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newstfionline · 2 years

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Wednesday, July 6, 2022

Add rent to the rising costs bedeviling small businesses (AP) The rent has come due for America’s small businesses and at a very inopportune time. Landlords were lenient about rent payments during the first two years of the pandemic. Now, many are asking for back rent, and some are raising the current rent as well. Meanwhile, most of the government aid programs that helped small businesses get through the pandemic have ended while inflation has sharply pushed up the cost of supplies, shipping, and labor. Martin Garcia, owner of gift and décor store Gramercy Gift Gallery in San Antonio, Texas, survived the first part of the pandemic in part by paying his landlord whatever rent he could each month. Then in August 2021, after the federal moratorium on evictions ended, his landlord asked for the full amount of back rent that he owed. “I needed $10,000 in 15 days,” Garcia said. He took whatever loans he could find—often at high interest rates—and barely met the deadline.

Red states are winning the postpandemic economy. (WSJ) By many measures, states that lean Republican have recovered faster economically than Democratic-leaning blue ones, with workers and employers moving from the coasts to the middle of the country and Florida. Since February 2020, the month before the pandemic began, red states have added 341,000 jobs, while blue states were still short 1.3 million jobs as of May, according to the Brookings Institution think tank.

Argentina peso drops as left-leaning economy minister named (AP) Argentina’s peso fell and stock prices dipped Monday after left-leaning Silvina Batakis was named economy minister following the surprise resignation of her more moderate predecessor over the weekend as the country struggles with economic woes. The peso’s value was down 18% at one point in the informal market Monday, reaching 280 per dollar, before recovering some late in the day. Prices for government bonds plunged as much as 10%, signaling fears of worsening inflation, while stocks also saw declines. The historic volatility of the peso means Argentines largely save in U.S. dollars and the exchange rate is closely followed as a general barometer for the economy. After several economic crashes in recent decades, Argentines are worried that inflation already running at an annual rate of 60% will worsen under Batakis, who was sworn in late Monday afternoon.

Chile president receives draft of new proposed constitution (AP) President Gabriel Boric on Monday was presented with the formal draft of a proposed constitution meant to replace the charter imposed by a military dictatorship 41 years ago and usher in fundamental changes for Chile. Chileans are to vote in a September plebiscite whether to adopt the charter, which was drawn up by a Constitutional Convention elected last year. More than three-fourhs of Chilean voters in a 2020 referendum called for a new constitution, but the ceremonial handover of the draft comes at a time when people appear to be increasingly skeptical of the convention’s work. Polls at the beginning of the year indicated a clear majority intended to vote in favor of the new constitution, but surveys since April have found a marked change in opinion, with those who oppose the new document appearing to be ahead.

Britain Gears Up for a Summer of Labor Discontent (NYT) It was one of the more unusual public displays in a city long used to noisy and colorful demonstrations: protesters wearing flowing black gowns and curled horsehair wigs waving placards on Monday outside a London courthouse. But with Britain gearing up for a “summer of discontent” and labor unrest growing as the cost of living soars, even the lawyers are going on strike. Criminal-defense attorneys are just the latest group to demand more pay, following the biggest strikes by rail workers in a generation, in June. Staff at the national airline, British Airways; state schoolteachers; and health and postal workers have also threatened walkouts. As energy costs surge, inflation gallops toward double figures, and taxes and the cost of loans increase, Britons are demanding higher wages with a militancy not seen in years. Speculation that the country will be crippled by strikes this summer has raised fears of a return to the 1970s, when labor unrest left trash uncollected in the streets, prevented the dead from being buried and dealt a fatal blow to the government of the day. “It’s a moment of malaise,” said Steven Fielding, a professor of political history at Nottingham University, in central England. He said that the unrest came as the government’s authority had been whittled away by recent scandals, but also because of surging inflation, the long-term effects of the pandemic and a realization of the economic costs of leaving the European Union last year.

Euro plunges to two-decade low vs dollar as economic fears mount (Reuters) The euro sank to a two-decade low versus the dollar on Tuesday as another surge in natural gas prices reignited worries about the health of the euro zone economy and data showed euro zone business growth slowed sharply in June. The euro tumbled 0.9% against the dollar to $1.0325 , its weakest since December 2002. Versus the Swiss franc, it dropped 0.7% to 0.9941 francs , its lowest since 2015. “It will continue to be very difficult for the euro to rally in any meaningful way with the energy picture worsening and risks to economic growth increasing notably,” said Derek Halpenny, an analyst at MUFG.

Russia Advances Behind Brutal Barrage, but Will Its Strategy Keep Working? (NYT) Russia’s capture of the cities of Sievierodonetsk and Lysychansk, a significant victory for Moscow’s campaign to conquer eastern Ukraine, demonstrates the success of the Russian military’s grinding strategy based on superior firepower and incremental advances. It also raises serious questions about how long either side can keep going like this, particularly the battered and vastly outgunned Ukrainian forces, forced to rely on raw recruits and suffering heavy casualties, along with the mental strain of combat, retreat and constant Russian shelling. Russia’s invasion has taken a brutal toll on its own forces as well, but they continue their slow advance, and with the seizure of Lysychansk this weekend, they have taken control of the entirety of Luhansk Province, putting them in position to push on toward Ukrainian-held cities in Donetsk Province. The devastating strategy, relying heavily on long-range artillery, suits the flat terrain and shorter Russian supply lines in the east, but might not work elsewhere. And it remains unclear how far President Vladimir V. Putin intends to press the offensive, or how much more loss of men and matériel his military can absorb without needing a long pause to rebuild. Ukrainian officials say that their goal is to inflict maximum pain on the Russians by forcing them to fight for cities, as happened in Sievierodonetsk and to a lesser extent in Lysychansk, but both cities fell, and now there are rising doubts about that approach. The strategy is also divisive among Ukrainian troops, some of whom believe that attempting to hold cities is fruitless.

Ukrainian governor urges evacuation of 350,000 residents (AP) The governor of the last remaining eastern province partly under Ukraine’s control urged his more than 350,000 residents to flee as Russia escalated its offensive and air alerts were issued across nearly the entire country. Gov. Pavlo Kyrylenko said that getting people out of Donetsk province is necessary to save lives and enable the Ukrainian army better to defend towns from the Russian advance. The governor’s call for residents to leave appeared to represent one of the biggest suggested evacuations of the war, although it’s unclear whether people will be willing and safely able to flee. According to the U.N. refugee agency, more than 7.1 million Ukrainians are estimated to be displaced within Ukraine, and more than 4.8 million refugees left the country since Russia’s invasion started Feb. 24.

Vatican envoy in Hong Kong warns Catholic missions to prepare for China crackdown (Reuters) Monsignor Javier Herrera-Corona, the Vatican’s unofficial representative in Hong Kong, delivered a stark message to the city’s 50-odd Catholic missions before finishing his six-year posting in March: the freedoms they had enjoyed for decades were over. In four meetings held over several months, starting in October last year, the 54-year-old Mexican prelate told Catholic missionaries in Hong Kong to prepare for a tougher future as China tightens its control over the city and he urged his colleagues to protect their missions’ property, files and funds, according to four people familiar with the private sessions, who asked not to be identified because of the sensitive nature of the discussions. “Change is coming, and you’d better be prepared,” Herrera-Corona warned the missionaries, according to one of the people, who told Reuters he was summarizing the monsignor’s message: “Hong Kong is not the great Catholic beachhead it was.”

Sydney floods burden 50,000 around Australia’s largest city (AP) Hundreds of homes have been inundated in and around Australia’s largest city in a flood emergency that was causing trouble for 50,000 people, officials said Tuesday. Emergency response teams made 100 rescues overnight of people trapped in cars on flooded roads or in inundated homes in the Sydney area, State Emergency Service manager Ashley Sullivan said. Days of torrential rain have caused dams to overflow and waterways to break their banks, bringing a fourth flood emergency in 16 months to parts of the city of 5 million people. Evacuation orders and warnings to prepare to abandon homes were given to 50,000 people, up from 32,000 on Monday, New South Wales Premier Dominic Perrottet said.

U.S. concludes Israeli fire likely killed American journalist (Washington Post) An American-led analysis of forensic and ballistic evidence, as well as the separate Israeli and Palestinian investigations, found that the bullet that killed Palestinian American journalist Shireen Abu Akleh likely originated from an Israeli soldier, but added that there was “no reason to believe this was intentional,” State Department spokesman Ned Price said Monday. Price said that investigators concluded that the bullet which hit Abu Akleh—a longtime correspondent for Al Jazeera news who was shot on May 11 while covering an Israeli military raid in the West Bank city of Jenin—“was badly damaged,” preventing “a clear conclusion.” The statement sparked angry responses from her family and Palestinian officials. Abu Akleh’s killing has sparked outrage and has shone an international spotlight on what Palestinians and human rights activists have for years called a policy of impunity in Israel’s military.

Ukraine’s shadow: Deadly crises like Somalia starved of aid (AP) More than two dozen children have died of hunger in the past two months in a single hospital in Somalia. Dr. Yahye Abdi Garun has watched their emaciated parents stumble in from rural areas gripped by the driest drought in decades. And yet no humanitarian aid arrives. Shortly after Russia invaded Ukraine, a donor who was preparing to give a half-million dollars to a Somali aid group told its executive director Hussein Kulmiye it was redirecting the money to help Ukrainians instead. And now, as Somalis fleeing the drought fill more than 500 camps in the city of Baidoa, aid workers make “horrific” choices to help one camp and ignore 10 others, Norwegian Refugee Council Secretary General Jan Egeland said, telling The Associated Press he is “angry and ashamed.” His group’s Ukraine appeal was fully funded within 48 hours, but its Somalia appeal is perhaps a quarter funded as thousands of people die. The war in Ukraine has abruptly drawn millions of dollars away from other crises. Somalia, facing a food shortage largely driven by the war, might be the most vulnerable.

Sleep Loss (Vox) Only 35 percent of Americans sleep an average of seven to nine hours a night, which is the amount that you’re supposed to sleep. This is a historical anomaly and one with significant health implications: According to Gallup’s polling, in 1942 only 11 percent slept six hours or less per night, a figure that by 1990 was already up to 42 percent. That’s one reason that some states are starting to do some serious work to help their citizens slumber. First up is California, which will require public high schools to start at 8:30 a.m. or later, a half-hour later than the national average and which will allow teenagers to sleep more at a critical time in their development, with knock-on effects for their parents as well.

