he didn’t.

Michael took a shower and wore Alex’s clothes and made himself at home in Alex’s bed, all cozy and on his phone with his thumb in his mouth when Alex got out of the shower. When they’d first started spending the night together, Michael slept on the couch or on the floor. One night they’d fallen asleep in Alex’s bed during a movie and now that’s where he went each night.

Alex didn’t mind.

He shut off the lights and jumped into bed, putting on Netflix on the TV and starting up where they’d left off in their third watch-through of The Good Place. Michael scooted closer until they were touching in some way, his eyes still partially on his phone and partially on the TV.

It should’ve bothered Alex. It should’ve felt like taunting. Occasionally he did feel the need to shake him and ask him if he really wasn’t seeing how much Alex was into him. Was the staring not enough? Was the way he got a bit dizzy whenever he realized Michael was beginning to smell like Alex’s shampoo not enough? Was Alex’s eyes tracing every bead of sweat that rolled across his face like he hadn’t had water in weeks not enough? Was every single one of Michael’s other friends mentioning that they acted “kinda gay” not enough?

But mostly Alex was fine with it. Michael was safe here and comfortable and Alex wasn’t going to ruin that by wanting something more. So he would keep his hands to himself. He wouldn’t be subtle, but he wouldn’t be overbearing. He would just be Alex and hope that was alright.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, moving until his head was on Alex’s shoulder. Alex hummed in response. “Can you tell me a bedtime story about your boat?”

Alex smiled and shifted, his fingers slipping into Michael’s hair. Michael tilted his head up until they locked eyes. They were so close, just like every time Michael requested a bedtime story, as if that was the only acceptable time to be less than an inch away from each other’s face. Alex very quietly thought that their entire friendship felt like one.

“Once upon a time, there was a very loud pirate captain,” Alex started, watching as Michael’s thumb slowly started gravitating towards his mouth again, “He was old and held very strict beliefs. If you disagreed, he’d throw you overboard.”

“What a dick.”

“Mm, yeah, very. Anyway, he was always angry and his crew were like ‘shit, what if he’s lonely’ and decided they needed to get him a friend.”

“Oh no, poor lonely pirate man,” Michael said around his thumb.

“Poor lonely pirate man indeed,” Alex agreed, nodding solemnly, “So they searched high and low for anyone to be his companion. Not someone on the crew, but someone who would be his equal and separate from his employees. It was a very complicated task. They would find people who seemed good, but then the pirate captain wouldn’t like them and kick them out. It happened so many times they almost gave up. But eventually, they found an astronaut who seemed like a good fit because he was very smart and very happy.”

Michael pulled his thumb from his mouth with a loud pop, “So they really searched high, huh?”

Alex huffed a laugh and nodded, combing back his hair. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared at him, at his interested and tired eyes. God, he was so into him. Every single bit of him. Even when he needed moments like these.

“Yeah, really high. And they brought him back to the boat to meet the captain and they really, really thought he would hate him. But you know what? He didn’t. They actually got on quite well. And the captain started becoming a lot less angry,” Alex said. Michael shifted, pressing closer.

“And did the astronaut change?”

“Mhm. He got to relax too. He didn’t feel like he had to be super smart and happy to make everyone else happy anymore, he could just be himself. He could even be sad sometimes and that was okay because he had someone who liked him no matter what,” Alex explained, “He even would stop at islands to get his favorite foods.”

“Were they just best friends or were they in love?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed carefully and scanned his eyes over his face, trying to gauge what would be a better answer.

“They started as just best friends,” Alex decided, “But they fell in love. They were both. Somewhere in between.”

“Somewhere in between?”

“Yeah, like, not quite just best friends and not quite together romantically. Something different. Something special,” Alex tried. Michael watched him closely. In the background, Eleanor watched herself fall in love with Chidi for one of the hundreds of times they fell in love and Alex tried not to be too poetic about it.

“Alex,” Michael said, his hand dropping between them, “Are we somewhere in between? It feels like we are”

The question was honestly innocent but Alex stopped breathing, not knowing how to answer. He had a football player cuddling up to him in his bed. He should say no. He should save his own ass. He should keep it to himself.

But Michael was comfortable enough to cuddle him, to be babied when he needed it, to be raw and open.

So why couldn’t Alex?

“Do you wanna be?” Alex asked. Michael blinked. “Or… like… do you wanna be somewhere… not in between?”

“Like, on the other side? The romantic side?” Michael clarified. Alex nodded slowly, unsure. “Does it mean I get goodnight kisses?”

Alex let out a slow breath and laughed cautiously, “If you want them.”

“I want them,” Michael said assuredly. Alex couldn’t fucking think straight and he was just smiling stupidly at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Goodnight kisses, right here,” Michael said, tapping his lips delicately.

“Right. Okay.”

Alex moved his head just a little to give him a soft kiss, barely lasting a few seconds. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous. And, still, it was probably the best kiss he’d ever had in his life. His heart was trying to escape his chest.

He was really doing this. This was really happening.

“Did they live happily ever after, Alex?” Michael asked against his lips. Alex breathed and nodded.

“Yeah. They did.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday #alexmanesss

[one-boring-person]

Hey! It's my birthday! I was wondering if maybe you could write smth about Iceman surprising the reader for her birthday? Thank you!

Happy belated birthday!! I hope you had a great day! I'm sorry this is so late, but I hope you like it!😊💛

Happy Birthday!

Tom "Iceman" Kazanski x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist.

I do my best to stifle yet another yawn as I throw up the bed cover and tuck it neatly into the corners of the frame. I remember to take great care of this action, knowing full well the consequences of having messy quarters. The air in the room is icy, it being one of the many downfalls of being stationed in some God forsaken carrier in the middle of the ocean somewhere The thin cloth of my uniform never does much to keep me warm, unlike back in training, where it used to be the bane of my existence, making me hot and sweaty every damn day I was there. As I straighten up again, I roll my shoulders and let out a huff, rubbing my hands together to generate some warmth, before going to the dresser to the side of the small room, glancing at it as I fix my hair one more time.

On the table is a calendar, each date left mostly blank, except for one, which has a small star scrawled into the space below. Normally, that would bring a smile to my face, but now it doesn't. No one really has time to celebrate a birthday these days.

Sighing, I smooth down my uniform one last time and go to leave the room, only now noticing that there is a small envelope on the floor by the door, the sender clearly having stuck it underneath the frame earlier this morning. Frowning, I pick it up and turn it over, eyeing the handwriting sceptically, only now recognising it, the neat letters unjoined and perfectly legible, spelling out my name. Turning it over again, I tear it open and pull out the letter inside, smiling as I read over the words lining the centre of the page:

(Y/n),

Happy birthday! 

I'm on a patrol right now, and I know you have one, too, so come find me afterwards and we can celebrate together.

I love you,

T.

Folding the letter again, I place it in my pocket and leave the room, just catching my RIO, Jolt, as he walks past, falling into step beside him.

"Hey, (Y/n). Sleep well?" He asks as he sees me, smiling pleasantly.

"Yeah, not too bad. You?" I respond, a little disappointed at the lack of remembrance.

"It was alright." He frowns, then, saluting an officer as they walk past, "I wish they didn't have to get us up so early though, it sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

We go the rest of the way in companionable silence, only splitting up again when we reach the changing rooms. I enter the female ones, going to my locker. Opening it, I grab my helmet and pull it out, placing it on the bench behind me, taking out my flight suit, too, the buckles and straps on it clinking quietly in the silence of the room around me. Stripping off the uniform I worked hard to make smart and flawless, I fold it and put it away, pulling on the flight suit with a grimace, pulling a face at the strong odour that has long since become ingrained in the fabric thanks to hours and hours of flying in it. I tighten it around my body until it is mostly comfortable. Shrugging my shoulders, I crack my neck and grab my helmet again, checking the inside briefly before leaving the room again, going out onto the runway instead this time. Three of the others are already waiting there, Maverick and Goose amongst them, the third being another RIO; all three of them turn to look at me as they await briefing, a smile breaking out over the farmer's face.

"Cobra! Happy birthday!" He exclaims, clapping me on the back as I near them, grinning widely.

"Thanks, Mav." I smile back, happy that someone remembered, beside Iceman.

"It's your birthday today, (Y/n)? Why didn't you say so?" Goose says, looking jokingly surprised.

"I did, Goose." 

"I know, I'm teasing." He winks, turning to face the changing rooms again as Jolt and the last pilot step out, "What took you boys so long?" 

Neither of them reply, only coming to stand beside the rest of us as we wait for the commanders to show up. After a while, they do, briefing us before sending us off to our respective jets, the six of us climbing up into the cockpits with practiced ease. As I buckle myself in, I pull on my helmet and check the earpiece, contacting the tower to request take-off authorization. I receive it quickly, allowing me to taxi out onto the runway, waiting for the ground staff to prepare the jet for launch. 

*

A groan escapes me as I stretch out my cramped muscles under the relaxing flow of the water from the shower head above me. The flight was much longer than expected, meaning that we've been sitting down for far too long. The seats of the small jets had quickly given me the cramps and aches that plague my body now, my back cracking as I straighten it properly. Massaging my temples, I wash out the shampoo that I've already lathered into my hair, my only goal now being to get out and to find Tom as quickly as possible.

I take around ten minutes to finish in the shower, going into the actual changing room to pull on my uniform, straightening it and patting it down as much as possible. I intend to make myself look as smart as possible, though my slightly hasty attempts end up appearing a little more haphazard than normal. Cursing myself, I adjust my shirt and hair, before going to leave the room, having already secured my helmet and flight suit in my locker when I first came in. Internally, I make a note to get my suit washed, seeing as it absolutely reeks, though I am well aware that I will likely forget about this very quickly, my thought process not quite focusing on my duties right now.

Leaving the changing room, I immediately turn down the corridor and start walking towards the bunk rooms, saluting and smiling at the relevant officers that pass me, a few "happy birthday"s coming from some of the aviators who know me well enough, the pilots and RIOs never stopping to say more than that. I don't think much of this, simply happy that they actually managed to remember it, considering my own RIO completely forgot. It doesn't take long for me to find Tom's room, my fist lifting to knock on the door as soon as I am in front of it, the metal ringing slightly from the impact. 

It is opened swiftly, a grinning Iceman greeting me as he does so, his blue eyes glittering in the bright fluorescent lighting above us.

"Hey, baby. How's your day been?" The pilot asks me as he lets me inside, standing back from the door so I can pass him.

"Not great, honestly, but it's better...jeez, Tom, where'd you get that?" I trial off, pointing at the large cake sitting on the desk a little way away.

He chuckles, coming up and wrapping an arm around me as he replies, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"I called in a favour with one of the cooks." He shrugs, pulling me closer to him.

"That must've been a big favour." I lift an eyebrow at him, but he only smirks, taking me by the waist as he leans closer.

I suddenly find my lips occupied, his mouth moving over mine lovingly as he kisses me passionately. His hands moving to pull me into him even more, my own running up his chest to intertwine in his hair, tugging slightly on it as his grip tightens. Yanking him closer, I kiss back happily, moaning slightly as he licks at my lips, asking for entrance, which I am only too happy to grant. His tongue dips into my mouth and explores as much as he can as thoroughly as possible. At the sensation of these ministrations, I feel myself starting to get a little light headed, my knees going weak. 

Eventually, we pull apart for air, a smirk instantly finding his lips again as he mutters huskily to me.

"Happy birthday, (Y/n)."

I smile back at him, kissing him once more before moving to inspect the cake, only now noticing the gifts lying beside it.

"Are they for me?" I ask in surprise, confused as to how he managed to get them onto the carrier in the first place.

"Yeah, they are." He affirms, coming to stand behind me, "Go on, you can open them."

Still shocked, I pick up the nearest one, unwrapping it to find a framed photograph of the two of us on our last day off, both of us standing on the beach looking cheerful as the sun beats down on our backs, a beach ball held between us, reminding me of the time we spent playing volleyball there. Thanking him, I set it down and pick up the second, which turns out to be purse, which I open to find a little Polaroid tucked into one of the compartments, this one portraying the two of us in a more intimate light, a blush coming to my cheeks as I recall that night. Tom sees this and laughs, before handing me the last gift, which is a box-shape. Unwrapping it, I feel my eyes widen as I catch sight of the necklace lying there. 

It is fashioned to look like one of our dog tags, the writing embossed on it neat and legible, though upon closer inspection I find that it spells out both of our names and the date we first got together, a small line of three kisses adorning the bottom row. Turning to look up at him, I feel a wife smile break across my face.

"Tom, I don't know what to say…" I murmur, immensely grateful for the gifts he's given me, the pilot clearly happy with my reaction as he sweeps me up into his arms again, kissing me gently.

"Happy birthday, (Y/n)." He repeats, before pulling away and looking me in the eye, "I love you."

Blinking in surprise, I barely have time to register that my lips are moving before I'm responding.

"I love you, too!" With an ecstatic grin I throw myself into his arms, kissing him much more passionately, his arms returning to my waist as he goes to continue our actions from before, only to be interrupted by an insistent knocking on the door.

Pulling apart, I frown and look up at him.

"Who's that?" I ask him, annoyed at the distraction.

"That'll be the others." He smirks, going to open the door, pausing before he does so.

"The others?"

"What, you didn't think we'd be celebrating this by ourselves, did you?" Tom grins as he throws open the door, allowing the rest of our friends to pass inside.

#top gun iceman #top gun imagine #top gun #val kilmer #request

[potatosoldier]

Are you still there?

  /Part 7/

I am hot, I am sweaty, and I am crammed into a small cot surrounded by equally sweaty men. It was the 6th of September, and we had just boarded the Great Samaria a few hours ago. We were now on a journey to Europe. 

How they managed to jam us into this ship, I have no clue. It isn’t like there is 20 men over the capacity of this ship. No, this ship was made for 1000 passengers and now there were 5000 men from the 506th shoved in. I could have made the choice and went to the officers and made my stay there, I want to be near the men. 

“Joe, darling, your shoulders are like barn doors, I can’t fit”

Oh yes, as the passenger count was so high, the cots were shared by two soldiers. I was sharing with Joe. At first I also considered going to Skip, but then I came to a conclusion that I could stand Joe’s singing in this suppressed place, but listening to Skip talk non-stop would make me an irritable person. And I truly did not want to become that. These men are my companions and I want to treat the with the respect they deserve. I did not have the right to become rude even in these circumstances. 

Also, if I was put too high, Bull would have to carry me around like a baby monkey. 

“For God’s sake, just turn the other way”, Joe grunts as I try to maneuver myself without jostling the cot too much.  

“Joe, please move”, I whine and try to push him. He rasps and looks at me teasing smile on his lips. 

“you wanna continue trying, Bambi”, he teases. I scrunch my brows and pout. Why did he have to make this so difficult. Then I put on my most motherly glare. “Joseph Toye, this is not how you should behave”, I scold. 

He chuckles once again, but proceeds to move over so I’m finally able to fit in next to him on the cot. It was a tight squeeze, both of us were on top of the bed springs, but we tried to be so that it’s the least uncomfortable. Physically and mentally. 

