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tuiccim · 4 years

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TikTok Trend: #FirstDate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1453

Warnings: Angst, language

Summary: A first date with Billy and a chance to check out Anvil.

A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers

TikTok Trend Series Masterlist

The next morning you are smiling at your phone as you walk to the kitchen to get coffee. Billy had sent a text saying, “Good morning, gorgeous. Look forward to seeing you tonight.” You know it’s a line, but you can’t help feeling flattered. As you round the corner, you run smack into Bucky. You drop your phone and Bucky swoops down to pick it up. He looks at the message still up on the screen. His eyes meet yours with a sad look before handing your phone back and retreating to his room. Your stomach twists, but then you straighten your shoulders and continue your quest for coffee.

Later that morning, you work on a video to post. “Hey guys! I have a date tonight! Help me pick a dress!” The TikTok video continued showing you modeling three dresses. “Okay, comment red, blue, or black! I’ll show the final look before I head out tonight.” You blow a kiss and send the video to the PR team. It was approved and posted within twenty minutes and your phone began dinging with notifications.

PR let you know an hour and a half before your date that the red dress had won. You got ready and set your phone up for a quick video. “Hey guys! The red dress won. Here’s the final look. Wish me luck!” You post the video, bypassing PR, and head to the elevator. Billy was going to pick you up at the front of the tower at your request. He had offered to come up, but you didn’t want another awkward encounter. Billy pulls up in a Rolls Royce Wraith. You smile and raise an eyebrow at him as you slide in the passenger side, “Hi.”

“You look gorgeous.” Billy smiles.

“Thank you. You look good, too.”

“I made an effort.” Billy jokes. He takes you to an Italian restaurant you had never been to before. A bottle of wine, a delicious meal, and lots of talking and flirting ensue.

“Tell me more about Anvil.” You encourage him and he launches into a full explanation of what they do and some of the jobs they’ve taken on. He’s enthusiastic in his descriptions of the company business and you enjoy hearing about some of the jobs. “Sounds like you enjoy the work.”

“I do and I take my business seriously, I’m very hands on.” He says. “What about your work?”

“I love it for the most part.”

“What parts don’t you love?” Billy narrows his eyes appraisingly at you.

“Sometimes Steve is a little too goody two shoes for me, I guess. He sees the world in black and white, good and evil, I see it in shades of gray. Sometimes good comes out of bad and bad things come out of good things. Steve doesn’t see it that way and it can occasionally cause friction between the two of us. I… I wasn’t always one of the good guys. There was a time that I was part of the criminal element. SHIELD found me and turned me, turned my life around, but… I don’t know. I guess I feel like Steve still holds that against me at times.” You swirl your wine in your glass as you speak and then look up at Billy to see his reaction.

“You like to color outside the lines. I like that. So, tell me what happened with the whole Bucky thing?” Billy’s eyes are piercing as he asks the questions. His stiff jaw signals feelings of jealousy.

“You mean the TikTok video and the aftermath?” You look away for a second, “Bucky live broadcasted a video he wasn’t supposed to. PR called us in almost immediately after. Two former baddies getting together just doesn’t look good apparently. Then a week later he starts dating Sharon.” You roll your eyes and shrug.

“You don’t like her?” Billy asks.

“Everyone kisses her ass because she’s Peggy Carter’s legacy. Bucky’s always had a thing for her, but she dated Steve. I guess he finally decided to go for sloppy seconds anyway.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” Billy chuckles.

You smirk, “One thing about me you should know, Billy, I don’t sugar coat shit and I tell it like it is.”

Billy studies you for a moment before leaning forward, “I like you more and more. We’re doing some training exercises at Anvil on Thursday. I’d like you to come by and observe. Maybe give your opinion.”

“My consulting fee is hefty.” You smirk at him.

“Come by. See what we do.” Billy pushes.

“I have a mission briefing first thing tomorrow. I might be out of pocket for a few days, but I’ll let you know.” You sip your wine.

“Would you care to see the dessert menu?” Billy asks as he sees the waiter making his way over.

“Mmm, no. I’m watching my figure.” You smile.

“I’ve been watching it all night. It’s exquisite.” Billy smiles slyly. He pays the check even though you offer and leads you out to his car. He takes you to a club where the two of you dance and flirt for a few hours. Afterward, he drives you home and walks you into the building. He kisses you good night at the elevator and says he’ll text you. You are barely in your room before you get a text.

Billy: Sleep well, Beautiful. Hope to see you Thursday.

You: Stop texting and driving.

Billy: I live dangerously.

You: Just remember I only date live men. Good night, handsome.

Billy: I’m at a stop light. G’Night, gorgeous.

The next morning, you head into the conference room for the mission briefing and are inundated by Tony the minute you walk in the door. “How was your date last night?”

“Phenomenal,” you take your place and watch as Bucky enters, glances at his usual seat next to you, and then moves to one further down the conference table. You do your best to hide your hurt at the snub.

“Where did Russo take you?” Tony asks.

“Giovanni’s and then to Pulse.” You reply, glancing back at Bucky’s surly demeanor. When you look back to Tony he raises an eyebrow at you in a suggestive manner and you scoff. “Then back here since I had an early morning briefing.”

Steve, Nat, Wanda, Vision, and Sam clamor in then, nearly overshadowing the sound of Bucky’s aggravated grunt but you caught the noise. You look back at him and he is glaring in Tony’s direction. You turn to the front where Steve and Tony begin giving mission details. A two day mission that should be fairly easy to accomplish. Perfect for you, you’ll be back in time to check out Anvil.

The mission went off without a hitch. You had received texts from Billy each day and the two of you had talked back and forth. So when Thursday rolled around, you donned an outfit that was both flattering and appropriate for training exercises. You had a feeling Billy was going to put you into action one way or another.

You arrive at the Anvil facility on your bike and find Billy waiting in the parking lot for you.

“Hello Gorgeous.” Billy smiles, “I should have guessed you’d have a bike.”

“Hey there, handsome. It’s hot, right?” You sass.

“Very. Let me show you around.” Billy surprises you by holding out a hand. You take it and he walks you into the building. He shows you the tactical course and explains the exercises they are running. He takes you up on a catwalk to watch as the teams move through the exercises. Billy asks your opinion at several points and you point out your observations. He takes you down to meet with a few of the team members. He motions to his three best men and says, “gauntlet.”

Immediately, you tense, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The three encircle you and you spend the next several minutes fighting them. You take each of them down without serious injury until Billy tells them to stop. You smooth your hair, rub a bit of blood from your lip, and look up at Billy.

He approaches you with a smile, “you handled that better than I expected.”

As soon as he’s close enough you lunge forward, headbutting him directly in the mouth. He grabs his mouth and leans away while looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Oops. Should I have said ‘gauntlet’ first?” You sass.

Billy smiles and a drop of blood rolls down his chin from his split lip, “I love your fire. I have an offer for you. Let’s go to my office to talk.”

“Lead the way.” You smirk.

Part 5

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

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OH HO HO PROMPTS! how about geraskier + 35 (OR, if you'd like some options: 5 or 59) 😊

Ahhhhhhhh I mean if you insist 😄

(I really really like 59 and still might write that at some point, but 5 is what I ended up going with. Also I feel like you should know I started to write something super angsty, you know, something in my wheelhouse, but then I decided I couldn’t do that to my Fluff Friend™️ so instead, here, have something only kind of angsty and kind of Soft)

5) things you didn’t say at all

Jaskier has so many words.

They’re constant, relentless, ceaseless. A bombardment of words. An onslaught of words. A veritable barrage of words.

(Jaskier would appreciate the grandeur of these words, if Geralt shared his thoughts aloud. Bombardment, onslaught, barrage. Descriptive words. Poetic words. The sort of words the bard uses to transform the most banal contract into a thrilling adventure. They’re not words Geralt would have thought to use before Jaskier.)

He has words for the breathtaking beauty of the setting sun lighting a field of flowers they pass by, words for the awe-inspiring majesty of an archgriffin soaring through the sky (the cerulean sky, apparently) above them, words for the putrescent stench of a nearby rotfiend nest. He has words to make the shyest, most awkward village girl gleam beautifully under his doting attention, words to assuage the traumatized, stuttering child who witnessed a gruesome alghoul attack, words to charm the stingiest of men into coughing up the promised coin after Geralt completes a contract.

On a clear night a few weeks past the autumnal equinox, Jaskier has words for the grumbling innkeeper who protests that they “don’t serve your kind” when Geralt tries to procure a room. Furious, colorful words that surprise Geralt, even as he maneuvers his screaming companion out of the small country inn and into the still autumn night.

He lets him continue his ravings as they trek down the road, assuming that he’ll surely run out of steam soon. Geralt scans the terrain for a good place to set up camp, only half-listening to the diatribe that seems to be gaining momentum rather than reaching some denouement (Jaskier loves to talk about the denouement. He’d delivered a lengthy lecture on narrative structure to Geralt last month that seemed to last nearly the entire trek from Ellander to Vizima). Geralt picks a spot with some natural cover, far enough from the road to protect them from roving bandits, and begins removing Roach’s tack.

“—the utter churlish ingratitude of it all astounds me, truly, I’d love to see our dear Master We-Don’t-Serve-Your-Kind handle it himself next time a wraith starts to slaughter any who try to use the well after sundown!”

Jaskier is forced by physical necessity to take a breath, and Geralt seizes his opportunity to set the conversation to rest. “It doesn’t matter.”

Silence had been the goal, but he knows Jaskier well enough to know this isn’t the blissful quietude of the bard dropping it. He sighs and turns toward Jaskier, who is staring at him, mouth agape, with an expression stuck between disbelief and fury. “I’m sorry,” the boy says finally, fixing Geralt with a glare, “did you just say it doesn’t matter?”

And Jaskier is young, young and full of youthful pride, youthful expectations; more than that, he’s not a witcher. He’s travelled with Geralt on and off for the past two years, and while he’s seen traces, the witcher has tried to shield him from the brunt of these everyday indignities he’s met with. Jaskier hadn’t been in Blaviken, hadn’t witnessed decades of casual and humiliating and hateful and snarling dismissals that have hardened Geralt, changed Geralt, numbed Geralt. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeats. He stops his preparations for their camp and looks Jaskier in the eye. If the boy’s set on traveling with him, it’s best he understands. “Wraith’s dead. The alderman paid what we agreed, didn’t complain about the price or try to shortchange me. It was a success. The rest doesn’t matter.”

There’s a look Geralt can’t quite parse brewing on Jaskier’s face as the witcher speaks, seeming to vacillate wildly between frustrated and wrathful and agonized and so many other feelings, too many for Geralt to track, too complex to analyze from the muddled, conflicting scent. They’re close, he realizes suddenly, and he isn’t sure when that happened but they’re close and he can taste the confused feelings in the air between them, the metallic panic and the acrid fury and the brackish tears that haven’t fallen but threaten to, building in spite of the bard’s best efforts. “It matters,” Jaskier insists, a broken hitch in his voice, and then he’s kissing Geralt.

And maybe Geralt shouldn’t be surprised, but he is, somehow. He’s noticed the lust, of course. It had been there at their first meeting, the sharp, earthy scent, strong but not unpleasant. It had been almost flattering, though not nearly so flattering as it was overwhelming; but then it had spiked again nearly as intensely when Filavandrel entered the cave as they sat bound together, beaten and bruised, then later that night when a barmaid’s fingers brushed his as she handed him his ale, a coy smile and the slightest tilt of the head to indicate Jaskier should follow her to the shadowed cellar. He’d followed her and come back, smelling of sex and sporting a dopey grin, singing the praises of women with the exhilarated bravado of an eighteen-year-old would-be libertine—women, Geralt, women, of all the gods’ creations upon this good earth can any compare to a woman? And that had been that.

But Jaskier is kissing him, a hard, frantic thing, his palm warm against Geralt’s jaw, the salt in the air growing thicker, not at all what Geralt would have imagined kissing Jaskier to be like (has imagined kissing Jaskier to be like, in the dead of night, sometimes, as the last embers of a campfire glow on soft pale skin, or at the look of absolute peace as he closes his eyes and breathes in the cool twilight air, or when the first rays of dawn flicker in his sleep-rumpled mess of tawny hair).

But Jaskier is distressed.

The bard pulls away with a sharp inhale, and the scents and tastes and expressions keep shifting erratically, and Geralt tries to keep track but can’t. It’s silent for a minute but for Jaskier’s uneven breaths and the gentle sounds of the forest. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, not looking at Geralt, and it’s the copper tang of fear now, something he’s never smelled once before on Jaskier, on this brave idiot who’s seen no end of havoc and slaughter at the hands of monsters and men since joining the witcher’s company and yet never smelled like fear in his presence before.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier repeats, and when he meets the witcher’s gaze there’s a flash of defiance there, now, “I shouldn’t have done that and if you no longer wish to travel with me I understand, I do, but it does matter, Geralt. It matters that that repugnant, contemptible prick thought he could throw you out like a mangy dog after you saved his pathetic life, all their pathetic lives. It matters that not a one of the other patrons offered a word in your defense. It matters that the songs aren’t enough, they aren’t doing enough, and it matters that this sort of abuse must be so very commonplace that you are, apparently, utterly unperturbed by the entire affair!”

Jaskier’s wrong, he knows that. It doesn’t matter how one small man treats a witcher. The Path is long and hard, and if scornful innkeepers and a night under the stars instead of a roof are the worst Geralt has to face then he is luckier than most. He’s no knight errant, no hero, no matter how gallant and romantic and chivalrous Jaskier insists he is in his ballads.

It doesn’t matter.

And yet.

Jaskier takes a shaky breath. He’s been staring, Geralt realizes belatedly, waiting for some sort of response, and now he seems to have taken silence as answer enough. “Right,” the bard says, nodding, swallowing, rubbing at his eyes wearily. “Suppose that’s my cue to make myself scarce, then.”

His chin trembles with the harsh set of his jaw, and Geralt can’t help reaching out, cupping his face gently with a strong, square hand, his sword-callused thumb rubbing soothingly over a smooth, pale cheek. He pulls Jaskier into a slow, tentative embrace, feeling the boy’s tension melt away in his arms, the copper tang dissolving into something sweet and familiar, something hopeful, something that smells like home.

Geralt tries to find the words. A rude backwoods innkeep doesn’t mean shit to him, but Jaskier jumping to his defense without the slightest hesitation does. Jaskier writing songs about him, about his selflessness, about his goodness—no matter how inaccurate, no matter how exaggerated—does. Jaskier looking at him like he’s something precious, something valuable, something worthy, does. Jaskier kissing him matters—certainly matters, and is certainly something Geralt is interested in investigating further—but Jaskier choosing to be with him, indignant and furious on his behalf, making his bed on the lumpy forest floor when he could have easily rented a room in that inn—matters even more.

Geralt doesn’t know how to say these things; the words sound trite and inadequate as he turns them about in his mind. But as he holds him close, their breath becoming one as they rock gently beneath the evening’s first stars, he thinks perhaps Jaskier understands nonetheless.

And if not, perhaps he’ll find the words tomorrow.

#norationalthoughtrequired #my fic #asks #thanks pal hope you like it!!! <3 #geraskier #the witcher

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lilacs-with-lavender · 3 years

Text

Slip Away Pt. 1

Read it on Ao3 here!

Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

For my lovely six of crows ladies, you all know who you are. Thanks for making the tale end of 2020 a little less of a nightmare. Merry Christmas!

Summary:

After a long year of putting slaver ships at the bottom of the ocean, Captain Inej Ghafa docks in Ketterdam for the first time in a long while. She tells herself she’s come back to take on some new crew, maybe visit a few old friends. But if Inej is being honest with herself Jesper’s last few letters have had her worrying about a certain bastard of the barrel, one she hasn’t heard from in months. One who’s rasping voice and light touches have haunted her dreams since she left.

WC: 2,556

Warnings: Angst, feels, Crooked Kingdom spoilers!

The first thing she noticed was the familiar smell. The salt of the sea mixed with Ketterdam’s smoke and oil to form the scent that used to greet her every morning she slipped out the window of her room in the Slat. Off to collect some information about the Dime Lions’ plans or the Razor Gulls latest recruits, helping to encourage meaningless gang wars over territory. It was hard not to imagine herself as young and naive when looking back at her time spent with the Dregs, even if things had changed after the Ice Court job, even if now she’d found her true calling.

A small part of her still resented that girl who had obeyed Kaz Brekker without question, without thought.

The Wraith came into port, making for that berth he had given her all those years ago, and Inej felt the wind whip at her hair as she took in the sight of her city.

The young woman she was now spent little to no time thinking of Ketterdam’s infamous crime boss, if her thoughts strayed to her past visits to this place she lost her focus. Sailing, looking after her crew, and going after slavers, that’s what mattered.

Now, with her crew eager to take a reprieve from life on the True Sea, Inej had time to think about him. Them. Both now laden with even more titles than they’d had when she had left last year. Even on the sea, she could never escape the odd mention of him, Ketterdam’s king of the Barrel.

The shouts of her crew shook the pirate queen from her thoughts, the melody of her battleship’s sails and ropes forming sweet music as they worked to secure The Wraith to her dock. Once the gangplank had been lowered and she’d seen everyone off, Inej hesitated. No matter how many times she returned to Ketterdam her heart always beat this nervous staccato at the prospect of seeing who awaited her at the docks.

She had thought with the years that had gone by she had matured, lost the naive part of her that hoped, longed for a sight of him waiting to greet her. Cane in hand as if not a day had passed since she last saw him.

Most of the time she was disappointed, this time was no different.

But when her quick scan of the crowd found only Jesper and Wylan waiting for her she stole herself, a smile lighting up her face as she dropped her bags and embraced them, forcing the disappointment down until it was nothing but a memory.

~*~

Dinner at the Van Eck household was always a good time, and tonight was no exception. Drinks were passed around and Wylan dined with his whole household, a now natural occurrence since he had insisted from the beginning that such a ridiculously large dining table be put to good use. Inej enjoyed herself, dazzling the girls in his employment with tales of her adventures. One, in particular, a sweet-tempered Shu girl who cared for the house’s grounds with her father, took to Inej right away.