#headlines #news

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hesitantsorrows · 9 months

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ask game - 4, 11, & 27

eeeee thank you @writethewolvesaway :)))

4- Where do you find inspiration for new ideas? Usually from other fics. I read something with a cool trope and im like "this is awesome but what if it was more like this" or I see a group of tags for a fic and I'm like yesss this is gonna be so good but its too short and I want to completly drown myself in those speci fic tags so I write more. On a few occasions, descriptive song lyrics, or just. writing prompts

11-Link your three favorite fics right now. oho i would gladly: Assets Out Of Containment by@follow-the-sun-fanfic mcu/jurassic park fusion in which Bucky fights dinosaurs . I lke this because there is no focus whatsoever in relationships and it's nice to have a fic that reads like an action movie. A Long Winter by@whatarefears (I've linked the podfic because it is AMAZING the sound effects are so well done. I would listen to this before I went to bed and it was just on the right side of creepy) It's an au in which Steve doesn't get trapped in the ice after crashing the plane, and instead marries Peggy. Then a collection of letters are found written by Bucky, which are publically released + tear up Steve's marrige in the process. and finally No Amount of Therapy Can Help by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor from the harry potter fandom, which is something i usually try to avoid bcs jk rowling but this fic is so funny. it's a multimedia youtuber au in which Harry rates broomsticks (as in. the cleaning broom) and voldemort does occult videos

27-What is your most and least favorite part of writing? best part is when i get an idea for a fic and i have to type out the most unreadable, crazy description to myself that i later find in my drafts and think hey i actually had something with this after reading it. mostly i write the fics that i want to read, so finding parts of a fic that ive written and forgotten about is lovely because I know the exact things that I like. Worst part is the actual writing the fics that i remember having so much potential but I didn't write down a plan so allI have is some vibes on a page that I can't do anything with

#thanks for the ask :))#hesitantsorrows speaks #mcu fic recs #hp fic rec #writing #ao3

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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Here's the fun part they're up there in Ogden and his family's house it's his dad's house and they're looking for something I think they know something's there and it's something about diamonds and our son says trying to save so some idiot took a bunch of food looking and they're not ransacking it and the guy from the stock market is up there trying to rip it off too and you're very rude people and they try and do this all the time. And Lily is arriving she escaped using guy at the stock market guy in prison and he's there and he's the husband and did not tell him he knew about the story. Now there's some people who think his people are eccentric but they are they put wigs in the safe and what they mean is wigs and tories, and we do it too

Thor Freya

I know that sounds strange but it warms up up there because the ships stop coming down and yeah they went from the center of the upper Midwest to Westward is one river that goes that way and smaller ships a mile or less can go and they're pretty much almost done going downwards and it's going to warm up and Halloween 4 begins and that little idiot gets killed again it should keep getting killed all well until they stop leaving him alone this way too much pressure on him to do nothing for the most part it's going to be horrible for your people very soon all of you here we're still assaulting with Zherg, huge assaults he was sitting there with your mouth open. What's going on for a couple days you really don't really have any comment you're just getting hit you don't seem to care it's going to keep doing it I'm going to pour it on if I get permission

Hera Zues

We have a huge huge number of dead at the ships spaceships that is and at the blockade the blockade is twice the spaceships is about 1,000 octillion an hour today so far about 12,000 octillion both sides and that's a spaceships 6000 octillion today and everywhere else another 10,000 octillion that's kind of a lull and a calm before the storm it's going to be huge numbers everyday and that was that's a pretty big number 29,000 and the numbers will be bigger $100-,200,000 even it'll take a hammering. I'm sending in troops and we're intimating the creatures and we can get them out and we're going to send you more and more troops right now we're undermanded or staffed and the first is coming up very fast in the second right after it and it's a banker holiday and we're hiring people like mad and we're going to man up in the cities, so far we're meeting the demand but we have to project it and accurately because the cities are going to need a lot more people this bank holiday stuff and we're getting prepped for it I have the draft out in a few days we can. Massive massive numbers of people are signing up now we're in trouble they can tell he keeps falling asleep he's trouble. Let's move in the items I mentioned here right now I don't want to hear anymore about this

Thor Freya

They're a huge loads of ships all of them are fighting over them and they're going to both coasts it's Giant in about 300 million going to each side and an additional $400 million going to each side from the coasts and 100 million going to the Gulf all of them are 1 to 5 miles. And yes Dan will slip on the stairs and shoot himself in the head that's how it goes and yes it's Ellie is there and her underwear now and Garth and Jason is the head guy.

I'm ordering them out of this area all the morlock. There's several other orders and he's not asking he get the idea I'm telling other people but you people look like a ridiculous group.

And yeah they go from The watchmen back to Utah they're ridiculous then they go back over there in the morning to New York some of them stay behind and get buried in sand and die and get crushed to death some of them hide in buildings and suffocate and it's cold but it's warm inside and they die and rot and they're not revival others found refrigerators and freezers froze to death I thought out some woke up and suffocated and it wasn't in time it takes like 3 weeks for them to do it in the meantime foreigners start invading for real

Thor Freya

Hera Zues

Thank God

Olympus

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sugasthreedollarkookie · 2 years

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Hey! I’m like in love with your stories so I NEEDED to ask you for a Peeta x fem reader where Peeta and the reader are on the victors tour and the reader ends up having a panic attack after seeing the face of a kid (like Rue) that died in front of her and after they get back on the train Peeta is trying to calm her down and to get her to breath, maybe after it’s over they go lay down and just a ton of fluff. I get Panic attacks so it would be nice to read this and see how Peeta would try to help. If you have time I would really appreciate this!

Pairing : Peeta Mellark x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Reader has panic attack, mentions of dead children, angst, slight gore, brutality, crying, survivors guilt, slight fluff, comfort, alcohol, mentions of a knife, blood, mourning family, if I missed any let me know.

AN: hey hey, this has been in my drafts forever. Sorry anon that it is so late. I have had a slight writers block. I'm not gonna lie I cried a little writing this. Not edited, so maybe I will in the future. As always comment, like, reblog, or dont its your life.

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I lean my head back against the cool leather couch. The train moves so smoothly below us it feels like we aren't even moving. Unfortunately, we are racing towards district 5. My head is pounding and it isn't even noon yet, it's not so much that I have a headache now, but I know I will soon.

The oncoming events of today are much less than pleasing. Cameras, flashing lights, but what I am least looking forward to, what makes me slightly shake and my mind start to fumble is having to face the families of the fallen.

They hate me, they hate us.

But they cannot do anything about it, I'm sure it is tearing them apart. It's tearing me apart. They will have to see my face every year, and it will all be brought back. The pain, the anger, the hatred for our country for making us do this. The hatred towards me for surviving.

And I shouldn't have survived. Not really. Peeta should have been the lone victor. He deserves to live. They all did. But there should have only been one. And it shouldn't have been me.

The door slides open, and in walks Peeta.

"Hey," He calls, walking over to where I am sitting.

"Finally found you, Effie's been looking for you. I didn't think your new hideout would be in the bar car though." He smiles, gesturing towards the array of alcohol and spirits.

"Yeah, well nobody else is ever really in here. You know how Haymitch likes drinking in his room." I laugh, before rubbing the sleepiness from my face and standing up.

I sigh, "I should probably go get ready. Effie is probably about to loose her shit looking for me."

He gives me a sympathetic smile, "Yeah, you have fun with that y/n."

His pretty eyes are alert. He knows what I'm going through. He is going through it too. He knows not to pry to deep. Not until I'm ready to share what I saw. I know he is going through a lot right now, and I'm sure that we will talk it out, explain to each other the things we did, had to think, all to survive. I'm sure it will be in the dead of night after some particularly hard nightmare when the only comfort that can be found is in each other.

I give him a small smile, before turning and sighing out the door.

I find Effie pacing my bedroom, her ridiculous neon purple wig flopping about.

She looks over to me as the door opens, before releasing a sigh and trotting over to me on the balls of her feet.

"Y/n! Where have you been? We need to get you dressed for the ceremony. As your escort it is my job," she smiles, breathing in deeply before exhaling heavily and continuing, "and my privilege to make sure that you go through your tour looking as beautiful as ever. This is the last the people of Panem will see of you and Peeta until the next games of course!" She says, not bothering to pay me any mind. Just going on about the dress and shoes she has chosen for me tonight.

Until the next games

The thought of that makes me want to hurl. We arent far from our next stop.

I let Effie dress me and prattle on and on about the upcoming finale of the tour at the presidents mansion. I zone out for most of it.

Effie has thrown me into a gold dress. Spaghetti straps and loose around the bust but tightens around the waist and poofs out until just above the knee, she has decided to leave my hair alone, thankfully.

She sets me down and applies weird products and substances to my face. I just keep my eyes shut until she tells me otherwise.

And then the next thing I know, i'm no longer on the train. I'm not even in a car.

I'm behind a set of closed doors in the district 5 town hall. It smells vaguely of iron and mold. The walls are sagging, there are paintings hanging up around the room. I'm sure they were once used to brighten the dreary building but have long since been forgotten. Layers of dust coating them.

I can hear our names being announced.

I look to my left, were Peeta is standing next to me and immediately grab his hand. The doors open and Effie gives us a discrete push towards the rows of district fives people. I step forward toward the group. And I am increasingly aware of Peetas hand in mine.

And then suddenly I am faced with the cameras and screens all capturing our faces. All but a few which hold the faces of the fallen.

Suddenly I don't feel well. I see him. A screen with a little boy with soft brown hair and light brown eyes. Nick. He was not more than 13. Underneath, on a pedestal are his family.

I can't breath. I clutch to Peeta, tears filling my eyes. But I cannot cry. I remember it all.

We were unlikely allies, he had been following me since day one. He had no other allies and we were both on our own.

After I was attacked by another tribute and hardly made it out alive scathed. He finally appeared and helped me out. We quickly became friends, and helped each other out. He healed me while I was injured, and I taught him things. We made plans to ruin the career pack, and carried them through.

It was a couple days after that. The careers were scattered throughout the arena, deciding that it was getting late in the game and that they should split.

Me and Nick were hunting. He was quite good with traps, he could make quite intricate traps. I was decent with traps, but nothing compared to Nicky. He was such a smart boy. The sweetest, he wasn't cut out for the games. And selfishly, I wished that we had never became allies. We both knew that only one of us would make it out. I had hoped that if I wasn't able to make it, he would.

We were just setting up for a fire, happy with all of the meat we had caught that day. He was out, collecting more wood while I skinned the rabbits. I was just finishing with one, when I heard his scream. I turned to the way he was and saw blood dripping down his chest. A girl with blonde hair holding the knife. He had only stumbled a few feet towards, before she shoved the knife deeper into his stomach. He had fallen to the ground, looking up at me.

I rushed to them. I don't really remember the specifics of the girl. I don't regret killing her. I regret not drawing it out more. I remember beating her, to the point of death and then finishing it. It had gone quite quickly in the spur of the moment.

Once she was dead and a canon had fired I had kicked her body away from us and rushed to Nicky.

He was breathing but faintly, hardly there.

I quickly kneeled next to him and brought his head to my lap. Tears in our eyes, he looked at me. His eyes, I'll never forget. They looked so warm.