“So you told Muck, huh?”, he whispers once we are in and he hears Skip talking while making his way around the ship. I nod as we both look at the cot above us. “You sure that was a good idea?”, he asks. I could hear in his voice that he didn’t doubt Skip personally, but he was just checking in. 

I smile. “He has been good to me since I came here, He won’t betray me now. And it does feel good to let it out”, I tell. He nods. 

“So, what do you think about going to Europe?”, he asks. I shrug. “I’m glad I’m here, maybe we can speed up the process of ending this war and Matias and dad can go back home”, I answer. Matias was my older brother. I think he is the reason I’m so fond of Skip and Luz, Matias was such a jokester too. It broke my heart to think of him out there somewhere, fighting for his life. 

“I’m glad we’re going to Europe too. Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and 10,000 a year for the rest of my fucking life”, he says in a much louder voice. 

I look at him trying not to laugh. “Joe, I promise I’ll celebrate Joe Toye Day from now on even if you don’t succeed”, I manage to say without laughing. 

“What if we don’t get to Europe, what if they send us to North Africa”, Smokey points out from above us. 

The conversation doesn’t awfully concern me, till I hear these words: “ I like Winters, he is a good man. But when bullets start flying, I don’t know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me”

My head turns sharply up towards Bill’s bed. My blood starts running cold with the rage I’m feeling. He had the audacity to condemn someone by their religion and to add to that doubt MY husbands skills in combat. 

“How do you know he’s a Quaker?”

“He ain’t Catholic”

I’m about to jump up and teach the boy some manners when, Joe apparently notices my open mouth and shoves my head under a blanket. And by shoving, I mean shoving. Nothing gentle about it. I can only imagine the looks people are throwing at us. 

“Okay Bambi up we go” he then says and starts lifting me up, my head still covered. I can hear Liebgott and Bill still having a spat and am about to turn to go towards the noise, but Joe keeps me covered till we are away from the scene.

“You need some fresh air, you angry hedgehog, to he deck we go”, Joe says and pushes people around to make us way forward. He really saved me from making a mistake. 

With Richard

The Boat was far from comfortable, that was the only thing Richard Winters would say to the circumstances at hand. Last time he had been this hot, was while running in full gear in Toccoa. 

“They really filled this Troop ship to the brink”, Lewis says looking just as sweaty as his friend. “If I’m going to be this hot, I’d rather have 5000 ladies here. At least there would be something to look at”, Nix says. 

“Yeah, and by the time you’d make it to your destination they’d have eaten you alive, after finding out about Kathy”, Dick teases. Keeping your mind light in situations like this was the key to keeping your head together. His friend had his own lightness hidden in Dick’s footlocker. 

Lewis let’s out his trademark chuckle. “Easy for you to say”, he snarks back. Dick knows exactly what he means. It was easy for Dick to judge other men for seeking affection because his own wife was there. 

Dick only looks at his friend with a dry look and they remain silent for a while. 

“Never thought this day would actually come, of course I knew it was coming, but hell we’ve come a long way”, Nix says and takes a swig from his flask. Dick lets out a small huff. It really was a miracle that Sobel hadn’t found some way to get rid off them. 

“You think we can make it Nix, back home I mean”, Dick asks thoughtfully and plays with his fingers. It was a curious question, not one of sadness or fear. 

“That’s not for us to decide, but hey I’ll drink to the thought of seeing your children some day”; he says raising his flask in what was supposed to be a happy remark, but when he sees Dick’s face, all the happiness goes away. 

He furrows his brows and looks at his friend more closely. “You okay Dick?”, he asks while still studying his now pale friend. Dick just continues looking ahead like he was not there at all. 

“Yeah, Nix, I’m okay”, he finally whispers and they drop the topic replacing it  with silence. 

Sonja / Day 3 on the Samaria/

“Better out than in, there we go”, George says as he brushes some of my hair back. I had been throwing up for the last two hours. I wasn’t sure was it the sea or the smell of the fish soup that made me so nauseous. 

“I fe- ugh”, I puke again in the middle of my sentence. I was not the only one throwing up, no. But I felt very embarrassed to be in this situation. I was a nurse, not a patient. 

Suddenly a pounding of boots is heard and I feel someone place themselves on the other side of me. “There we go, a Hershey bar for the lady. Got it from Winters, tried scrounging and he was kind enough to offer when he passed”, Skip says as he opens the wrapper for me. 

And what I can take from his story is that, that he went to tell Richard I’m unwell and Richard gave him the bar. 

“Thank you”, I whisper and take the piece Skip snaps me. Luz takes the bucket from my hands and gives water to rinse my mouth.  “For a small lady, you sure puke your guts out like a grown man”, Luz teases. 

“Shut up, I’m only three inches shorter than you”, I grumble and lean against him while savoring the chocolate to get the taste of vomit out. He only chuckles and makes a mocking “UGH” noise. 

“Thank you boys for getting me out, I thought Joe was going to kill me”,I giggle softly. They both huff in laughter. “I mean you did puke on his chest”, Skip points out. I grimace, that I sure did. His chest and neck where running with fish soup after I retched on him. 

“Someone get her a bucket, fucking hell, if someone isn’t gonna help her, Imma kill every fucking one of you”

“Skip, go get us some cards, I don’t think she can handle the sweat level yet”, George says as he strokes my back, as I gag again a little. 

How long was I going to be stuck on this boat.

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

The night was awful, I felt sickly and I noticed that Joe was turning more than usual, probably because of the back pain. We were lucky enough to fit on the cot so that we could both sleep in it, but nothing seemed to get me catch sleep. I was afraid of throwing up again. 

“Nurse”, I hear a whisper. I jump and look up. Even in the dim lighting I can recognize my husband. I carefully stand without jostling Joe too much, and gently put the blanket on him again, after raising it up a little to get a little cool air on him. 

“Yes sir?”,I ask professionally as I stand before Richard. He just nods his head towards the deck. 

As we make it to the deck we quickly and quietly find a corner with no one sleeping in it. He takes a look around and has a seat. Before taking something out from his pocket: chocolate.

“Richard, you don’t have a sweet tooth, how do you have all these”;I ask looking at him oddly. 

“I got this from Nix, he was willing to sacrifice it for I quote ‘holy business’“, I giggle at my husbands expression as he quotes Lewis. I take the bar from him and put it next to me. I honestly felt too sickly to eat it now. 

I look at Dick biting my lip. He seems to notice the softness in my gaze as he utters a gentle “come here”, and gently guides me to lay my upper body onto his legs. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I can keep watch, and if they ask more, I can say that I was just looking out for you as your officer”, he soothes and rubs his hand along my arms. Which feels amazing on my sore muscles. 

“I think it’s time to tell the men soon anyway. They need to get used to the idea before we jump, and I think that they know you well enough to not judge you”, he then brings up. I nod against his leg, this living in secrecy was starting to become more and more difficult. 

I then squeeze my eyes shut as nausea takes over me. “Richie I think I might puke”,I whimper. I always got very stressed when I had nausea, and sensitive. “I don’t wanna puke on you”,I say and try to rise, but in all honestly rising just made it worse.

Richard guides me back gently. “If you puke on me, then you do. Don’t worry about that. Let’s just get you comfortable”

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

On the 15th of September we finally made it to Liverpool. I was still quite pale after the ride. Eating had really become a task, and without food, you lose strength. But with the threats from Joe and gentle urging from Carwood Lipton, I was able to get food down. 

“You feelin’ good ma’am?”, comes a familiar Arkansas drawl as I give a happy sigh to be on the steady ground. I chuckle “Aye, sir, better than ever”, I say teasingly. He mock salutes me and we start walking for our shelter for the night. 

I walk on Joe’s side keeping a firm hold of his sleeve as I had been told by Lip.

“We don’t want you getting lost, you are harder to find than most of us”

At first I had wanted to tell him that I am a grown woman with military training, but his truly caring gaze changed my plans.  If I could express in words, how thankful I was for that mans care I would shout it at his too humble face. Okay, these boys are really rubbing off on me, I wouldn’t shout, maybe gently lecture. 

Tomorrow we would be going to our final destination. 

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

Aldbourne was vastly different from all the places I’ve had my training and from what the men told me, it was also very different to them. We were in the middle of a village! We could actually see other people. 

“Come on Sonja, please, please please”, Skip was begging on his knees. We had gotten our passes to go to Swindon for a Saturday night dance this weekend. The boys were all excited about being able to go and actually getting the passes this time. 

“Skip, you know I get uncomfortable with many people, also it’ll be nice to have some time alone”, I try to reason as he keeps pushing my skirt and blouse towards my hands. 

He looks at me with his green puppy eyes. “please, Bambi, for me, Joe is coming too. Aren’t you? Hear that Joe is there too”, he begs. I sigh and look at both of them. 

“Okay, but when I say want to come back, I will”, I say pointing at him. 

“Yes!!”

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

I didn’t put on my skirt and blouse, instead I took out my light blue swing dress and let my hair down. It was nice to feel girly again, and actually have a reason to get dolled up. That was not the best part, the best part was actually putting my wedding ring onto my finger. I gave a small kiss to my cross and said a little prayer of gratitude before going to the boys. 

The boys were happy to have me, their lady with them. 

“Your husband is one lucky bastard”. George had said when he saw me. Bull had even blushed when I gave him a kiss on the cheek as thanks for helping me with my jacket. 

All the girls in the dance were dolled up too. I found the music in there absolutely delightful. It might have not been completely in my taste, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Also the sound of shoes clapping against the floor was beautifully relaxing. 

“Would my lady like to dance?”, Skip asks bowing at the waste. I shake my head at his antics but take his hand none the less. And boy did I make a mistake. I was tosses from Skip to George, to Bull, to Joe, to Don (who mind you, was an excellent dancer!) and god knows who. The Easy boys really decided to hit the floor. 

Once I was able to make a run from them, I found Joe drinking a beer at one of the tables. “You having fun?”; he asks and takes a long sip. I nod and smile widely. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to dance so much! But I do wonder”, I bite my lip. “Am I a bad person to be here, without Richard?”; I whisper. 

Joe shakes his head. “You’re too good for this world. There ain’t nothing wrong with you being here. He trusts you and you trust him. And hell, you were giggling like a school girl when you realized you still had time to go to him after this. You aren’t committing any sin”, he soothes with a little teasing making me blush. 

Who can blame me, I just want to grab my Robert Burns poems and go read with Richards head on my lap. Was that really too much to ask for? He was my husband.

We continue our conversation, with me sipping a cup of water, until I hear a similar interruption as in the boat. 

Bill and Skinny make it to our table chatting. “He might be a good man, but Quakers aren’t meant for this shit” My patience had been running thin with these comments for so long and now my patience was all run out.

“He is not a Quaker”, I snap. Bill turns to me with an odd look on his face. 

“And how do you know that Bambi”, many of the Easy men were now near our table from hearing my raised voice. 

I don’t know what made it come out of my mouth, but this did anyway: “If my husband was a Quaker I think I’d be the one who knows that and not you”

I quickly realize what I said and plant my palm against my face, trying to remember how to breathe. I hear Joe sigh from next to me: “Well, now you fucking said it”

@iilovemusic12us​

@georgeparisole​

#dick winters x reader #dick winters #richard winters x reader #richard winters #band of brothers oc #band of brothers imagines #Band of brothers #lewis nixon #carwood lipton #george luz #skip muck #warren muck #bull randleman #bill guarnere

[p-artsypants]

I Do...I Guess? (Chapter 3)

Djose Temple

Ao3 | FF.net

In my mind, Zanarkand is just like...Los Angeles, or New York. Just a big city with modern day technology...with slightly questionable fashion statements? 

And OMG I’m so happy to get reviews! I knew writing for FFX was like shouting into a void, but I got responses! And they were good! So I guess I’ll keep going??

—

In the morning, the team braved the Djose Highroad to the temple. Along the way they came across a smattering of survivors. They had endeavored to reach the temple but had succumbed to exhaustion from fiends. 

Thankfully, they had yet to find any casualties. 

Djose Temple was a magical marvel. Theme parks in the ancient Zanarkand had similar awe inspiring attractions, but nothing as amazing as the suspended rocks with lighting bolts. 

“That happens when a summoner reaches and convenes with the fayth,” Lulu explained. 

“So there’s a summoner here already?” Tidus asked aloud. He wondered if it was Dona, or heaven forbid Seymour. 

Dona hadn’t seen the devastation of the failed operation. Her callous, holier-than-thou attitude would be anything but a balm to the wounded and dying. 

And Seymour? Well, he was just creepy enough that Tidus just didn’t like him. 

“Let’s see if we can help while we wait for them to finish,” Yuna suggested. 

The others agreed, and they volunteered to help where they could. 

Tidus watched Yuna rush into a room where there was much groaning. Her hand rested on the doorframe, and the ring he had given her glinted on her finger. 

No one seemed to notice. 

Even when they returned to camp last night, no one noticed. Lulu and Wakka were already asleep, while Kamahri and Auron took their first watch. Pleasant greetings were exchanged before Kamahri offered some of the cooked fish they had left over from dinner. Then they fell asleep shortly after. 

Now it was the next day, and their engagement was official. Who did he talk to about that? They did say he had until Djose Temple to figure it out. And he did. 

But it didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up. Would Yuna do so? It was her idea after all. 

Tidus was directed to a cot with a wounded crusader on it. The man had a piece of shrapnel in his stomach, and Auron, one of the only others in the room with a strong stomach, was tasked to pull it out. 

Tidus was to hold the poor bastard down by the shoulders, while Wakka had his legs. 

And it continued like that for a few hours. The patients were different, but the job was the same. Some were being amputated, while others were just getting stitches. 

But no matter what, it seemed like Operation Mi’ihen’s casualties were far from over. 

By mid-afternoon, the summoner in the cloisters finally emerged. A man named Isaaru, and his brother-guardians. 

Finally, a polite summoner. He did rib Yuna a little, but it felt like friendly rivalry compared to Dona’s outright harassment. 

“The cloisters are empty, you two should go.” Auron urged Tidus and Yuna. 

“But there’s more people to heal...” 

“We can spare some potions. Now, go.” 

Hard pressed to argue, Yuna simply turned to Tidus. “Will you come to the trials with me?” 

“I did the first two on my own. I think I can handle another.” 

“Oh, I’ll help too.” She smiled. 

“Oh then, I have nothing to worry about. After you?” 

They still didn’t speak of the impending wedding, but Tidus still tried to be the best fiancé/guardian he could be. He didn’t allow her to lift a finger, though she figured most of the puzzles out on her own. He moved the pedestals, he inserted the spheres, and when it came to leaping across a live electric pit, he gladly made the jump for her. They then reset the puzzle and activated the floor panel, which allowed them to go up to the next level. This time, Yuna helped him push all the pedestals into place and revealed the stairs to the Fayth. 

He followed behind her as she ascended the stairs. 

The door to the chamber opened for her, and she turned to look at him in question. 