“After you rescued those Ravkans did they join your crew?” She asked, in awe of one of The Wraith’s latest conquests, a slave ship that had specialized in Grisha.

Inej twirled more pasta around her fork, “Well, we give them a choice, they can rejoin their families in Ravka or join our crew. It’s a harrowing experience being taken, most choose to return home.”

The girl wrinkled her nose slightly, “I’d definitely join your crew.” Then seeming to realize what she had said she blushed, golden eyes darting away from Inej’s amused expression.

“I think that’s a terrific idea,” her face lit up like the sun at that but glimpsing the girl’s father eyeing them warily across the table, Inej added, “for when you’re old enough to sail of course.”

She frowned but nodded after a moment, fixing Inej with a very serious look for a thirteen-year-old and saying solemnly, “that’s probably for the best, I’m not that good of a swimmer.”

Inej laughed but schooled her face into a serious nod as the girl was led to bed by her father, the rest of the household heading home one by one and leaving the three of them alone. It was a comfortable silence, the food finished and their bellies full, Inej opened her mouth to ask how Jes’s father had been when she caught sight of something on his hand that threw the all-knowing Wraith for a loop.

Wylan saw where her eyes were fixed and smiled as the realization dawned on her, “That isn’t a… You two aren’t-”

Apparently unable to contain himself any longer Wylan cut her off mid-stutter, “Engaged?”

Inej blinked at Jesper who for once in his life looked shy as he fingered the carved silver band that now graced his ring finger. “You didn’t tell me?!”

He had the audacity to shrug sheepishly, “I could’ve told you in my last letter but we wanted to tell you in person! Nina and Kaz still don’t know!”

Wylan said smugly under his breath then, “Kuwei does though, and he’s not as happy.”

A shocked breath of laughter escaped her then and she smiled as they glanced at each other, the devotion in their eyes so clear it tugged at her heart. “I assume this means my pirate spoils for you both will have to wait until the wedding then.”

Jesper looked at her, stricken, “Wait what- no pirate spoils until the wedding?”

He turned to Wylan, face somber, “I’m afraid I have to rescind my I do merchling”.

Wylan rolled his eyes and looked to Inej with an expression that said, can you believe this is the idiot I decided to marry?

The conversation quickly turned to Jesper’s outrageous wedding plan involving a releasing of crows instead of doves but as the three of them laughed, she couldn’t help but feel lonely, with just the ship, the sea, and her crew for company it was easy to forget Inej didn’t have what they had. Never permanently. Even though she’d tried…

She blinked back the memories of rare sunny days during the summer when she had docked here, receiving notes inviting her to various high-end bakeries and cafes throughout the financial district that she’d never stepped foot in. Refused to remember stolen kisses in alleyways as they walked back, the barest brush of skin-to-skin contact that had her floating through the rest of the day. But inevitably it had ended how it always did, with tense arguments about who was worthy of who, rainy nights that left her in such a state that she left without saying goodbye…

It was those vivid memories that caused her to mutter, her voice barely above a whisper as she asked, “How’s he been?”

Jesper and Wylan stopped their banter to answer her, bright expressions turning solemn and sad, they pity me, she realized. “We haven’t seen him in two months Inej.”

Her braid swung off her shoulder when she turned to Jesper, brows furrowed, “You promised you’d check on him in your last letter Jes.”

Her old friend sighed, as if weary of dealing with Kaz Brekker’s moods now that he’d found happiness for himself without said bastard of the barrel. “I did, he refused to see us.”

She spluttered slightly, the audacity of this man. “He refused- I’ll go then.”

Wylan and Jesper exchanged a pointed glance and Inej looked between them, “What now?”

Jesper winced as Wylan prodded him, “He sort of told us that he didn’t want to see anyone we brought by… he may have mentioned you specifically.”

Wylan cleared his throat when she opened her mouth to ask why exactly he would say such a thing, explaining quickly. “We, um... we think he was drunk.”

Inej stared at the both of them incredulously, Kaz had done many questionable things while she’d known him but he’d never gotten drunk.

“How on earth could you tell, I thought you didn’t see him.”

There it was again, that shared knowing look between the two of them, it was starting to get on her nerves. Eventually, it was Jes who said, “the orders didn’t really sound like a sober man’s words… we may also have heard some rumors a while back, something about Dirtyhands losing focus on the job.” Inej winced, if that had been because he’d been thinking of her… the Kaz Brekker she knew wouldn’t have forgiven himself very easily. Saints, she had been away for too long.

Rising from the dinner table she lay her napkin down and grabbed her cloak, “I have to go check on him.”

Wylan just sighed and said, “We know.”

~*~

She stuck to the rooftops by habit, their different dips and gullies like old friends as she made for the Slat. Inej was once again struck with the odd feeling of being thrown back in time as she leapt over tiles. Suddenly she was sixteen and heading back to the Slat to report, her day spent eavesdropping and spying for Dirtyhands… for Kaz.

Now she was almost twenty and as she approached the glowing windows of the Slat her old perch outside of Kaz’s office seemed small. The treasured refuge of a barely healing girl and her crows.

Inej slipped through the window, breath sucked in now that she had developed the curves and muscle that came with being a woman her age. Standing in the dimly lit room brought back memories she had kept locked away while at sea. Quite nights spent talking, eating, laughing… sharing hesitant touches whenever she visited Ketterdam. But always that reservation in him, the thought he had voiced on several occasions that rankled her.

Not good enough, not deserving, monster.

Inej still had faith in him, there was no one who held her heart hostage more than Kaz Brekker. Despite all his ridiculous self-loathing that secret part of her still remained. The bit that held onto hopes of a sun drenched future with the bastard of the barrel.

So she felt no small amount of disappointment when she found him face down in papers at his desk, undercut dramatically disheveled. He looked a bit as if he had been tearing at his hair. The mess on his desk made it quite impossible not to guess what he had been doing before passing out.

Splayed across the worn wood were unfinished papers, all with his coarse yet refined handwriting, all addressed to her. Inej shuddered as she happened across one without her name, addressed only to

My Treasure,

Someone had been very drunk indeed.

She turned away before any other words jumped out at her, slipping off her cloak and hanging it on the stand next to his hat. It had only been a few months since she’d last been here but it felt like longer. A quick glance at the rest of her room and it was clear Kaz was still using Per Haskell’s old office for business. This floor was just his rumbled unmade bed and the old desk, on which the letters were splayed.

Sighing, she reached for him, breath hitching when her bare hands shook his shoulders gently. When there was no response she shook harder.

“Kaz.”

His face was still hidden in his arms but a muffled groan had the corners of her mouth perking up. Her voice turned sing-song as she bid him again,“Wake up Kaz.”

He lifted his head and blinked at her blearily, eyes clearing as she fought not to laugh. His voice sounded tougher than usual when he spoke however, and her stomach did a somersault. “I-Inej?”

He looked so confused, so out of his depth, she really couldn’t help herself.

“Hello, my treasure.”

Kaz blinked twice and Inej would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the way his pale skin flushed as the realization hit him. Before she could purr anymore adoring nicknames he buried his face in his bare hands, an audible, “Fuck”, his only response.

Inej laughed, spirits rising as she helped him out of the chair, not trusting him to balance on his own two feet. Kaz made no objections surprisingly, only held onto her shoulder as they made their way to his bed. She glanced at his profile, the scars she had memorized were still there, his fading blush and pained expression all synonymous with the boy she had missed on the True Sea.

Before she could slide out from under his arm to set him on the bed, however, Inej was stopped by a hand at her waist. Her eyes holding his as he leaned towards her, slowly moving both hands up from her hips to her back until they were so close she could tuck her head under his chin if she wanted to.

Instead she held his gaze, the intensity and longing there no doubt mirroring her own as he leaned closer. Inej held her breath now, gaze fixed on the rafters above them as he pressed a kiss to her neck and settled there pulling her closer by the waist until she was encircled by his arms.

“I missed you.” The soft admission was spoken just next to her ear, and she shivered, hands curling against the front of his shirt. She doubted it was the alcohol talking now, it was the most honest thing she’d ever heard him say when she came to visit. It was always the game of “What business?” and “Good to see you back Wraith.” Certainly never this.

Inej couldn’t be happier, in fact, she could die right here in his arms and it would be a wonderful way to greet death. It was only when his kisses resumed that she realized he needed sleep. Kaz never moved this fast sober, the boy she knew could spend hours just playing with her hair and be fulfilled.

Inebriated Kaz, however, didn’t seem to have the same idea and Inej had to push him away. His hands dropped to his sides and when she shoved him further down onto his bed, those bitter coffee eyes that she so loved begining to flutter shut. Before she could turn away from him however he reached a hand for her wrist, not even flinching as he blinked up at her slowly. “Stay… please.”

Now it was her turn to flush, her eyes darting from his bare feet to his loose shirt and rumpled hair. There was no way this would end well, but as always, when it came to Kaz Brekker, Inej’s common sense made itself scarce.

So she toed off her boots and slipped her knife belt under the bed, walking to the window and door to lock both before laying down beside him. They had never dared share a bed over night before, certainly not after any amount of what they considered intimacy. Usually after such intense touching both of them were quite tired out and more than ready to take a break. Now, Inej could only think of how warm he felt next to her, how right.

And as she drifted off with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, she couldn’t help but think that this was better than anything the True Sea had to offer.

~*~

First kanej fic and I’m freaking outtt you guys I hope I did them justice! A ship that gave me the will to live over quarantine deserves only the finest *sobs*

Anyways Merry Christmas all!! Please come say hi on ao3 or reblog this post if you have time & tell me how you liked this!! ~ Love Liles

#kanej #post crooked kingdom #six of crows #soc fanfic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #feel good fluff #bed sharing #crooked kingdom

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bunnylouisegrimes · 3 years

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Sick Day (NOS4A2 Drabble)

A/N: Holy shit! I actually wrote something?! Well, unfortunately, this is probably gonna be my only fic for a while since I’m gonna be so busy. But I hope you all enjoy some Charlie fluff! It helped to let my creative muse out amongst my stress! (Also, I own a Totoro like the toy pictured above) ;)

Sick Day

NOS4A2 Drabble

By: Bunny Louise Grimes

That Friday, the stretches of farmland rolled along beside the Wraith as we went for a leisurely drive. The clouds were grey, the spring air was cool, and dew covered the windows. We took a rest outside of a beautiful and abandoned hospital to eat our fries and crack each other up. Nearby, a park sat where Charlie pushed me on the swings. But by the time we decided to head back home and order a pizza, I noticed I was feeling a bit tired. While ordering the pizza, I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. The only interesting (and scary) thing on was a news segment discussing how a shooter at a restaurant two towns over had threatened to kill people (something like an altercation with his girlfriend who was a waitress perhaps?), and he was still at large.

“Well, that explains the helicopters we’ve been seeing and hearing,” I said.

“Indeed,” Charlie nodded. “We’ll have to be careful tonight and make sure everything is locked up so that he doesn’t try to hide here, especially since this house is the perfect place to hide. Out in the middle of nowhere, miles of forest to run, the mountains... good thing my Wraith has a mind of her own, because if he thinks about hiding there, he’ll be ran over.”

After I ordered the pizzas from my laptop, we went out for another small drive in the grey skies to retrieve them. By then, my tiredness had gotten worse, and I noticed my body had a dull ache. I wrapped myself up in my yellow sweater tighter. Besides that, I was wearing green floral leggings, green socks, and black Mary Janes. It was already a cool afternoon, but it wasn’t this freezing, so why was I so cold? I thanked the fact my hair was done in a pair of long fluffy puppytails held together by my green ribbons so that I had an extra layer of warmth.

“I’m concerned I might be coming down with something,” I told Charlie. “I’m starting to feel real tired, cold, and achy.”

“Well, we’ll see how you feel,” he said. “If you start to feel really sick, we’ll have our answer and we’ll give you medicine.”

After coming home and eating our pizza, my tiredness, alongside my full stomach, overtook me, and I fell asleep. When I woke up from a bizarre dream, I realized how cold, achy, and tired I was. Charlie felt my head and observed that I was feeling very hot. He took into consideration how cold his body temperature was and placed the tympanic thermometer from the bathroom into my ear. I was 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the dot, a definite fever.

He presented me with medicine and he carried me upstairs, where I fell asleep once more. When I woke up from even more odd dreams, my fever had increased to almost 103 degrees. I had developed a headache and chest discomfort. I went to the bathroom due to an odd sensation in my stomach, and I realized what it was once I was done.

“Charlie,” I called weakly to the hallway. “I have diarrhea too!”

“Well, all of this is most unfortunate,” Charlie sighed. “We should call the doctor and he can figure out what’s wrong.”

He got on the landline and contacted the local doctor. I ended up with an appointment that day at three. Charlie helped me change into the clothes I wore yesterday, and he helped me rebraid my hair. When we arrived 30 minutes later, there was only a few other people in the doctor’s office. I was the second person to be called. After a quick checkup and a quick talk with the nurse about my symptoms, the doctor walked in five minutes later and concluded I had the flu.

“Flu season’s in fall and winter,” he said. “It peaks between December and February, but it can run even as late as now. It happens sometimes, someone has it and you just catch it. It’s pesky influenza, you can get it at anytime.” He turned to Charlie. “That elderberry medicine was good thinking. Keep giving her that so it will help her immune system. I also recommend Vitamin C, so orange juice is a good drink idea. Here’s an antiviral prescription.” He gave the paper to Charlie. “I’ll call the pharmacy, you’ll be able to pick it up in a few hours.” He turned back to me. “In the meantime, you just take lots of rest and stay hydrated, especially with your diarrhea. Since your stomach might be upset, you should eat lighter things like crackers.” He chuckled and smiled, saying, “I assume you know all this, however, given you are in the medical field yourself.”

I nodded, laughing as best I could. “I don’t work as a nurse now since moving here, but at anytime, if I do need to work, I think this would be a good place.”

He beamed. “Absolutely! I’m glad you think so! You seem like the person we’d like on board. But you focus on your health first.”

After leaving, Charlie took me home, where I switched into my pajamas and cuddled up with some of my ponies (Razzaroo, Minty, Wysteria, Sweetberry, Cotton Candy, Sunny Daze, Sparkleworks, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Kimono), Kuchi Kopi (who glowed a comforting green), and my stuffed Totoro on the couch.

“I’ll make you some soup,” Charlie said. “You want some Progresso rice soup with Taco Bell sauce?”

“Just like when I was a kid,” I smiled. “Yes. Can you put in A Charming Birthday so I can watch something small for a little bit?”

He put in the pony VHS tape and went into the kitchen. The soup was done and I had adjusted myself on the couch. He also presented me with orange juice in a glass and ice. I ate my soup and drank my OJ carefully while Charlie turned on the news again once the twenty minute short was over. The culprit from yesterday had been caught, so there was no need to worry about him on the loose anymore. Other than that, the news became annoying, so I asked Charlie if we could watch a movie.

“Could we watch My Neighbor Totoro?” I asked.

“What is that?” He looked puzzled.

“It’s one of the movies I brought. It’s from the 80’s, animated, and from Japan.”

He looked at the clock. “Let me get your medicine. I’ll have to get it in about fifteen minutes, and you know it takes ten minutes to get to town. Finish your soup while I’m gone and I’ll make you some hot chocolate upon my return.”

I nodded, changed the channel to Two Broke Girls, and we exchanged a kiss before he left once more. I had finished my soup almost ten minutes later and my stomach felt slightly upset (not the fault of the food, it had to have just been my stomach being in the state it was in). I weakly stumbled upstairs, chills hitting my aching body without my blanket, and did my business in some discomfort. I did my best to clean myself up with painfilled muscles. I felt clean and wrapped up what I needed to do. The lilac smell of the soap and the warm water I was using to clean my hands up smelled and felt refreshingly pleasant on my ill body.

I snuggled with my toys when I returned downstairs and chuckled at Caroline and Max’s antics to get more money until Charlie returned home. I took my medicine (including the elderberry medicine he gave me yesterday) and he made me hot chocolate, alongside a plate of crackers. He put in the Totoro DVD and I anticipated seeing the serene and beautiful world associated with Studio Ghibli movies. I was snuggled up with Charlie and had my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked.

“Physically, no, but emotionally, yes.”

“I’ve never seen this movie before. How good is it?”

“Very. It’s comforting, light hearted, and filled with lots of innocence and imagination.”

He smiled. “Hmm, seems like it’s right up my alley. I’m intrigued.” He picked up the case. “What is a Totoro?”

“He’s a forest spirit. He’s a mix between a cat, owl, and raccoon. You’ll like him, he’s a gentle giant.”

We watched the entire movie, the two of us making side comments every now and then, and Charlie loved every minute of it. By the time the famous ending credits serenaded, I was ready for a nap. Charlie turned it to Ghost Adventures reruns. I desperately wanted to stay awake, but I knew by then I couldn’t. I didn’t mind too much because I knew I had all of their episodes on DVD. I warned Charlie I might fall asleep.

“That’s fine,” he said, kissing my forehead. “This is just so you have something you like to lull you to sleep. I might take a nap myself.”

Within minutes, I fell asleep and had vivid dreams inspired by the movie (something about it raining and Totoro roaring and flying in the night sky while I was roaming around a gorgeous forest). When I woke up, I needed water. I went into the kitchen and downed as much as I could. Charlie woke up a few minutes later. I had to go to the bathroom again and Charlie helped me this time.

“I feel very sweaty and gross,” I sighed.

“You want a warm bubble bath?” He asked.

“You’d give me one?”

“Of course.”

I slipped my pajamas off and he filled the clawfoot bathtub with warm water and and sparkly white bubbles. He made it smell like two soaps called Cosmic RainbowBerries and Old Fashioned Flowers. Once again, my cold, achy body felt exposed, but stepping into the soapy water melted it away. The scent was amazing, and his firm and gentle hands cleaning my weak body made me sigh in pure content. He unbraided my hair and I embraced every moment of his nails and fingers working their way through my scalp. All the while, he was softly humming “Put Your Head On My Shoulder.”