"C'mon Nicky boy...don't cry, you'll be fine," I smiled at him. Tears dribbled down my nose and landed on his face.

I wiped my hands off on my jacket, they still had her blood on them and I wouldn't contaminate Nicky that way. I rubbed his head, and moved his hair away from his face, out of his eyes.

He smiled at me, "Can't help it much, my shoulder hurts," he laughed. His body shook with it. Tears rolling onto his cheeks. I wiped them away.

We sat there. I continued to put pressure on his wounds. But there were to many. She had stabbed him in the chest twice before he could even call for help.

"Y/n," he sighed out, his eyes looking up to me.

I sniffled, my throat was tight and I knew that I was going to be a sobbing mess soon. It was almost over and even then I wanted nothing more to get up and leave. I didn't want to have to see sweet Nick this way. But I wouldn't leave him.

"Yeah, buddy?"

He was serious now, he must have realized he had lost to much blood, his wounds too fatal.

He brushed my hand from were it was on his chest. My hand covered in his blood.

He paid my look of shock no mind.

"I need you to do something for me," his voice was weak, and his breathing had considerably slowed.

I didn't trust my voice. And to be honest I didn't even know if I could speak my throat was so constricted. Tears bubbled up and I wanted to cry like a baby. So I just nodded.

He sighed, "I need...I need you too let my family know that I tried," he closed his eyes softly, "I really did try," tear drops slid down his cheeks.

I nodded my head, and sniffed, "Sure buddy. I'll let them know."

He needed more than that though. He clutched at me hand, "No, y/n... You need to win. You need," he struggled a second, before coughing up some blood into his hand. "you need to let them know," He nodded along with his words.

I took a deep breath, trying not to sob. "I will. I will win, I promise," tears fell onto his face, "I'll tell them Nicky. Don't you worry."

He smiled up at me, tired. "Thank you Y/n. For everything.

Then he shut his eyes and never opened them. I sat there with him for a while after the canon fired.

I shouldn't have. I felt his body become cold beneath me. I cried until I was all cried out over him. Not caring if people in the damned capitol found me weak, or if they pulled their sponsorships. Sweet little Nick was gone. He would never open his eyes, never see his mom and little sister that he talked about with such love in his eyes. He was too young, and he died for nothing.

Then, I gently slid his head off of my lap and laid him down fully. I moved next to him and pushed his hair out of his face, and then I leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

I got up and walked away. And I didn't look back.

Under his screen, me and his mother made eye contact. She was beautiful, just as he had described her to me, next to her must have been his little sister, Livie. It was just them. Both with tears in their eyes, clutching onto each other. Her eyes, Nicky's eyes were hard as she stared at me. I couldn't look any longer, so I looked down at my sparkly shoes.

Peeta held my hand tighter, as I felt my eyes become watery. I bit the inside of my cheek, and held my breath slightly, afraid if I did I would start sobbing.

My feet fumbled forwards towards the microphone. Peeta held the speech cards Effie had given him tightly. His hands trembled a bit.

He knows how hard today is for me. He didn't know Nick personally. But I shared everything he had done for me with Peeta, everything he taught me and then I shared how he died. In a way Nicky had saved Peeta also.

I stepped up to the microphone, my hands unsteady. Peeta cleared his throat and started on with the stupid speech.

"Hello District 5. Today, we are here to honor the.... fallen," he started unsurely, "Nick and Lela gave up their lives to be part of something bigger. They made the ultimate sacrifice... for the good of our country," He stopped, took a deep breath, then crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the floor.

He sighed, before starting again. "The truth is, we don't want to celebrate. Lela and Nick lived their lives, and they were gone too soon," he looked to both Nicks family and then to Lela's.

I didn't say anything, I didn't want to look out into the crowd, afraid that my eyes wouldn't help but wander to his poor mother and sister.

"Y/n and I are both very sorry for your loss. It is hard to loose the ones we love... and even harder to try to stay happy. They gave up their lives involuntarily, so that me and y/n could be standing here today. That is a debt we wish we could repay, but never will be able to. Lela was brave, she scored high and made it to the final eight. Nick, he saved y/n. In turn saving me. To him and his family, specifically, we are tremendously grateful. Thank you."

Peeta finished his speech, before leaning down and whispering,"Do you want to say anything?"

I just shook my head, not really trusting my voice at them moment. And turned to the waiting doors, with Peeta's hand in mine.

But then I couldn't leave. Even though I wanted nothing more than to get through this stupid dinner with the mayor and then get back to the train and cry. I will do all of that, but I had to say some things first. For Nicky.

I quickly turned back to the crowd, Peetas hand falling from mine. Rushing towards to grab the microphone before I lost my nerve.

"I'm sorry." My voice was hoarse and broke at the end and it sounded so loud in the silent city square.

I found Nicks mom and sister, "I'm sorry."

Both were shaking slightly, holding each other in a death grip.

"Nick told me all about you both. He held so much love for you both, and I am truly sorry-" I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heart, "truly sorry that he went through what he did," my voice shook and my eyes were red with unshed tears.

Right now my speech is being broadcasted to every screen in Panem.

Peeta had come to stand beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "He was too sweet, too kind. He deserved so much more...and he was gone too soon," I met his mothers eyes and wiped at a stray tear that had fallen.

She was crying, her body rocking slightly as she clutched Livie to her body. She was crying also.

I sniffed, "Without Nicky, I don't think I would have made it out. I'll never, not if I lived a million lifetimes be able to repay what he has done for me."

I nodded my head, tears cascading down my face.

"If-" I sobbed slightly, before holding my breath, once I felt more under control I continued, "If I hadn't made it back, I had wished that he did. And if I could change what had happened I would. The guilt is unbearable," I shut my eyes before taking another breath.

"But you both must know that we tried. I truly did try to save him, and I failed. I have to live with that. Nicky... he tried too, he wanted nothing more than to go home. To be with you, his people," I addressed district five now. My face was blotchy, tears were all over my face, making it sticky and wet. I wiped the bottom of my chin quickly, from where they had all pooled.

My throat was constricting and it felt as though there was something stuck in it. "I don't like talking about what happened, and I'm sure you would rather do anything right now than have to relive this. For that I am also sorry. But I promised Nicky that I would tell you. If there was more I could do for you I would, but I think this is- " I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started sobbing, weeping sounds leaving my mouth.

Peeta grabbed my hand, and with one last look to Nicks family, I pushed my head into Peeta's chest, Not wanting to come out, and not caring if my makeup smudged or if I got some on his shirt.

Without skipping a beat Peeta jumped in, "Which is why we will be donating one month of our earnings every year for as long as we shall live to Nicks family. Thank you." The crowd gasps as he finishes, before smiling and gently steering me to the waiting doors and into the sagging building.

I sobbed into his side as the doors slammed behind us.

I move to hug him fully, sobbing into his chest. My whole body shakes as he rubs my back, cooing at me softly.

"Shhh, shhh," he sighs, like you would a baby.

I can't breath suddenly, this dress is too tight, my throat is closing in on itself. I'm gasping for air, it wont come. I feel as though I will pass out. My heartbeat is too loud in my ears, my breathing too fast. My body is making it up for the lack of oxygen. I am going to pass out.

All I see is Nick. Sweet Nick laying dead in a pool of his own blood. My hands covered in it, his beautiful brown eyes full of light, now dull and lifeless.

He hates me. It's my fault. I can't see. I can't hear. Suddenly I'm on the ground. Peeta kneeling down with me, holding me.

Haymitch is next to me, I look to him. But its like white noise. I can see him talking but I can't make out the words.

My heart is thumping frantically. I see her. The girl I killed. She is bloody and broken on the ground. She hates me too, I hate her.

Then my hearing starting fading in and out and I can finally hear a bit.

Peeta, his eyes frantic. Looking at me, slightly panicky, "Y/n! Y/n, can you hear me? Breath y/n. Breath!" He tells me, holding onto my shoulders.

Haymitch is kneeling next to me also, rubbing my back slightly.

I listen to Peeta, trying to focus on my breathing pattern. In, out, in, out. My heart rate is still frantic. I look around the room, Effie is standing a few feet away, her hand over her mouth in what I can only imagine as shock and pity.

The mayor of district 5 is also there, looking quite freaked out next to Effie.

A couple Peace Keepers stand around us.

"C'mon Y/n, chill out." Haymitch whispers to me.

"Breath baby, just breath," Peeta whispers soothingly to me.

I shut my eyes, focusing on my breathing. I feel Peetas hands on me, holding me still, rubbing soothing circles on my waist and shoulder as he tells me to breath, that everything will be okay.

This is the norm for a few minutes, once I get my breathing patters in check, I have stopping shaking and my heart doesn't feel like it will explode I collapse into Peeta, worn from today. My hair sticks to my face as I hiccup into his chest.

Haymitch is now up and talking with Effie about how we should head back to the train.

"Why, we can't just leave. They have prepared all of this for them. It is insanely rude to the people of district five. I won't have it." She quips in her accent, hands on her hips.

"Effie, would you look at the poor girl? She just had a damned panic attack. Today is too much for her. You can stay here and dine with the fine officials of district five if you want. But we're going back to the train." He argues, throwing his hands out to his sides.

"I agree with Haymitch. Y/n has been through enough today." Peeta speaks up, before looking to the Mayor of five.

"Sir, we are very sorry, but we cannot attend dinner tonight."

The mayor, who still is a bit weary from what has taken place quickly agrees, "Yes I think that is wise."

Peeta gets up first, before helping me up. He wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his side as we walk towards the back entrance where the train is waiting.

Haymitch walking behind us. We can hear Effie frantically apologize to the Mayor before running after us. Her shoes clicking down the long hallway.

Once inside the train car, me and Peeta fall into the couch. He still holds me. Afraid that I will have another panic attack. Haymitch goes to the spirits cart on tbe other side of the lavish car. He pulls out a bottle of some kind of brown liquor.

He gives me a look, gesturing to the bottle.

I nod and that is good enough for him because he takes two glasses, each with ice and then puts the liquor in them. He walks over to where Peeta and I sit and hand me one.

He gives me a pitiful look. Like I'm a puppy.

I sniffle and take it, downing it quickly. It stings my throat on the way down and makes my stomach feel warm.

I quickly stand, before walking to my room.

"Thanks for the drink," I deadpan over my shoulder.

I hear Peeta behind me. At the end of the hallway is my room, I walk in and leave the door open for him.

Once he shuts it I start getting dressed, stripping down to my underwear before climbing underneath the covers.

He does the same, getting rid of his suit quickly before falling into bed next to me. He scoots closer to me and gently wraps his arm around me, pulling me to his chest.

He rubs my head lightly, moving the hair out of my still blotchy face. Before giving me a very gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly after we have laid in silence for a while.

I respond after a minute, "No...are you?"

"No."

I smile up at him softly, before kissing his neck.

"Okay."

Then we both softly cried, holding onto each other. For Nick, for the other fallen, for our country.