“I’ll wait right here for you,” he promised, sitting on the floor. 

She offered a smile, and went inside. 

And so he waited. Patiently, ankles crossed. 

This would be the first time he waited the entirety of her prayer. The last two times, he came in at the end. 

This time, he was alone in his waiting. The other guardians were busy helping downstairs. 

Besaid had taken her two days, but Kilika was only about an hour. Was she getting better at whatever happened in there? Or was it based on the Fayth itself? 

His ignorance to this whole situation was like a punch to the gut. 

Wakka was right. Yuna needed someone that was more educated on Yevon, who could help her. 

And yet, he could only believe she needed someone to remind her to be human more. Sure, if he knew more, it might help. Maybe he’d try a little harder to learn the  religion. If only to stop embarrassing her with his ignorance. 

Yuna emerged two hours later, sweaty and panting. He caught her before she could faint, and brought her back down into the temple. 

He sat her on the stairs to the cloisters and retrieved a flask of water for her. “Better?” 

“Yes, thank you for taking care of me.” 

“As a fiancé should,” he smirked. 

There was a loud gasp at that, and they both turned to see—Shindig? Shanda? The pious lady they had met on the Mi’ihen Highroad, standing not too far away. “Truly?! Is what I hear correct? You are to be married to Lady Yuna?” 

The other guardians, who had not been informed that he had made his decision, all came closer to listen. 

“That’s right.” Yuna smiled softly. “I asked, and he accepted.” 

Auron gave a thumbs up, while Wakka shook his head. Kimahri and Lulu were unreadable, but didn’t look angry at least. 

“This is wonderful news! The wedding of a summoner is always a blessed occasion! Will you be waiting until you reach the temple in Bevelle?” 

“Well,” said Tidus, “we were going to do it here, but...” 

“An even better idea! The survivors could really do with the hope!” 

Yuna sputtered. “I don’t know if it’s an appropriate time—“ 

“Nonsense! I’ll take care of everything! Leave it to me!” And she hurried off to find the head priest, leaving Tidus and Yuna to face the other guardians alone. 

“So, were you going to tell us you said yes?” Wakka asked, arms crossed. 

Tidus sighed. “We made it official last night, after all the sendings. I wanted to give Yuna something to be happy about, but we weren’t going to push it. Especially with everything that happened.” 

“We did give him until Djose to reach a decision,” Lulu reminded patiently. “There’s no reason for you to be angry.” 

“I just wish he had the common sense to say no.” 

Tidus frowned at Wakka, crossing his arms. 

“So what made you change your mind, ah? Wanna get in on that post-sin glory?” 

Tidus’s heart raced a little faster as he confessed. “I just wanted to say yes. I don’t want her to be lonely.” 

Lulu smirked. “Sounds as altruistic as can be. If Yuna wants a companion that doesn’t interfere with her quest, I’m for it.” 

Yuna blushed. “Well you didn’t have to say it like that.” 

Before more teasing could ensue, the head priest arrived. “I hear there is a couple wishing to be wed?” 

Yuna bowed to him. “Yes sir, my guardian and I. But if you’re busy with the operation, we don’t want to intrude.” 

“Nonsense. Everyone is stable, and you have done so much to help us. It’s the least we can do for repayment.” 

So it was happening. It was really happening. Marriage. At seventeen. And he hadn’t even gotten her pregnant first. 

Were they going to have sex tonight? Yuna didn’t seem the type. Would she try for the sake of legitimacy? He certainly wasn’t going to force her into anything. He’d let her take the lead. This was her idea anyway. 

A stone pillar, much like the ones in the cloister, raised out of the ground. It had a little dome with two holes on either side. 

“Now reach inside and clasp hands, so the soul scryer may tell if your souls are compatible for the soul bonding ceremony.” 

Tidus blinked several times, hearing things he was not prepared for. “The what what?” 

“Isn’t a soul binding ceremony...a little antiquated?” Asked Auron.

Shalinda, who had returned with the priest gasped. “Oh no! It’s a beautiful and sacred ceremony!”

“Huh...just for some of us who are a little...out of practice...” Tidus mentioned sheepishly. 

Lulu explained. “The soul binding ceremony is an ancient wedding practice, in which the souls are joined in life, so the beloved can find each other in death.” 

“It’s not to be taken lightly.” Wakka urged. 

“It’s just for show,” Yuna whispered. “They can’t actually bind our souls. But if the idea bothers you—“ 

“No no, it’s okay. It’s not going to, like, hurt or anything, right? Or change me as a person?” 

“The more compatible you are, the less of an effect you should feel on yourself.” The priest explained. “Come, present yourselves to the soul scryer.” 

No point in putting it off any longer. He put his hand in on one side, and Yuna put hers in the other. They met in the middle and entwined fingers. 

Immediately, the scryer turned blue, then a blinding white. 

Tidus spoke while covering his eyes, “is that a good thing?” 

“Blessed be this day! A summoner is a perfect match for her beloved! This union will be wonderful and prosperous in love!” 

Okay. So a good thing it was. He and Yuna a perfect match? What were the odds? 

It seemed pretty low, considering the bright blush on Yuna’s face. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Yes—just—“ she rested her free hand on her face. “Perfect matches are really rare. I didn’t know...” 

He squeezed her hand. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not upset. Actually, quite the opposite! No need to be embarrassed!” 

She gave him a weak smile, obviously still embarrassed despite his reassurance. 

“Let us begin the ceremony. Did you bring a change of vestments?” Asked the high priest. 

“Ah, no. Please, we’d like to be as streamlined as possible. We don’t want to take up any more resources than necessary.” Yuna bowed again. 

“Very well.” 

Both of them removed their hands from the scryer, as it lowered back down into the floor. Then the head priest urged Yuna and Tidus to follow him to the door to the cloisters. They stood at the top of the stairs, while the other guardians and other witnesses gathered around to watch.

Yuna raised her hands for him to hold. And he did so daintily. 

“O Fayth, O song of the Farplane. Hear as we call out to you in prayer. This couple has sought to be joined in the holiest of traditions. In soul, love, and flesh and bone. Knit them together in a tapestry of absolution. Bind their souls so that they may find each other in the end. May their love be pure and strong, and may they find peace and strength within each other.” 

He looked at both. “Do you have the rings?” 

Tidus took out his, and Yuna awkwardly took off the one she was wearing, then they traded. 

“Tidus, please repeat after me: ‘I, Tidus,”

“I, Tidus,” 

“Do take Lady Yuna, to have and hold, in sickness and in health, to the Farplane do we part.” 

“Do take Lady Yuna, to have and hold, in sickness and health, to...not even the Farplane do we part.” 

The wording change was not lost on those assembled. Especially Yuna, who smiled bashfully. 

“You may place the ring on her finger.” 

Tidus took off his gloves, and then very delicately slid the ring onto her finger. 

“Lady Yuna, if you will repeat after me: I, Lady Yuna,” 

“I, Lady Yuna,” 

“Do take Tidus, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to the Farplane do we part.” 

She smiled. “Do take Tidus, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to not even the Farplane do we part.” 

“Non Traditional vows, but lovely nonetheless.” The priest praised. “You may place the ring on his finger.” 

Just as he had done, Yuna slid the ring onto his finger. Then she squeezed his hands affectionately. 

“I pronounce you, in the name of Yevon, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” 

Yuna blushed again, then whispered, “I’ve never kissed before.” 

“Well, do you want a normal first kiss? Or a traditional Zanarkand wedding kiss?” 

“Hmm, I’ll try the Zanarkand wedding kiss.” 

He winked at her, before holding her close. “Hang on to me.” 

Yuna only had a minute to hold around his neck, before he lowered her into a dip, and pressed a deep and meaningful kiss to her lips. 

Those gathered either gasped in shock or wolf-whistled. Either way, Tidus realized maybe these people weren’t used to such public displays of affection. 

But still, her kiss felt incredible. She was warm and soft, she smelled of flowers and this unnamed spice that tingled his nose. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but when he righted her, she had a contented and gleeful smile on her face. 

Then applause broke out, and they returned to reality. 

Married. They were married. Officially. There was no going back now. 

Not that he wanted to. Yuna was wonderful. She deserved as much support as she could get, and he was honored that she picked him. 

“Presenting Lady Yuna, and her husband, Sir Tidus!” 

The ‘Sir’ was a nice touch. Did he get to keep that name? 

They descended down into the crowd, receiving heartfelt handshakes and pats on the back of congratulations. People were genuinely happy, and it was a relief to see people smiling. Maybe getting married now really wasn’t a bad idea. 

“Many congratulations on your marriage, Lady Yuna.” Isaaru bowed. “I hope your husband aids you on your pilgrimage.” 

“Of course I will!” Tidus exclaimed, like suggesting otherwise was ludicrous. “I’ll do anything to help Yuna.” 

“Glad to hear it. Well, may the first to Zanarkand be the winner. We’ll be moving on to Macalania.”

“Oh, and a word of warning for you and your guardians,” his guardian added. “Rumor is that summoners have gone missing on the road to Zanarkand. Best keep sharp.” 

“Well, thank you for the warning! We’ll be extra diligent!” Tidus saluted. 

“Glad to hear it. Now, we’ll let you go. Heard you did a lot of sendings for these poor folks. You must be exhausted.” 

“It’s always an honor to perform such a ceremony. Thank you for thinking of my well-being though.” 

After marinating in the glad tidings of the crowd, the head priest approached the couple. “The ceremonial cleansing is ready for you both, if you desire it. I assume you’d like to get cleaned up after the ordeal you’ve been through.” 

“Oh!” Yuna blushed. “Ah, yes, well, that would be nice...” 

“What’s wrong?” Tidus asked softly. 

“The ceremonial cleansing is basically a bath that the wedded couple share. The temples are almost all built on hot springs for this reason, and for summoners to take baths on their journeys. We really don’t have to...” 

“I mean, I would like to get cleaned up. I wouldn’t want to offend my ladyship’s nostrils.” 

Yuna giggled and then glanced at the priest, who was looking at them curiously, either concerned that Tidus didn’t know about the hot springs that everyone else knew about, or that this newly wedded couple wasn’t absolutely ecstatic to be bathing together. 

“Alright. Let’s try it.” Said Yuna, with a little forced optimism. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing...a lot of each other, from now on. Might as well get used to it.” 

Tidus held out his hand to her, and followed the priest outside the temple. He had remembered seeing a river when they had arrived here, and they weren’t too far from the ocean. The hot springs, however, were inside the rock on the back side of the temple. The priest led them into a little alcove in the mountains. There was a single, wide tub, where milky water was already steaming. There was a collection of soaps and perfumes near the edge, and a pair of towels and robes hanging nearby. 

“If you leave your clothes in this basket, we will make sure they are cleaned and returned to you in the morning.” 

Yuna bowed in gratitude. “Thank you for all of this. It is much appreciated.” 

“You are most welcome, Lady Yuna, and Sir Tidus. If there’s anything else we can do, do not hesitate to ask.” He bowed at the waist, and exited the room. 

“I could get used to being called ‘Sir’, that's very fun.” Tidus said with a laugh.

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I worried that the attention would make you uncomfortable.” 

“There’s still time,” He chuckled. Then he glanced at the water. “How about I turn around so you can get undressed, and then once you’re in the water, I’ll join you?” 

“Alright.” She agreed with a relaxed sigh. 

Tidus turned around, and waited patiently for her to give the okay. Instead, she gave a series of frustrated grunts. “You good?”

“Lulu tied my Obi too tight, and I’m having a little trouble getting the knot out…” 

“Can I help?” 

She chuckled, “you can try.” 

He turned around, seeing the problem immediately. She had pulled on the bow, but the knot remained. 

“You’d think I’d know how to undo this stupid thing, but in my haste, and I pulled the wrong side.” 

“No judgement from me.” He dug his fingers into the knot and slowly got it untangled, and then completely undone. With the obi gone, a lot more skin was visible, and he awkwardly tried to avert his gaze. “Is that good? Need help with anything else?” He cringed. “Not that I want to undress you, just if you were having any other wardrobe malfunctions…”

She giggled. “I understood. No, I got the rest of it.” 

Glad that he hadn’t offended her, he turned back around and began to unbuckle his bracer. 

Once he was down to his shorts, he heard Yuna get into the water. 

“Okay, I’m decent.” She claimed. 

She was just a head above the water. She was so cute that he let a giggle out. 

“Why are you laughing?” She pouted. 

“Nothing. I’m just surprised you’re letting me see your neck!” 

“I’m modest!” 

“And it’s very becoming.” He kicked off his boots and socks and went to remove his pants. But he glanced at her beforehand, and noticed she was completely turned away. 

“Oh come on now, you don’t have to look away. We’re married after all.” 

“I need to work my way up to that point.” She urged. “You may be my husband...but you’re still sort of a stranger.” 

Now fully naked, Tidus splashed into the water, and scooted closer to her. “I think you’re the strange one. You proposed to me after all.” 

“And you accepted.” 

“Touché.”

“And maybe I did rush things. Maybe proposing was impulsive.” 

“You’re not having cold feet now, are you?” 

“What? No, my feet are very warm!” 

“Is that not a phrase these days? Where I come from, ‘getting cold feet’ means that you’re regretting a wedding. Usually before the ceremony.” 

“It’s a common thing?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Lots of people get married for all different reasons. And not all of them are good.” 

“Do you think we got married for the right reasons?” She looked at him with big, sad eyes. 

“Well, I hope so. You wanted a companion for your journey, right? A taste of romance?” 

“If I hadn’t been a summoner, I would have just asked you to dinner, and see where things went. But...I’m on a bit of a tight schedule, you see. I don’t get to watch things unfold. If I want something, I have to take it.” 

“So you wanted me?” He moved his leg, and his knee brushed against her bare thigh. 

She blushed. “When you put it like that, it makes it sound like...like I was lusting after you.” 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I know I’m irresistible.” 

She smiled at him. “You are pretty cute.” 

“Hey! I’ll take it!” He glanced over the shelf of soaps, and popped the caps to sample them. There was a really nice fruity one. “Would you mind if I washed your hair?” 

At this point, Tidus was worried she was going to pass out from how red her face was. “I—if you want to? You don’t have to!” 

“Think of it as a bonding activity.” 

“...okay...” 

She settled in front of him, arms wrapped around her chest (though he had no way of seeing). He took a pitcher and wetted her hair, then very carefully started to massage the shampoo in. 

The sensation sent chills up her spine. “It’s...weird. But nice.” 

“Just like me.” 

She let out a very unladylike snort. 

“Cute.” 

“No it’s not! I used to get picked on for that all the time when I was younger. So embarrassing!” 

“Well, I think it’s cute. And my opinion is the only one that matters.” 

She just snorted again. “Quit making me laugh!” 

“I can’t help it! It’s my natural charm!” 

He scrubbed at her scalp, doing his best to get the sand out from the beach. Then he used the pitcher to rinse, before applying conditioner and rinsing again. 

“There we go. Squeaky clean.” 