Once I was all clean, he wrapped me in a soft towel as quick as he could so I would not freeze while he dealt with the tub. I picked out a long and soft nightgown with strawberries on it and thigh high flowered socks. I wandered back into the bathroom so he could blow dry my hair and rebraid it.

“Why look at you! You smell as clean as a spring flower! Perhaps the first rose in the meadow? Fitting for your name, dear!”

I laughed and hugged him. “I certainly feel like one thanks to you.”

When we returned downstairs, he began making chili for me, and I decided to play some Call of Duty Zombies. I took more medicine before I played and drank more water as I did. After eating it, talking with Charlie about various things, and snuggling up with him while playing, sleepiness took over again. By the time I went down from running out of options and being surrounded by the undead, I was about to fall asleep on Charlie’s lap, controller still in hand.

“I think, my darling, it’s time for you to find a more comfortable place for your head,” he coyly teased. “And as I would consider myself a gentleman first and foremost, I would certainly rather have my lady comfortable in a bed rather than my lap.”

I lifted up and rubbed my eyes. “Ugh, you’re right, my fever might be getting a tiny bit high again because it’s night. Sorry, baby.”

He kissed my cheek. “No, no, it’s quite alright. You are correct your fever might be higher now. Let’s head to bed.”

We turned everything off, I put my ponies (with the exception of a random three of Minty, Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash) and Totoro back where they belonged, but I held onto Kuchi Kopi. He carried me to bed as I snuggled with my toys and blanket in his arms. I set my ponies and Kuchi Kopi near the lamp on my side of the bed. I brushed my teeth, went to the bathroom one more time (but not to deal with my stomach, luckily, that would maybe be saved for the morning), cleaned off my glasses, and hopped into bed. Charlie has brought up my glass of water and set it near my lamp as well. He turned off the light and left us with the comforting white hallway light and Kuchi Kopi from beside me. We snuggled into bed under the covers and I held onto him.

“Thank you for taking care of me today and helping me every step of the way,” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Of course, my dear, anything for you. I know you’d do the same for me... well, if I could get sick, but I don’t, hence why I was able to take care of you to the extent I could without fearing exposure. But even if I wasn’t a vampire and could get ill, I’d still take care of you.”

“Awww, sugarpop ,” I kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick. I wouldn’t force you to do it. I’m not even forcing you now.”

“I would anyways, and you know this.” He rested his chin on my scalp.

“You are the sweetest man alive, you know that?”

“And you are the sweetest girl alive. Once you are feeling better, would you like to visit the children? I am sure they would love to see their stepmother all healthy and well.”

“I’d love that, and we could make pillow forts, eat cookies and oatmeal, drink hot cocoa and watch Totoro together...” My eyes fluttered just at the thought and my body sunk into his.

“They would love that deeply,” he agreed. “I admit, in some ways, those two little girls in that movie remind me of my own Millie and Lorrie. I think they’d relate to their sisterly bond.”

“Mmmhmmm...” I snuggled closer to him, about to drift off.

“Good night, mignon,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“Good night... I love you too...” I mumbled.

We both fell into deep sleep. It had been a rough two days feeling as ill as I did, and I knew the next few days would be the same, but I had Charlie by my side to help take care of me. And that would make all the difference.

#nos4a2 #charlie manx #charles manx #nos4a2 charlie

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

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A Week Makes Me Weak

A commission for @fyeahnix tysm again for letting me write the gals!!!

Summary: In which Anita goes on a Girl’s Trip with Ramya to Gaea for the week, leaving her girlfriend at home who misses her all week. Hours before she’s coming home, Wraith sends scandalous images of herself and Anita can’t help herself. With promises of being tied down and fucked raw, can you really blame Anita for wanting to rush home?

Reblogs > Likes (Reblog if ya hit Like!) Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. Have your age in your bio.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bangalore/Wraith

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Wraith has a big clit and body mods, Bottom Bangalore rights, hand around throat/mild choking, monster dildo/it’s a dragon strap on!, scent kink bc Wraith is a lil nasty, lots of praise! They’re in love Harold

Words: 5.9k

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A quick ’Girls trip’.

That’s what Anita had said when she explained to Wraith what she had planned for this hiatus. Wraith didn’t mind, of course, Anita had friends and that friend this time just so happened to be Ramya, who had business still in Gaea. Wraith could appreciate that, having unfinished business. That is…if she could even remember what business she might have had in the past. Something always felt unfinished, something amiss, but regardless of that feeling she had told Anita that she hoped it wasn’t anything stressful. That her flight went great and that she’d uh…

She’d miss her.

Wraith had admitted that with a soft embarrassed look in her eyes and Anita’s warm, calloused fingers tucking Wraith’s hair behind her pierced ear fondly. It was no surprise that Anita slept better with Wraith at her side, and that Wraith even got a wink of sleep with Anita tucked against her. It was only a week, Anita promised, just a week to go finish some stuff up and provide Ramya company she deserved and needed. Especially going back to a location that could bring up some not so fond memories.

Wraith couldn’t help but to tease Anita a little. Her arms enveloping her girlfriend and Anita’s chin tucking atop her head. “Who’s going to stop you from rolling off the bed, Sarge?

“I’ll stack up a pillow or two to substitute you- even add an ice pack just to make it authentic, Ghostie.” Anita teases back, pressing her lips to the top of Wraith’s head and letting her arms drape over her, rubbing her back soothingly. A smile forms on her full lips when she feels the soft shakes of Wraith’s laughter, jumping when her cold fingers slide under Anita’s shirt as if to make a point of her cold body. Resulting in a pinch on her ass that makes Wraith jump.

~Rest under the cut~

That had been six days ago. Only six, Wraith kept trying to tell herself, even when by the second day she started to feel a bit lonely. That was ridiculous, she thought. It’s not as if Anita was the only person in her life. But, to be fair, Wraith had only felt the loneliness settle in when she’d climbed into bed that night and rolled over to wrap her arms around Anita and found the empty space. A frown had tugged her lips, wrapping her limbs around a pillow instead and not getting even a moment’s rest that night.

That’s when the nightly calls occurred, just to allow them both that peace of mind.

Gaea was a few hours behind in comparison to where the compound was stationed in Solace, which made nightly calls only a bit difficult when Anita would realize Wraith still sounded wide awake at 3am. When at 10 pm on Anita’s end already had her eyelids heavy and ready for rest. Thankfully talking to her was enough to soothe Wraith and she could only hope that in turn Anita felt the same.

Anita always updated her on what’s happening over there. Ramya’s workshop was no longer up, burnt down completely in the fire, but there had been some scraps able to be recovered in the rubble. Nothing that could be used to pristine perfection for weaponry, according to Ramya, but some scraps to sell were better than having nothing. This whole trip was important for her, and Anita was there for moral support and to plan out for Ramya’s full, permanent stay into the compound. She’d already gotten bits and pieces of her workshop settled down.

Wraith busies herself at home on her own hiatus. Natalie stayed behind most times when it came to breaks between matches, she always said she liked it better in the compound. Wraith finds company with her, tagging along with Natalie when she wanted to go shopping or sit down at a café for a treat. They look like polar opposites next to each other even out and about, Wraith notes. How Natalie wears her sweet dresses and screams pastel energy, whilst Wraith wore darker clothing and leathers.

Anita gets the pleasure of receiving texts from Natalie of images of her girlfriend in candid photos, as well as selfies between the two of them. Normally fit with Natalie beaming and doing a peace sign and Wraith clearly talked into it, her own pierced tongue out and a weak peace sign to show her chipped black nail polish.

That was something Wraith had been certain to make happen. Natalie had been her closest friend since she’d arrived, and she wanted to make sure both her girlfriend and best friend got along. At first, Anita hadn’t been too keen on interacting, antisocial in her own manner, but Natalie’s jokes and openness to discuss boundaries had won her over.

Spending time with her best friend certainly helped Wraith at least get a few winks of rest in. Sometimes her mind got too loud, everything became too much and she felt overloaded. She supposes she was spoiled by Anita, able to bury herself into her chest and have Anita hum or just talk to drown out the sound. Her low voice always made her chest rumble pleasantly against Wraith’s cheek, the loud frantic questions and various lives quieting down when she could focus on the story Anita had to tell. Normally of her family, of old family gatherings or grand pranks she’d pull with her brothers.

Or promises of how one day, Anita would take her home and she’d be given a proper Williams welcome. She always told Wraith her mama would love her, something about that always made Wraith feel at ease, despite her quiet worry of how she could come off. Didn’t help with what certain others would call her. Wraith just had to remind herself she wasn’t a punch line, but a person, and her own experiences and fears were real.

Just as Anita’s were, where she could come off to others as angry. She had her own heartbreaks to share, her own PTSD to fuss over. Wraith had only caught her crying once, watching Anita flick the tears away and steady her voice when she saw Wraith. Steadying herself in what must have been years of practice. She’d never allowed herself to break down in front of anyone, trying to save face. That’s where their communication had strengthened. Where when Wraith needed her on her mind’s loudest days, and where Anita could cry into her chest without fear of being ever seen as weak or different.

Taking care of Anita was one of Wraith’s favorite things to do. Anita was still getting used to that all, so used to being the one who took care of others since she could remember. Even when Wraith had made it clear to Anita, fit with sitting her down and telling her to her face she wanted to take care of her and to help her take weight off her shoulders, Anita had been nervous.

Wraith was still adamant on it. Including very much in the bedroom where Anita felt like she would have to take charge, a lot of times Wraith would shove her back down. Climb into her lap and hold a hand around her throat and remind Anita who was in charge. Normally fit with Wraith crooning things like, ‘Let me take care of you, baby.’ or ‘Don’t think you can push me around this time’, all whilst watching Anita squirm with red cheeks and huffing.

That was something Wraith adored doing was making Anita blush. No one knew just how quietly flirty Wraith could be, only the slightest of hints in public. She’s sure only someone with a keen eye or knew her well would notice. Like Natalie or Bloodhound. Natalie would always giggle under her breath if Wraith passed by Anita, only her fingers skimming across her lower back when she passed by. The slightest of touches always making Anita stand up straighter and her voice a little breathier to whoever she was chatting with.

That was one of the things Wraith didn’t expect to miss so terribly with Anita gone. How she laid in bed most nights and thought of just reaching over and touching her. To hear that smoky voice sigh and mewl under her touches or to see her throw her head back with teeth marks and bruises lining the column of it. Wraith hadn’t expected to like sex as much as she did, or maybe it was just because of how unfairly attractive her girlfriend was.

The way she smiles could light up a room.

Her laughter makes our chest rumble with how deep it is.

The way she fusses with her curls in the morning.

When she calls us pet names it makes us happy-

When she moans it makes us happy–

Regardless, that’s where Wraith’s mind wanders while Anita is gone.

All. All of her mind.

It didn’t help that Wraith also didn’t like to masturbate. She had the tools to do it, they had plenty of toys together, it should have been simple to just grab a vibrator and go at it. But Wraith didn’t like the action, not without something to look at or listen to- or even, hell, perform for Anita. The action wasn’t satisfying, even if orgasm was brought. Leading her to daydream about Anita and gather more and more fantasies. They were also helped and fueled by the shirt Anita had left behind on the floor when changing, smelling of her scent and sweat and making Wraith sigh whenever she buried her nose into it.

During this time, Wraith had felt like her desperation had gotten a little high, leading her to masturbation even without Anita like she normally liked. It was making her dizzy, only making Wraith wind herself up tighter each time she had her hands on herself and imagined Anita instead. Imagining even her lips or her voice had her clit throbbing.

Fuck, she missed her.

Thank whatever Maker was out there that Anita would be on her way home on the flight in a few hours, it would take her a total of six to reach back to Solace. Wraith was now lying in bed, texting Anita and figuring she’d at least try and get her attention. It looked like Anita was busy, obviously of course, she must be wrapping some things up with Ramya. That doesn’t mean that Wraith doesn’t want to tease and start something up, however.

‘Do you want to go right to bed when you get home?’ Wraith texts, waiting for a reply which takes up to ten minutes. It’s a quick response of ‘nah’ in turn, no further details like Anita normally liked to give.

Wraith hums, lying her head back on the pillow and her phone on her chest as she considers. She wasn’t usually so…needy for attention. But she knew Anita would be on her way home soon, and now she knew Anita didn’t plan on sleeping. Through texts they’d both hinted at missing each other, Wraith being more straight forward in her sexual interests in those texts.

What would get Anita’s attention now? It’s not as if Wraith could just do something sexual to her from here–

A quick glance down at her body’s state of dress of Anita’s huge black hoodie with the Apex symbol in white over the right breast and her pair of black boyshorts makes Wraith pause. Anita always liked her in a half state of dress, always whining behind her and kissing up Wraith’s neck, her warm fingers sliding under her clothing. It always made Wraith feel so adored, so wanted. And now, she can’t help but give a crooked smirk at herself.

That was certainly one way to get your girlfriend’s attention.

Natalie had been the one to introduce Wraith to the concept of selfies. She’d said it was a great way to monitor progress, using her own transition as an example. And telling Wraith that it could help her remember things and see her growth. Since then, Wraith has been mindful to take selfies and pictures of important moments. Nudes, however, would be new on her list of trying.

Wraith moves into action, setting up her phone to snap a few pictures and sending a few to Anita.

What she doesn’t see is how Anita, in turn, is in her hotel room with Ramya who is casually leaned against a wall and chatting. Anita is being polite, listening with her phone in her lap on her bed and adding to the conversation here and there where it could be. But when she feels her phone buzz not once, not twice, but three times she picks it up to check the texts really quick. Normally Wraith didn’t double text, so a triple was concerning.

Only to open the chat box and the first thing she sees is Wraith lying on her back in bed, hoodie pulled up to cover the lower half of her face and show off her pierced breasts, soft tummy with her navel piercing and the light happy trail. She’s got half lidded eyes, one strong, plush leg with dark hair crossed over the other and the text ‘Miss you’ right underneath.

Anita can’t even look at the others just yet, her cheeks heating up and standing up abruptly mid-conversation. “Yeah, yeah, I agree with you on that. Hey, uh, it’s gettin’ real late, dontcha think?”

Ramya gives her a quizzical look, quirking a notched brow and looking her over. “Ya gettin’ old on me, ‘Nita? Look atcha! Fit as a fiddle, and you’re telling me you’re already bloody tired?” It’s a tease, gesturing over Anita’s form as if making her point.

“Hey, we had a long day and we have a flight to catch in a few hours. Don’t blame me for wanting to catch a few winks before we head back home. Some of us have a gal waiting at home for us.” Anita playfully pokes back, standing up to usher Ramya out of the room who makes a whip sound that makes Anita roll her eyes dramatically huge. The second she’s out, the door is shut, locked and Anita is practically running to her phone. Feeling more like a high school girl than a woman in her 30’s.

The other two photos she sees is one where Wraith is lying on her side, her curves more accentuated and two of her fingers in her mouth, presses down on her tongue to show the glisten of her tongue piercing and a light amount of drool. Her eyes are once again half lidded, milky white and her breasts exposed still. Anita moans low in her throat, running a hand through her curls and feeling her own mouth water. Wanting to get her mouth on her breasts like Wraith liked and dig her fingers into her hips to hump against her shamelessly.

The next one is more scandalous. Her panties have been ditched; The angle lower with her soft thighs spread open to reveal the dark, soft hair on her cunt. How her fat clit peeks from her lower lips glistening with slick sticking to her inner lips and making Anita practically whimper at the sight. She could already taste and smell her all the way from here, practically hearing how Wraith would breathily tell her what a good girl she was-

“Shit-” Anita hisses under her breath, rolling her hips into nothing and having to reach down to grope herself through her tactical pants just to apply pressure with her palm. Everything in her throbbed, already aching to be home to feel Wraith’s cold fingers tug at her hair and show her what she’s been missing. Where she’s been wanting her.

There’s a scramble to kick off her boots as she hits Call next to Wraith’s name, consisting of a ghost and heart emoji. If Wraith could see her practically bouncing on one leg to rip off her shoes and pants, she’d probably never let her hear the end of it. But when your girl shows off her cute cunt and soft thighs, do you really have any other choice than to make a fool of yourself?

“Hey, baby,” Is heard on the phone and Anita’s heart pounds as she lies in bed, left in her loose tanktop and her underwear, her pants successfully kicked off. “Thought you were busy.” Wraith’s voice is a low tease, already making Anita throb as her eyes flutter and a flustered chuckle comes from her chest.

“I was. Someone was just impatient.”

“You don’t sound too patient yourself there, sweetheart.” Wraith’s voice practically coos in Anita’s ear, catching onto her breathiness. Anita flushes, her hand already down the front of her boxer briefs, her thighs parted and idly petting over her lower lips. Ghosting pressure across the hood of her clit.

“When a pretty thing like you sends pictures of herself all open and taunting me when she knows I can’t taste her right now- maybe you’d lose some patience too, Ghostie.” Anita huffs back, gripping her phone a little tighter when she hears Wraith’s soft, breathy chuckle. It was a rarity for Wraith to touch herself- Anita is dizzy off the mental images dancing in her head of what she could look like right now. So wet, soft thighs parted, her fat clit just begging to be licked.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Wraith starts, allowing Anita to hear the hitch in her breath that already has Anita circling her clit with two fingers and biting her lower lip. ”Think a week is too long to not have you here. I’ve been missing waking you up by eating that sweet little cunt, baby. Been thinking about getting my hands on you the second you come home- just want to taste you. Wanna make you feel good. Miss your hands on me.”

Anita’s face is flushed, arching into her own touch as her other hand squeezes a bit tighter around her phone. Her mouth feels dry, imagining how the piercing on Wraith’s tongue felt every time it teasingly flicked over the tip of her clit with a curl of her tongue. “Y-yeah- a week is too long. Been missin’ ya over here, too.” Anita manages to breathe out, applying a bit more pressure on her clit as she circles it.

“You left a shirt here,” Wraith sighs into the phone, a slight sound of something brushing against the phone that Anita can only guess is said shirt. Especially when she hears an inhale that makes her ears burn. Wraith had a thing about scents, especially whenever Anita came home from the gym. “Wish it was your panties instead.”