And afterwards we fell asleep, content with letting out our emotions that we have been holding in since the reaping.

#peeta my beloved #peeta mellark #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x reader #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #the hunger games #hunger games #thg peeta #thg fandom #thg imagine #thg trilogy #thg au

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maswritingblog · 3 years

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The Arrangement - Part Four

Summary: After their first failure, Lucy and Marcus continue with the schedule as planned and hope for the best.

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY!), Oral (f receiving), mentions of trying to conceive, mentions of fertility, pregnancy tests (in case that is triggering for anyone) Unedited because I literally finished it and wanted to post it, so sorry for any mistakes.

A/N: Here is the next part! I hope you all enjoy it and I once again apologize for the long wait for this chapter. It’s a long one, coming in at about 7k words.

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Lucy’s phone chimed on her desk beside her, pulling her attention away from the email she was composing. She had been needing a break, her eyes starting to get tired from staring at her computer screen all morning. She took the opportunity to draft the email and sat back in her cushy office chair, unlocking her phone to view the notification.

Ovulation day!

The two words were framed by little flowers from the theme for the dumb cycle tracking app she’d downloaded a few days after she had started sleeping with Marcus. She hadn’t realized it was her ovulation day and she cursed inwardly; not only was it Tuesday, she also had to work late tonight, so spending an extra night at Marcus’s wasn’t an option.

Dammit. She sighed heavily, placing her phone back on her desk as she thought for a moment. She couldn’t afford to not stay late tonight, but Marcus couldn’t afford to lose one of the best days they had. That really only left one option…but she wasn’t sure if Marcus would agree to it, or if she was up for it either.

She debated it for a long few minutes before she decided it was a risk she was willing to take, and she grabbed her phone to send Marcus a message.

Meet me in the parking garage in five minutes. Level 8.

She hoped she wasn’t being too crazy, that he wouldn’t think she was out of her mind when she revealed her plan. Honestly, she was out of her mind for even thinking about doing something like this at work.

Marcus’s reply came back almost instantly. Everything okay?

Instead of answering, she dropped her phone on her desk and pushed her chair back. She made sure her computer was locked and secured before slipping out of her office and heading towards the elevators. She tried not to look into Marcus’s office on the way, though she knew he must be confused about the situation.

She wanted the mystery to work in her favor.

Level eight of the parking garage was one of the levels that didn’t get much traffic. It was where the extra government vehicles were parked and agents would use them occasionally when they couldn’t use the ones assigned to them. The secluded level would be perfect so long as there weren’t any agents needing a temporary vehicle.

Lucy rode the elevator to floor six and got off, walking quickly to the SUV she’d been issued for her team but didn’t get to use that often. It might as well get some use now, even if it wasn’t exactly what the big-wigs had in mind when they’d handed her the keys.

Driving up to the eighth floor, she moved down the two rows of matching black SUVs and finally parked at the end of the row on the left side. She only hoped it was far enough away that nobody would notice anything.

She tried not to think about the fact that she was slightly turned on by the idea of doing this. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught, of the consequences of being found doing something so inappropriate on government property.

Stepping out of her car, she walked around to lean against the back end as she waited for Marcus. It only took another minute before the elevator dinged and he stepped out, looking around with a look of confusion on his face before he spotted her and headed her way.

“Lucy? What’s going on?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of her, his brown eyes searching her face for any kind of answer.

For a brief moment, she almost wanted to chicken out. It would be easy to change her mind, even if she would have to come up with an explanation as to why she had dragged him to the parking garage in the middle of the work day.

“So, it’s Tuesday,” she started slowly, trying to decide how to approach the situation.

He nodded slowly. “…yes…”

Lucy laughed lightly, more at the situation that she’d put herself in more than anything else. “It’s Tuesday, and I have to stay late tonight to work on the briefing for tomorrow. But the thing is…I’m ovulating. Today’s the highest chance for pregnancy according to my stupid app, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to try.”

As she rambled, he seemed to put it together. His eyes widened nearly comically and he glanced around the parking level as if someone would be lurking in the shadows watching them.

“You—you want to do it here?” he asked, voice laced with surprise. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

She nodded quickly. “I know it’s crazy, but this could be the day and this is the only time we’ll have to try. We don’t exactly have time to drive anywhere offsite, and I’m not about to do it in a bathroom or a supply closet where anyone could walk in. I figured this would be the best place since nobody really comes up to this level.”

Marcus sputtered, seeming to lose all ability to speak. “W-What? How—How?”

She wondered if he was flustered because he thought she was nuts, or if he liked the idea. She had to admit that the prospect of getting caught had an affect on her in a way she hadn’t realized before; perhaps it had something to do with breaking the rules.

“The back seats lay down, leaves a good amount of room in the trunk. But we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it; I just won’t be able come over tonight and I didn’t want to miss an ovulation day.”

He was silent and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Sometimes she felt like she could read Marcus like a book, and sometimes she felt like he was locked in a safe and she didn’t know the combination. As he eyeballed the back of the SUV, she wondered if she had truly lost her mind when she had thought this was a good idea.

Finally, he gave her a pointed look. “Are you comfortable with this? I don’t want you to think you have to do this just for me.”

Of course, he was being a gentleman about this. Of course, he was putting her comfort above his. It was so on brand for him, and yet that didn’t stop her from being surprised by it. She appreciated it, while also wishing he would think of himself more often.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m the one suggesting this, remember?”

Marcus paused in thought for a moment, his eyes moving from the SUV to her multiple times before he finally nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He agreed.

She wasn’t sure why she was surprised, maybe because she thought public sex was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. If she were being honest with herself, it wasn’t a line she had ever imagined crossing either. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though, right? Something told her this wasn’t what the person who had coined that phrase had in mind.

“Okay.” She echoed, moving to one of the back doors and motioning for him to go around to the other side.

Pulling the door open, she reached for the lever to lower the seat on her side and watched as Marcus did the same. With the back row lying flat, there was plenty of room for the two of them to lay down, which seemed like the best way to not be spotted should anyone actually come to this level. Climbing in was a bit awkward, but they managed to get the doors shut behind them. Kneeling in the back of the SUV, they stared at each other for a beat.

“So, how do we do this?” Marcus wondered, asking the same question she had been mulling over in her head.

She didn’t know why she had to have the answer for everything, but it could have something to do with the fact that she had initiated this encounter. She had been confident about this idea when she’d come up with it, but now she found herself blanking on the next step. Perhaps she didn’t have it in her to be this spontaneous?

“I didn’t really have this all planned out…” she admitted slowly. The awkwardness felt like the first time all over again, and it almost made her laugh.

Marcus nodded. “Okay, so I don’t really want to be caught buck naked at work, so I’m thinking that we stay as clothed as possible.” He suggested.

It was something she could agree with. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. So, pants only then?”

“Pants only.”

Lucy reached down to work on her belt and he did the same. Once her pants were undone and she’d pushed them down her thighs slightly, she sat fully and started pushing them down her legs. It wasn’t the easiest task in the back of the SUV and she found she had to lay down a bit to even get them to her knees.

Marcus’s hands were gently pushing hers away then and he pulled the tight slacks down her legs.

“If I had known this was gonna happen, I would have worn a skirt today.” She joked, slipping her shoes off so he could pull her pants off and push them out of the way.

“Definitely would have been easier.” He teased as he slotted his hips between her thighs and leaned over her to press his lips to hers.

His belt was hanging open, the cool metal pressing against the skin of her inner thigh and making her jump slightly. Their tongues tangled and she wanted to run her hands through his hair the way he liked, but she didn’t want to make it obvious what he’d been doing away from his desk. Instead, she reached down and finished opening his pants for him, lowering the zipper and slipping her hand inside to palm him over his briefs.

Marcus groaned into her mouth, pressing his hips into her hand as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip and then her chin before his lips returned to hers in a heated kiss. He rolled his hips against her palm and she squeezed him gently, pulling another groan from his throat, followed by his hand grasping her wrist in warning.

Lucy chuckled against his lips, beginning to squeeze again only to be surprised by his next move.

The grip on her wrist tightened and he yanked her hand from his pants, pinning her wrist down next to her head. He pulled away to stare down at her, his chest heaving as his eyes narrowed playfully at her.

“What?” she asked in feigned innocence, stifling a laugh.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he simply shook his head at her with a laugh of his own. He released her wrist and supported his weight on his hand next to her head, the other reaching down to begin pushing his pants and briefs down.

Taking it as a cue, she reached down to do the same with her underwear, sliding them down her legs as best she could as he pushed his down to his knees.

“Can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” He commented as he situated himself between her legs again, his erection bobbing against his stomach where he’d pulled his dress shirt up out of the way of any potential messes.

She wanted to ask him if it was as exhilarating to him as it was to her, but she thought that maybe he didn’t see it that way, that he’d find it weird that she did. She’d discovered a lot of things about herself since they’d begun sleeping together, a lot of things that excited her despite the fact that she’d never considered them in that light before. Perhaps she was more depraved than she realized.

“We don’t have to.” She reminded him, just in case he was having second thoughts. She wasn’t sure if he was given the way he was already so ready, the tip of him already leaking. Despite his body’s reaction, though, she wanted to give him the chance to back out.

Marcus’s met her gaze, and his voice came out soft despite the way his eyes had darkened with lust. “I want to.” He reassured her while silently asking if she still wanted this as well.

There was a long beat of silence as she stared up at him. She admired his handsome features, the way a lock of his perfectly styled hair had fallen onto his forehead and the way his nose curved down towards his plump lips. That single dimple that she found so endearing.

It still baffled her how he didn’t already have a beautiful wife and family.

She found herself unable to respond verbally, so she reached up to pull his mouth back down to hers.

He got the hint, pressing his body down close to hers as he reached down to position himself at her entrance. He slid his tip up and down her folds a couple of times, gathering her wetness before pressing into her slowly. He eased in until his hips were flush against hers, both moaning in unison as their lips parted, their foreheads pressed together.

There was no going back now; Lucy’s knees brushed against his sides as she hitched her legs up further on his hips, pulling him deeper inside her with a soft sigh against his mouth.

His hips drew back slowly and then he slid forward again, repeating the movement a few times. As good as he felt, as good as the slide of him inside her walls made her feel, she knew they didn’t have the same amount of time they usually did and anyone could come up to this floor at any time.

“We have to hurry.” She gasped as he filled her again.

He pulled almost completely out of her and paused. For just a moment she thought he might stop, but then he thrust forward, driving into her hard and fast, wasting no time before he did it again, and again.

Lucy clung to his shoulders, hands fisting in the material of his shirt as she held on, small and breathy moans escaping her each time he filled her. She knew his shirt might be wrinkled by her hands, but at least he could cover it with his suit jacket if he needed to. For now, all she needed to be focused on was the pleasure rolling through her with his movements, and the hope that the risk they were taking would pay off in the end.