“Then it’s only fair that I return the favor,” she announced. 

Now it was his turn to blush. “Well...I guess that’s fair.” 

“Are you afraid I’m going to find out you aren’t actually this tan? Just dirty?” 

“I am tan! It’s from training in the sun. Even then, I have naturally darker skin.” 

“Did I hit a sensitive topic?” She couldn’t help but laugh. 

“No, I’m just usually very hygienic, so your world with no showers or deodorant is making me uncomfortable.” 

“I truly am learning so much about you in just a little time.” 

“I have nothing to hide from you,” except one major thing, “so feel free to ask whatever you want.” 

It continued like that. Yuna washed his hair, and then he washed her back and shoulders while she returned the favor. They talked, they laughed, they teased and flirted, all until they turned pruney and Yuna yawned. 

“I’m sorry, you’re probably exhausted, and I’m keeping you up. Let’s get ready for bed.” Again, he stayed turned away so that she could get out and get dressed in the silk robe provided by the temple. He followed along soon after, and they returned to the temple. They were then escorted to a private room reserved for summoners. It had one big bed, and a stone floor. 

Tidus frowned, but got to work searching through the cabinets. They were mostly empty, as the supplies had gone to all the survivors in the other parts of the temple. 

“What are you looking for?” Yuna asked. 

“I was looking for another blanket and pillow. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“Oh!” She sounded horrified at the idea. “You don’t need to do that! There’s plenty of room on this bed for both of us! We might not even touch!” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! You were working just as hard as me today. You don’t need to sleep on the cold ground!” It was rather endearing how indignant she was. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “I can’t have my guardian having a poor night’s sleep.” 

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled. “You get in first, and I’ll take the outside.”

She crawled in the bed, and tucked herself close to the wall to make sure he had plenty of space. Then he scooted under the blankets and turned his back to her, and then turned out the bedside lamp. 

“Goodnight, Yuna.” 

“Goodnight.” 

After a moment, she spoke up. “Tidus?”

He decided to mess with her a little and didn’t answer. 

“I know you can’t already be asleep.” 

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. 

“What?”

“My full title, please.” 

She snorted. “Sir Tidus?”

He rolled over. “Yes, My dear Lady Yuna? What can I do for you?”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m only kidding. You can call me whatever you like. I’ll make everyone else call me ‘Sir’.” 

“What if I want to call you something cutesy? Like Snookie Wookums?”

“I love it, because everyone else will hate it.” 

She giggled. 

“What were you going to say earlier? When we said goodnight?”

“Oh…um. I was just wondering…if you would give me a goodnight kiss?” 

He sat up a little on his arms. “Yuna, I would love to give you a goodnight kiss.” Since it was dark, he reached out for her, and cupped her cheek with his hand. Then he slowly leaned in and kissed her lips, oh so gently, oh so sweetly. “How was that?”

She hummed, and then answered. “Perfect. I’ll be able to sleep now. Thank you.”

“Anytime…Snookie Wookums.” 

She snorted.

#Final Fantasy X #Final Fantasy #ffx #final fantasy tidus #tidus #tidus x yuna #yuna #fanfiction #I Do I guess

[seulgiology]

take you on a drive | johnny suh

Headcanon!

pairings: childhood friend!johnny x childhoodfriend!female reader

words: 1.5k

genre: fluffy headcanon with humor uwu

synopsis: I’m pretty sure we all know NCT 127. You know, the 10-member K-Pop group who makes some questionable, but nonetheless amazing music? Then you must know their lead dancer and underrated vocalist/rapper, Johnny Suh. But what was he like before the fame and popularity? What happened in Chicago?

warnings: cursing

a/n: fuck, yall im so sorry for that long ass gif jdlknjdbc,,, anygays ADMIN 1 HERE YER YER. unedited in my angst to post this

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. Thank you and enjoy :)

--

boy oh boy i hope ya’ll saw those pre-debut pictures of johnny cause-

CHILE

but before we get into that;

how’d you meet in the first place?

funny you ask

it was by pure coincidence

you were a rising junior in high school

yikes lol,

you were pretty fucking young

you had just got your drivers license and desperately wanted to drive your parents car

the sad part:

your annoying ass little brothers had to go with you wherever you drove

two of these devils were too much

imagine being in a CAR with them

hell

around august, you being the good sister you are,

offered to take them to the amusement park

with their equally annoying friends lol

12 year olds are just,,,

sigh

but you weren’t the only one chaperoning

one of their friends older brother (you vaguely remember his name being Johnny)tagged along to watch the devil spawns with you

and my my my, you were not expecting him to hop in the back of your moms mini van with all that hair

ya’ll know that hair he had pre-debut when it was super long and shaggy-like? yea that one

but he was cute

in a nerdy way though

you couldn’t help but steal peeks at him a few times-

or what you thought was being discreet

-through the rear view mirror of course

and what you gathered was this:

naturally puckered lips

might still be going through puberty with his voice

muscly arms, probably his whole body too

friendly eyes but intimidating face

in conclusion-

you didn’t know what to think about him

there came a point on the highway when your brothers and their friends wanted snacks

you exited the highway to the nearest gas station and sighed into the steering wheel as you waited for them to come back

“are you always this annoyed?” came a sudden voice.

you damn near banged your head against the car roof with how high you sat up

“shit, i thought you were in there with the boys.”

your hand was clutching your flowery tank top, the hot weather was not playing today

and he sniggered under his breath at obviously startling you

“What’s so funny?” in all honesty, you weren’t even upset

you just wanted him to get that you were not the one to mess with

… with your clear jelly sandals

… and clip on earrings your little sister forced you to wear

… and the flowers on your tank were the icing on the cake

the childish pout on your face was absolutely adorable to him

“You’re blushing. it’s cute.”

You couldn’t keep your front in place for long with that contagious smile he had

“It’s just insanely hot.”

“Pfft and so am I.” He playfully scoffed at your remarks, his bangs shifting along with his movement

the car fell into a comfortable silence after that,

both of you too awkward to continue

when the boys finally got into the car after 902837 years,

you were once again on your way to the esteemed amusement park

once you guys arrived, the boys immediately ran off to the biggest rollercoasters to ride

with you two alone

so much for chaperoning right

at least they said they’ll call if they need you

so there you were;

thinking how the hell you ended up with this sarcastic and sweaty dweeb

you turned towards him in time to see him already looking your way

might as well make the most out of the situation, right?

“I heard the Goliath is pretty scary.” You warily suggest

“Only if you’re a wuss.” He jesters back

“Tch, im pretty sure you’ll be throwing up your intestines by the time we’re done”

“I guess we’ll have to actually get on the ride to see, don’t we?” The cunning smirk was challenging and you were ready for it.

even if you were a little bitch who couldn’t stand heights

sorry to the readers who actually are afraid of heights

but if this guy Johnny was daring you,

something about him made you want to prove him wrong

“Race you to the coaster!”

and he ran off, leaving you in the dust

“I bet $5 he doesn’t know where he’s going.”

about an hour later, you and Johnny rode about 4 roller coasters

laughing until you cried

and screaming at the top of your lungs in absolute joy

but the slightly older teen at your side was having the time of his life too

for a completely different reason

his mind went blank when you held his hand tight as the ride was climbing to the top

he couldn’t contain his smile when you tugged him along to another ride and told him,

“Johnny we have to ride this one, It’s going to be even better than the last.”

you met up with the other boys to eat some of the food you snuck in

ngl y’all every time i went to six flags they don’t allow outside food in?????

none of you were tired yet, and spent another 3 hours at the park

You and Johnny found yourselves near the boardwalk part

It came to a surprise that he was the one tugging you along

you played all of the typical games people play

whack-a-mole

milk bottle

balloon bust

ring toss

roll-a-ball

that game where you have to shoot water in a hole to blow up the balloon

even managed to win your shaggy haired companion a stuffy

“it’s so pretty at night, isn’t it?”

you asked as he carried you on his back,

since you were complaining about your feet hurting

the lights of the carousel and the boardwalk together was so beautiful

you sat down near the big fountain in the middle, waiting for the other to make their way back

you chatted on and on about the amusement park

adored by the way his eyes seem to disappear when he laughed with you

and when you made your way back home, the conversation continued in the car too

you sung songs together and even managed to get on your brothers’ good side

surprise number 826363 of the night;

johnny could sing

You all sang your hearts out to Beyonce’s If I were a Boy, and TVXQ’s Mirotic

He couldn’t remember a time where he had so much fun in one day

so it was absolutely devastating when you pulled up to his house

“I guess this is it huh?”

he was so nervous, omg

he didn’t want to leave like that

shit, he spent the whole day having fun with an amazing person

he couldn’t believe he had to walk back in his house

and go on in life to only have this day as a memory

to lay at night and-

“You want my number, or...?”

you stifled a girlish giggle when he fumbled with his phone in his hand

you quickly opened up his contacts and added your name

with a little “<3″ at the end ‘cause you had to

you handed him back his phone and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers brushing against yours

your initial confidence soon left and all that was left was suffocating awkwardness

god he really wanted to say something

but he just had  to be a nervous

even if you both were pressed against each other on those roller coasters

“uh... I had a lot of fun with you- with everyone I mean, today, by the way,” he forced the words out

he could hear how nervous and shaky he was, but you could see his eyes held sincerity

“Yeah, so did I.”

you stared at him with a small smile on your face

shifting in place under the weight of his strong gaze

HONK!

you both jumped at the sound of the car honking obnoxiously

“Damn where is the knife ‘cause this tension is THICK”

“How do you even know what tension is, aren’t you like, 6?”

you snorted at johnny’s comeback and shook your head in amusement

“I should get going before they try and drive the car down the street”

you subconsciously put your hands in your back pockets and slowly back track towards the car

“Hey, y/n!”

just as you were getting in the front seat, you whip your head in his direction looking at him expectantly

“Maybe next time you won’t actually be scared.”

he sent a giddy grin your way before closing the front door

leaving you in the drivers seat with tingles throughout your body

and a grin on your face that you couldn’t wipe away even as you bid your parents good night

you toppled on your bed in a fit of giggles as you hug your phone to your chest

take a shot from every time i type giggles

“omg is he asking me out on a date?” you couldn’t help but ask aloud

suddenly, your phone chimes with a new message

your phone drops on your bed from your excitement

you already knew who it was from

you quickly opened the message and didn’t stop your eyes from rolling all the way to the back of your head

save me in your phone as ‘youngHOE’ ;)

he never failed to make you laugh

#:') cries #johnny #johnny suh #nct #nct127 #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct headcanons #nct 127 fluff #nct127 fluff #johnny headcanon #johnny fanfic #kpop headcanon #nct fanfic #work by seulgiology #johnny soft hours #johnny be mine juseyo :333

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

soulmates

i can’t believe i woke up two hours earlier to write for some 2d boy’s birthday-

this isn’t a soulmate au i’m sorry

pairing: shirabu x reader

i.

Shirabu Kenjirou doesn’t believe in soulmates, because by extension, that’d mean that things such as luck and miracles and even Santa would also exist. He likes to think that his hours of studying and sheer grit are the reasons that he was accepted into Shiratorizawa. What he lacks in talent, he’ll make up with his efforts and his efforts only; he doesn’t need something silly like magic, especially when said magic couldn’t come through when he needed it the most.

He replays the memory of Karasuno’s 10 over and over again in his mind, even after the third years have said their goodbyes. He remembers it all, the fatigue in his body, the lead of his legs, and the noise of the ball thudding up and down on their side of the court. He wonders what would happen if magic had really existed. Would he have been able to react faster then and save the ball?

Shirabu doesn’t like mulling over the past since it’s a waste of his time, but sometimes when he’s studying by himself, too tired to think straight, he finds himself zoning out. It’s not good for him, and he knows it, focusing too keenly on all his weaknesses and trying to find a way to fix them, but he can’t help it. Because he doesn’t believe in miracles, he only has himself.

If he’s feeling a little generous, though, maybe he’d consider you a little magical.

You’ve seen him around on campus, always studying alone by a corner and wearing a terrible scowl when someone got too loud or tried to pester him. Between majoring in sciences and the volleyball club, you realize two things: he’s an incredibly hard worker, and you’ve definitely been looking at him too much to know these things without ever having a proper conversation with him. There was just something admirable about the way he carried himself and how he’d always be working hard without complaining about being tired.

He’s quite the frequent customer at the cafe where you part-time at, and you’re not surprised. Someone with his lifestyle would need gallons of coffee to keep going, but you don’t think he’s there for the coffee. Perhaps it’s the quiet atmosphere where he can study. Maybe he’s escaping from a particularly loud roommate, or maybe the library seats are all taken. You don’t know for sure, but what you do realize is that he definitely at least knows of your existence with his short and curt nods for greeting. If you got lucky, he’d give you a quiet “Hey.”

He gets you worried. Sometimes, he’d be hunched over at his seat but without the usually concentrated furrow of his brow or his moving pen and graceful, yet quick flip of textbook pages. He’d just be staring blankly at the table, an expression unreadable, and he’d stay like that for moments at a time before shaking his head in frustration, pushing himself to his limit to go back to work. It’s hard to watch, and you almost wish you could do something, but you don’t. Not when he knew you just as the barista that went to the same university. You’d hate to pry.

It’s not until on one particularly dreary day that he walks in without so much as a nod that you realize the problem is larger than you feared it was. By now, he’s used to just handing over his cash, knowing well that you memorized his regular order, and as you turn around to grab a mug, you hear him clatter into a seat in the corner, sighing. The burst of freak courage that rushes through you almost makes you walk right up to him and ask what’s wrong, but you steel yourself. He hated being disturbed out of nowhere.

You place his coffee gently on a tray, sliding a piece of tiramisu on it as well before walking quietly over to his table. He doesn’t seem to take notice of you, hand running through his hair and staring a little bit too hard at the formulas taunting him on the paper. Silently, you leave his order on the table and leave without a word.

By the time Shirabu realizes that his coffee has long gone cold and that there’s an extra plate that he doesn’t remember paying for, you’re already gone, leaving your shift to someone else. He sits there, confused. Then, he spots a little slip of paper and reaches for it.

“You’re always working so hard, so I’m sure it’ll pay off. Don’t worry too much about setbacks, and remember to breathe! Also, I’m not sure if you like sweets or not, but don’t worry about the tiramisu. It’s on the house!”

Shirabu isn’t the kind of person to enjoy desserts; the sugar makes him crash sooner than he’d like, and it isn’t exactly good for his health. He’d much prefer something salty over something sweet, but after thinking a bite, he reconsiders. He doesn’t like it that much, but for some reason, he finds himself eating all of it. It’s good, but not because of the taste. He wants to know exactly why, but he’s reminded once more that he has a math examen tomorrow along with a paper due.

The following afternoon, Shirabu walks into the cafe and spares you not one word, but four.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking away. His cheeks are slightly tinted, and he hopes you don’t notice. “Thanks for yesterday.”

ii.