“Fuck, baby-” Anita hisses out, humping against her hand and letting her head toss back to expose her neck to nobody. If Wraith were here, she’d certainly latch on, leave bruises with her teeth and lips like promised.

“Wonder if Elliott will want to have a get together when you get home. Think I could- ah- convince you to fuck me in the bathroom? You could wear your cock under your clothes, only we would know. Maybe I’ll let you fuck my face after, taste your cunt and let you steal my breath. Wouldn’t you like that, baby? Haven’t you been itching to be my good girl?” Wraith’s voice is a breathy tease in her ear, not giving Anita even an inch to let her mind settle.

She’s practically frantic in how her fingers circle her clit, rubbing herself back and forth and her eyebrows pinching together. She’s sure she’s whining into the phone right now, only matching Wraith’s hitched breaths and sighs.

Anita can imagine that as clear as day. Wraith on her knees, looking up at her under her lashes whilst Anita fists her hair and humps against her mouth. Imagining that look Wraith always got, where she’d be moaning through her nose and clawing at Anita’s hips, guiding her on how to fuck her face and taking that control that made Anita shiver with arousal.

A moan buzzes through the phone and Anita whimpers as her clit twitches. Feeling herself getting closer, even more so when Wraith sighs into the phone, “I want to tie you to a chair when you get home. Want to show you what you’ve been missing being so goddamn far. I’ll spread my legs open for you, fuck myself right in front of you and you’ll have to beg and beg just to even get the pleasure of seeing me cum.”

That does it for Anita, a cry leaving her lips of a swear as she cums. Frantic to hump up against her fingers as they stutter around her clit. Wraith doesn’t seem too far behind, a beautiful little shaky sigh heard in the phone and a low groan as she must have cum herself.

The cool down is fit with them being soft to one another. Soft murmurs of missing the other as they both clean up, Anita promising that Wraith could have whatever she wanted when she got home. Fit with a little nervous chuckle of, “Just try not to kill me with your sexual appetite. I can only take so many rounds.”

To which Wraith had softly laughed in turn, the sound of her flopping onto the bed followed by her low voice. “You’ll go as many rounds as I want, sweetheart. And you’ll say thank you after each one.”

When they both get off the phone after Anita’s yawning, Wraith quickly sets up to clean around her room. Making sure the sheets are swapped with clean ones, water is in the fridge and some of Anita’s favorite snacks. Wraith doesn’t even bother getting anymore dressed, the same hoodie with different panties since her other ones got soaked. She tries to lie in bed and settle down, but that inevitably doesn’t work when Anita texts her a few hours later to let her know she’s on her flight home.

By the time Wraith hears the keypad outside and Anita’s stepping in, she hardly gets to set down her bag before Wraith is pouncing on her. She’s quickly caught, hands under her ass and her legs around Anita’s waist, arms around her neck as Anita laughs breathlessly. “Woah, woah, missed you too, baby.”

But Anita’s breath is quickly stolen from her when cold fingers are cupping her cheeks, her dark eyes being guided to look into Wraith’s milky white ones. There’s a moment passing between them when Wraith leans in, brushing their noses together and Anita’s breath catching. Squeezing under her soft thighs and groaning lightly under her breath. Her breath hitches when Wraith’s pierced tongue flicks cheekily over her lips, curling upwards with her eyes half lidded and watching as Anita’s lips part open in anticipation.

“Take us to the bedroom. I want you to strip for me. I’m sure you can follow those simple orders, right?” Her voice is low, her cold breath fanning across Anita’s full lips that pull into a small smirk at her teasing. When Anita leans in to kiss her, Wraith leans back, a smile playing on her lips and her eyes dancing with amusement. “Already disobeying, sweetheart?”

A groan leaves Anita, but she obeys, marching dutifully towards the bedroom. Wraith is sat down on the edge of the bed, hungrily watching Anita take a few steps back. Anita notes the chair a few feet from the bed with rope already ready. Her cheeks flush as she shrugs out of her flannel, pulling her tank top up and over her head with her sports bra. Feeling Wraith’s hungry gaze and hearing her sigh at the sight of her upper body exposed. “Beautiful.”

Anita’s cheeks flush at the praise, shakily exhaling as she pulls her belt from its loops. Her boots and socks are kicked off, working out of her tactical pants nice and slow just to make Wraith growl in impatience. Anita knew she’d get it for that, but she couldn’t help it when she peeks up to see how Wraith’s watching her so intently.

When she’s stripped, Wraith is guiding her to sit back into the chair. Anita sits obediently as ever, her arms tied to the arms of the chair and her legs tied spread apart to the legs of the chair. She’s left exposed like this, reminded of it when Wraith stands in front of her, moving onto her lap and making Anita whimper with her desire to grab her. Instead, Wraith grabs her jaw, tipping her chin up to look up at her. “Show me your tongue.”

Anita blushes, heat curling down her spine as she obeys and lets her tongue loll out. Hearing the blessed words of, ”Good girl.” That send a moan tumbling from her lips just as Wraith kisses her, meeting tongue first. Anita’s hips try to come up to press into her to no avail, another moan leaving her when Wraith grips her jaw a bit tighter, licking over her tongue in slow, languid swipes as if tasting her.

Anita’s hips are rocking up into the pressure of Wraith in her lap without thinking, not getting anywhere with it but able to hear how her girlfriend sighs in arousal into her mouth. Anita mimics the sound when Wraith pulls back, her eyes unfocused but a whine arising from her lips when pressure is gone from her lap and Wraith is moving back towards the bed, picking something up off the floor on her way. “Baby- c’mon, not with your teasing already-”

“I told you what I wanted to do to you when you came back.” Wraith only hums back, her panties flicked at Anita and landing in her lap where Anita’s eyes follow. Swallowing thickly at the sight of the undergarment and the wet spot on the front, wanting so badly to somehow lift and bury her face into it. But her gaze quickly raises to look at Wraith who is leaned back on one arm, legs spread open, her hoodie pulled up and above her chest. Anita’s panties in one hand.

Anita moans at the sight of her so wet. Her large clit already engorged and peeking so sweetly from her lower lips and she wants nothing more than to lick the slick from her cunt. Especially when Wraith reaches down to spread herself open. Anita also notices her black nail polish freshly applied and yet to be chipped, she can’t help but smile at the idea of Wraith applying it before she came home just to look a bit ‘nicer’ for her. The little things.

“You’re smiling,” Wraith notes aloud, rolling her head to the side in a tilt as her fingers trace from her hole up to just beneath her clit with a shudder. “Something on your mind?”

“Just noticed you repainted your nails is all.”

“You’re more focused on my nails than my pussy out on display right now?”

The look on Wraith’s face of amusement is what makes Anita break, laughing with a smile bursting across her face and dimples creasing her cheeks in that way that made Wraith’s heart pound. Even with her bound and nude, Wraith still can’t help but softly smile back, rolling her eyes and helping bring the situation back.

It’s not hard when Wraith rubs her clit in circles for Anita, making sure she’s watching as the laughter turns to soft, wanting sighs instead. Soft sounds leave Wraith’s own lips, getting off on the way Anita’s eyes trace over her body and her hips roll into nothing to match Wraith’s own speed of touching herself. A moan downright leaves Anita’s lips when Wraith brings her panties to her face, inhaling her scent and sighing with an arch of her back. “Missed your scent so much. Might just have to keep you tied up all night, baby. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind cumming on my tongue alone for a few hours.”

Anita groans, her head falling back but her eyes never leaving Wraith. Watching when she sets the panties down, reaching somewhere behind her until she finds a round bullet vibrator. She flicks it on, drawing it over her inner lips with her soft thighs quivering beautifully whenever it runs over her clit. Anita moans low in her throat in desire when she watches the silver bullet disappear into Wraith’s cunt, the cord and the dial being the only thing sticking out of her.

Wraith’s sounds are soft and wanting, keeping eye contact with half lidded eyes as her body trembles and her fingers circle her large clit. Carefully jerking it off by sandwiching it between her thumb and forefinger.

Anita can’t help the way her hips hump up into nothing at the same time Wraith jerks herself off. Each rise of her hips allowing Wraith to see the slick sticking to the chair in little strands, near about drooling at the sight of it alone and feeling a pulse of heat down her spine.

Fuck her.

Spread her open, make her cry underneath you.

Wouldn’t she look so cute filled with cum?

She’s ours.

Ours-

Wraith’s eyes are milky white with everyone chiming in at once as she looks over Anita, her eyebrows knitting as she starts to vocalize what she’s thinking of doing to her. Her voice shaking with little gasps between words. “I want to take care of you, baby, want to ruin you and see you cry f-for me. Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart? You’re so wet, I can- ah- see it from h-here-”

By the time Wraith’s cumming, Anita’s a mess. Whimpering and straining on her bonds, her lips babbling pleads that bubble down to ‘please’s and caught between wanting to get fucked and wanting to taste Wraith. Wraith debates on leaving her tied up, just using her like that to her heart’s content, but she ends up untying her and being caught in a hungry kiss. Wraith is the one being guided back onto the bed, but Anita is quickly flipped. Shushed gently before teeth sink into her throat.

Wraith sucks dark hickeys up her neck, biting down her shoulders and collarbones where Anita swears when she gets her cold mouth over a nipple. Lightly biting over it and leaving her mark surrounding the areola, her pierced tongue leaves a trail down Anita’s abdomen, kissing over her hips and down lower and lower. Until Anita’s fisting her fingers in her hair when Wraith’s mouth finally gets on her cunt.

The temperature difference is always a shock, but that soft laughter soon turns to moaning when Wraith noses her way against her. One arm hooks under Anita’s thigh, pulling it up so she can focus her mouth on her clit. Her other hand sliding underneath her to fit two fingers inside of her wet sex with the sort of ease that makes Wraith hiss at how slick she is. She takes care of Anita like this, whose fingers fist into Wraith’s hair as she licks and suckles at her. Fingers twisting and curling upwards until she’s spread out enough for a third that she clenches harshly down on.

Her first orgasm is fit with her hips pressing up into Wraith’s mouth, her hands fisting her hair to keep her still. The way her body jerks and cries leave her lips is like a drug to Wraith, looking up at her to see Anita biting her bottom lip and her brows knitted when Wraith’s fingers still keep pumping into her. Never stilling as her tongue flicks against her sensitive clit to rock her through it and then her second one.

By the time Anita’s nice and loose, dripping wet and left on the bed rocking her hips into nothing, Wraith takes the time to fit her harness on. A more dragon-styled one with a black and dark red marbling, the tip tapered and almost sharp with ribs going down below it to a flared base that acted as a small knot. The girth of it big enough to be unable to circle your fingers around it in one hand, and the length being a total of seven inches.

The length is lubed up generously despite Anita being wet enough she probably doesn’t need it. Wraith fits between her thighs, hitching them around her waist as she slowly sinks the cock into her girlfriend. Immediately, Anita’s head tosses to the side to reveal the bruises and bite marks along her skin, her eyes near about rolling into the back of her head when Wraith bottoms out into her.

“Look at you. So beautiful covered in my marks. Do you like being mine, sweetheart?” Wraith sighs out, feeling how Anita’s hips twitch upwards at the praise. One of her hands holds up under Anita’s thigh, the other resting around her throat without choking, just holding her to feel how Anita’s breath hitches. Her hips start thrusting into her, starting with small humps and building them up until Anita’s body is rocking. One of Anita’s hands comes up, loosely gripping around Wraith’s wrist and squeezing as they lock eyes.

Anita’s eyes are half lidded, the lighting in the room making her freckles stand out even more on her dark skin. Her dimples show their existence when she flickers a lazy smile up at Wraith, her lips forming a swear but no sound following it besides a whine. Wraith’s heart twists in her chest, so many different lives pleading and begging their own poetic symphonies of their love for Anita. How much she meant to Wraith, how she would kill for Anita in a heartbeat if it meant that smile stayed.

Wraith’s hips have started fucking into her harder without thinking. Gripping her thigh a little tighter and digging her blunt nails in when Anita’s body starts to tremble again. “There you go, baby, go ahead. Cum on my cock. You’re so beautiful, so pretty, my pretty baby girl.” Wraith is spilling out praise after praise, sending Anita over the edge with a guttural cry. It’s quickly muffled by Wraith leaning down to kiss her, catching her in the open-mouthed kiss and swallowing every gasp and moan she releases until Wraith stills her hips. Cock buried deep inside her.

Once Anita is calmed down with a few more kisses, cleanup is to be had as Wraith slips out of her carefully. The toy is washed and she returns in just her hoodie with a wash cloth, cleaning up the sticky, wet mess between Anita’s thighs with soft kisses pressed over her abdomen and hips. Anita rewards her, fingers lazily brushing through her hair and tucking dark strands behind Wraith’s pierced ears. Soft words are exchanged before Wraith goes and cleans everything else up and grabs water. Returning with a dark chocolate bar and some pretzels that makes Anita beam when she sees them.

“My favorite snacks? What, are you trying to go for round four, baby?” She teases, letting Wraith hand them to her and climb into bed next to her. Her arms wind around Anita’s waist, burying herself into her chest and pulling the blankets over them both. She makes a negative sound, inhaling Anita’s scent and sighing softly.

“Just wanted to make sure you were spoiled a bit. And as an apology.”

“An apology for what, Ghostie?” Anita hums, taking a square of her chocolate and stroking her fingers through Wraith’s hair.

“For what I’m going to be doing to you all week in this bedroom.”

They both agree that night, later when they’re intertwined in each other’s bodies.

A week was far too long.

#Bangawraith #Voidstrike #apex lemons #apex legends #Bangalore #Wraith #Nsft #Lemon #commissions #princess writing

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

My Avenger Girl

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky grows stronger everyday, and Bucky feels confident enough to take you to the Avenger compound for you to meet his family. And you fit right in.

Warnings: fluff, hint of jealousy, implied smut, swearing, Avengers x Supernatural crossover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x huntress!Winchester!Reader, Dean Winchester x reader (platonic), Sam Winchester x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 2561

A/N: Third part of My Girl Miniseries is here you guys! I got to thank @voltage2d-mylove for requesting the sequels to the original fics, because I’m having so much fun writing this! Hope some of you enjoy this little something with me :) xx

My Girl Miniseries Masterlist __ Masterlist

Part I Part II Part IV

Bucky laid on his back in your bed in the bunker, staring at the ceiling, thinking. He loved spending time with you, and the more he actually was with you, the more he fell in love with you. The worst thing, however, was that he had to leave you every now and then, because either you had a case that would take a bit longer than a day, or because he was called on a mission. And he hated leaving you behind. He wanted to spend every minute of the day with you, still very much in the first phase of the relationship, where people couldn’t keep their hands together.

You owned Bucky’s heart and soul, and he knew that if anything happened to you while he was gone, he would hate himself for the rest of his life. He’s meant to ask you a single question for the past few weeks, but every time he worked up the courage to do so, something stopped him.

One time, it was your brother, Sam, coming into the library just as Bucky took a breath to ask you. Then it was his own phone, and Steve calling him to tell him they had an urgent mission. Or it was the timer on the stove. Every fucking time. And it kinda made Bucky feel like he shouldn’t ask you in the first place. That maybe it’s fate. Or perhaps he’s just being stupid, he told himself and looked over at your sleeping form.

You were so cute asleep, your mouth slightly opened, your eyes fluttering, and Bucky would give anything to see what was happening behind your eyelids. If you were dreaming of him, or not. If you thought of him just as often as he was thinking of you.

He rolled over to the side, so that he was facing you, and trying to be as gentle as possible, he slid his hand under the sheets and caressed the skin on your arm eliciting a hum from your lips. It was past 9 AM, so he knew you had to get up either way, and he thought that having him wake you up might make you less grumpy.

His fingers travelled to your collarbone, only the fingertips touching you, drawing circles on your skin. He could hear your heart beating a bit faster, and your breath not being as slow and deep as it was moments ago; all signs of you waking up.

When he looked into your face, you were already staring back at him, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well good morning to you, Mr Barnes!” You rasped, your voice husky from the lack of talking.

Bucky smiled at you and nuzzled your cheek before he kissed you.

“Good morning to you too, Ms Y/L/N. Did you have a good night?”

You just nodded and brought him closer to you, unwilling to get up out of bed just yet. You wanted to sleep as long as possible, and if Bucky weren’t as cute as he was, you would definitely scold him for waking you up at all. But who could be mad at that pretty face?

“I’ve been thinking, Y/N, and-“ Bucky starts but before he can finish you sit up straight, bringing your blanket with you to cover your modesty and looking at him confusedly.

“Are you breaking up with me? I thought we were at a good place, I thought things were fine between us. More than fine, actually. Why do you want to leave me? What did I do wrong? How-“

It was now Bucky’s time to stop you from rambling by putting his finger on your lips and shaking his head. Breaking up, pff, sure.

“Listen to me, Y/N. You are one crazy person, you know that? I didn’t want to break up with you, you moron. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to the compound, get to know my teammates and stuff. I love you! I’m not letting you go, don’t you worry about that,” he smiled at you sweetly, and your heart finally calmed down a bit.

You chuckled nervously, feeling a little ashamed for letting your anxiety take over this moment.

Bucky laughed as well and kissed you again, but before he could get out of the bed, you took his hand in his and brought him back.

“I love you too, you know? That’s why I freaked out like that. And yes, I would love to get to know your family, it would be my pleasure.”

You could see your boyfriend beaming with pride, both from your admission of love and that you were actually excited to meet the people that were somehow most important to him.

“Do you think we could leave today? You know, be there for the weekend so that I could fly you back before your brothers got back from that wraith hunt. I know how much you miss them,” he smirked at you, and you swatted his shoulder.

But it was true, you did miss your brothers. However, lately, you’ve been feeling very different kinds of emotions, and that especially when Bucky left for some mission, or when you had to go on a hunt. You missed him like crazy, your body craved him, and your mind called for him. You always thought you’d be hunting with your brothers for the rest of your life, but ever since you met Bucky, things changed, and you suddenly longed to spend more time with him. Even if it meant not seeing your brothers every second of every day.