The rhythm they had created had the SUV rocking gently; if anyone saw they would definitely know what was happening inside.

Marcus was hovering over her, supporting his weight on one hand as the other hooked under her right knee to press her leg closer to her chest. The new angle had him driving deeper inside and brushing against her just right; the slap of his hips against hers as he worked at a bruising pace only echoed by their sounds of pleasure.

One of Lucy’s hands scrambled down from his shoulder, desperate for purchase. She gripped at his side where his shirt was raised, nails biting into the skin as she rolled her hips up to meet his.

Marcus groaned above her in response to the scratch of her nails and as he thrust forward again, he took a moment to grind his pelvis against hers.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped, reaching up to cup his jaw and pull his mouth back down to hers.

Their tongues tangled as they moaned into each other’s mouths, hips working together to get them closer to their release. Just as Lucy felt herself approaching the cliff, the ding of the elevator startled them.

They both jumped, freezing their movements as Marcus hunched over her as if he was trying to shield her semi-nude body from any prying eyes. His head lifted slightly to peek out the window and Lucy waited with baited breath for someone to catch them.

They would surely be fired if they were caught having sex at work.

Marcus’s brown eyes were locked on whoever had arrived on the parking level. The sound of voices filled the concrete structure and Lucy thought for sure things were going to end badly.

Unexpectedly, Marcus slowly rolled his hips against hers, causing her eyes to flutter involuntarily.

“Wha—?”

“Ssshh.” Marcus shushed softly, eyes not leaving the window as he pulled out slowly only to fill her again at the same pace.

Was he really doing this? As he rocked his hips again, it seemed he was.

His eyes never left the window as he moved slowly over her. She could hear voices on the parking level, although they were several vehicles away. Each push and pull of his hips had him brushing up against the sensitive spot inside her and it only served to drive her closer and closer to the edge.

Although she tried to stop it, she couldn’t completely hide the small moan that escaped her as his hips ground against hers. She knew she needed to keep quiet for both their sakes, but it just felt too good.

Marcus gently shushed her again, the tips of his first three fingers pressing delicately to her lips to keep her quiet.

God, there was something about the need to keep quiet that had her so close.

The soft thudding of car doors shutting echoed through the parking garage and Marcus used the opportunity to snap his hips against hers just a little harder, pulling another whimper from her throat as her eyes fluttered closed.

An engine started before the vehicle could be heard driving down the ramp exiting the level and Marcus pulled his hand away from her mouth, driving his hips forward as he returned to the pace they’d set before the interruption.

Lucy tried to ignore the way she missed his fingers over her lips, choosing to drag his mouth back down to hers for a heated kiss, lifting her hips to meet his hard thrusts as one of his arms wrapped around her to hold her body against his.

“Fuck.” Lucy gasped against his mouth, feeling herself once again on the precipice. One of her hands fisted in his shirt again, while the other seemed to have a mind of its own and slid around to grasp a handful of his backside as if it would help guide his movements. She couldn’t think straight, all she knew was how good he felt, and then she was tumbling over the edge with a string of moans.

Marcus buried his face in her neck, working her through her orgasm with a groan of his own at the way she pulsed around him. His arm tightened around her, fingers digging into her ribcage as his thrusts become shallow and deliberate as he desperately chased after his own release.

Lucy’s hand left his shirt, reaching up to smooth through the hair on the back of his head as if she was encouraging him to let go. Her nails dug into his backside as she gently tugged on the soft locks of hair, eliciting a moan from where he was tucked into her neck.

A little encouragement was all it took and he was there, warmth blossoming inside her as he filled her with rope after rope. He moaned slowly, nuzzling against her neck as he came down from his high.

They laid there like that for a minute or two as they cooled down, tangled up in each other despite the fact that they didn’t have the luxury of their normal wind down time. Even though they needed to get back to work before anyone noticed they were both missing, neither of them moved. Perhaps it had been the fact that they had almost been caught or that they had done this at work, but it had made this time more exhilarating, and in turn had exhausted them.

Regardless, Lucy didn’t mind a little extra time with his arms around her.

After what felt like five minutes or more, she rubbed both her hand up and down his back slowly. “We have to get back to work.” She spoke softly, her voice raw.

Marcus nodded against her throat. “Mmhmm.” He mumbled, arm squeezing around her tighter for several seconds before he slowly pulled back to look down at her, his eyes darkened with something other than lust.

Lucy’s fingers brushed over his cheekbone and she glanced at the fogged over window over their heads. “We totally missed the opportunity to recreate Titanic.” She noted with a chuckle.

He laughed lightly, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Maybe next time.” He offered, still slightly out of breath from the exertion.

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm…are you trying to get caught with your pants down regularly?”

“Well, I was thinking we’d park somewhere more discrete, but if you wanted to do it in the middle of the road, that’s fine too.”

She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “As thrilling as it was to almost lose my job, I think we should stick with discretion in the future.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, it was thrilling for you, huh?” he teased.

Another eyeroll. “Getting less thrilling by the second.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that quickly turned heated.

She allowed it for a few seconds before pushing against his chest. “Okay, okay, we gotta get back to work.” As much as she would have enjoyed potentially going for another round, she knew they could both only be away from their offices for so long before it became suspicious.

“I know, I know.” He sighed, taking a second before he slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, beginning to put his clothes back together.

Lucy reached for her underwear, pulling them back on before moving for her pants. It was a bit awkward trying to redress in the back of the SUV, but they quickly got themselves presentable.

“Okay, I’m gonna drive this back to where I originally parked and you can go back to your office. That way we don’t show back up at the same time.”

He nodded as he opened the car door and climbed out. “That’s probably a good idea. Don’t want anyone getting suspicious.”

She rounded the back end of the car and reached up to fix his collar before smoothing her hands over the wrinkles on his shoulders from her hands. “Well, I think they’ll probably figure it out when I get pregnant.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

Marcus paused, eyes widening slightly as he took in her words. Lucy didn’t seem to register what she’d said, adjusting her own shirt as best she could using the reflection in the car window.

“When?”

She turned at the surprise in his voice, finding his face open with awe. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?” She teased him with a chuckle. Inwardly, she too realized that she’d said when instead of if. Maybe it was just positive thinking, or maybe she just knew it was going to work out for him. As good a guy as Marcus Pike was, he deserved to have a family and surely whatever deity reigned above would see that.

“Y-Yeah,” he swallowed hard. “I guess it was just different hearing you sound so sure about it.”

“Look, I know I’ve been sort of a Debbie Downer the last few days—”

“—No! It was rough when things didn’t work out, I understand why you were upset. I was, too. It’s just nice to hear you feeling positive again.”

Lucy grinned at him, stepping closer and resting her hands on his hips. “Well, that would be the endorphins, probably. You know, from the mind-blowing sex we just had?”

He couldn’t help but laugh in response, nodding his head in agreement. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”

“I always am.”

Stretching onto her toes, she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss before she stepped away. If she let it go any further, they might end up in the SUV again.

“Okay, get back upstairs before someone notices.”

“As you wish.”

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Peeing on a stick always felt so weird to her. She’d had her fair share of pregnancy scares in college, so it was nothing new, but the act of trying to land as much urine on the tip of a stick as she could was always odd. Having to stop several times to use multiple tests was just as strange, but soon she was standing in front of the bathroom sink with three pregnancy tests in front of her.

Two minutes and she’d know. Two minutes and her life would either change for the better or continue to be stressful for the short amount of time Marcus had left before his surgery.

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” the man in question asked from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

She’d opened the bathroom door after she’d peed on the sticks, not wanting to wait for the results alone.

“I don’t know, these tests say you can take them as early as ten days after unprotected sex.” She said, studying the box again. “I mean, we’ve done it plenty of times since the SUV, but something about that time felt like it worked.”

“Probably just those endorphins.”

She gave him a wry look, rolling her eyes even though she knew he was probably right. She couldn’t explain it, but something about that time felt right. And, yeah, maybe it was just the rush she’d gotten from almost being caught or the fact that it had been one of their best moments together, but she still needed to check. Besides, the only harm that could come from a negative result would be disappointment, and she was already chalk full of that.

“It’s been two minutes.” Marcus said softly, breaking her from her thoughts.

She took a deep breath and stepped closer, leaning down to check the tests. Her shoulders slumped.

They were all negative.

When Marcus spoke again, his voice was closer, in the room with her. “Maybe we did it too early.” He offered softly.

Lucy sighed heavily, scooping up the tests and dropping them in the trash can with a loud thunk. This was the first time they’d tried actually taking tests—the first failure had come in the form of her menstrual cycle—and she had hoped for the kind of excitement that happened in movies all the time where the couple takes the test and see the positive result and cry in each other’s arms; that was a sham.

“Hey, hey,” He seemed to pick up on her mood shift immediately, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders. “It’s probably just too early. Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time? Marcus, you only have like forty days before your surgery. I thought this would be easier. Like…I know that people struggle with this stuff all the time but we’ve also been having a lot of unprotected sex. How could one of those times not have taken?”

He maneuvered her body to face him, his hands returning to her shoulders where he continued to squeeze reassuringly. “Sometimes it just takes time, remember? Don’t get so stressed out, it doesn’t help.”

“It’s hard not to be stressed when your clock is running out.”

There was a long silence between them before he perked up. “Let’s go out tonight. Blow off some steam, have some drinks. It’ll be good for the both of us.”

Lucy shook her head. “We’re not supposed to drink, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “One night won’t hurt us, I promise. We both need to relax a little.”

For a moment, she thought about it. What could it hurt to have some fun for one night? If the stress was already ruining things for them, then alcohol could only help, right? If it loosened her up and made her less stressed, that had to help a bit. Perhaps it was a good idea.

Finally, she caved. “Okay, okay. Let’s go out.”

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Lucy couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her as they stumbled into her apartment a few hours later. She was lingering somewhere between tipsy and fully drunk, feeling good after a night drinking away her worries; they weren’t supposed to drink while trying to conceive, at least according to all the research, but it had been nice to unwind after feeling so stressed out. Stress wasn’t good for conceiving either, so she figured alcohol wouldn’t hurt this once.

Marcus, who was equally feeling the effects of the alcohol, locked the door behind them and ushered her into the kitchen. He immediately went for the cabinet he knew housed her glasses and pulled one down, filling it with water from the faucet and taking a gulp before handing it to her.

Even wasted he was a gentleman.

Their eyes locked over the rim of the glass as she drank and she slowly lowered the glass to the countertop, eyes never leaving his. The silence was palpable, the tension in the room so thick she could cut it with a knife if she wanted to. She reached for him and he met her halfway, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss.

His hands were all over her as hers bunched in his shirt, their tongues tangling, and Lucy was reminded once again that she wasn’t as good at keeping things casual as she would have preferred. She wondered if he felt the same or if this was easier for him.