Shirabu doesn’t believe in magic, because it’s unexplainable and unreliable. You’re close to half-magic because while you’re not entirely unreliable, your effect on him is absolutely unexplainable. It throws him in for a loop.

The first instance of your unpredictability is when the two of you are paired as lab partners. That gets things going between you two, exchanging numbers and talking more frequently than usual. Now instead of, “Hey,” he says, “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or, “Are you still up?” to you. It’s exciting, and you hope that he considers you a friend at the very least.

On Shirabu’s part, he finds that your energy is a good counter to the tired mornings he so often faces, and when you give him your signature smile, he feels his heart buzzing. He reasons that it’s because you’re such a breath of fresh air; it’s not often that he lets someone loud but not annoying into his life considering that his past experiences with energetic people were subpar. He likes being lab partners with you because you do your fair share, and he knows he can count on you during the rare times he needs help, and vice versa. You’re like the perfect fit for him, covering for his weaknesses, while he covered for yours.

He used to hate late nights of doing work since his eyes always got tired from staring endlessly at a screen of words and nothing more, but now they’re not so bad. He’ll find himself calling you if he knows you’re up, enjoying the sound of your whispers, as you’re afraid to wake your neighbors up at the dead of night. Sometimes the two of you exchange playful banter, and he’ll feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders, even if temporarily.

He enjoys a lot of things about you, and he almost finds it strange how even the smallest things you do get him a little bit happy. Just a little. Whenever you’re proofreading his essays, he finds that your comments, while still very helpful, are filled with energy. He used to think that exclamation marks were just a way to convey false energy in work and formal emails, but when he sees his paper littered with just hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, he can’t help but crack into a small smile over how silly it is. If you leave small doodles on the margin of his papers from when the two of you study together during lunch breaks or in between classes, he’ll always look at them fondly for a while before filing them neatly away.

He knows you’re busy as well, but after the first time he sees you wait for him outside of the gym for practice to end with coffee in hand, he begins to anticipate your appearance more and more. He likes how you don’t mind that he walks out disheveled, sweaty, and maybe cranky depending on how practice went, and his heart will always flutter if you comment on how good his sets were. You don’t know a thing about volleyball, and he’s probably aware of the fact, but when words like, “Cool,” or “Graceful,” flow out of your mouth, he thinks he must be going crazy. He feels like Goshiki getting all happy over just small praises and desperately wishes that he could stop being so lame.

“You don’t have to come by so often, you know,” he says one day even though he wants to ask you to stop by the gym every day. “You must be busy too, right?”

“I just study outside the benches while I’m waiting for you, so it’s not like I’m wasting my time,” you respond back, walking with an extra spring in your step. Whenever Shirabu walked you back to your apartment, you were always on Cloud 9.

He doesn’t say anything after and opts to revel in the comfortable silence that sits between you too. He wonders if you like being with a guy like him, someone so serious, so boring, and so critical of others. He’s blunt about almost everything, and he’s the driest texter alive according to Tendou. A part of him worries that you’ll get bored with such a bland and severe personality, and he’s not sure if you’re hurt by his directness. He thinks about other people that could probably serve as a better companion, and when he starts realizing how long the list is, he feels a bit of fear in his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, quick to pick up whether or not Shirabu’s silence meant content or discomfort. He appreciates it a lot.

“No,” he says quickly. You take it as a sign to drop the topic. He’d tell you later if he felt like it, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t a big deal. You’d help him cheer up without knowing what was wrong anyways.

“Today, there was this customer that walked in,” you start again, moving your arms slightly for emphasis in your story. Shirabu finds it endearing, but then he catches himself thinking it and comes to a frightful realization in the middle of your story.

Magic doesn’t exist, but love does. Shirabu doesn’t understand either of them.

iii.

In another world, if Shirabu did believe in magic and wished for his other half, he thinks they’d be exactly like you.

Still, he’s not entirely convinced that magic in this world exists, no matter how many times you make him watch all the Harry Potter movies with you. He needs a miracle to help him put into words how much he loves you because he thinks that by now, he should’ve said the L-word a long time ago, or at least enough to match how often you say it to him. It never loses its effect, though, and it always makes him flustered.

“Love you,” you’ll say to him randomly when the two of you are alone, and his face will go beet red.

“Me too,” is all he’ll be able to manage, but he wishes so desperately that he can return those same words one day.

You don’t really need him to verbalize it, though. He’s the type of person who shows his affection physically whether it’s running his fingers through your hair when you’re feeling down or gently squeezing your hand in public. His hugs are warm, and while it was a little awkward and stiff at first, they’re more relaxed and frequent now. You like how he’ll let you rest on his chest after a hard day and how he’d never let you go until he’s more than convinced that you’re fine. Whenever he brushes away your tears with a stray thumb, you feel all your worries and anxieties disappear.

In return, you’ll practically pull his figure into you whenever he comes home feeling frustrated or upset, resting his head at the crook of your neck while rubbing circles on his back. You let him vent, and after hours of him explaining to you how pathetic he finds himself, you’ll kiss him until he’s all better. In truth, he doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him, especially when he feels as if he can’t return it back tenfold despite trying his hardest.

It’s late at night like it usually is when he’s studying. You had gone to bed hours before, so it surprises him when he hears the bedroom door creak open and the shuffling of your feet against the floor. He turns his head around from his laptop, taking off his glasses and rubbing his dry eyes before giving you a proper look with the tilt of his head.

“You should be asleep,” he murmurs rather guiltily. “I’ll be in bed soon.”

“That’s what you always say,” you chuckle, voice tired. You rub your eyes too before taking a seat right next to him on the couch. “Still studying?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, moving an arm so that you can wrap your arms around his side and rest your head against his body. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise-“

“No, it’s all good.” Your eyes scan across the website he’s looking at, and you almost gag at the wall of words. “We can take a long nap together this weekend. After you ace your exam.”

He smiles softly, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss on your cheek before returning his attention back to the screen. He’d prefer it if you fell asleep back in bed, not because you’re distracting, but because he knows how the screen light distracts you from dozing off comfortably. You don’t seem to be willing to let go, though, and he isn’t going to tell you to leave him when he desperately wants you by his side at all times.

“Why don’t I read some of it to you?” you offer, stifling a yawn. You hear him laugh quietly and frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says quietly, caressing the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “It’s just that…you know that I’ll get distracted if you start reading to me, right? I’d probably fall asleep.”

“That’s the point.” He rolls his eyes playfully, pressing another kiss, this time on your nose because he can’t help himself. “I think you’re already pretty distracted right now, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” His voice is low and tired, but content, and you enjoy how it vibrates from his chest. You see him eyeing your lips more and more at each word you speak, and you have to hold in your smirk. “I need to recharge for a bit.”

Setting aside his laptop, he bends down to press his lips against yours, pulling your body close to his. He feels your fingers run through his hair and against his scalp, tempting him to further the kiss. You’re the one to pull away first much to his dismay, and he lets out a quiet whine as you look and admire the red mess that you’ve turned Shirabu into.

“I’ll let you recharge more after you’re done working,” you tease, grinning. He breaks into a smile and reaches back for his computer, making a sound of agreement.

“I’ll be done soon, love.”

Shirabu doesn’t trust magic. Miracles and wishes and made up spells are silly figments of childhood imagination. Soulmates, though, he thinks, may be closer to reality than he had initially thought. He can’t say he minds it.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #shirabu kenjirou #kenjirou shirabu #shirabu #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjirou x reader #kenjirou shirabu x reader #hbd shirabu #salty setter #and by two hours earlier i mean a regular wake-up time

[dreamscapefics]

HEY OMG, i have a prompt,, normal witcher universe except people have animal traits/features so Jaskier is a catboy...black kitty ears and a fluffy tail while Geralt has wolf ears and a tail,,it mostly goes all okay, Geralt even starts accepting and making J a member of Pack, then J ends up going into Heat (magic? Was it just his time? Who knows) and since G has already made J pack, it makes sense that he would help fill his kitty up (go Absolutely insane with whatever kinks u wanna give em ❤️)

I finally managed to finish the last one-fourth of this fic. Thank you so much for sending this prompt, I had a lot of fun writing it, despite the writer’s block haha. I hope you, and everyone who sees this, like reading this.

Brief explanation: I made a few tweaks about the Alpha/Omega aspect. In this ‘verse, Omegas are intersex. When they present, their organs and anatomy shift accordingly. That said, they’re unable to get pregnant unless they go into Heat, and they only go into Heat when they meet a viable mate. Even after they meet their mate, it can still take a long time before a Heat is triggered. They can still have sex, of course, but they just can’t get pregnant when they’re not in heat.

Tags: animal features on human body (partial animal transformation? Idk the right term), Alpha/Omega, breeding, knotting, cunnilingus

~*~

It’s believed that wolves and cats don’t really get along. They can co-exist and interact, yes, but only when it’s absolutely necessary. For the most part they choose not to because it’s not in their nature as a species. Alpha wolves and cats have a tendency to be aggressive towards one another, whereas Betas and Omegas are more manageable.

But an Alpha wolf and Omega cat? That’s an association that’s rarely, if never, heard of.

So when Geralt, an Alpha wolf, met Jaskier, an Omega cat, in Posada all those years ago, he never expected for the feline bard to stick to him, much else befriended him. Jaskier, with his black kitty ears on top of his tousled chestnut hair, almost always has his black fluffy tail held high, alerting Geralt that the young man enjoys being in the wolf’s presence. And Geralt, internally exasperated at his own biological urges, is unable to stop his own fluffy white tail from wagging back and forth, a clear indication that he’s just as happy to have the bard around.

Of course, the beginning of their companionship (friendship?) was filled with arguments and disagreements. It still is to this day, but it was a lot worse then. They’re both territorial creatures, and Jaskier had a tendency to rub his scent all over Geralt’s things, which the wolf witcher didn’t appreciate at first. Then there was the issue of taking on contracts, which Geralt has gotten used to doing on his own. So having Jaskier tag along, prancing about the place while strumming his lute, his black tail poised high as he talks Geralt’s ear off about the monster they’re hunting and the inspiration Jaskier will gain from witnessing the impending fight. It took several months before Geralt got used to having another creature around, his enhanced senses extending to look after his feline friend for any sign of trouble.

Years passed and they slowly grew more comfortable around each other. Geralt still gets pissed and growls at Jaskier whenever he smells the bard’s scent on his things, in which Jaskier would answer with a twitch of his tail. The first time he wrapped his tail around Geralt, it happened a few years into their friendship. They passed by a village who was vitriolic towards Geralt’s kind, spitting vile comments about him. So when he felt a brush of Jaskier’s fluffy tail around his waist, Geralt blinked at the unfamiliar gesture but remained calm. It’s only when they left the village that he allowed his own tail to lightly brush against Jaskier’s rear, who turned to Geralt with a sunny smile, his kitty ears twitching happily.

From that moment, Geralt knew that Jaskier was going to be with him for the long haul. It’s then that he decided to officially welcome Jaskier to his Pack by inviting the feline to winter with him at Kaer Morhen that year.

Jaskier accepted, obviously, and while Geralt was excited, he was also nervous at the prospect of introducing Jaskier to his fellow wolf witchers, not knowing whether his brothers will get along with his feline friend. But his fears were unfounded when Eskel and Lambert reacted favorably to Jaskier and vice versa. Even Vesemir’s grey tail twitched in curiosity upon meeting Jaskier, and his small nod aimed at Geralt was one of approval which made the witcher nearly sag in relief, heedless of his white tail wagging.

Everything was great that winter. Jaskier sang for them almost every night and Geralt took him on a tour around the Keep, showing him his favorite places and voluntarily sharing stories to the eager bard about his time growing up there and what he and his brothers went through to become a witcher.

To say that Jaskier was moved to tears would be an understatement because that night, Jaskier crawled into Geralt’s bed. He curled his body around Geralt, his black fluffy tail wrapping almost possessively around him which made Geralt huff in amusement. But he also wrapped an arm around Jaskier, fingers running through his tousled hair and kitty ears while his own tail curled around the bard’s.

~

After that, Jaskier always went with Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter. They still go their separate ways for a few months or an entire season, but they make sure to always reunite by autumn, having agreed beforehand to meet at a city or town.

Even after ten years of traveling together, they still get a lot of stares. Some confused, some frightened, while others give them judgmental stares, eyes drifting from Geralt’s hulking form to Jaskier’s lithe body. Yes, it’s still unheard of for wolves and cats to be voluntarily traveling together, but an Alpha wolf and an Omega cat? Oh, the perverse shit Geralt has heard over the years from passersby.

“The bard is probably the monster’s sex slave.”

“How can a feline degrade themself to a fucking witcher?”

“Melitele, can you smell them? Their scents are basically entwined!”

“I bet the witcher’s knot is magical for the kitty bard to stay with him.”

Geralt doesn’t think the Jaskier ever heard those comments about them, because if he did then his friend would’ve likely gone feral on them - hissing barbed insults at them, body taut and tail puffed up.

Still, given their reputation as traveling companions, it’s a wonder they both managed to have sex at all. Geralt has the brothels while Jaskier has, well, anyone willing to bed a feline bard whose best friend is an Alpha wolf witcher. In the years they’ve known each other, Geralt has never seen Jaskier go into Heat; even the bard admitted that he hasn’t experienced it since he presented as an Omega.

“I guess I haven’t met my mate yet,” Jaskier says with a nonchalant shrug, but Geralt can smalle the sorrow and insecurity in the bard’s scent.

Geralt hums and brushes his tail against Jaskier, whose tail is slowly swishing back and forth. The feline looks at him with a sweet smile, and Geralt’s chest tightens at the sight.

He’s been having these peculiar feelings for Jaskier lately. Geralt can’t pinpoint when it began, but he knows he only became aware of it when they reunited a month ago in Oxenfurt. He’s not certain if it’s just a passing thing or something more permanent, but regardless Geralt doesn’t like to see one of his pack members sad. While a part of him is guilty for feeling happy that Jaskier hasn’t met his mate yet, a part of Geralt wishes he could be that person for Jaskier instead. He loves the bard, he’s Geralt’s best friend. He looks after him and cares for him and is there for him whenever Jaskier gets in trouble.

By the time they begin their trek up the Blue Mountains for Kaer Morhen, Geralt has pushed away all thoughts of him and Jaskier becoming more to the back of his mind. There’s no space for silly fantasies in the life of a witcher. The Path is all that matters, and Geralt can’t allow himself such distractions.

And for a while it worked. Barely, but it worked.

Until two years later when Jaskier went into heat in Kaer Morhen.

~

Geralt takes a deep breath before knocking on the door at the end of the hallway. He hears a muffled, “Come in”, before he opens it and quickly gets in, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, I brought you some broth Vesemir prepared,” Geralt announces as he makes his way to the form slumped in the middle of the bed. Like all the other beds in the keep, it’s huge and can accommodate at least three grown witchers, the mattress wrapped in soft, thick furs. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my insides are being scraped by a rusty spoon,” Jaskier croaks out, his smile coming out more as a grimace. His cat ears are turned sideways, chestnut hair disheveled as a few locks of hair cling to his sweaty forehead and neck. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Geralt perches on the side of the bed, breathing carefully through his mouth so as not to inhale more of Jaskier’s tantalizing scent. He’s always smelled a bit like catnip, lavender, and cantaloupe. But now that he’s in the first stage of his heat, Geralt can detect something spicy sweet, as well as something musky that only heats generate. Overall, Geralt is already addicted to Jaskier’s heat scent, his cock hardening further in his loose breeches.