You knew they would understand if Bucky asked you to move in with him and if you said yes, but because that question was not yet asked, you didn’t want to delve too deeply into it. You just hoped Bucky was on the same note as you were, and that this New York visit would bring you two closer to the shared future.

You got ready reasonably quickly, packing the essentials and some sexy lingerie just in case the two of you could get some moments alone. Which you hoped you could get, to be completely honest. Staying away from Bucky and bed was a task you weren’t too good at, and you prayed to Chuck that you would never get better in it.

The flight to New York was swift, thanks to the quinjet, a thing you enjoyed immensely because the travelling was just somehow easier than driving around like three idiots with your brothers, with constant back pain thanks to the old car seats.

When you saw the compound get into the view, you started to play with your hands. Not that you weren’t excited to meet everyone. You sure were. But, at the same time, you knew all those people from television. They were superheroes. And you were… well, you. And you just hoped that it would be enough and that they wouldn’t want to drive you away because you weren’t good enough for their friend.

You’ve already met the Falcon and Captain American, however briefly that was. You were most nervous about Natasha, quite frankly. She was a goddess in your eyes, her graceful fighting techniques, her elegant walk, everything about her was perfect in your mind, and you didn’t know how you could even fight her for Bucky’s attention.

God! You were pathetic. You haven’t even met the woman yet, but you quickly assumed what would happen when you met her. For all you knew she wouldn’t even be there, or she’d be the nicest person on this Earth. Which, for some reason, irritated you even more.

Bucky could probably feel your nerves, because he put his hands into your lap, separating your own hands because he feared you’d rip the skin on your fingers down completely.

“You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Everyone’s gonna love you, I know that for a fact!”

You tried to give him a smile, but the only thing you could muster was a grimace, and you were surprised that Bucky didn’t shriek in fear at what your face was capable of doing.

“I know, it’s just, your friends are all so cool, and like you’re superheroes and stuff, and I’m just a plain ol’ me,” you whispered, more to yourself than Bucky, but with his super hearing, you knew he would catch that as well.

He landed the jet and turned to face you.

“Plain old you? Are you kidding me? You’re one of the most badass women I’ve ever met. You fight monsters on a daily basis, baby! I love you, and nothing can change my mind, alright?”

That calmed you down a bit, and you hugged him tightly, trying to feel his heart beating against your own chest, that always brought you back in the moment. Bucky smiled into your hair and let you take all the time you needed to gather the courage to go and face the building full of superheroes.

When you pulled away, he kissed your forehead, whispering that everything will be alright, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the plane and inside the building.

It didn’t look like you imagined. For some reason, you thought it will be quiet and lonely, but the whole compound was buzzing with people running left and right, some in lab coats, while others were wearing technical gear. You looked around, and it all seemed unreal. Everything was new and shiny and seemed extremely expensive. Not like your home underground. You loved that space you shared with your brothers, but this looked much cooler.

Bucky was watching your every reaction as he led you through the compound, nodding at people around him, but not really giving them his attention. That was all on you.

You two finally reached the common room, where Bucky knew the most of the team would be at that time of the day. It was lunchtime, and his teammates were like hungry bears. Some were hungry and looking like pigs *cough, cough, Sam, cough* but he wouldn’t say that out loud. At least, not today.

When you stepped inside the room, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at you. You gave them all a shy smile, and you could see a few smirk and smiles around the room. The first to break the silence was Sam.

“Well, well, well. Look who came back, our lover boy! And he brought his badass huntress with him! What a pleasant surprise. Nice to see you again, Y/N,” Sam hollered and gave you a nod, while Bucky just rolled his eyes at Sam’s theatrical behaviour.

You said your hellos to the rest of the group and sat down next to Bucky by the huge table, where Vision served some Hungarian food. You didn’t know what it was, but it was so damn good you later asked him to give you a recipe to cook for your brothers. You just made a mental note to put a lot more meat into Dean’s plate.

The whole lunch was so regular it hurt. You expected that they would talk about monsters and stuff, but the closest the conversation got to a monster was when Sam told the group about catching Steve in a bathroom, giving himself a pep-talk, which included something about Steve being a beast, a sexy sexy beast, and you couldn’t hear more than that through all the snorts of laughter around the table.

Steve was red as a tomato, and you gave him an apologetical smile, still trying to contain your laughter. To try and calm him down, you told him about the time you caught Dean doing pretty much the same, looking in the mirror without a t-shirt on, kissing his biceps and winking at himself in the mirror. That got the people to laugh as well, and Steve nodded at you, glad that the conversation shifted slightly.

Just like you thought, Natasha was even prettier in reality, but while you thought Bucky would be looking at her, because, c’mon, who wouldn’t look at her? You had a problem keeping your eyes away from her beautiful face. Bucky was staring at you the whole time, and it made you feel that much better about yourself and your whole relationship.

You and Natasha even shared a bonding moment about her knife collection, which she insisted on showing you and the two of you spent good 20 minutes comparing knives and different techniques at either throwing them or stabbing somebody.

You didn’t even realise it, but by the time you finished talking to everybody in the room, it got dark outside, and Bucky walked to your side to seemingly rescue you from one of Sam’s funny stories from a mission where he was with Bucky. You knew that Bucky was more saving himself from the embarrassment of you knowing all those dirty secrets Sam would tell you, but you didn’t protest. You bid your goodbyes to the whole room and followed Bucky to his little apartment within the compound.

“See? I told you you would be fine, and you didn’t believe me,” Bucky said, intertwining his fingers with yours, walking down the corridor.

“I had my doubts, not gonna lie. And yes, you were right, and I will always listen to you from now on,” you said mockingly, but with a smirk playing on your lips.

Bucky laughed out loud and squeezed your hand.

“We both know that’s not true, doll.”

“Well, there is one place where I can listen to you, all night long, and I can do it in a brand new see-through lingerie if you let me get changed,” you rasped seductively (or at least you hoped it was seductive), but judging by the throaty groan coming from Bucky, you assumed you did an excellent job. And by the sudden quick pace of Bucky’s footsteps, you imagined he couldn’t wait for you to listen to him, just the way he liked it.

Before you could reach the room, Bucky spun you around and pushed you against a wall. He smirked devilishly at you, and kissed you hungrily, taking your breath away in the process.

You head was spinning from the lack of oxygen and from the intensity of the kiss, but when Bucky pulled away and asked you something, you almost fainted then and there.

“Move in with me,” he whispered, and before you could give him an affirmative answer, he continued.

“I know that I’m competing with your brothers, and that you might think this is too fast, but I fucking love you doll, and every day without you is a horrible day. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

You were staring at each other, and you knew that there wasn’t a better place for you, than in Bucky’s arms.

“Yes, I’ll gladly move in with you, Sergeant Barnes. My brothers will manage, and I can still hunt with them from time to time. It’s not like I’m never going to see them again.”

Bucky released a relieved sigh and kissed you again, this time much slower, conveying all his emotions in this one kiss. And you seriously couldn’t wait to start this new chapter with him.

My Girl Taglist:

@abswritesfandoms @daringtodreamawake

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten @paradisiacalsparks @crazybutconfidentaf @owlyannah @lassini @s-trawberryv-eins @reniescarlett @bxrnsfeyson @the-soulofdevil

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove @kneel-begyourpardon @lumar014 @ptrs-prkrs

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish @coffeebooksandfandom @waiting4inspiration @caswinchester2000 @mogaruke @justthatfangirloverthere @mushyjellybeans @livsheph @sebbbystaaan @notyourtypicalrose @itsunclebucky

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fangirleaconmigo · 4 years

Text

Keep Me Forever

Chapter 6, Infinite Resource 4154 k. By: Descarada. The fic overall is explicit but this chapter is not. Also on AO3.

This is written in my Eskel and His Angel universe, where Jaskier is a sex worker who goes by Dandelion.

Eskel saved Dandelion’s niece from a basilisk as a child so the young man had his heart (and other things) set on bagging that witcher as soon as he could lure him in as an adult.

Not only did he achieve that dream, but now he gets to see Kaer Morhen for the first time. This is the chapter where it FINALLY happens, he lays eyes on the old keep. Geralt has come out to escort them the rest of the way, and there are the first attempts at trust because this is going to be poly.

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

Dandelion

Dandelion loved to attend bardic competitions. He was reminded of them now, riding the trail behind Geralt and Eskel.

He’d seen bards jump on stage with the festival band, never having played with them. They would wait a few cords, eyes cast to the ceiling, feeling the rhythm and pace of the band. Then they would jump in with their voices, usually triumphantly, though sometimes it took a few bars to get the tempo and pitch correct.

The band of brothers riding in front of him had been playing together for almost a hundred years. And he was the warbling newcomer.

And every thudding step the three horses took up the mountain road brought them closer to Kaer Morhen where he would be even more than a newcomer. He would be an oddity. Hopefully he wouldn’t be seen as an intruder.

Figuring out how to interact with Geralt, and with Eskel when he was with Geralt, had been a bit of a challenge, but he’d just followed Eskel’s lead. That strategy had seemed to be working well enough.

Eskel had told him to tend to Geralt’s wounds so he had. Eskel had directed Geralt to take care of Dandelion at the shop, so Dandelion had found something for Geralt to do. He’d delighted in it, in fact. Watching the two of them together was wonderful. They shared gestures, speech patterns, and seemed to communicate without words. He felt honored to be a welcome spectator.

But soon they would be in Kaer Morhen with the rest of the wolves. It felt like a chasm of the unknown. Dandelion stood on the edge of it, hoping for the best.

However, the uncertainty didn’t taint the thrill for him.

“So, when you said your lifelong dream awaited,” asked Geralt. “What dream was that?”

The witcher turned his head so that his voice travelled back to Dandelion. He rode on his brown mare, and the muscles of his back tensed and bunched in response to the jostling of the rocky road.

“Oh, you know,” Dandelion shouted ahead. “Just a bit of hyperbole. I’m excited is all.”

Dandelion still felt vulnerable exposing how much this actually meant to him.

What could he say? I’ve been studying you and Kaer Morhen for ten years? That meeting Eskel was one of three moments that changed my life forever?

Because Dandelion had counted them.

There were three events that he could point to to say... and after that, nothing was the same. After that, I felt like I was living in a new life, for better or for worse .

The first had been when his parents and brother in law Lucas had died. That one had obviously been for wors e. Dandelion (Julian then) was orphaned within the space of a week. His sister Sarah had been orphaned and made a widow.

Sarah had been a giddy newlywed with apple cheeks, a doting young wife with her entire life planned out. After having her family and her future ripped from her, she became a shadow of her former self. She didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. She was practically a wraith.

And they had lost almost everything material. They’d kept their titles but that was about it. Their hopeful, full life turned bleak and lonely. They moved out to the small farm that used to be occupied by their workers. They ate and drank and worked in silence, just the two of them. Sometimes an aunt or a cousin would come around to visit. They would sit on the porch and make stilted, polite conversation drenched in grief and exhaustion.

The second event that had changed everything was the day Sarah found out she was pregnant. She and her Lucas had been trying to conceive before he fell ill. But she didn’t know that their efforts had taken root until after he was gone.

There is nothing like the bright beam of new life to cut through the despair of loss. They became determined to survive. When Lety was born, Julian took pride in stepping into the role of a father figure for the baby, even at his young age. It meant he was needed. They survived on every gurgle, every gummy grin, every clasp of grey eyed Lety’s chubby fingers. She gave them the love they needed to get up each morning and greet her with kisses.

The third day that changed Dandelion’s life forever was the day he met Eskel. That was the day they almost lost the only thing that had delivered them from total despair. Their little Lety.

Some people think that healing from grief is a linear process. It isn’t. You can live your life in grief for ages. You can walk on bloody eggshells around its remains, edging around the ragged and painful bits forever. You can avoid anything that reminds you of what you used to have. You can survive by cradling your injured limbs and keeping them from hitting doorways. You can survive without healing. Without turning your face to the world once again.

That was what Sarah and young Julian were doing, the day Lety wandered off into the path of the basilisk. They were caring for each other, but shutting out the rest of the world that had wounded them. Shutting out their own grief.

If Lety had died that day, Dandelion couldn’t honestly claim that he would be here today. At minimum, he would not be in the state he was in, healthy and passionate about living. He was almost certain Sarah wouldn’t be here at all.

Almost losing Lety had been a shock to the system. Those terrifying moments where Julian tore through the woods screaming for her still lived in a corner of his soul. They would forever. Those terrifying moments where Sarah waited, growing more frantic, changed her too. It had reminded both of them that there was still life left to be fought for. It transformed them, and thus their lives.

They both manifested this change in different ways. They both would have described it using different words. But this was essentially what both of them understood that day.

It was time to set aside the despair for what they had lost. It was time to fight for what they still had.

They had found the strength to fight again, thanks to Eskel.

It was fitting that the first fight Julian ever got into was over Eskel.

Some kid in town ran up to him the day after Eskel rescued Lety, and asked if it was true - if they were so poor that the witcher who had saved Lety had ravaged Sarah for compensation.

The crack when Julian’s knuckles hit the kid’s jaw had been satisfying. He had expected Sarah to chide him when he came home bruised with the kid’s mother dragging him by the ear. But his sister talked the woman down and when they were once again alone, had smiled at him and pinched his cheek. He protested as always. He was too grown up to have his cheek pinched. But he listened to her words.

“What people believe about us matters,” she had said. “People give you what they believe you will accept. And now people believe that we will defend each other, and our friends.”

She wasn’t the same Sarah as before all of their losses, exactly. But she wasn't the one who grimly survived. She had new vigor. She started laying a plan for how to get back their property and position. It was for Lety, she said. She would lay the groundwork with powerful nobles and once Julian was of age and had legal standing, they would be unstoppable.

For the first time since losing them, they talked about their parents at meals, remembering the pie their mother had cooked, or the toys their father had carved for them. Julian even overheard Sarah telling stories about Lucas to Lety. “You get your ridiculous sense of humor from your father. Once we were watching a play, and —“

And Julian, for his part, had found new life as well. The only two lives he had lived until then was first his childhood in the safe embrace of his parents. Then he had known a lonely life when the world was cruel and frightening.

But meeting Eskel had planted a seed. He still had life to fight for. And meeting Eskel had given him his own passion. Something that he could disappear into, a haven.

At first, when Julian began his study of witchers, he was truly only looking for things like mating rituals, anatomy studies (sketches preferably) and ways to seduce the man who had saved Lety. At fifteen years old, he very much thought with his cock. And Eskel was spectacular.

But as he studied, he became fascinated by the history and stories of all witchers. He read about the different schools and their respective training techniques. He read about decoctions and weaponry. He was captivated by the ancient keep at Kaer Morhen and its secrets.

Sarah didn’t chide him for his fixation. In fact she found ways to add to his collection of books and relics that they found at Oxenfurt and Aretuza estate sales. She would do his chores when he rode to Oxenfurt for public lectures. Even though she didn’t share his passions, (she was much more interested in palace intrigue and regaining their property), she let him ramble on at dinner and at bedtime. She let him tell Lety bedtime stories about the latest tales of witcher contracts and monster slaying.

She was just happy to see her younger brother excited about anything again.

One of the books she sold her combs to afford, Ancient Sea Keeps, was packed away in his saddle bags. On its way to Kaer Morhen.

He had sent her a letter before he left, so she would know by now that he was on his way.

He imagined what she would say when she read it.

She would say, you scoundrel, you’ve done it .

Dandelion looked around at the towering pines and inhaled the crisp mountain air. He listened to the occasional chatter of the two witchers riding in front of him. Their voices drifted back to him, entwined with the other sounds of the mountains, with birds and rustling branches.

At the moment they were arguing over who would enter the cockatrice into their journal.

“That was my kill. I had it.” Said Eskel, in the clanging rough voice that was already beginning to sound like home.

“Ahhhhhh,” grunted Geralt in his deep purr, “you had nothing. If I hadn’t come into the clearing you’d still be fighting it, wishing for me to deliver you.” Geralt clutched his chest and delivered an uncanny impersonation of Eskel. “Where is the white wolf? If only he were here.”

Eskel snorted derisively.

“You wish,” he laughed. “I let you kill it to help build your confidence. If anything, you slowed me down.”

Dandelion smiled to himself and absently patted Butterscotch, who was a real trooper on this trail. Come to think of it, so was he. His riding had come so far in a matter of days, by necessity.

As they ventured deeper into the mountains, the shadows grew longer. Dandelion finally began to feel the cold. He knew the witchers were probably still fine, so he tried to forebear.

But when Eskel called for a break and they slid from their horses, the witcher noticed him rubbing his hands together.

Eskel came over to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

“You good?” Eskel asked, and he leaned his forehead against his. The feel of his body so close, comforted every part of Dandelion by its mere presence. To be near Eskel meant love. It meant protection.

Dandelion shivered and Eskel pulled him tight against his barrel chest. The witcher rubbed his back and arms briskly and kissed his temple.

“C’mon,” he said, and he led Dandelion over to Scorpion. He rummaged in his bags and pulled out a few rolled up garments.

“That isn’t enough for the trail up. You’re going to borrow my things,” he said. “Take off the cloak.”

Dandelion slipped off the cloak and laid it carefully over Scorpion.

Eskel first held out a thick knit sweater, and Dandelion pulled it on.

Geralt walked over.

“Everything good?”

Eskel nodded.

“Can’t have him freeze on his way up.”

Dandelion pulled down the sweater. It looked rather dashing actually.

Eskel leaned in for a kiss. Dandelion melted against his warm lips.

When he pulled away, Geralt was there, holding out a pair of gloves. Dandelion shot his sweetest smile at him. He even batted his lashes for good measure.

“Thank you, darling,” and he pulled them on.

“Can’t have our first human visitor in years say we weren’t good hosts,” Geralt grunted.

Then Eskel settled the cloak over his shoulders and tied it again. And lastly, he slipped a soft hat onto Dandelion’s head and pulled it down over his ears.

“Ooo, cashmere?” asked Dandelion, reaching up to run his fingers over it.

“Made it from lil bleater’s wool,” he said. Eskel kissed Dandelion’s nose, then his lips.

Dandelion preened inwardly, but outwardly he looked puffed and layered. If he fell over, he could probably be rolled up the mountain.