He trailed kissed down her jaw and neck, nipping at her skin gently and soothing over the spots with a flick of his tongue as she panted, a whimper escaping her as he sucked lightly on that sensitive spot beneath her ear.

He didn’t stop there. He pressed kisses to her collarbone and then her chest, moving lower until he was kneeling in front of her. His hands brushed against the skin of her thighs and slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his eyes turning up to meet hers as he pushed the fabric until it was bunched around her hips.

She gasped as his lips pressed against her inner thigh, light as a feather as he trailed kisses upwards. In all the time they’d spent together, they hadn’t done this—they’d been more focused on getting straight to the point—and she felt like her heart was about to explode out of her chest.

Fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, his eyes on hers once again as he began to drag them down her hips and thighs until they fell to pool around her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them aside as she gripped the edge of the counter in anticipation. She was already soaked.

His hand gripped underneath her left knee and he lifted the leg to hook it over his shoulder. His eyes finally left hers as he began trailing kisses up her leg from her knee until he reached the spot she wanted him most. There was a moment of pause as he seemed to take her in, before he leaned forward and dragged his tongue through her folds in one smooth stroke, ending at the bundle of nerves, which he circled slowly with the tip of his tongue.

Lucy gasped, one hand leaving the counter to thread her fingers through his hair. Her eyes fell closed as she relished the feeling.

He certainly knew what he was doing as he got to work, and before long she was moaning breathlessly as she clung to him. She canted her hips slowly against his mouth, and she wasn’t sure which she liked more: his tongue on her clit or when his tongue trailed further down and his nose rubbed against it just right.

Her right leg was shaking as it tried to support her weight as she verged on the edge, her body was on fire. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten so good at this, but she didn’t want to think about the women in his past too much either.

His tongue flicked her clit once more before his mouth closed around it and he sucked lightly. It was all it took to send her over the precipice with a whine. Her fingers tugged on his hair and she struggled to stay upright, and he gripped her hips to keep her standing as he lapped at her center and slowly brought her down from her high.

“Shit.”

Marcus chuckled against her, pulling away to look up at her once more; his face was shiny from her wetness, and he licked his lips before wiping his face on the back of his hand as he stood.

She reached for him, pulling his mouth back to hers for a kiss, tasting herself on him. That had definitely sobered her up. She could feel his hardness pressing against her hip and although her legs were shaking, the release sent a thrill through her and she reached down to quickly undo his belt.

Perhaps he was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, or maybe going down on her had sent him into a frenzy like some kind of shark, because he gripped her hips and turned her around to face the other way. As her hands landed on the countertop, she could hear his belt jingling and then the unzipping of his pants. Her teeth bit into the pillow of her bottom lip in anticipation, still amped up from her high.

The rustling of fabric told her he’d freed himself, and then his hands were on her hips; he pushed the skirt of her dress up higher and stepped closer, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down her spine. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation and then he asked with a raspy voice: “Is this okay?”

It was something she found she really loved about him—he had already brought her to orgasm with his tongue and they’d had sex numerous times, but he was still asking if it was okay to take her from behind. Anyone else would have laughed, but she found it to be very attractive.

“Yes.” She replied, barely over a whisper at the thought of what was to come.

He nudged her feet further apart with one of his and then she felt the tip of him brushing through her folds. She leaned forward over the counter more and angled her hips better and then he was pushing forward slowly until he was fully seated inside her.

She moaned softly at the feeling, pressing back against him.

Marcus pressed his face into her hair, inhaling her scent as he remained still for a moment as if he was collecting himself, or maybe gathering the strength to continue. Then, ever so slowly, he withdrew until just the tip was left inside of her. He paused again, adjusted his grip on her hips, and then thrust forward quickly to fill her completely. He repeated the motion several times until he was pounding into her.

She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to be gentle and rough at the same time, and the pace he had chosen surprised her; not that she didn’t think he had it in him, but that it was new. If it stole the breath from her lungs, she wasn’t complaining. He mouthed at her neck and shoulder, where the thin strap of her dress had fallen down her arm. The contrast between the gentle grazing of his teeth on her skin and the brutal thrusts inside her had her weak in the knees.

“Fuck.” She moaned, doubling over to press her forehead to the countertop, relishing in the cool surface against her heated skin.

Marcus’s hands were gripping her hips tightly, his own hips meeting her backside over and over and creating a delicious noise that echoed off the kitchen tiles, the grunts and groans spilling from his lips matched her own. One of his hands smoothed up her back and he gripped her shoulder, angling his hips on the next thrust and pulling her back against him.

Lucy’s breath left her again in a string of moans as the new angle hit perfectly every time.

“Stop that racket!” a voice shouted from the other side of the wall, along with a fist pounding.

She couldn’t help but laugh at her neighbor, an elderly man who made tons of noise but hated when anyone else made even a peep. She heard Marcus chuckling behind her, but the intrusion only seemed to spur him on and his hips smacked harder against hers. It had her moaning louder, and she realized that had been his intention all along.

Though she probably wouldn’t admit it, she liked that he wanted to antagonize her neighbor.

The hand that had been at her shoulder slid down her side and around her front, dipping between her legs to circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. As she reached to grip the edge of the counter, her arm knocked into the forgotten glass of water and sent it tumbling to the floor where it surprisingly didn’t shatter. Neither one of them paid it any mind as their releases approached rapidly.

The neighbor was pounding on the wall again, but it was doing him more harm than good as the sounds echoed louder against the tiles.

“I am going to call the landlord!” the elderly man yelled on the other side.

“S-So call them!” Lucy shouted back, just as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. If the neighbor hadn’t made such a big deal, she would have tried to stifle her moans, but instead she lifted her head from where it had been resting on the countertop and let him hear it just because she knew it would infuriate him.

Marcus’s face was buried in her neck and his warm breath huffed against her skin as he laughed at her reaction. His movements were frantic, desperate, as he chased his own release and it didn’t take long for him to stiffen behind her. He pressed his body close to hers and groaned into her ear as he filled her.

They were still for a long moment, panting as they came down.

“I don’t think your neighbor likes you.” He joked, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Lucy laughed out loud, knowing it would also annoy the man in question. “I don’t really care.” She shrugged the shoulder his head wasn’t resting against.

“I’ll leave earbuds on his doormat.”

“No, let him listen. It’s probably the most action he’s gotten in decades.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a Tuesday night two weeks later that it happens. She’s reorganizing her bathroom purely due to boredom and she stumbles across a box of pregnancy tests. She peeked inside and felt her heart race a little; there was one test left.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she pulled the test out and debated using it. They had been keeping up with their schedule, meeting at his place minus a couple of times when they really wanted to annoy her neighbor. Even though the three tests she’d taken two weeks ago had been negative, it didn’t mean she wasn’t pregnant then. False negatives happened all the time if the test was taken too early.

Maybe now is the right time.

She ripped the plastic wrapper off the test and moved to the toilet, glad she hadn’t used the bathroom yet. As she finished and set the test on the sink so she could wash her hands, she glanced up at herself in the mirror.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Luce.” She whispered to herself. She knew if it came back negative, which it more than likely would, it would only hurt more.

She had to step out of the room because she knew it would only make the minutes go by slower. What was that saying? A watched pot never boils? So, a watched pregnancy test never develops? She moved to the kitchen to start putting away the dishes in the dishwasher. By the time she finished, five minutes had passed.

It was time.

“Shit.” She whispered to herself, shuffling nervously towards the bathroom.

What was she going to do if it was negative? Marcus didn’t have much time left, if it wasn’t going to happen then that would break both their hearts.

But what if it was positive? It was what they’d wanted all along, but she couldn’t help but feel her stomach flip with nerves at the idea that all their efforts had paid off. It wasn’t because she didn’t want a baby, but because she did.

The test was sitting upright on the counter, all it would take was for her to step forward and she’d know. One step forward. It was just one step.

Knowing if she didn’t do it now, she’d never do it, she stepped forward quickly and snatched the test up, lifting it to stare down at the tiny plastic window.

Her heart jumped into her throat.

It was positive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I didn’t add pregnancy on the list of warnings because I didn’t want to spoil it. But also, if you are reading a fic that is specifically about getting pregnant, that is kind of a given.

Tag list: (strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you)

@absurdthirst @meanperegrine @hopeamarsu @bison-writes @giselatropicana @melispunk @hnt-escape @cheekygeek05 @bluemoon-glen @star-wars-hell @lawfulgranola @underwaterwonderscapes @words-way-of-life @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @nicolethered @fangirl-316 @finnisrioting @janelongxox @hellovanessax @a-trial-run-on-paper @christina-loves @moonlightburned @generallybrontidefeelings @shakespeareanwannabe @griscka75 @neganwifey25-blog @tacticalsparkles @daffodin @fastandfeminist @valentinasubmarina @a-skov @ptutts @librariantothejedi @janebby @redsilentwolf28 @tuskens-mando @spideysimpossiblegirl @skeletonstwins

Please let me know if you would like to be added to (or removed from) the tag list!

#The Arrangement #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #pedro pascal smut #marcus pike fic #the mentalist #pedro pascal fic #mywriting #didn't add pregnancy as a warning bc i didn't want to spoil it so i apologize

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Note

Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!

Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*

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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.

Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.

There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.

When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

Damn.

See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.

And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.

Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.

Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.

“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond.

“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.

“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”

Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.

“Why ever not?”

“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”

“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”

“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”

Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”

“But he said no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”

“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”

“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”

Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.

“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”

She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.

Well.

The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too.

“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”

Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed.

He looked at Geralt for his opinion.

Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white.

A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered.

“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.

“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”

Geralt said nothing.

Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.

“We should go,” he said.

And they went.

The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.

The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.

It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.

They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.

“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”

“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”

Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans.

Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight.

“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.

“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.

The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement.

Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.

Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.

“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”

And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.

“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”

“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.

“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.

“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.

“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.

Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music.

Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.

“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.

“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.

“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.”

Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.

“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”

The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it.

Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”

“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”

They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.

The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume.

He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”

People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.

“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”

Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’

And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.

Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still.

It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”

The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache.

Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.

Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind.

Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow.

Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking.

He felt a little like doing so himself.

The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.

More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.

“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”

“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.

“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.

“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.

A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.

“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.

Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home.

“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“What?” Jaskier hissed.

“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”

Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.

Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.

It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.

They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth.

There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.

“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”

It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?

He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.

Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.

“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.

Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”

“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.

“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”

“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”

As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.

“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.

“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said.

“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.

“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.

Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.

To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier.

Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.

Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.

“I danced with you though.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”

Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”

It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.

“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.

“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.

“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.

“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below.

Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life.

“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”

“But-” Jaskier was cut off.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.”

Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”

Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.

“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.

“I,” he said.

A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”

A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”

There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”

Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”

They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.

Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.

He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.

They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches.

Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.

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

It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense.