“I told you, it’s fine,” Geralt says as he places the tray on Jaskier’s lap. “But like Vesemir said, it would help if you told us who triggered your heat. There’s still time to track them down the mountains.”

Jaskier flushes, ducking his head to spoon soup into his mouth. Geralt cocks his head when he smells a hint of nervousness and embarrassment in his friend’s scent.

“You’re nervous,” he points out. “And embarrassed.” Geralt narrows his eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

“N-nothing!” Jaskier shakes his head, but even Geralt doesn’t need his witcher senses to detect the lie. “It’s nothing, Geralt. It was probably that foxy blacksmith I slept with at the town before last.”

Geralt growls low and continues to look at him, unimpressed.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says in a gruff voice. “Stop lying to me, Jask. Who is it?”

“It’s… I.” Jaskier shakes his head and spoons another mouthful of soup. Beside him, his black, fluffy tail twitches. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

Knowing he won’t get an answer if he prods further, Geralt decides to take a different approach. He clears his throat, his turn to be nervous as he psyches himself for what he’s about to ask. Offer. If this is the only time… Geralt internally shakes his head and clears his throat once more. Behind him, his tail twitches nervously.

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me who, then… I have a suggestion.” Geralt pauses, waiting until he has Jaskier’s full attention, the feline bard tilting his head slightly with a curious glint in his eye. Nodding, Geralt carries on. “If you are amenable, and since it’s your first heat after so long, I... hmm. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat pick up, the bard gulping audibly as he stares wide-eyed at Geralt.

“What are you, um, are you suggesting...” he falters, cheeks darkening.

Geralt slowly nods his head. “I’m offering to, um, help you. With your heat. If that’s okay with you.”

Jaskier is silent for several seconds, and Geralt is starting to become more nervous when --

“Geralt, I…” Jaskier swallows. Geralt can smell the honeyed scent of excitement as Jaskier’s kitty ears perk up, turning wide blue cat-eyes on Geralt’s golden. “You silly witcher, you’re the reason why I’m in heat. It’s you who triggered it.” At Geralt’s stunned silence, Jaskier lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Say something, you brute.”

“So you…” Want to share your heat with me? You’re my mate?

Jaskier, his smile breathtaking and blue eyes blown wide with arousal, nods his head.

“Yes.”

I want you with me.

Yes, we’re mates.

Something in Geralt unfurls and snaps. Surging forward, he takes Jaskier’s sweaty face into his hands and kisses him, careful to not knock the tray of hot soup over the bard, his mate. Jaskier lets out a punched out groan as he returns Geralt’s kiss, nipping and sucking as their tongues battle for dominance, quickly turning it into something filthy and scorching.

The next few minutes are a blur. Somehow, in their frenzied state, Geralt managed to set aside the food tray on the cold stone floor as he helped Jaskier get out of his damp clothes. It doesn’t take long for Geralt to shuck off his own garments, his mate pushing down the thick furs to the end of the bed as he turns over on his belly. Jaskier is on his knees and forearms by the time Geralt steps out of his smallclothes, and his arousal spikes when he catches a glimpse of his wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier arches his back, tail flicking in excitement and wiggling his ass at the witcher as he purrs, “That’s the plan, darling. Please, please come and fuck me. Want your knot so bad.”

“Fuck, Jask.”

Not needing to be told twice, Geralt gets back on the bed and positions himself behind his needy mate. Licking his lips, Geralt gently pushes the other man’s legs wider before taking his plump cheeks in both hands and spreading them apart. Geralt absentmindedly kisses the fluffy tail curling around his neck, but rather than stick his cock in, Geralt leans closer to Jaskier’s taint and inhales the tantalizing scent. His eyes nearly roll back into his head at the ripe smell of his mate, and without hesitation he buries his face in Jaskier’s cunt, tongue lapping at the sweet juices dripping from his hole.

Jaskier’s gasp of shock quickly turns into a breathless moan, his thighs quivering as Geralt takes the little nub between his lips and sucks.

“Ah, ah!” Jaskier gasps out, his head thrown back in pleasure. “Geralt, I - ah! Fuck!”

Geralt moans from where his tongue is buried inside Jaskier, chest rumbling as he breathes in the sweet, musky smell. He licks into Jaskier’s hot, wet channel before stiffening his tongue and fucking his mate. He uses the hands gripping the cheeks apart to push and pull his mate from his tongue, Jaskier thrusting back against Geralt’s face with expletives and moans that would give a whore a run for their money.

He spends several minutes worshipping Jaskier’s cunt, and he alternates between fucking his loose, wet hole and licking a stripe from his little nub to his tailbone. Jaskier’s fluffy tail twitches and Geralt can’t help but lay a sweet, small kiss at the base before diving back in to lick and taste more of his mate’s sweet juices. Jaskier cums with Geralt’s tongue plunging in and out of his hole, and the witcher laps it all up while Jaskier rides out his orgasm.

Giving one last kiss to the swollen nub, Geralt gets up on his knees once more and grips Jaskier’s hips as he finally guides his cock to his mate’s leaking entrance. He slowly sinks into the tight, wet heat, and loud groans of pleasure echo in the spacious room as Geralt bottoms out.

When he breathes out and inhales, Geralt is then made aware of a new smell. It’s a cloying scent, not overpowering but present, blending perfectly with the existing smells that Jaskier has already been producing. His heat has officially begun.

At the thought of his mate officially in heat, and it’s all thanks to him, Geralt growls low at the back of his throat as he pulls out before thrusting back in. Jaskier’s moans urge him to set a fast and brutal pace, and Geralt is unrelenting as he begins to ram his cock in his mate’s cunt. He has a tight grip on Jaskier’s hips, whose hands are gripping the sheets below as he lets out breathy ah, ah, ah’s as Geralt continues to fuck his brains out.

“So good, so fucking good,” Jaskier chants, eyes hazy with lust and pleasure as he attempts to meet Geralt’s thrusts. Their tails entwine lazily, black and snow white twisting around each other on Geralt’s flanks. “Fuck - ah! Geralt, fuck me harder.”

“Insatiable minx,” Geralt says roughly, but there’s a feral smile on his face. He adjusts his grip and position and does as he’s told. From the new angle he’s fucking Jaskier, and by the deep, throaty moans his mate is emitting, he knows he’s hitting that sweet spot.

Jaskier tuts. “More like an insatiable pussy for you, darling.”

Geralt snorts in amusement and elects not to say anything, except to fuck his insatiable bard harder until Jaskier’s hands are pressed against the headboard to avoid hitting his head. After some time, Geralt presses down against Jaskier’s back to bite and suck a ring of bruises across his shoulders and nape. He trails his hands up to pinch and tweak at Jaskier’s sensitive nipples, the bard howling and buckling against Geralt’s hard thrusts. Geralt lifts his head to nose at Jaskier’s hair and kitty ears, playfully nipping at one twitching ear before licking it.

Jaskier’s breath hitch at the gesture, and Geralt’s knot swells as he inwardly smirks before doing it again. He traces the shape of Jaskier’s feline ear with the tip of his tongue, and below him Jaskier’s breathing quickens, his moans rising an octave higher as Geralt nips it again before moving to the other ear and giving it the same treatment.

“G-Geralt, fuck,” Jaskier mewls. He removes one hand that’s pressed to the headboard to claw at Geralt, blunt nails digging into the meat of the witcher’s hip and ass.

“You like that, kitty?” Geralt purrs in his ear. “You like having a wolf cock in your kitty pussy?”

“Yes!”

“So fucking tight and wet for me, kitty. You feel so good, so perfect.”

“F-fuck, Geralt, please!”

“What is it you want, kitty?”

“Y-you! Your knot! Want my Alpha’s knot!” Jaskier sobs.

Geralt snarls. “And you’ll have my knot, Omega.”

Half a dozen thrusts later, Geralt brings two fingers to rub at Jaskier’s little nub. And with a final thrust, he pushes his knot inside Jaskier’s tight channel as his mate cums with a scream, body convulsing at the intensity of his second orgasm. Geralt can feel his knot swell, locking the two together as his cock pulses and shoots thick ropes of cum.

After, Geralt carefully arranges them so they’re lying on their sides, still connected as he shoots another load of cum inside Jaskier, his mate purring contentedly in his arms.

“That was incredible,” Jaskier slurs, pessing his sweaty back against the witcher’s front.

Geralt hums contentedly, eyes closed as he breathes in their mixed scents. He kisses the back of Jaskier’s neck and murmurs, “Rest, love.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier hums back. Then after a few seconds of blessed silence, “Then you’ll fuck me again, right? And knot me again?”

Geralt huffs out a laugh and tightens his grip around Jaskier, his hand resting possessively over his mate’s heart.

“I’ll knot you as many times as you want, kitty.”

Jaskier purrs. “Perfect. My Alpha.”

“My Omega,” Geralt rumbles, kissing one of Jaskier’s black kitty ears. “Sleep now, love.”

Jaskier hums and does just that, their tails curled almost protectively around each other as they both fall into a peaceful slumber.

~*~

A/N: If you think my writing’s a bit weird towards the end, yeah it’s been a while for me haha. Thanks for reading!

Also, I don’t think future filled out prompts will have this kind of length. It would depend, I guess, and never say never, right? But just wanted to give you guys a head’s up beforehand.

#dreamer fics #dreamer geraskier #cw knotting #cw breeding #cw animal transformation #partial animal transformation #idk the right term for this lol

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 +  a/n: here’s to @jungkooksbish​ ! happy birthday ily 💜💜💜

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

It’s a dark and gloomy night, but you walk alone down the silent streets.

There’s not a soul in sight, save the crescent moon hanging in the sky, your only companion.  Night has fallen and it’s getting late, and your friends are all gone, having just realized you’ve all lost track of time.  In your haste to return to the little apartment you call home, you’ve (quite unwisely, now that you think of it) decided to take a shortcut down one the spookier alleys.  You know for certain it’ll take you home – you’ve walked it countless times during the day.  But this time is different, and as you walk along, you’re starting to seriously regret your decision.  You never know about the creatures that thrive in the dark, after all.

You’ve been warned about them before, by the lucky few who have survived their encounters to tell the tale.  Everybody knows to be wary of the supernatural nightlife, knows to lower their voices when they speak around the metaphorical campfire.  You know about most of them: the witches, who escaped a fiery death at the stake long ago and now live among mankind, running amok with their magic; the werewolves, who live at the mercy of the wax and wane of the moon, at best a little worse than a man and at worst a little better than a beast; the shifters, who are experts at hiding in society, the apparent lesser of the evils.  

Of course, you can’t forget about the most dangerous ones of them all: the vampires, soulless undead who lured their victims to their doom with their unnatural beauty, who fed not on ordinary food and water, but preyed on other creatures, preferring to drink the blood of humans who live and breathe as you do.  You don’t think you’ve ever encountered any of them before, and you hope that you’re lucky enough never to.

But of course, as fate will have it, luck is not your friend. stomp. Your eyes widen, and you can’t help but suck in a breath.  Peeking over your shoulder, you see nothing but the shadows beside you.  It’s deathly silent out there.  Calm down, Y/N, you tell yourself firmly, it was probably just a monster rat.  If it attacks you, just whack it with all you’ve got.  You’re still spooked, and you walk a little faster, hold your phone a little tighter.  The battery is low, but you know that 1% you’ve got will last you long enough to get to safety.  Having a mere semblance of comfort is better than nothing at all. STOMP. You whip around, suspicious.  You’re certain you just heard footsteps.  But once again, there’s nothing to be seen but the lonely lunar light.  The peacefulness of the night should put you at ease, but today it just seems eerie.  You rub your eyes with a scowl, careful not to move your contacts.  You’re probably just hallucinating due to sleep deprivation.

It’s too quiet – A sweaty hand grips onto your bare arm, and you yell at the top of your arms.  You know you’re loud enough to be heard by any source of help – the singer’s lungs you’ve trained so hard to achieve aren’t for nothing.  You try to shake off the disgusting hand, but your efforts prove fruitless: attached to the hand is a leering middle-aged man, whose breath reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke.  "Hey, pretty girl," he sneers as he paws drunkenly at your body.  "I'll show you a good time." Disgusting.

He’s not one of them, as you’d originally feared, but he’s dangerous all the same, especially when he’s drunk (but sober enough to be a pervert) and you have your, uh, assets.  In the daylight, men would only dare catcall, whistling (c)rudely at your body. You crack your knuckles.  Ideally, you’d avoid a fight, or any kind of violence, but at times like this you don’t really have much of a choice, do you? It’s probably time you practice your kickboxing skills anyway.  Your kicking might be rusty, but you can still throw a mean right hook.

Deciding to take a page out of your trigger-happy friend’s book, you twist and punch the sleazebag in the face.  He shrieks as your fist smacks squarely into his nose, which makes a sickening crack.  He stumbles back, clutching his face, looking almost insulted at how you even dare to punch him.  Blood drips from between his fingers.  He deserves a good punch, the misogynistic jerk.  You walk off: he’s not worth any more of your time. "Hey! Come back here!" He howls as he gives chase, enraged.  His boots clomp heavily behind you, a dead giveaway.  He’s not sober in the least, and you can hear him grunt as he stumbles and falls.  His drunkenness should slow him down enough for you to make a quick getaway, but you’re wearing your favorite pumps, and cute as they are, they won’t let you run as fast as you’d like either.  "You sick little bi-"

His shouts are cut off abruptly. Did somebody happen to hear your cry for help and decide to lend a hand? Did the old pervert finally collapse in a drunken stupor? You’re not sure if you want to know what happened to the crazy stalker, but terrified curiosity gets the better of you.  Turning around, you regret yelling that Libras die first every time you watch a horror film with your friends – if this was a scene from a horror movie, you’d die first, and you’re Gemini. Good going, Y/N.  You’re going to die.

The sight that greets you makes you stumble and gag.  The man’s eyes are wide with terror, mouth open in a soundless scream.  Even worse, blood oozes out from two clean puncture wounds on his neck.  Behind him is a young man, looking not much older than you are.  He winks at you flirtatiously, grinning and flashing pearly white fangs that look far too real to be a product of your imagination.

Vampire. "Help me!" The old pervert wheezes.  You stumble back, bile rising in your throat. Your heartbeat accelerates, and your frantic attempts to slow it down only makes your heart beat faster.  The vampire can probably hear your heartbeat, smell your fear.  You can almost taste the metallic tang of blood on your tongue, a trail of dark red illuminated by the flickering streetlights.  You smell it before it happens – the rancid odor of death wafts in the air, and the vampire cheerfully snaps the old man’s neck.