“I think we’d better take the rest on foot,” Said Eskel, looking around.

Dandelion looked over the trail. It seemed wide enough to continue on horseback.

Eskel gestured towards a thinning area in the branches to their left. When they neared, Dandelion realized it was the trail. Witcher’s Trail. They had arrived. He would have never seen it if Eskel hadn’t pointed it out.

He had pored over the maps, he knew the basic route. But he also knew that witcher trail was enigmatic and didn’t show itself to non witchers or non magical humans. He knew he would only find it, and find his way to the end of it with the guidance of Eskel and Geralt.

Even after they squeezed through the branches, this offshoot trail seemed to blend into the surroundings. Dandelion was sure he would have been lost in moments without the witchers there to guide him. They crossed creeks where Dandelion would have lost the trail, but they picked it up instinctively without hesitation, and climbed.

They climbed and climbed. Dandelion’s ears tingled with the cold, and his hands gripping Buttercup’s reins became stiff and sore despite the gloves.

Wind whipped around them, and sometimes branches twacked his cloak as he passed. The sound of his own breath grew louder in his ears. He made sure to keep Scorpion and Eskel in his sights at all times.

He kept his head up and strained to see all around him. He walked a trail few non magical humans ever got to see. This was special. He would imprint every sensation into his memory banks.

He would remember the green of the pine, the fresh smoke smell. This was the scent he always sensed on Eskel. He was on an adventure, but Eskel was returning home. He would see Eskel at home, which meant he would truly know him, as much as a person can know another.

Hours past, and the sun lowered in the sky. But Dandelion wasn’t weary. He was exhausted, but not weary. He pulled the cloak tight. His legs burned. But he rejoiced, and strained to see the first glimpse of that ancient, legendary keep he’d dreamt of for so long.

When Kaer Morhen jutted out before him above the peaks of the trees, he didn’t even see it at first. The gray stones of the keep practically blended into the mountain, and gray mist hung around its turrets.

It wasn’t until they came to a stop and Eskel shouted back, pointing, that Dandelion’s gaze materialized and his mind interpreted what he was seeing.

Kaer Morhen.

Caer a'Muirehen

Keep of the Elder Sea

When he knew what he was looking at, the pieces of it suddenly sharpened. The outer and inner walls. The balconies and parapets.

It was like seeing a mystical place. A legend. A secret, only unlocked for the magical and mutated. And it was being opened for him. Sex worker of Sodden, Viscount of Vice, and now, Eskel’s angel.

He gazed in wonder. It was only after his throat began to feel sore that he realized his jaw had dropped and he’d been breathing the cold air through his mouth.

He’d stopped momentarily and Eskel had waited patiently. He licked his chapped dry lips and mouthed the word,

“Wow!”

Eskel smiled proudly.

The book Dandelion had stuffed in his bags to keep his drawing for Eskel safe had been his main source of information about the old castle. He wasn’t sure why he’d brought it with him. He was trying to keep his witcher fixation subtle after all. But he hadn’t been able to resist. And of course sketches cannot do the real, actual thing justice.

The sketches in the book were from its infancy, when it was shiny and new. Before the attacks. The majestic, crumbling architecture was everything he had imagined and more.

After allowing him to gape for a few moments, Eskel urged them on.

The air grew thinner, and his head lightened. Eskel began to stop often to check on him and offer him water. Buttercup was showing remarkable stoicism. So were Roach and Scorpion, but that had been expected. They’d taken this road many times.

When they emerged from the last line of trees before the keep. Dandelion stopped cold, face tilted up to take in as much of it as he could. It was more stunning than he could have imagined. Now he could make out the balustrades, the walkways atop the walls. This was a massive keep, with few equals outside of royal domains.

He vaguely heard Eskel murmuring to Geralt, asking him to wait.

After a few moments, he reminded himself that he would be here all winter. He would have all the time in the world to stare at Kaer Morhen.

“You ready?” Asked Eskel.

“I’m ready,” said Dandelion.

The first part of the keep that they approached was the outer defensive wall. It was bordered by two barbicans and in its center was a massive wooden gate.

The moat lay in front of it, ringed in dark green moss. The muddy banks around the top of the moat hinted that it had once been deeper. The water shimmered dark and the moon sparkled off of the ripples where minnows poked up their heads.

The bridge was a stone path that was bumpy in places. In the twilight, it would require some amount of concentration to cross.

“Are you ok,” asked Eskel. “Not too light headed?”

“I’m good,” nodded Dandelion.

“Walk in front,” said Eskel. “We’ll have Butterscotch follow Scorpion.”

Dandelion took the first few steps. He kept his eyes carefully on the path in front of him, intent not to trip on any rocks.

But when he was about halfway across, the gleam of something white in the shallow water on his left caught his eyes. He quickly glanced, and the shape of the white object brought him to a swift stand still.

It looked like a bone.

It couldn’t be. But in the dimness of dusk it looked as such. Dandelion couldn’t help but stop and stare. Eskel and Geralt came to a stop behind him with the procession of horses. Dandelion pointed.

“That looks like a bone,” he said, and he felt stupid as he said it. Why would it be a bone?

“It is, love,” said Eskel, drawing closer and placing a hand on his lower back.

Then other sparkles of white emerged from the water, once Dandelion knew what he was looking for. It dawned on him slowly that there were white shaped objects all over the floor of the moat, resting quietly.

“Yes. Well,” said Dandelion, voice unsure. He knew about the attack on the keep. As disturbing as it was, these men had done this to themselves, attacking the witchers and slaughtering them. This was the best they deserved. “I supposed it’s a good reminder to your enemies. Never again.”

Eskel leaned in to kiss him on the temple. Dandelion smiled bravely. He didn’t consider himself a coward. But a watery graveyard of bones still wasn’t something he relished.

“No, those are mostly the witchers we lost,” said Eskel.

Dandelion’s heart sunk. “All of your brothers-in-arms are in there?”

Eskel squeezed him tight by the waist.

He slid out of Eskel’s arms and knelt by the water, sweeping his eyes over the water, making out different kinds of bones: skulls, femurs, hands. The passing of clouds obscured them, then cleared, and they glistened at him once more.

Dandelion realized that every time Eskel walked in and out of the keep, the bones of his people watched him quietly. They were posed as they had fallen, in violent death, betrayed by the very people who had created them, who had needed them, until they didn’t.

Dandelion couldn’t help picturing the bones of his parents in there. Could he walk by them? Bare and exposed?

Eskel knelt beside him, leathers creaking.

“Are you alright?”

Dandelion sighed and swallowed. He looked for his voice and was grateful to find it. “It’s not about me, I know,” he said distantly, unable to yank his eyes from the scene before him. “It’s just. They weren’t buried. Or burned. Why not?”

“Vesemir said it was so we wouldn’t forget,” Eskel said gently.

“But. Did you do anything for them?” He asked softly. “To honor them?” He couldn’t, wouldn’t, shame the very people most traumatized by the siege. But he couldn’t understand it.

“No,” said Eskel. “I suppose at the time we didn’t think about it. We were all--”

“In shock?” said Dandelion. “Numb?” He understood that. He’d been numb and had avoided properly grieving for years. Until Eskel had burst into his life. Until Eskel had sliced the light of his life out of a basilisk belly.

“Yes,” said Eskel. “We mostly tended to Vesemir. He was here you know. We found him under the corpse of his mentor. It’s how he survived.”

“Oh,” said Dandelion. He gazed, now unseeing, over the water. “That’s awful.” There weren't any words for it, really. “And you just get used to this?”

“It doesn’t help to dwell on something you can’t change,” said Geralt. It was only then that Dandelion realized that Geralt had come up to stand next to them. He loomed above, with crossed arms.

“That’s true,” Dandelion said, looking up at Geralt. “But. Ah it’s just—” He stopped. “Nevermind. It’s not about me.” His voice faltered, and he clenched his fists. He blinked and bit his tongue.

“I’ll see you two inside,” said Geralt abruptly. His voice sounded husky. He stepped around them and trudged towards the keep without another word. Roach clomped lightly around them too, following his witcher.

Dandelion turned to Eskel. His eyes were adjusting to the darkening sky. The patience and tenderness in Eskel’s eyes almost undid him. This was Eskel’s tragedy. Why was he holding Dandelion’s hand through his shock?

“I’m sorry,” said Dandelion. “I upset him. I. Was just surprised.”

Eskel took his chin and pulled him to look into his eyes.

“It’s ok,” he said. “If he’s upset, it isn’t your doing. I’ll check on him later.”

Dandelion smiled ruefully. “And he was just getting used to me.”

Eskel chuckled.

“Used to you? Is that what you think happened here these last few days? He got used to you?”

Dandelion nodded. “He let me braid his hair. He laced the bodice for me.”

“Oh sweetness,” said Eskel, pulling him in for an encompassing, tight hug. “Geralt doesn’t just let people touch him. He doesn’t just loan out his clothes. That was him shouting affection.”

Dandelion pulled back enough to look into Eskel’s sparkling eyes.

“Really?” He asked.

Eskel nodded. “Really.”

Dandelion nuzzled back into his neck. There they were, sitting on the stones in a pathway surrounded by gleaming bones, and Dandelion had never felt so safe.

“I’m proud of you,” whispered Eskel.

Dandelion had a deficit of people saying they were proud of him. It happens by nature when you don’t have parents. So he tucked that feeling away in his heart.

“So. About Geralt,” said Dandelion. “If lending me gloves, and allowing me to touch him without violence is affection, then he worships you.”

Eskel made a tsking noise. “Eh, it's complicated. We were kind of something more for awhile...but then...” there was a pause. “It was his choice. I understood. He can have anyone.”

“He said himself that he makes terrible choices,” said Dandelion.

Again it was silent. Dandelion watched a crawdad skip across the water.

“I’m with you now,” said Eskel softly.

“Darling,” said Dandelion. “Love is an infinite resource.”

“What do you mean?” asked Eskel.

“I mean...” now Dandelion was searching for words. “I mean that, while I would not like to share you with just anyone, there are people who only increase the amount of love available. Geralt is a part of you. And I don’t believe in a love that requires you to cut off part of who you are.”

Dandelion forced himself to look out over the moat again. “Different people give you different things. He anchors you. He was there. I’m the lark who gives you new wings. We can both matter.”

Eskel squeezed him again. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” said Dandelion.

They held each other long enough to shake the cold of the trail. They held each other until Scorpion and Buttercup began complaining. The horses must have sensed Roach inside, eating oats without them.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” said Eskel. “And now that you’ve spent a week puffing me up, let’s see if I still fit in the door.”

He stood and held out his hand for Dandelion to take.

"Very good. Any advice for making a good impression on the rest of your family?" asked Dandelion.

"Sure," said Eskel. "Ignore Lambert."

-----

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #the witcher fanfiction #descaradawrites #Jaskier #eskel #geralt of rivia

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Eleven

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Eleven: A Balancing Act

My darling Inej,

Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what you’re aiming at with this letter full of questions. You may have my heart, but you can’t be privy to all of my schemes, especially when I’m now aware that your birthday is next month. Did you think I would forget? My dear, I forget nothing.

So, no, to all of your questions. I’m not telling you what I’ve been plotting lately. I’m not telling you what has been on my mind. I’m not telling you if I’ve been visiting Jesper and Wylan’s more than usual. You must wait in suspense just as Jesper did. That’s part of the experience.

And don’t make that scoffing sound when you read this. I remind you that this whole birthday gift experience business was all your idea. You have no one to blame but yourself.

How do I sleep at night, you asked? Noisily, I’ve been told, but just fine, thank you.

With all of my scheming heart,

Kaz

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To my favorite Inej,

Has he said anything at all to you – regarding the incident in my last letter? We found him on the couch again this morning. It’s at least becoming less startling when it happens. I just wish I understood it. He has that uncanny ability to vanish without explanations, and Wylan and I aren’t sure how to bring it up since he’s so clearly bent on pretending it’s not happening.

I suppose if our sofa and our dog are what he needs right now for whatever is happening inside that ridiculous brain of his, then I’m glad we’re able to help in some small way. He’s not taking advantage of much. We only wish he’d trust us with more.

I mean, we’ve all have nearly died for his schemes on more than one occasion. Should I remind him of that? What could possibly be too much to ask of us at this point?

All my love,

Jesper

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To our feared and beloved Captain

For her twenty-first birthday:

Cake and kvas and mysteries galore

Are awaiting your arrival

Return to Ketterdam if you wish to know more

Your presence is requested at the enclosed address, at 3 bells the 18th of October.

No questions. All will be revealed in time.

Love,

Your favorite Crows

(addition in Kaz’s handwriting)

That gods-awful poem was Jesper and Wylan’s idea. Withhold judgment until after the evening. I’ll make it worth your while.

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Dear Nina,

I’m sailing away from Ketterdam today having nearly every single one of my birthday wishes fulfilled but one. But I won’t hold it against you. I know why you couldn’t have been there, or at least, I understand why I don’t know the specifics of why you couldn’t be there. Just know that, at the time of writing this and always, you are sorely missed.

You would be so proud, though, with how our boys outdid themselves. I am impressed and moved and, frankly, still a little speechless. I’m honestly still replaying the memories and recalling the half-starved scrappy little things we all were seven years ago, and the two images side-by-side could not be any more different. I hope, wherever you are, the passage of time is bringing you similar new hopes. You deserve that and so much more, Nina.

Where to begin? You know, years ago, just before we started the Ice Court, Kaz made me this lofty, insane promise. That, if we did it right, we’d be kings and queens. I’ll be damned if he wasn’t right.

The day started at a dressmaker’s shop. I’d been given an address and a time to arrive, and that alone was a little jaw-dropping. It was in The Lid – an absolute premier spot I’d never even heard of when I lived in Ketterdam. I was grossly underdressed when I arrived. It’s not that I have anything against dresses – you know this. They’re just not at all practical for my line of work, and so I have none. I confess that sometimes I’ll admire them in a shop window when I’m out and about in a port town, but why in the world would I ever spend the coin on one? I wouldn’t even know what suits me anymore.

This dressmaker, though, Nina. She knew all everything about the right fabrics, the right cut, the right make. They’d booked me the entire shop all to myself, just me and the dressmaker. She found me an absolute perfect gown – I’m staring at it right now. I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do with it now that my birthday’s over. Maybe I’ll prop it up in my desk chair and have tea with it every once and awhile. It’s this breathtaking light, pastel yellow, like sunshine, with all this detailed beadwork and exposed shoulders and what the dressmaker called an A-line waist. You might know what that means. I think it’s just dressmaker code for very pretty. She tailored me into it right there in the shop and fitted me with shoes and a cloak to match.

(My one regret was having no idea what to do with my hair. You’d cringe, but I left it in the braid. A minor detail the boys overlooked.)

It took a good few hours to get fixed up in the dress, and it was nearly evening by then. The dressmaker assured me it was all paid for, and right about that time, a black carriage pulled up in front of the shop. And Jesper and Wylan had their heads out the windows, shouting like madmen at me from the streets. I think the entirety of The Lid knew then about my birthday.

Kaz was in the carriage, too, hiding his enthusiasm as he does so well. I have to tell you, though, Nina, I won’t ever forget the look on his face when I got into the carriage. He was clearly trying his best to remain cool and unaffected, but I saw it, the way his jaw dropped slightly and his breath caught. This is obviously why I can never get rid of this dress. I’m just imagining what he’s going to end up writing in his letter after this, since, verbally, he actually managed to mumble that I looked beautiful, right there in front of Jesper and Wylan.

You know, it’s interesting. When he says it, it’s not at all like hearing a man in the Menagerie say it. When he says it, it’s like it’s not just the dress. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s the same words, and yet it’s so very different.

And it only got better from there. The city was getting dusky, and the lamps were being lit. We were still in The Lid, amongst carriages and carriages of the filthy rich from the Financial District, the Government District, and tourists from all over. I kept leaning my head out the window to figure out what was coming next.

Nina – they had bought us all ticket to the Cirque Euphoric.

Maybe this means nothing to you. But it’s only the most ancient, most elite, most elaborate traveling circus in the world. It can only be afforded anymore by the wealthiest of tourists. And they were there doing an entire season in The Lid in Ketterdam, under a big top the size of two city blocks.

Nina, you don’t understand. My entire childhood, I kept posters and drawings and any relic that made its way to the markets from the Cirque Euphoric. Their high wire artists set the standard for all other performers in the business. The things they do in the sky, Nina, are things I haven’t even begun to imagine yet.

Sufficed to say, as soon as I figured out where we were going, I lost it. I did not know what to do with myself. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I burst into tears. It was a horrifying few moments for everyone involved. They were fairly certain they’d done something horribly wrong, instead of so wonderfully right. But that only last a couple minutes. I was able to get it together before Kaz could yell at the driver to take us back to East Stave. And then the merriment resumed, soaked handkerchief and all.

Oh, Saints, Nina, it was everything I’d ever imagined and more.

I don’t know how he knew this, but Kaz had reserved us the very best seats. You don’t want to sit too high at a circus or you’ll miss entertainment on the ground. Sitting too low presents a problem, too, because you want to be able to see the footwork the high wire artists can do. We were right in the middle, just where I’d have picked seats myself. Sankta Alina, I felt like a little girl again. I haven’t been that happy in years. I’d almost forgotten what it was to be that happy. And to watch it all with such beloved friends, who knew me well enough to know I would like this, to watch and hear their reactions to the performances. They might have loved it almost as much as I did. Almost.

We took another carriage ride after, hours later, when it was dark and the streets were bustling with very different crowds. I would have assumed that was the end of it, but Kaz had made us reservations in a private dining room at a fine dining club I’d never heard of.

My entire crew from The Wraith was waiting in the dining room. We ate a meal there fit for royalty, with drinks and a cake big enough that even you might have gotten sick of it after awhile. I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for weeks.

It must have been around midnight or past when we finally rolled ourselves out of the club. We took another carriage ride, stopping first at the Van Eck mansion so Wylan could haul a decently-sloshed Jesper off to bed and hopefully not to the toilet bowl. I actually never heard how he ended up faring that night.