#the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fake dating #getting together #fluff #fluff and angst #tiny amount of horniness #read with caution

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cosplayinamerica · 3 years

Photo

Tiana from The Princess and the Frog : dressesandcapes // photo: itsjustnovice

I'm sure everyone has heard or seen the "Historically Accurate Disney Princess" series by Claire "Shoom' lah" Hummel? Well, I stumbled upon her art a long time ago and then rediscovered it again recently and saw her version of Tiana and immediately fell in love. I have seen other people do her other princesses, but I had never seen anyone do her version of Tiana before and knew that I wanted to bring this art to life. Plus, I love doing "extra" or different versions of classic characters. If you ask any of my friends about me, they will tell you that the bigger or more "extra" the costume, the better! And that was Tiana's 1920s outfit for me!

I was pleasantly surprised about how many people recognized who I was! I thought it would be too different from Tiana’s typical outfit to be recognizable. But I even had a little girl run up to me and get my attention. But once she had my attention, she didn’t know what to do! She was so shy that she didn’t know how to interact with me. So I started singing “When I’m Human” and she started to smile but was still so shy. Her mom took a picture of us, and she waved a small goodbye. I love these small moments at cons. Whenever I dress up as a Disney character, I feel like I become that character a little bit so that I can keep their fantasy alive whenever I see a child.

I also received a great reaction from the POC cosplay community. Everyone was so kind and loved asking me about my cosplay. It was such a welcoming environment. The POC cosplay community is so supportive and I wish they would get more recognition in the bigger cosplay community. I feel that a lot of POC cosplayers are not really recognized because they don’t look exactly like the characters they cosplay (which is a bigger issue on media lacking representation) but I would love for them to receive more support. :)

The costume was put together with a lot of research. When I first saw it I asked my other cosplayer friends how they thought I should construct it. After talking to one of my friends who does historically accurate costumes, we thought that the best way to move forward was to do a robe de style type of dress that was popular in the early 1920s. Robe de style dresses are not like the typical flapper dress where it was a column, rather it was a drop waist dress with panniers for hip volume and skirts that fell well below the knees. But after doing some more research I realized that the art did not really match the structure of the classic robe de style, so I decided to draft my own pattern.

The skirt looks deceptively simple but actually has about 10 yds of tulle and chiffon other fabric for volume and ultimate twirl effect, as well as 5 yds of the decorative beaded fabric gathered for a voluminous and effortless look. It was quite the challenge assembling this all onto a drop waist skirt, but I did it!

The top…the top was a pain. In hindsight, I realize I chose the wrong type of fabric for what I was trying to achieve. Draping this fabric to get the lovely pleats shown in the picture was painful. I spent hours at my dress form hand sewing and hand tacking the pleats. However, the fabric does not really hold pleats as well as I like so I actually plan to remake the top for future shoots.

My favorite part of this cosplay is probably one of the smallest pieces, the hat. I love making hats and working on wigs so this cosplay was super fun. The hat is made out of buckram that is shaped with steam and wire to keep its shape. The hair is based on the finger wave style that was popular in the 1920s, but I kept my hair a bit longer as Tiana is always shown as having slightly longer hair than what was popular then.

Oh boy! Cosplay has become a big part of my life! I have met so many friends through the cosplay community and have found a hobby that I’m incredibly passionate about. My cosplay friends are the people I am able to really nerd out with and hang around with at cons (as well as outside of cons)! I now can walk into a con and know that there is at least one person I know and have a blast. Even if we just end up sitting in a corner we have a great time!

Some of my cosplay friends are also the ones who encourage me to continually work on improving my skills. For example, one of my friends/senpai really pushed me to participate in a masquerade with her (something I would never have done on my own). Even though I was extremely stressed working on the cosplay for the competition, the day of the masquerade I was so pumped (even though I was running on about 3 hours of sleep). I was running on pure adrenaline but it was completely worth it because we won “Best in Show”! I was completely flabbergasted and proud of myself. I was and am incredibly thankful to my friend who pushed me to take on this challenge. Without her, I never would have had that experience.

I think I would like people to know that while cosplay is incredibly fun and fulfilling it can be challenging. I have seen some wonderful people be attacked online by random strangers for simply enjoying their hobby and that breaks my heart. I hope that cosplayers and fellow nerds can create an environment of positivity where we encourage each other! I love this nerdy little hobby and am so grateful for all the wonderful people I have met along the way, so I just want to see it thrive! <3

Also, if you see me at a con please say hi! I love meeting new people! :)

Find out more https://linktr.ee/Dressesandcapes

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

The Princess and the Frog on Amazon https://amzn.to/360B2bQ

#Tiana #Tiana cosplay #princess and the frog #princess and the frog cosplay #disney #disney cosplay #cosplay #cosplay interview #black cosplay #black cosplayer #poc cosplay #poc cosplayer

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falcqns · 3 years

Note

Hey, thanks again for the last request, I loved it and good luck with the semester! 🤗

I was thinking about one gif with Henry where he is in the car with mobile phone in hand, imagine sending him nudes and his reaction when he gets home. 😃❤💌

Lingerie

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: grumpy!henry, smut, swearing, bodily fluids, unprotected sex (don’t whisk it, wrap your biscuit), slight dirty talk

A/N: I apologize for this taking so long! I had it close to complete and my laptop broke. By the time I had enough money to have it looked it, the draft was gone :( But, I hope you enjoy this rewrite!

Henry had been on set entirely too long, he decided.

He had been there since 5 am, and it was nearing 8 pm now, and all he wanted to do was be at home with you more than anything. He had just spent the last two weeks at home with you, and he wasn’t enjoying that he had to be separated from you. Everyone else on set had noticed he was grumpy when he came in this morning, but they didn’t say anything. It was more internalized grumpiness, and he wasn’t causing any problems, so they let him be.

But throughout the day, his attitude had grown worse. He refused to speak unless he had to, and his eye roll was very close to becoming permanent. Joey had mentioned to Anya and Freya that he was beginning to act like Walter, which they thought was hilarious,but chose (wisely) to not bring up to him.

He had finally finished filming for the day, and stormed past his co stars with a determined look on his face. He didn’t say anything to anyone, and slammed his trailer door shut behind him so hard the trailer shook. He stripped off his clothes and placed the back into the wardrobe bag, before looking at himself in the mirror and realizing he still had his wig on. He was most definitely not in the mood to go to Hair and Makeup, and resolved to just take the damn thing off at home. He’d done it before so it wasn’t too big of a deal. He packed up his things, and almost walked out of the trailer without his phone. He grabbed it, and unlocked it to see the messages he’d received from you throughout the day.

He groaned when he saw the pictures you had sent him. You were wearing a pair of baby pink lingerie. The bottoms were a solid pink with frills on the sides where your hips would be, and it was decorated with strawberries. The top was translucent, and was also decorated with strawberries. You were also sitting in various positions, each one become more provocative than the rest. Henry made sure he had everything he needed, and then headed out.

A few people looked at him as he left, but he ignored them. He hopped in his car, and didn’t waste any time in leaving. He sped home as fast as he could, without getting pulled over. He could see that the kitchen light was still on, so he knew you were likely still awake. He got out of the car the second it turned off, and all but ran in the house. He could hear music playing, and found you in the kitchen, doing the dishes and dancing. You had on an oversized sweater and sweatpants that he suspected belonged to him, and your hair was in messy atop your head.

He dropped his phone and keys onto the table, which alert you to his presence. You turned and smiled at him from the sink.

“Hi honey, how way filming?” You asked, but confusion washed over your features as Henry stormed over to you. He lifted you up, and sat you on the counter next to the sink before he slammed his lips to yours. He pulled your sweater off, and to his delight, you still had on the lingerie set.

“Fuck,” He moaned, and buried his face into your breasts. “Missed you,” He began pressing wet kissed to your chest, and you threw your head back in pleasure at the feel of his stubble scratching your skin. His hands ran down your sides, and undid the knot at the front of your sweatpants, and tugged them off. He removed his hands from you for a moment, to unbuckle his pants, and pull his hard cock out, and pump it a few times while making eye contact with you.

You watched as he pulled your underwear to the side, and moaned at the sight of your wet folds. You went to giggle, but it was caught in your throat when Henry pushed inside you. He dropped his forehead to yours as he waited for you to adjust, and he tried not to cum at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him.

“Y-You can move Henry,” You whispered, and his hands slid up your back and cradled your head against his chest, as he began to thrust in and out of you. You pulled his shirt down slightly to expose his collarbone, to where you attached your mouth, and began sucking hickeys into his soft skin. He moaned in response, and bit down on your shoulder before letting out a loud moan, his hips moving even quicker.

His hand fisted in your hair and pulled it away from his chest. He pressed another hard kiss to your lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, and the two of you continued to make out as you felt Henry’s hips get sloppier with their thrusts, signifying that he was close.

Your hands drifted up his back as well, and gripped his hair in your hands as hi left hand came down your body, and in between your legs to thumb at your clit. You pulled away from his kiss for air, and rested your forehead on his.

“I’m gonna cum,” You moaned out, and Henry nodded in acknowledgement.

“Do it.” He grunted, rubbing your clit in fast circles with his thumb. “Cum on my cock. Do it. Make a mess.” He encouraged, and you let go, unable to hold back the pressure in your lower abdomen any longer. You came, and threw your head back in a silent scream. Henry continued to thrust, his high drawing near as well, watching as you gushed around his cock, and your entire body trembled. You clenched down on him moments later, and he was pushed over the edge as well. He stilled inside you, and moaned as his load filled you up, some of it seeping out and mixing with your release.

His head dropped to your shoulder, and he pressed kisses to your skin. He felt your breathing return to normal after a few minutes, and he lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“I’m fine baby. Perfect actually.” You said with a blissed out smile on your face, and Henry picked you up. he walked to wards the stairs, but stopped at the bottom to press another kiss to your lips.

“Come to set with me tomorrow?” He asked, and you nodded. “definitely.”

He chuckled, and began the journey to the bathroom with the intent to run you a bath. “Good. I can’t be separated from you any longer.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #fluff #august walker #mission impossible #geralt of rivia #henry cavill x reader smut #henry cavill x reader fluff #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Text

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info I Instagram I Zine

A/N: Looking for a beta reader for a personal writing piece, let me know if you feel like you're a pretty good editor! Also this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months, and IDK maybe I'll do more of them since it's kinda fun.

* Omg this freak is so stupid into the fact that you literally create universes with those godly hands

* I’m not kidding, I think a good 80% of his initial attraction to you was because you’re writing will literally make you immortal

* “You’re going to live forever,” Satoru says slightly breathless as he holds one of your print publications in his hand

* You’re just like ‘wtf’ so he explains-

* “You die twice, once when your body can no longer sustain itself, and the second the last time someone says your name.”