His head lolls backwards. The young man grins at you, eyeing you in a way that looks less hungry and more curious.  He may be a vampire and a killer, but at least he’s not a pervert and a creep like that other guy, the more optimistic side of your mind suggests.  A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, licking his lips clean of blood.  His fangs gleam in the dark.  One of them is a little chipped.  "You’re welcome, by the way." Not gonna lie, that was kind of hot, says the voice in your head.

"Thanks." You slowly back away, sounding calmer than you really are.  You don’t let your gaze off him even for a second, but avoid making direct eye contact.  You never know – the second you look away from him, he might decide to have you as a midnight snack… His blue eyes glimmer red, and a small voice in your head reminds you helpfully that red eyes in vampires means ‘hunger’.  Uh oh, says the voice in your head.  

Uh oh indeed.  The vampire opens his mouth. "Run."

You do just that, tearing out of that place like your life depends on it because it quite literally does.Thankfully, fate finally decides to be kind to you, as your beloved shoes don’t fall off and leave you with a twisted ankle, and the vampire boy doesn’t hunt you down just for kicks and giggles either. You unlock the door of your apartment, ready to flop onto your bed and fall into a long-awaited slumber, hoping that you’d wake up the next morning and realize that everything that had happened was just a dream, you didn’t really encounter a vampire. Unfortunately for you, it’s all real, and painfully so.

Life decides to give you a slap in the face in the name of your roommate and good friend Kim Seokjin, who is still awake and waiting for you on the couch with a cup of tea in one hand and a scowl on his handsome face.  He looks annoyed, but you know there’s a softie hiding under that cold, tough exterior he likes to put on. "So, Y/N," he drawls with a sip of his tea and a raise of an eyebrow, "where have you been?" He places his tea down on the saucer on his lap, not breaking eye contact.  He’s suspicious, but a suspicious Seokjin is still better than an angry one. You shrug with a loud sigh.  "Places." He cocks his head, not sure whether you’re lying or not. "It’s been a long day." You’re not wrong.  You flop onto the couch next to him, careful not to make him spill his tea.  "Almost got jumped by a creepy old perv," you mutter, leaving out the part where said ‘creepy old pervert’ got killed and drained by a bloodsucker.  Your lateness has caused Seokjin enough worry as it is, you don’t need to give him another reason to have a heart attack over you.

Seokjin shakes his head sympathetically.  "Poor you." Both of you lapse into silence as Seokjin continues to sip his tea.  You know he’s still suspicious.  "It’s gonna be Saturday tomorrow, but it's still almost one in the morning.  Tae’s coming over tomorrow, and you know how energetic he gets."

You laugh.  Seokjin’s younger brother is one of the most eccentric people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, with a peculiar fashion sense and even stranger conversation topics.  You think he may have even howled at the moon, once, but you can’t be too sure.  It’s all good in the long run – once you get to know him, Taehyung is a genuinely awesome guy. He rises, padding over to the kitchen to wash his teacup.  He’s a bit of a hypocrite – you’re an insomniac, and you've never seen Seokjin sleep.  The older man stretches, spine cracking obscenely as he makes his way to his room.  "Get some sleep, Y/N.  I don’t want to see you out here until morning." You fake a yawn to satisfy him, your mind still buzzing with activity after an encounter with an enigmatic bloodsucker who’d saved your life without asking for anything in return.  "Night, Jin." That night, you take extra precautions in making sure that the door to your apartment is locked, and that all your windows are closed for certain.  You proceed to crawl into your bed and hide under the safety of your covers, squeezing your eyes shut only to see a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes floating at the forefront of your mind, flickering red.

Your eyes fly open.

“So much for sleeping,” you mutter to yourself. Damn bloodsucker. You muffle a scream with your pillow as the vampire in your mind's eye shoots you a charming wink. “Y/N, go to sleep!” Seokjin yells from his room next door.

#jeon jungkook #bts #bts au #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk #vampire jungkook #jungkook au #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #rm #jin #kim seokjin #bts jin #suga #jhope #jimin #v #vampire #bts paranormal au

[nadiaportia]

A Countess’s Masquerade

Summary: A surprising visitor makes an otherwise unpleasant party worthwhile for Nadia.

Word count: ~5.3k

Very much inspired and endorsed by @leatherandsaltybitters thanks to her July Prompt! As soon as I read it, the idea came up in my head and thus this little fic was born. It was quite fun to write and I hope it’ll be equally entertaining for everyone to read~.

“Noddy, darling! Where are you~?” Nadia flinched at her husband’s nasal voice carrying over to the private balcony. She wasn’t hiding from him, of course she wasn’t, but rather taking a break from… just everything and everyone. She liked a good party as much as the next person but this revelry? It threatened to overwhelm her, more than any party in Prakra had ever done. She had been in Vesuvia for three years now and this was her third masquerade so she felt that she should be used to this… or at least get used to it. 

Nadia leaned on the ledge, propped on her elbows and rubbed her temples. Everything was getting to her even though it was only an hour past midnight, and she was sure if she were to have another drop of cloudberry liquor, she'd have enough of it for the rest of her entire life. 

A good white wine would suit her well now and perhaps even lift her spirits to get through the night. With people such as Asra, Julian and their friends it was bound to be an entertaining evening, but besides them… the nobles cared more about getting as wasted as their livers allowed them to, some didn't even forget their agenda on a party and at least at her first masquerade she had to guide Lucio away from nobles trying to lure him into lowering their taxes or giving them money if they were to fulfill half-assed requests. But the man was a grown adult so if he fell for an obvious scam, that was none of her business. 

She took in a deep breath of the chilly night air and looked at the starry sky. The heat of the day had subsided and the gardens were full of masquerade guests. From the balcony she got a good view at those dancing, drinking and laughing, be it at the huge fountain in the middle of the garden or even the maze. 

She saw how a reveler dressed as an orange butterfly pulling another one dressed as a black cat along with them out of the maze and into the woods. Luckily if she had the need to hook up with someone, she had one of the various rooms in the Palace at her disposal, although she understood the thrill of doing so outdoors where someone could walk in at every moment.

"Nadi." She looked over her shoulder at hearing her name. "Here you are." Asra, wearing a opalescent white costume and a small mask with texture resembling snakeskin, leaned with his back next to her against the ledge and took a deep breath. Something about him… was decisively out of balance, and she could feel it wasn't just Lucio being himself or people acting up in general.

"Asra. Are you enjoying the night?"

He nodded, perhaps a tad too quickly, and put on an easy smile. "Yes, don't you worry about me." He waved a hand. "It's just… wow, the Masquerade." His eyes widened in exaggeration for emphasis. 

Nadia laughed. "Yes, truly. It's… quite the event. I don't know if I'll ever grow used to this particular flavor of revelry." She eyed her friend curiously as he brushed a white lock of hair behind his ear and unconsciously dabbed at a small collection of sweat beads with his sleeve. 

"Are you alright?" She reached out and gently touched his elbow. He gulped and nodded. 

"Oh, of course, why shouldn't I be? I think the cloudberry liquor is just so strong that it gives hallucinogens a run for their money." He laughed awkwardly, and Nadia decided to drop the matter. 

Asra could be very elusive if he wanted to, and there was never a way to coax anything out of him that he didn't give up voluntarily. In a way, he was the best secretkeeper you could ask for - he'd never tell. 

"Very well." She coughed. "How's the weather?"

Asra snorted. "Sayelle and Julian decided to hold an impromptu duet of a Galbradan folk song, it was quite impressive." 

Nadia smiled to herself. "Of course it was. They know how to work a stage."

"I'm surprised Julian didn't slur through his part."

"Noddy!" Lucio's loud voice rang over through the air, this time closer. The Countess and the magician looked at each other and simultaneously rolled their eyes. 

"Do you know why?"

"There's guests from Zadith and he wants to make a good impression - which on his own is nigh impossible already when he's sober."

"Well, at least it might be interesting to meet some new people." Nadia stood upright and straightened her dress. "It has been a while since I was in Zadith for the last time. Let's see how much things have changed."

They made their way through the groups of party-goers and entered the ballroom. Here the air was artificially kept cool and it really was a necessity considering that the majority of people were in there. 

"Oh, Asra, thank you for finding Noddy for me." A sweaty hand softly caressed her shoulder and soft lips pressed a kiss on her mask.

Asra's eyes were steely but he nodded in acknowledgement. "You're welcome, sir."

Lucio grinned and put an arm around Nadia. She smiled and touched his arm. "I heard something about a delegation from Zadith?"

"Oh, yes! Some alchemists and a bunch of nobles, small fish but we kinda need their backing because of the trade routes and all that other jazz." He made a vague hand movement. Nadia nodded slowly. "Very well… let’s see what we can do then. Nothing like negotiations during a birthday party."

Lucio let out a dramatic sigh. "So rude, I know. But let's get to it. Oh, hey, where are you going?"

Asra had turned and began walking back into the crowd. "Huh?"

"C'mon, the more the merrier."

"For 'negotiations'?"

"Hm, sure." Lucio grinned. "You're already in with the upper echelons, might as well see the inner workings." He let go off Nadia and put an arm around Asra's shoulder.

Asra's gaze met Nadia, who shrugged as a response. It couldn't do any harm, she thought. His eyes briefly wandered around the room as if he was searching for someone and then sighed.

"Alright, why not?"

They walked up the stairs and onto the upper level of the ballroom, where a group of people stood together in extravagant costumes. Lucio introduced them and Nadia was surprised that somehow he managed to come across as decently put together. The Zadithi nobles were eager to chat with her and were impressed by Lucio's military campaigns, falling easily for his charm. Nadia and Asra leaned back and she was about to suggest they'd leave to another party room, when -

"Oh, apologies, I was exploring some of the rooms in the West Wing! Whoever designed them deserves all the praise." A clear melodic voice rang over them and everyone turned their head towards the woman that approached them. Her costume could only be described with one word: pink - to be specific, the bright hot variant. The fabric was light, resembled ruffled silk and comfortably fit around her body, the dress ended halfway along her thighs but another extravagant piece of fabric continued in the back similarly to a peacock's tail without touching the floor. Her high-heeled shoes were of the exact same hue as the dress, just like the gems around her neck and her earrings. The mask she wore depicted a flamingo. On the vast majority of people, this outfit would have been considered a fashion sin and no doubt resulted in their imprisonment but somehow… it worked fantastically on her. Nadia had no idea how but it did.

The woman herself had impeccable posture as she walked towards them, shoulders low, back straightened and her head held confidently high. Her brown skin meshed well with the vibrant pink of the dress and her dark brown hair was fixed in an updo. Through the mask she saw a pair of eyes the color of dark honey and her full lips were painted a dark red, almost black. 

"Gentlepeople of the Zadithi court, I hope I am not interrupting something." She said as she inclined her head towards the delegation who apparently were her companions all along. 

"Oh, Marquesa, no, you're most welcome to enter the conversation actually." One of them, a tall man with golden skin, said and bowed to her. "We’re actually having a lovely conversation with our hosts - whom, if I recall, you haven't met as of yet!"

To Nadia's surprise, she heard Asra cough and turned to see him looking suddenly very out of it. 

"Really?" The woman made a surprised face and looked from Lucio to Nadia to Asra. "Well, we have already met, have we not, young magician?" Her eyes were on Asra for a brief moment and her eyes twinkled until she turned her attention back to the Count and the Countess. Nadia noticed that her gaze lingered on her for maybe a little too longer before she spoke next.

"Your excellencies: Lady Heloisa de Rubalcaba of Calpacia, representative of the Zaan of Cartagenth in foreign affairs." She made a curtsy and her costume rustled. "To your services, Count Lucio and Countess Nadia."

"We are very honored to have you, Lady Heloisa.” Nadia replied and nodded respectfully. The name vaguely rang a bell in her mind but she couldn’t recall precisely in what context. 

“Likewise.” Lucio added and nodded with a hand on his chest. 

Even though they were on Vesuvian soil and the local sovereigns, etiquette still demanded foreigners with a higher title were to be treated as guests of honor. She wondered what room this marquesa was given - although she did not recall invitations being sent out to the empire of Calpacia to the far West of the continent. Lucio seemed to think the same.

“Cartagenth, Calpacia… if I remember correctly, I stopped sending invitations after them being ignored for three years straight.” His tone was amicable but had an edge to it. Lady Heloisa shrugged. 

“That is very much true, Count Lucio. I was on a diplomatic mission in Zadith meeting my dear friends,”, she winked in the general direction of the Zadithi delegation, “when your invitation reached the council - and since they are allowed to bring guests and I was at the moment the guest of honor at court, here I am!”

“Especially because you mentioned never having been here, Marquesa!” A woman with a headscarf and a fennek mask claimed. 

“Yes.” The marquesa sighed. “The diplomatic relations between Cartagenth and Vesuvia are not the best, after the Vesuvians’, err, I guess one could refer to it as a “business”, in Karnassos, ancient allies of ours from back when they were the local military power.”

Nadia’s eyes went to Lucio who was busy inspecting the tips of his gauntlet. She remembered a history lesson many, many years ago in her childhood, about the nations to the west of Prakra where the kingdoms of Bizatena, Calpacia and Karnassos had joined forces to break down a merchant revolt. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Asra whispered. A single bead of sweat was rolling down his temple and Nadia raised an eyebrow. Was he that unnerved because of the marquesa?

“Give me a few minutes, Asra, then I’m with you.” She whispered back and gently touched his arm. Asra looked already more at peace and touched her hand reassuringly. 

“Mirror room.” With that, he turned and left.

“Either way, hopefully that can be water under the bridge now - who knows, maybe one day we will need to support each other.” 

“Hm, I think that Vesuvia is doing quite fine as of lately, but thank you for the offer, Lady Heloisa.” Lucio’s voice was honey but the slight curl in his lip indicated to Nadia that he was already displeased with her attitude. One corner of the marquesa’s lips turned upwards and she let out a sigh. 

“That might be true but you know - you never know. Unless you can see the future thanks to a crystal ball.” She winked at Lucio as if they were old friends planning a conspiracy together. Lucio’s cold grey eyes fixated on her warm brown ones and even though most of his face was hidden by the large peacock mask he wore, Nadia saw his ears turning beet red. The marquesa snatched a glass of rosé prosecco from the platter of a bypassing waiter.

“Which I quite frankly cannot - I possess no magical talents, unlike you.” She nodded at the members of the delegation. “For you, my friends, and the students of the alchemical academy of Zadith.” She toasted towards the Zadithi and downed the content of the flute in one go. 

“So this is all that brings you to Vesuvia, ‘diplomatic relations’? As for my husband’s military endeavors, that one has been solved after a court hearing - we paid reparations to the town of Karnassos, but of course I understand why its old allies might bear a grudge towards those who harmed the representative of their sister city.” Nadia stated curtly and tried to ignore Lucio’s questioning look that basically said ‘We paid reparations?’.