And then it was finally just Kaz and me. If I hadn’t been so tired then, I think I’d have tried to snog his face off the whole way home. I’d been noticing his smug little smirk all evening. He’d planned the whole thing. Like I said, kings and queens. He’d made good on his word at last.

But we were both exhausted on that final carriage ride – he’d booked me a room at the Geldrenner. And it’s not like I needed anything else at that point. The whole experience had already exceeded my expectations. He leaned back against the window, and I rested against him under his arm. We both dozed off there before the end of the ride.

Which is another point I realize I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This has been happening lately. Kaz falling asleep in unusual places. Jesper’s been worrying about it for weeks now. I was having a hard time believing it until I witnessed it myself. Tell me this isn’t weird:

We got to the Geldrenner, and I asked him to come up. Oh, calm down. Are we really going to pretend like this is shocking at this point? Frankly, given the number of years, it’s shocking we weren’t sneaking into hotel rooms four years ago. And it’s not like we do much more than kiss. Although, I thought about it. It was my birthday after all, and he had just gifted me the experience of a lifetime and a luxury hotel room to boot. I was definitely thinking about it.

But that’s not the weird part. Let’s agree that’s not the weird part, anyway. We came up, and we did very little talking. There’d been plenty of talking happening all night, and I was more interested in other things he can do with his mouth. Kissing, Nina, Saints. I can sense you doing that waggling thing with your eyebrows. I’m talking about just a lot of kissing, as soon as he let me get my hands on him. The kind of kissing every grown woman should have on her birthday, kisses that slide into more kisses, like there’s nothing else in the world happening but this.

But then the weird part happened. We’re lying on the bed (fully clothed, Nina, he even still had his gloves on), or at least, he’s lying back on the pillows and I’m kissing him, and then I notice he wasn’t really moving. And I sat back a moment, and I swear to you, he had fallen asleep. Believe me, I called him out on it right then, literally – “Are you sleeping?!” And he flinched right awake and apologized and blamed it on the kvas, and I might have even believed him.

Except Jesper keeps talking about this strange new habit of his. And, as I replay the night’s memories in my head, it does feel like something was off. He seemed paler. He seemed quieter. He seemed – well, tired.

Now I can’t kick this feeling like there’s something more happening behind the scenes. I wish you were here, Nina, and you could work your magic like you do and just squeeze the truth out of his brain somehow. I’ll have to settle for my own magic, I guess.

When I look over my letters from him, he’s off-handedly mentioned feeling overwhelmed, particularly since this kid Artie joined the Dregs. And, don’t get me wrong, the kid is kind of handful. His moods swing wide between murderous rage and affectionate admiration. But he’s not Kaz’s sole responsibility. Pim and Anika do a lot to keep him on task and out of the bad kind of trouble. I wouldn’t think this would be enough to drive him to exhaustion.

But then again, Artie is the same age Jordie was. I wonder how much that gets to him. I wonder how much time he spends avoiding that. I wonder if he allows himself to think of it at all. Would that be enough to push him to the edge? Or is it something more?

It couldn’t be me, could it? Am I becoming exhausting?

Ugh, Nina, come squeeze this out of my brain, too. And then come dress shopping with me, because it is much more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

Missing you terribly,

Inej

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #ketterdam #kanej #kanej fanfic #kaz brekker x inej ghafa #kaz x inej #fanfic #fanfiction

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fyeahnix · 3 years

Text

Title: Puppy Love - Part 1 Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike) Other Characters: None Rating: General Audiences Words: 1875 Prompt: None Other Tags: Cute, Oblivous, Crush, Dogs, Flirting, Friendship Summary: "If Wraith had nothing better to do, she'd be lying under the air conditioning back at her apartment. But here she is out in the eternal Solace summer and misery, sans scarf, in shorts and a tank top ready to start her evening workout routine. ...Or she would have been if she hadn't received the oddest text from Anita. She stares at her phone now, rereading the messages exchanged only an hour ago."

If you like it PLEASE REBLOG. You can read it here or on AO3, via the link found in the notes of this post. Please read on AO3 if you prefer correct formatting!

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It's hot as hell out right now. The evening air is humid, a sticky and suffocating mess of sweltering heat, moisture, pollen, and biting insects. And the people? Running around and playing under the setting sun with their kids and pets, some visibly glistening with sweat. It's gross. If Wraith had nothing better to do, she'd be lying under the air conditioning back at her apartment. But here she is out in the eternal Solace summer and misery, sans scarf, in shorts and a tank top ready to start her evening workout routine.

...Or she would have been if she hadn't received the oddest text from Anita. She stares at her phone now, rereading the messages exchanged only an hour ago.

hey

meet me at the park at 6? got someone I want you to meet

Sure?

It's 6:05. She's sitting on the top of a park bench cooking in the heat, and Anita is nowhere to be found. Great. It's a fairly random text as it is, and Wraith doesn't see why Anita needed to meet now. She knows this is Wraith's time to work out.

Who on Solace is this important? Better yet, who is this person at all? A new friend? Couldn't be. Anita's fairly closed-off, doesn't make friends that quickly or easily. Getting comfortable around the other Legends was enough of a chore. Could it be a significant other, girlfriend maybe? Well, she hopes not. The thought tugs her insides. Of course, she'd be happy for Anita, but…

Whatever. It's not that serious. Whoever it is must be important enough for Anita to meet up with Wraith specifically. Wait, was she the only person asked? Anita doesn't normally send group chats, though. But… no one else is here and it's 6:07. Ugh, god, she's thinking too much about this and this weather isn't helping and it's getting harder to breathe with the nervous lump stuck in her throat-

"Hey! Come back here! Sentry!"

Anita?

Wraith turns, eyes widening as a massive black ball barrels towards her at full speed on four legs. She throws her arms up to protect herself as Anita yells again.

"Sentry, sit!"

Nothing knocks into her, and when Wraith lowers her arms, she makes eye contact with a rather large black dog not five feet away from the park bench. It's stopped in its tracks, large ears and tail standing at attention, as its face twists in a confused expression. It bows, butt in the air and tail wagging before lying down in the grass, wet tongue hanging loosely from its mouth.

Anita ambles up to the canine and kneels to clip on the leash that's wrapped around her fist. When she stands, she half-smiles in apology and leans forward with an arm outstretched.

Wraith dismounts the bench to accept the quick hug. The woman smells good, a familiar cologne gracing Wraith's senses. It's better than the heavy stench of outdoor humidity, that's for sure.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. This little knucklehead can't keep still today." Anita unravels the leash twice from her fist, relaxes. She huffs, lifting the hem of her tank top to wipe sweat off her forehead.

"I, uh-" Wraith's eyebrows raise ever-so-slightly at the welcome sight, but she doesn't allow her eyes to linger. "Didn't know you were a dog sitter."

Anita smirks, this time mischievous and lopsided. "That what you think?"

"I suppose. By the way, where is this person I'm supposed to be meeting? Is it a secret girlfriend I don't know about? Gonna pop out from behind a tree somewhere?"

Anita laughs and shakes her head as she kneels next to the dog. "First off, I don't have a girlfriend. Not yet anyway. And secondly, I never said it was a person, Wraith."

"Then- wait. When did you get a dog?"

The animal in question tilts its head at Wraith like it understands and objects to every word she says. Anita pets it, rubs it on the head and coos at it with praise before she responds. It's oddly cute. And very unexpected.

"His name's Sentry. Got him a couple months ago. Didn't wanna spill about it because I wanted some time to get used to him. And I… wanted you to meet him first."

Wraith's belly flutters at the statement. But her out of everyone they know?

She kneels next to Anita and studies the dog. Sentry's much bigger up close than she thought. He's covered in a shiny coat of short fur, solid black all over, and his pointed ears stand at attention, flicking this way and that to take in the sounds of people walking by. His eyes are a nice shade of light brown, intelligent but unfocused on anything in particular. The dog who very nearly knocked her over mere minutes ago lies relaxed in the grass without a care in the world.

"Rescue dog?"

Anita nods half-heartedly. "In a way. Got some people I know back on Gaea. Said some of their dogs failed police training and were up for adoption. This little guy couldn't stay out of trouble."

"Little? Bang, he's huge."

"Yeah, he is," Anita laughs. "First family couldn't handle his size with their kids. Apparently, he grew faster than they could keep up with. Second person couldn't deal with his temperament."

Wraith purses her lips. "Third time's the charm, I'd hope."

"Heh, yeah. It will be. Two months in, and I'm already in love with him. He's almost two. Still actin' like a damn puppy, but, god, I love him," Anita sighs, exhales, and Wraith's heart tugs at the pure emotion emanating from the woman's voice.

Wraith sits on the edge of the bench, crossing her legs. "Didn't quite take you for an animal lover."

"I think that's a stretch," Anita chuckles. "We had dogs growing up when I was a kid. Military household. Strict but fair. But… we all let our guards down for the pups." Anita moves to sit next to Wraith, leans forward to rest her arms on her knees. She stares out into the park, watching crowds of people bask in what's left of the sun. Sentry gets up as well and lies back down in front of her, panting. She loosens the leash again. "We had two of 'em.

"Two big boys. Angelo was a mutt. Probably an Australian Cattle Dog and Great Dane mix from what we could tell, maybe a little Pit in 'im, too. Loyal as hell. Healthy dog. Ghost was a German Shepherd. Same as this boy." She nods towards Sentry. "Pure white. A bit of a troublemaker, if anything, but still good. Me and Ghost… same age. Inseparable." She pauses, laughs a little, wistful. "I had a connection with that dog. Still do on some level. He died old, when we were fourteen. Right before my bro-"

She stops and scrunches her nose, screws her eyes shut for two seconds. "You know what? Nevermind. Not important."

Wraith doesn't know what to say. Anita doesn't make eye contact. Whatever she hesitated mentioning must have been too personal to share. Understandable.

"Anyway. I'm glad I brought him home. He means a lot to me. And I'm… glad you met him, too."

Why her, though? Sure, they're friends, have hung out plenty. They've had rounds at the firing range before matches, developed duos tactics together, gone out for celebratory dinner after wins and whatnot. She's sure Anita's done that with… everyone, right?

She can't imagine she's any more or less of a friend to Anita than any of the other Legends. Anita and Witt talk frequently enough. She and Ajay also hang out sometimes. Hell, she's even gotten drinks with Octavio when he can sit down for long enough. Why Wraith?

When Wraith shifts in her seat, Sentry focuses on her, rising to walk towards her. His tail wags behind him as he drags his wet, leathery nose across her arms and over her thighs. He shakes, tail flailing even harder. She can't help but crack a small smile and hover a hand over his head, which he sniffs enthusiastically.

"You can pet him if you want. Promise he won't bite," Anita says.

Wraith nods and lowers her hand to Sentry's head. She rubs him, scratches him on the forehead and behind the ears with short nails. His tail calms, and he shuts his eyes as he sits back on his haunches.

"You're a good boy, aren't you?"

He nods, tongue lolling as if agreeing as she rubs both ears with her hands.

Wraith smiles and turns to Anita. "Not to brag, but I think he might actually like me."

"Heh. Guess that makes two of us."

Wraith raises an eyebrow. She stops petting Sentry, and he whines, nudging her arm. The comment is slick and unexpected, typical Anita, but…

"I-"

"You, uh- you busy tomorrow? Thought maybe we could grab coffee or lunch or something."

That's why.

Wraith chuckles and smiles as her cheeks burn at the Voices from the Void. She gives Sentry a few thorough rubs on his cheeks. "I… actually am-"

Anita wipes a stray bead of sweat from her temple. "Oh. Well don't worry about it. Maybe some other-"

"-But. Let me… clear my schedule. I don't think it'll be a huge deal to move some meetings around tomorrow. Maybe you can bring Sentry along."

Anita finally turns to gaze at her. There's a subtle smirk gracing her features, that usual Bangalore bravado emanating from her. It's attractive, no lie.

"All right, I got you. I got a couple places in mind."

"Looking forward to it."

Anita rubs the back of her head with her leash hand as she lets out a short laugh and stands. "Well, I won't keep you. I gotta give this boy a walk so we can get out of this heat."

Sentry whines then barks once. Loud boy.

Wraith rubs him for the last time before she stands too. "Yeah, I better get to my workout. See you tomorrow?"

Anita opens up for another hug, which Wraith gladly accepts. "Yeah. I'll text you later."

This hug's tighter than the last, sets Wraith on edge a bit, but she doesn't want to pull away. Anita's bare, muscular arm feels good wrapped around her shoulders, her body warm in a way that stamps out the suffocating humidity. She can get used to this.

When the woman pulls away, she salutes Wraith and tugs on Sentry's leash to lead him away.

...Okay, so maybe Wraith's a little excited about tomorrow. And maybe she's been looking at Anita a bit… differently lately. It's nothing bad, right? The woman's tall and attractive and her personality is the type to simultaneously make Wraith roll her eyes and draw her in. She's charming, alluring, knowledgeable, helpful, and ten thousand other words Wraith can substitute. It'd be foolish to not give this a chance, wouldn't it?

She bites her lip, clutching her phone in her hand as she watches Anita fade into the distance. She needs to go workout and focus, but that'll be hard waiting in anticipation of tomorrow's lunch date. She doesn't think she'll sleep well tonight, if at all actually, but she'll certainly try, Solace heat be damned.

#Apex Legends #Bangalore #Wraith #Anita Williams #Renee Blasey #Voidstrike #writing #nix fics

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hellagaymccree · 4 years

Text

Wear Something Sexy

I’m about to post this on twitter as a tread (hence the censored words and /’s), but have it here first. And if you wanna see some of the threadsfics I have up already, check out my twitter. (Under pinned tweet>>>mcreyes, near the end since they’re the newest additions.)

I’ve seem some art about portals in panties/mask where someone can stick their dick somewhere and it teleports there (??) So let’s add some mcreyes to that in which Reaper uses his nanities somehow. Eventual NSFW since I took longer than expect to get to it.

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Jesse knew exactly who the Reaper was once he saw the first footages of him. Though his movements where smoother due to the wisps of smoke that carried him, they were the same as Gabriel used to dance around the battlefield. Then he pulled out two shotguns and Jesse’s cigar dropped from his lips. His chest swelled and then it felt cold, like a round of said weapons had ran through it.

McCree haunted down the wraith. Even when the Overwatch logo in his pocket blinked for a call, he could not accept it knowing the person that made him felt whole was out there. But every time Jesse felt close to him, he could feel Reaper slipping through his fingers. Once, it was like Reyes actually /ran/ from him just by the sound of Jesse’s voice.

Finally, when they were face to face, after Reaper swept Jesse off his feet during an ambush set against the gunslinger. Chaotic was one word for how their first encounter went down. There was silence before the yelling. There was cursing one another and reminders of promises neither could keep. There were tears from Jesse’s part and Gabriel looked away from him. McCree wanted to believe that a tear or two peaked out of Gabriel’s eyes. Then there was the fucking. It happened sooner than Jesse expected, but if he was being honest, he’s damn glad they collided in an intense, passionate kiss that was mostly teeth than tongue. A way of saying ‘I hate that I still love you’.

The cheap bed on the motel they were on stood no chance to their love making as the head board cracked and Jesse’s sure the springs aren’t right anymore.

“This can’t happen again,” Reaper had said, his voice raspier than when Jesse had last talked to him. His armor was back on him, except for the mask and hood. His eyes were dimmer, and his hair a wild mess of curls that Jesse had loved from the moment the mask and hood came off.

But it did happen again. It happened in Russia, in Mexico, in Ital and in Spain, close to the new Overwatch’s base, close to Jesse’s new home. He had accepted the call after not only finding what had been missing in his life, but also because Gabriel asked him too.

“If they ever find out you and I—” He had gone quiet, whether it was because he couldn’t imagine of what would happen to Jesse or because he didn’t know what to call /them/ again. “You need to be protected and secure, Jesse. Or they will find you when you are at your weakest and most lonely.”

The call for his name had been what gave Jesse the assurance enough to contact Winston and join Overwatch.

It’s been months since he joined and the affairs with Reaper have not stopped. He flirts with death on almost weekly basis, and no one is the wiser yet. If they are, they must be hiding it well. Sometimes Jesse gets away while they go on mission and meets Gabriel in an abandoned place, in a forest or a motel room. Other times Gabriel crawls his way into Jesse’ room in Gibraltar and they spend the night together. Those times, they try to not break the bed.

Before Gabriel leaves one night, he hands Jesse a small box. “Chucks, I didn’t get you anything.”

Gabriel grins. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jesse’s smile drops as he looks at the small little lace number (picture) neatly folded inside the box. When he pulls it out, he eyes Gabriel and raises an eyebrow. He’s never worn lingerie, and Gabriel never asked.

“Wear it when you go on your missions,” Gabriel requests, stepping closer to Jesse and brushing his claws through his hair. They spark thrills into McCree’s scalp and he’s almost ready to submit again. “I want you ready for when we do meet in one.”

Jesse has to admit that would be sexy. While the others fight, Gabriel and him can just play a game of cat and mouse until they find a dark corner and break each other apart in their own way.

Jesse wears the lacy pantie on his next mission. He can barely feel it on and his soft member is quite snugged in it. He gets butterflies in his stomach to the thought of Reaper catching him with them. Will he pretend he didn’t know? Act out some roleplay before one of his claws pulls the back part aside and so he can fuck Jesse properly.

He gets to King’s Row and part of him is disappointed they don’t encounter Talon, but he focuses on the mission none the less. That is until his paired with Genji to explore the dark streets in search of their target that took flight once he knew Overwatch had landed in London.

Minutes pass and Jesse swears he feels something brushings his ass. He swats at it, but there’s nothing over his clothes. Then, somehow, he feels something tickling his entrance. He halts and ponders over it. There’s a second flick of it and his skin rises in goosebumps.

“McCree?” Genji asks, tilting his head.

“Thought I saw something,” Jesse replies and continues walking. The sensation doesn’t stop. And after a while, he catches on to it quickly. They are Reaper’s wisps, they have brushes Jesse’s body first, and his hole as well. Gabriel uses them to tease Jesse in all the sensitive spots that get him to moan and arc his back. He can feel at least two slipping into his hole.