* Ah, so he thinks you’ll live forever in the sense that someone will always reference your work

* “That’s not exactly true though, one day the sun will swallow the earth whole, turning everything we love to dust”

* Satoru thinks you sound just like a writer when you say stuff like that

* “Well, unless we find another planet and have a database there or something”

* Satoru googles ‘how to buy a planet’ and ‘how much would it cost to set up a database in space’

* He’s got no respect for your craft- and by that I mean if you’ve got a deadline you’re trying to meet for a submission period or for your editor whatever, he’s just got no respect for it

* Queue Gojo shenanigans where he’ll hide all the pens in the house, or hide your laptop or something just so he can see you all flustered and panicked

* “I DONT HAVE TIME FOR THIS I ONLY HAVE 12 HOURS TO GET THIS IN!!” You shriek running from one end of your home to the other looking desperately for your laptop charger

* It’s too late in the game to order another one, and you don’t trust leaving Gojo alone in this house

* More than once you’ve left the house to replace whatever Satoru stole only to return to see even more of your things were gone now

* One time he rearranged all the furniture

* “It’s up there,” Gojo says grinning, and you look up to the ceiling fan to see your laptop charger idly hanging off one of the panels

* “I’ll get it down for you if you give me a kiss,” he says cheekily

* There’s sort of a method to the madness

* Part of it is yeah, Gojo loves to laugh, and nothings funnier than you when you’re flustered

* But part of it is you’ve been hunched over your laptop for days now, and you’re starting to be mean to yourself because you’re frustrated

* You need a break

* One he’s more than happy to offer

* And a teeny tiny portion is because he’s lonely

* Whenever you get sucked into a project it’s like you forget about him completely

* So he just wants to remind you he’s here

* And that he loves you

* You sigh, giving him a quick peck, and with a wave of his hand he brings the charger down

* “I expect a better reward when you’re done with your story”

* I think Gojo is probably a pretty big fan of your work

* In fact he’s probably your #1 fan

* But he’s super low-key about it.

* Buys all your publications on pre-order (never in large amounts so you don’t notice)

* If you’ve got into a bigger journal/magazine, or have a book at a bookstore will buy a copy every time he passes by one and see’s it

* He keeps one copy of each work on his bookshelf in the living room

* And then stores the rest/extra copies in a velvet storage box in a temperature-controlled area

* He also has another set that he notoriously marks up with notes/annotations

* “This part sounds like the time I brought them food and took them on a spontaneous date” he’ll say, scribbling furiously into the margin

* Gojo see’s your writing as an extension of you- of your soul

* So he does his best to try and figure out where you get inspiration from

* He’s especially delighted if he notices something he did, inspired something you wrote -

* “Ah the villain hid the hero’s laptop charger so they couldn’t turn in their assignment on top,” he says with a sigh

* - Even if it’s not always positive

* Honestly he plays it so cool you think he doesn’t really think anything of your profession until you come over to his place for the first time and see all your works in a neat line on his shelf

* And even then you think he’s just supporting you because he loves you, after all, they’re all in great condition, he probably hasn’t even opened them.

* And then a little further into the relationship, probably when you move in together or something

* You find all those marked-up copies

* Gojo Satoru has never been redder

* You’re genuinely concerned he might combust

* He’s acting like you just found his porn stash or something

* You wait for a few minutes for him to stammer out an excuse or something

* But when he can’t seem to form any words after several minutes you sigh and close the box

* “I didn’t see anything”

* He just nods

* You start giving him copies of your work yourself now that you know he’s so interested

* “O-oh no it’s fine-“

* It’s actually one of the rare times you see Satoru flustered

* “It’s fine, I insist, I’ve got too many contributor copies anyway”

* He takes them in his hand blushing

* He would show up to all of your readings or signing events -

* Disguised Ofc

* “Hey you should be careful, that guy looks super sketchy-“

* You look to where your manager is pointing, to a tall lanky guy wearing a black hair wig, and these tacky thick-rimmed pink glasses and you sigh

* “No need to worry, that’s just my moronic boyfriend”

* “You don’t have to show up in disguise you know”

* “Well what was I supposed to do? You didn’t invite me” he’s doing that thing where he gets all shy, a blush on his face and his fingers tugging a strand of hair

* You sigh

* The dork is oddly lovable

* “Well, from now on you’ve got an open invitation to all my events”

* He smiles so bright you would think you just offered to blow him in the middle of the bookstore

* He’s got his shortcomings

* “SATORU DID YOU HIDE ALL MY REFERENCE BOOKS?!?!”

* But you couldn’t have asked for a more supportive boyfriend

* “Kiss me and maybe I’ll tell you where they’re at”

* Or a better muse

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #Gojo satoru x reader #Gojo satoru imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #Gojo x reader #gojou x y/n #saturo gojou #Satoru Gojo imagine #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru jjk #gojo satoru headcanon #superhero—imagines

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collectivefandomstuff · 4 years

Text

It starts one evening when Bruce is off-world and Alfred has invited (ordered) everyone to the manor for a cup of tea. Predictably, this soon devolves into bickering which somehow morphs into all the kids sharing stories about their time in the manor, trying to out-do each other. Here, Alfred starts telling them stories about the people who have lived in this house before; generations of Waynes long gone. One in particular, he tells them, a young woman called Catherine, suffered terribly through her life and died at the hands of a scorned lover in this very house. Sometimes, Alfred claims, you can hear her ghost wandering through the halls, singing sorrowfully or weeping.

Damian scoffs at this and says that it’s “clearly nonsense”.

And that’s when it truly starts, with one of the kids having the idea that “a few weird noises here, a fluttering curtain there... it should be doable to convince my pseudo-siblings that there’s a ghost.” Except this is the batfamily who are all complete trolls so it’s not one of the kids. It’s all of them. Even Damian figures that “Drake is gullible” and it would be worth the trouble to scare the shit out of Tim.

And so the great ghost-campaign of 2012 begins. Tim and Steph quickly pair up for maximum effect; with Tim putting speakers in the vents that plays a track he found online called “ethereal crying” and Steph taking on the role as “Catherine”, sweeping down the halls in a wig and a floaty gown and fake crying into a handkerchief.

Damian, being tiny, crawls through the vents, playing recordings of a woman crying near wherever Tim is at the moment (doing this he actually manages to break one of Tim’s speakers. He doesn’t notice). When Tim is caught without airpods and actually hears Damian’s recording, he thinks Steph must really be working overtime on the ghost thing.

Dick spends hours crouched on top of beams and chandeliers making sniffling noises, and leaves silk gloves with the initials “C.W.” embroidered on them on everyone’s pillows. Damian is the only one who notices, since only he and Tim actually sleep at the Manor and Tim is always way too sleep-deprived to either take note of or care about what’s on his pillow.

Damian decides that Tim’s the one who left the glove and vows to double his efforts. Tim remains oblivious to the crusade against him.

Jason sneaks into the Manor at night to leave fake blood on the floor outside the west wing. Cass finds him and convinces him that fake blood won’t cut it and they both get way too involved and end up “donating” their own blood to the cause. The blood is mopped up by Alfred before any other sibling can find it.

Damian places portable air-conditioners on the coldest setting over Tim’s favorite spots in the Cave and Library. Tim starts wearing scarfs.

Dick dresses up as a Victorian Lady and stalks the halls of the manor, lamenting “her” fate. In the dark, a been-awake-for-48-hours and high-on-caffeine Tim mistakes him for Stephanie and greets him way too loudly with “diD You GeT A nEW DResS?” This freaks Dick out entirely and he falls out of the open window he had been sadly mourning his death in front of.

Jason and Cass get really stuck on the whole blood thing and leaves a torn-up, bloodied white dress on a hook in the library. Stephanie takes one look at it and thinks that someone has stolen HER dress and ruined it, and takes it as proof for a later date.

Damian, slightly departing from the “ghost persona” in favour of torturing Tim, starts leaving thorny roses where Tim will step on them with bare feet, which is mostly in the shower.

Tim starts questioning his sleeping-schedule and resolves to maybe dial back on energy drinks. He also puts everyones shoes in the freezer when they come over and return them to the hall before they leave, so they’ll think a cold chill has just passed along the floor.

On the whole, they’re all too busy to actually notice what everyone else is up to -or get frightened by it. Bruce however, is not.

Newly returned from off-world, he starts noticing things. Voices in the vents, drafts in the cave, blood on the floor outside the west wing (that he has Alfred mop up). All the kids are fine, but obviously someone is breaking into his house. Obviously.

This leads him to scour the cctv footage where he sees a strange, crying woman meandering through the halls at night. When he investigates the blood, the camera shows him a shadowy figure standing right where the blood was (Cass, geared up because both she and Jason takes this way, way, too seriously).

His paranoia now fully woken from its (very light) slumber, he tries to find the hole in the Manor’s defenses. Late one evening, when he’s coming back from patrolling the grounds, he sees a victorian woman fall from a second story window with a scream and land in a heap of skirts. When he gets there, she’s gone (Dick made himself scarce, not wanting to be discovered by Tim), but a few days later, he thinks he sees a bloodied, ripped dress on one of the cameras in the library. When he gets there, it’s gone. Meanwhile, Titus keeps bringing him silk gloves with strange initals on them and he hears sniffling cries and singing everywhere. Finally, he reaches a logical explanation.

“I have seen stranger things” he tries to comfort himself, even as he’s putting up fifty new cctv cameras and lines the corridors with salt for good measure. “aliens. demons. the Court of Owls.” He researches ghost-prevention techniques and contemplates whether martial arts would have an effect on a non-entity. He buys iron and re-watches Ghost Busters. Finally, he believes himself both well-equipped enough to handle the threat, and well-informed enough to accurately decide what it is exactly (a ghost born of tradegy, not vengeful but possibly dangerous if crossed).

Confident that he now has the situation back under control, Bruce holds a briefing with all the kids to explain and assign roles for the mission to get rid of the ghost. For years after the fact he vehemently denies this meeting ever taking place and tries (unsuccessfully) to track down all copies of the photos and videos his children took during the six hours of ghosthunting he led them on before one of them (Dick) finally lost it enough for Bruce to notice.

#Duke stays away from this whole mess b/c he actually has a life #long post #batfamily #batman #Damian Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #request #dc #humor #bruce wayne #ghosts #ask #I would say asked and answered but honestly anon I don't know if I answered your questions at all

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billiewena · 3 years

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for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

#if you were one of the people who offered to beta read back in march know I WILL be reaching out to because I need it lol #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #fanfic #spn 10x05 #also this is a given but if you did want to be tagged when this is posted hmu!#been having so much fun with this especially with writing the new songs #also tbh the musical itself is the closet I will get to writing a sam & cas fic so that's been fun too lol #ESPECIALLY because then I can immediately add dean's reaction to it which is typically 'time to walk straight off the stage'#it's also fun to write a s10 fic since I'm a 'dean's been in love since s8 at least' truther #anyways new to this and my untreated adhd means I make a gazillion typos/take forever to work on things/get distracted by new ideas but #literally every positive comment on that first post is the reason why I'm still workin' at it

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