“Not exactly, it was also my own curiosity. Especially when I heard that the Countess happened to be a former Princess of Prakra.” Lady Heloisa’s eyes twinkled and her smile turned into something more genuine than the sardonic grin she had put on when talking to Lucio. “That certainly got my attention, and I am glad to know I did not come all the way here to be disappointed.” 

Was the marquesa trying to flirt with her, in front of her husband nonetheless? Bold, but… 

“Either way, thank you - I did not know that the matter had been solved, I thank you for clearing it up to me.”

“You’re more than welcome, Lady Heloisa.”

“And I mean it; your reputation precedes you, Countess Nadia; your work as a stateswoman in the service of your home country is known even to the Calpacian court and your sisters Nafizah and Navra have told me much about you when I was in Prakra two years ago. Quite a shame we did not meet earlier - you seem a most interesting character.” The last sentence was to Nadia’s surprised said in accented but very sure spoken Prakran. At the same time she remembered almost out of nowhere why exactly the name rang a bell. 

“Oh, you’re the playwright! The one who wrote The Dying Swan of Doña Astros.” Navra had raved about this play for at least a whole month and even attended a showing of it when the entourage and actors had travelled to Prakra.

Heloisa smiled and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Yes, the first play I ever wrote. I have a soft spot for it but Jocelyn y Templanza is the most dear to me. It’s just so much more personal.” 

“Oh, I haven’t seen either but… now that I recall it, I did read The Ballad of the Brave Knights of Crystalia. A good comedy with great social commentary.” 

“Ah, that one,”, she chuckled, “there are enough people who consider it a tragedy, partly because it’s based on real events. You certainly seem to have enough finesse and sharp wit to figure it out the right way, congratulations.” She winked and Nadia was glad for the mask on her face which hid her blush.

 “The Crystalian Knights were a real mercenary band - not one of them from Crystalia necessarily.” Lucio interjected. Nadia threw him a pointed look. Did he have to forcefully insert himself into the conversation?

“Why, thank you, I am well aware of that, your excellency.” Lady Heloisa’s mouth was a thin line. “My source is - well, was, since their era has ended - quite familiar with them; they were under her service after all.”

Lucio’s eyes widened and his lips pursed but he didn’t press the issue. 

“Reading the play could maybe give you a new insight on the events, darling.” Nadia suggested with a small smile and suppressed a chuckle when Lucio rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t feel pressured to follow your wife’s recommendation, your excellency. Zero readers are better than one self-described expert.” She laughed. Nadia felt the corners of her mouth twitch. As if Lucio would ever finish a book in order to criticize it. Her husband meanwhile only stared at the marquesa who shook her head. “Pardon, I was just joking. A man of your standing, you must be quite educated and your military decorations say more than enough.”

“Oh, no offense taken, Lady Heloisa - or Marquesa? Which one is it? You are dressed like someone more important than you might actually be.” He slightly leaned forward with a grin that bared a little too much teeth.

Before Nadia could open her mouth, the marquesa answered cooly and with a steely look in her brown eyes that by now exuded no warmth whatsoever: “I am a representative of my house and since the actual marquesa is quite the busy woman, the political affairs fall to me, your excellency.” As quickly as her sharp veneer appeared, it was gone again and her tone became amicable again. “Either way… I take it you are quite busy with the delegation; the people who are actually interested in talking to you. Good day, and before I forget it: happy birthday - it is your party I am attending after all.” Lucio opened his mouth to answer, but Lady Heloisa turning on her heel cut him off before a word escaped him.

“Lucio.” Nadia hissed and leveled him with a displeased look. 

“C’mon, Noddy, from whichever backwater that woman is, they haven’t even invented manners over there.” 

Nadia raised an eyebrow which instantly made him shut up. “Have you ever heard of being the bigger person?”

Her husband put on a shameless grin. “Nope. Especially not on my birthday - why though, I’m already the greatest there is!” He looked down on himself and marveled at his peacock costume with a deep cut-out and tight shimmering teal pants.

Nadia sighed. “Like always it’s left to me to fix the messes you leave behind.” 

She didn’t even dignify Lucio with a response and followed the marquesa who with her hot pink costume was not only impossible to miss but also seemed to naturally draw looks to her. Nadia followed her through a crowd and before she reached her, she thought that maybe she was being ridiculous, this woman was a stranger to her but if Lucio just burnt a bridge to her and the Calpacian empire, that couldn’t be good.

“Lady Heloisa.” The marquesa turned at hearing her name. “Countess Nadia.” She said, with no little surprise in her voice. “What can I do for you? If you are here to apologize for your husband’s tactlessness: there is no need to.”

Nadia sighed. “Let me apologize regardless; I reckon you came to Vesuvia to make friends. Like any good host, I will not deny you the possibility to form good, better, bonds between Vesuvia and Calpacia.”

Lady Heloisa looked at her for a moment, then she nodded slowly. “I do not want to drag you from your own party, so feel free to deny me, but I need to breathe some fresh air - if you were to accompany me, I would be most grateful.”

“Well,” Nadia began, “I don’t have anywhere to be, by all means, and I was going to leave either way.” She remembered Asra, who most likely was waiting for her in the mirror room, that he probably left because of the same person who she was now talking to, but shook her head to chase away the thought. On the way to the balconies she saw Deirdra talking to a butterfly and a pigeon and told them as they passed by to tell Asra she wasn’t going to make it, and then the cold nightair hit her in the face. 

“Ah, much better. I thought I was going to suffocate in there.” Lady Heloisa fanned air into her face. “It's too many people in one room - as big as it might be, it is not enough.” She sighed. “Oh well. I don’t mean to be too forward but… how about the gardens? Less people, more fresh air - both sound like a good deal to me.” 

She grinned at Nadia and for a moment her eyes wandered over Nadia’s figure. “If you want to, Countess, that is. We can relax by the arbors too, as long as it’s away from all the spying little eyes. It is so hard to relax when you’re surrounded by just about everyone in existence.”

Nadia considered the offer for a moment and realized that entertaining the thought actually thrilled her. 

“The arbors sound good, you should just know that there's many people in the gardens right now, be it to catch some fresh air or… engage in risky behavior.” 

“Oh ho ho, how naughty! But oh well, it wouldn't be a party without some of that.” Lady Heloisa chuckled but then agreed to them going to the arbors. On the way there, she fell back for a moment but caught up a few seconds later, triumphantly holding a bottle of prosecco in her hand. "Not a party without some of that."

"You took it off a waiter?" Nadia raised an eyebrow but her tone was amused.

"Unless that was the last bottle in the Palace, in which case it'll be spent rather well." She said with a grin. They settled in an arbor far from any big crowds, surrounded by white rose bushes and with a block of marble in its middle. The two women sat on it, with Lady Heloisa wiping the block before doing so. 

"Stains won't show on my costume but yours… a swan should never stain her beautiful plumage." She winked and sat down cross-legged before she stripped the heels of her feet and rubbed her ankles. 

"Where did you even get it from? Considering you didn't even know the Masquerade was going to happen."

"Oh, I have an excellent and diligent tailor. I'm rather proud of what he came up with: it's very 'Me'."

Nadia straightened her long white feathered dress. "Well, it certainly is unique and quite daring, if I might say so."

Lady Heloisa laughed. "Both of us could surely go into the history books of masquerades as 'Best Dressed' of the evening if there was such a thing. No offense to any peacocks that might walk around the grounds at this very moment."

Nadia laughed.

“I apologize for making fun of your husband, I don’t mean to antagonize him.” Nadia highly doubted this, but didn’t say anything as she watched Lady Heloisa wedge the bottle between her knees and began pulling put the cork. “I’m here to mingle after all. Although I’m starting to think that you are much more amicable and approachable than him.” That easy smile was back on her but a loud plop make both of them jump and the marquesa let out a harsh curse as bubbly prosecco spilled out of the bottle.

“Oh, let me please.” Nadia quickly snatched the bottle from her fingers and put the bottle to her mouth, taking a big sip and put it down when most of the foam was gone. Lady Heloisa’s eyes didn’t leave her as she did so and went between the bottle and Nadia when she put it back on the marble block.

“I was about to lament I didn’t bring any glasses with me but… you don’t seem to mind.” She grinned and took the bottle, still stained with some of Nadia’s own lipstick, and took an equally big sip out of it. 

Nadia leaned back on her hands and curiously eyed the marquesa from head to toes. The fingers holding the bottle were long and slender; a silver band adorned her thumb and another her ring finger. Her dress had a thin but deep cut-out and was made to accentuate her long brown legs. There was a slight hint of fruity scent to her, and Nadia imagined her skin to be soft to the touch. 

As the conversation naturally progressed, she noticed that as soon as she was one-on-one and more at ease with someone, the marquesa had a shift in demeanor - her speech was less strained, less formal than when talking next to the Zadithi delegation. 

She told her about why she was in Zadith in the first place (a potential partnership and exchange program between the Guild’s First Magical Institute and the Alchemical Academy of Zadith), her journey (“I feel like a woman of the people now after sleeping on a field bed two days in a row”) and her last trip to the Star Lakes (where she did meet Nahara and Navra as it turned out and if Nadia read the signs correctly, they went on some very heavy nightly carousing) which in turn led to Nadia talking about Prakra and her life in Vesuvia. 

The marquesa hung onto every word that came out of the Countess's mouth and Nadia grew more and more confident the longer she spoke with her. It was so satisfying to talk to someone and have them actually listen to you, showing actual interest in your words and being a good audience. The only other person she had ever felt the same with after leaving Prakra was Asra; his friends were very sweet but she didn't know them that well yet, Doctor Devorak would tell his own tales in response which was fine but not always what one needed, and Lucio… everything was a competition for him and he would come up with an outrageous lie to make her feel small.

“So, how are you liking Vesuvia so far?”

“Hm.” Lady Heloisa pursed her lips. "It reminds me a bit of Bizatena, but... ,", she sighed, "less well organized. I won't lie, Countess, but there are parts of the city that look atrocious. Happy citizens are happy to be subjects, and unhappy citizens… well, I don't think I need to finish that thought. Prakra has a very high standard of life, its citizens enjoy many rights - how does it compare to Vesuvia?" 

Nadia's thoughts went to coliseum fights and the neglect of the aqueduct system. She felt blood rush to her face as she didn't reply right away, in shame of not doing enough for the city and its inhabitants.

"There isn't even a proper legal system." Why was she telling this woman about it? She had done nothing to prove herself trustworthy - in fact, Nadia thought about the look on Asra's face when he saw the marquesa, that surely had to mean something. 

Lady Heloisa shook her head. "For fuck’s sake. That… sounds horrible. My true condolences." She gave Nadia an empathetic look and reached out to touch her arm. "I hope that one day Vesuvia is ruled by the sovereign it deserves - the quicker the better."

Nadia looked at her for a moment as she processed what the marquesa had just said. Was she really implying what she thought?

"You clearly are a smart and cultured woman, Countess, there is no doubt about it. You surely have got to have some influence amongst the count's advisers or the Vesuvian council in some way, if your husband doesn't listen to you - which is a grave mistake on his part - then at least he should do so with his courtiers."

Nadia thought of the courtiers Lucio had brought to Vesuvia, those strange creatures of whom she wasn't even sure if there was a soul in their chest or not… slippery Vlastomil, mysterious Valdemar, boorish Vulgora and excessive Volta. The newest consul, a young Vesuvian named Valerius, son of a noblewoman who had faithfully served the previous Count and Countess, was the only one she felt some sort of kinship towards but even then she felt on thin ice with him. 

"I will try." She conceded with a sign. "You speak like someone who has plenty of experience with this."

The marquesa grinned and shrugged. "I don't kiss and tell, dearest Countess, all I will say is this: the Cartagense court is a lion's pit and its inhabitants are eternally starved and thus always down to rip you to shreds. I hope for your sake that the Vesuvians are nothing like that - even if I can see you surviving in a hostile environment.”

Nadia watched her as she sighed and reached up to her face to take off the flamingo mask. She didn’t know what exactly to expect behind the mask but she was anything but disappointed: the marquesa had a face that was quite easy on the eyes. Coupled with her magnetic personality, her charisma, her way with words… the woman was fascinating to put it in one word. And yet… she reminded her of those flesh-eating orchids from the jungles in Northern Prakra. 

Lady Heloisa turned the mask in her hand and scoffed. 

“I had this costume made last minute when your husband's invitation arrived in Zadith. Something that says 'I'm down for the fun!', no statement piece or whatever.” She brushed a non-existing speck of dirt off the mask. “Yours clearly positions you as the one with her head in the game, Countess: regal, gracious and with a protective, mayhaps even a little ruthless, streak.” She raised an eyebrow, her smirk confident. “Is it that what's underneath your mask? I'd love to know.”

She reached out to caress Nadia's swan mask but just as her fingers brushed it, Nadia took a hold of her wrist. The marquesa's eyes widened but she didn't protest, on the contrary, the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. Nadia's lips curved into a smile as she gently stroked with her thumb over the skin of the marquesa's inner wrist. The smell of fruity perfume intensified. 

“I don't kiss and tell either, Marquesa.”

Lady Heloisa's eyes were fixed on hers for a moment and then seemed to collect herself. “I have never been one to back down from a challenge.” Her cheeks darkened a bit and she lowered her hand a bit - Nadia let her until she stopped just shortly above her thigh covered by the white satin of her costume. 

“You certainly are daring, Lady Heloisa.” Nadia gently let go of her and in the process trailed over her delicate hand, caressing the knuckles of her long fingers. 

“Is that what you prefer?” The marquesa scooted closer to her, their legs almost touching. “Daring women?”

Nadia felt her face heat up but leaned in, tilted Lady Heloisa's chin up with her finger and replied: “Who says I am not a daring woman?”

The marquesa let out an light chuckle at that. “Countess Nadia, you do have some surprises up your sleeve. I don't know what I expected from Vesuvia but it wasn't someone like you.” She reached for the bottle and frowned. 

“Damn… guess we killed that one.” 

Nadia laughed. She stood up and gulped as she swayed slightly on the spot but held her balance. “I suppose that's the sign we should get back to the ballroom.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose you are right.” Lady Heloisa put her heels back on and when she stood there, there was little to no sway at all - impressive, given the fact the marquesa had drunk more and was also smaller. 

“Maybe,”, Nadia hooked her arm in with the marquesa's. The flamingo costume rustled and the marquesa sucked in a breath as Nadia pulled her close, “you can surprise me in return with your dance moves.”

The laugh Lady Heloisa let out was loud and so very uncharacteristic for a cultured noble woman such as her. Nadia gave her a curious look as she tried to regain her composure. Maybe they were both a bit more enthusiastic after sharing that bottle. Lady Heloisa ran her fingers along Nadia's arm; her pink nails scraped a bit on her skin.

“Oh, that I surely will.”

#the arcana fic #the arcana #countess nadia #nadia satrinava #my writing #i sat on this way too long but its a thing of beauty so go at it even tho you never asked for it #there's everything a decent person like me needs: extravagant costumes; an abundance of rosé prosecco #and of course the classic: a woman flirting with another woman in front of her husband