“I, ah,” Jesse says, pressing his cheeks together as if that would stop whatever is happening. “I’ll check this way. Meet you back by the clock tower in fifteen?”

“I guess that’s out best option,” Genji agrees. “We can meet up with Hanzo as well.”

Jesse nods and steps into a dark alley. There’s a corner where it’s almost pitch black as the light closest to it has gone out. Jesse slumps against the wall and spreads his legs. He has to be sure. The trails of smoke continue to play with him. Of course they’re not real smoke since they’re solid, but they feel velvety and smooth, more like locks of hair if Jesse had to explain it.

“What the—” He stutters as the wisps go deeper in him, brushing his sweet spot. “Gabe,” he calls, hoping that bastard his somewhere to listen.

“His eyes widen when he feels the head of a cock pressing against his hole. /How?/

Jesse digs one hand into the back of his pants to check. His clothes are intact, but he feels the back of his panties bulging up a little. When the slick head pops in, there’s more length following behind, even if Jesse can’t feel it over the underwear.

/How?/ He wonders again as he pulls his hand out of his pants. His fingers twitch against the brick wall that supports him, and his toes curl in his boots.

Somehow, Gabriel is /inside/ of him, right in this moment. He’s fucking Jesse in the middle of a mission through the panties Gabriel gifted him.

“Gabriel,” Jesse pleads. He wants his lover to appear. To hold him. To pick him up and fuck him against the wall properly.

He feels the impact of a full ram, causing him to move forward and hold on to the wall in front of him as he gasps. His body is bended over, pretending Gabriel is behind in his solid form, ravishing him on the spot. Another thrusts tells him this would have to do. He will have to be satisfied with what Gabriel gives him.

In retrospect, this is a brilliant idea. When they can’t get away together, Jesse can simply put on this pair of lingerie and it would work for the most part. He tries to wonder, imagine, how it looks from Gabriel’s end. What is he fucking into, but his thoughts start to fade as Gabriel still manages to wreck him not only in body but mind as well. His bottom lip is swollen and plump from biting it so much. There’s sweat pooling on his forehead and he’s going mad with lust. He wants to take his clothes off, to fall on his knees and completely surrender to Gabriel.

When his knees feel like they’re about to give out, the pace becomes feral and fast. Jesse has no time to even react as his quiet moans are being cut with each push of Gabriel’s c*ck in him. “Fuck, Gabriel,” he whispers and whimpers his fist hits the wall. He can’t take it anymore; he’s about to slip one hand into his pants to attend his untouched d*ck, when one of the wisps beats him to it. It wraps nicely around it like a viper and begins to move, slithering and circling, a never thread caressing his member softly. Too gentle compare to the abuse happening behind.

Jesse comes with a gasp and falls to his knees. Gabriel thrusts in him few times. Frantic jerks to get off until he spills in Jesse. McCree hums to the sensation of the warm come bursting in him and how he would love to feel it. After Gabriel’s member stops jerking and leaking, he slowly pulls out, leaving Jesse empty and gapping.

“The hell was that?” Jesse asks, looking back as if he will find Gabriel there, zipping up his pants and smiling like the devil himself.

He’s back at base and the first thing he does is check if his room is empty. Sadly, it is, but h goes and takes a shower, and returns with a towel around him, his clothes left back in a hamper, except the panties. That’ when he finds Gabriel sitting on his bed, mask and hood down, a smug smile on his face.

“Ya crazy son of a b*tch,” Jesse says, playfully.

“Did you like my present?”

Jesse grins. “Y’know I did. But how…?”

Gabriel shrugs. “One of the few perks, I guess.” A short answer, meaning Gabriel simply doesn’t wanna talk. And, if Jesse’s being honest, he doesn’t either. He might have gotten /a/ part of Gabriel back in King’s Row, but there’s other parts he has missed. He first goes for a kiss, deep enough to push Gabriel back before he traps him in a hug.

“I can keep them, right?’ Jesse asks once they break apart.

Gabriel nods.

“Will they continue to work?”

“They will.”

“Great.”

“Just wait to try my next gift for you.” Gabriel raises one hand, and, hanging on one of his claws there’s a bandana. It’s black but has a design of a skull’s mouth. It might look like a simply accessory at first, but by Gabriel’s smirk and the exciting and strange experience Jesse just went through, he knows he’s about to have more fun that he has in a while.

#mcreyes #mcreaper #writingramblings #that moment when i pulled out nearly 2k words out of my ass for a smutty trope #but keep staring at my outlines for the ddicate well-thought-out fics i wanna write and post

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astrogone · 4 years

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Atlas wanted to go home.

The longer he stayed with his family, the harder it was for him to recognize them. As each day passed by, the galaxies in everyone’s eyes would gradually fade before him; the stars were dying and so were they— their faith in each other and themselves. No parts of this house could hold the tension between their souls, but not even could the natural order while reality kept shivering around them, constantly in a near state of being snapped apart. His family held the faces he felt did not belong to them, but rather they were stolen from the mortal martyrs. He noticed how their bodies no longer remained as bodies, merely they were just shapes now, the shadows of his past wandering all over his life, staining his present with reminders of who he once was— who he shouldn’t have been.

He had attempted to leave the house a few times, though the phantoms from his aftermath had possessed his nerves. They would scream at him to not move, biting and clawing across his stumps until darkness would crawl over his visions, and he would only dream of himself running at the summer kissed fields with the winds and clouds, feeling like he could fly, be free at last. He never gave himself up. He never knew how to, therefore, he only continued to try leaving his family behind so he could be at his own house, alone. Especially with his father, Iapetus, around, he was motivated to escape. Desperate, as a mortal Human would say. Though, shaking, twitching, aching, he would always fall before he could reach the house’s entrance door, or after several steps away from the porch, glory always going absent in his collapses.

After the fifth time of his failing, his father assigned Prometheus to keep a careful eye on him, and Atlas despised how he was the one being taken care of, not the carrier himself. To be controlled in between someone’s own hands. Beyond these walls, only freedom lingered, and he was desperate to take it and devour it all and be whole once more. He rarely thought about anyone while he was there when he kept wishing upon the stars to take him to the sky, except for Menoetius. Atlas would never forget when he was laying in the bed a day after Kratos had placed him dead by his family’s doorstep, entirely numbed from the trauma Días had put him through, he thought he could hear Menoetius wail behind the door.

It frightened him because Menoetius, the Titan of Violent Rage, had never cried before.

When Atlas could find himself speaking after some weeks of his silence, the first thing that came out of his strained cords was asking Prometheus what happened to Menoetius, and Prometheus instantly knew what he meant. Atlas never forgot about that early morning. He could not ever when he was bound to his bed with the absence of his limbs, hearing his twin’s screams in his realities, his dreams, his everything, everything, everything.

Prometheus’ gaze darkened, and Atlas’ heart died.

”He woke up with his eyes stolen by Kratos.”

***

“Are you sure you want to talk to him? He’s been getting worse since you last saw him.”

”Yes.”

Tension fell between Atlas and Prometheus, their mutters faded into the mad aches of their souls, their heartbeats clung tightly to their throats. Atlas did not find many lights in his relationship with Prometheus, so it almost had him laughing when he heard Prometheus’ disapproval, strangely full of concern, after he requested to see Menoetius, now that he got his prosthetic limbs and felt he could finally do more than laying in his bed. Everyone had told Atlas to not speak to Menoetius, revealing to him the sights of the fact that Menoetius had inflicted injuries on them as warning signs. Atlas had missed him too dearly to not care about others’ worries though. How many days had it been since Atlas did not see Menoetius? How many more could he bear not seeing him?

No more. No more. No more.

”Menoetius,” Prometheus called, knocking on the door. “Atlas wants to see you.” With or without the response from the other side, he guided Atlas into the room..

Atlas’ gaze instantly fell on Menoetius who was sitting still on the edge of his bed, and nothing and no one mattered but him. He noted how Menoetius’ expression held no emotion. His body tensed, as the curves of his shoulders were sharp, bearing the sudden weight of darkness once again after he had sensed nothing but pain in Tartarus for eons, after he had nine days of seeing the world, feeling finally ecstatic and wild and invisible; only to lose his eyes as his punishment for being free. Atlas thought he could see Menoetius’ fists quivering by his sides, almost as if he was gripping on a desire to harm someone. Though that didn’t fear him. What dreaded him was seeing the empty, black sockets of someone who would try to give him every reason why the Cosmos would fall without his control, making him feel that he was needed and wanted by the Universe itself.

He recalled the time when they were preparing for the Titanomachy, Menoetius had told him how he could not wait to see him in a crown after Cronus’ retirement. He sarcastically commented that in his eyes, Atlas would find only pride for him, a joke made by an entity who held hubris as his body and soul. Though the longer Atlas thought about it as the battle approached closer to them, the more he believed that it was meant to be a promise.

“Menoetius—”

“Why didn’t you stop him, Atlas?”

No greeting. No missing. There was nothing but rage.

Atlas took a moment to translate his words from Greek to English, then a shaky breath as he knew what Menoetius meant. He compared this very moment to the one of him speaking for the first time in a while with a blunt question to Prometheus. He would have laughed at the sick irony, how frighteningly similar they still were after all of these eons without contact, but he thought if he let anything escape his throat, the sounds would only come out as sobs. His heart harshly knocked on his chest, trying to remind him in hurried whispers that this was not a dream. That something or someone would bleed by the end of this terror.

“Because you did not deserve to suffer in a terrible place any longer,” replied Atlas in Greek, his voice quiet, mouth stained with soft sincerity, yet he did not understand why his tongue felt heavy to bear after his response. Shaking, he took a step closer to him. “Because everyone wanted you back.” Then another. Prometheus tried to pull him back and Atlas nearly growled, baring his teeth at him. It was the most apparent expression that anyone could get from him, and there was nothing about it that meant kindness. Prometheus stiffened, but backed off to the side, much to Atlas’ gratitude. He turned his head back to Menoetius and found nothing on his face still. “Because I... I love you,” he added, more softly than before.

A harsh laughter tore down the reality, bringing the walls around them to quiver. As Menoetius shook his head a few times, Atlas began to shake, his heart aching along with the harmony of tragedy. He wished it was because of his injuries. Not this. ”Where is your gratitude?” Atlas asked him in return, patience yet remained in his voice.

”It died when they took you away.”

Atlas’ breath halted, caught in the guilt. He thought he heard the pain in Menoetius’ voice, its edges sharper and words full of wraith, and yet, Atlas could find his suffering in the midst of his hellfire. This really showed how much Atlas loved Menoetius.

His words didn’t make it as Menoetius stood up and he met a pair of pitch blacks right before his own. At the side, he could hear Prometheus shouting at him to leave the room and Menoetius to calm down, but this had nothing to do with Prometheus. So Atlas only stayed and faced the storm.

“I should be mad at Prometheus for executing a rescue mission with you absolute fools of the lowest for me and Father. I want to, I truly do, but you know what?” Their foreheads were nearly touching each other. ”You just had to play the sacrificed hero, putting all— me at fear of your whereabouts. Damn Zeus, Atlas, I’m so disappointed in you.”

Atlas stared at him, unsure what to say. What to think. Numbness started to crawl over his body and Atlas wanted nothing more than to scream. He clenched his fists, trying to lessen his shakes and twitches that were worsening and making him see dots in the life of the rising madness, though the attempted control would only bring a horrible ache to his stomach, filling him with fire and it was not the kind that he imagined when ruling the Cosmos, with Menoetius by his side and being proud of him. Now, there was no pride in Menoetius. Nothing in his eyes— he had no eyes, and it was all of Atlas’ fault. Anything about Menoetiu’ concern for him meant little, yet appreciated, yet bewildering at the same. He had suffered more than Menoetius, more than anyone should have to endure, yet in the end, he was used to it. He remembered pain like it was a dream, a poem, a reminder that he was alive despite everything and anything.

But Menoetius didn’t, so wouldn’t he let Atlas teach him how?

Atlas never stopped waiting for Menoetius, especially with all of the time he had as an immortal, he only hoped to be with Menoetius and conquer the Cosmos and Chaos together. Like last time. Like the first time. He waited, and waited, and waited— this was the result. This was the aftermath.

“MENOETIUS, THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Atlas saw Prometheus coming towards the center of them before a light spilled across his visions as something violent landed on his cheek. He fell to the floor with a wave of agony consuming him whole, tearing down his flesh and bones away, and a choked sob tore his throat from the phantoms stirring in his stumps and memories distorting him. He had seen the birth of Menoetius to how he was perished under Zeus’ lightning, sent straight to the Tartarus. He had seen nine days of Menoetius being free with Earth after his escape, and had seen how Kratos entered his room that night when he finally arrived home and silently spoke of hex in Latin that took his eyes away. He had seen everything beyond today, and his last death, and Atlas never seeing him again.

A sob died down, leaving Atlas staring dully at the wall in front of him, his visions blurred, and everything and everyone became nothing but shapes and colours. Many voices filled in his mind— maybe he had Prometheus calling others for help and maybe he had heard Menoetius apologizing profusely to him when he meant to hit Prometheus, but with something cold and wet endlessly falling over his cheeks, he only stared while tragedy made his existence into an abode for the agony once more.

Atlas just wanted to go home.

But where was home?

#long post cw #death mention cw #violence tw #eye horror cw #eye injury cw #//#( hahahah remember when I wrote this Hell of a drabble? )#( HHH— )#( this is and will always be such a sexy as fuck drabble to write though )#( no one talk to me dgwjjdHSHJEJJD...... )#tbt.

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luthienebonyx · 5 years

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list your five longest one-shot fics on AO3 (not chaptered works or series) with the word count, fandom, year, and comments/kudos/bookmarks. one-shots are the short stories to fandom’s books and a distinctly different process in my experience.

tagged by @nire-the-mithridatist

Caveat: Almost all of these works were originally posted elsewhere, so the stats don’t reflect the total hits or comments that they’ve received - just the ones since they’ve been on AO3.

Note: Almost all of these stories are at least nine years old, and there’s a reason for that. For quite a while there, a lot of people in the fannish circles I was involved in were REALLY anti-WIP. They would not read WIPs. At all. So I got into the habit of writing a story and then posting it in one go. Since about 2011 I’ve been involved in fandoms where WIPs were a much more accepted thing, so my one-shots have been a lot shorter than they used to be.

Set on Earth, post-series. John and Rodney are living in a house in the woods together and have fallen into a relationship. Then one day John comes home to find Sam Carter waiting at the front door.

This was the final SGA story I wrote, and I think it might just be the best. I got closer to nailing John Sheppard in this than in anything else I wrote for him, anyway. He will always feel elusive, and that’s probably part of why I’ll never love any character more than I loved him.

Enlightenment | Words: 19,836 | Stargate Atlantis | 2006 | Comments: 4 | Kudos: 93 | Bookmarks: 10 "Three representatives from Atlantis and three only for this negotiation, those had been the Rengarians' terms." On what should have been a routine mission, Elizabeth is reminded that people are unpredictable and things are not always what they seem.

Ah, Elizabeth POV! I love bystander POV, and this was one of the more complicated bystander stories I’ve written. The title is sort of ironic, and sort of not.

"You really do look younger than you did before, you know," Rodney says.

John laughs, or snorts or something. Whatever you call it, it's some sort of noise that doesn't have a whole lot of humour in it. "I suppose you could say that the Wraith made me feel younger, too. In a manner of speaking."

This was an episode tag for 'Common Ground'. It won’t make a whole heap of sense unless you’ve seen that episode. It’s the episode where John gets captured by the Genii and aged into an old man after being drained by the captive wraith (who later becomes his ‘friend’, Todd).

It’s probably still a bit confusing to read, particularly without having the episode fresh in mind, so I’ll just say that in the first part the short bits in italics are what’s actually happening - the wraith draining John of his life force - and each scene in between is a flashback, going further back in time each time as John loses more of his life.

Yes, it’s a very cheery story! Or the first part is, anyway. The second part is set after his rescue, and makes up for all the angst in the first part - I hope! Ultimately, it’s a story about coming to terms with a lot of things, including sexuality, but not only that.

This is my one and only Devil Wears Prada story, which I wrote for Yuletide 2008. It’s Emily POV, because that’s what the recipient asked for, and I had an absolute blast writing her. She’s a wonderfully deluded and vain character, but I couldn’t help feeling for her, too. This is another bystander POV story, though Emily doesn’t realise she’s a bystander until very near the end.

Fun fact: my main activity in DWP fandom was to beta for @telanu. Telanu’s other DWP beta reader was The Last Good Name. So imagine my surprise when I got my assignment for Yuletide and discovered that my recipient was The Last Good Name. Then things got even weirder when The Last Good Name emailed me - because she’d been assigned Telanu as her recipient in the DWP holiday fic exchange and wanted to check with me about story elements that Telanu would like.

I was the keeper of the secrets that year! There was a lot of laughing that I couldn’t share, and then more shared laughing when reveals finally happened.

Note: This story is a follow-up to Telanu's excellent Sharing the Road series. It won't make a lot of sense unless you read that first.

This is an odd story for me. It’s the only time I’ve ever written in another fanwriter’s sandbox. The main character in this story is one of Telanu’s OCs, (Judi Dench) M’s granddaughter, Sophie.

All I can really say about it is: read Telanu’s Bond/M Sharing the Road series, and after that if for some reason you still need more, maybe try this.

tagging: @firesign23 @woodelf68 and anyone else who wants to play!

#memes #luthien's fanfic

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nobodyinadeadlanguage · 5 years

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Mini-stories (?) from several of my characters.

Nemo

She was beginning to fall asleep at her desk, and so she stood up, glancing idly at her phone screen as she did. It was full of missed calls and neglected messages, and she realized she'd lost track of how long she'd been awake staring at this screen, trying to make sure every line of code was perfect before launching the project. Two days, maybe three? It didn't matter. When she got this absorbed in her work, it was as if everything and everyone else had ceased to exist. She was one of the most skilled at what she did, and this, she had to admit, was probably her best work.

There was just one small thing left to be done. She opened the graphics program, and quickly drew the finishing touches on her own avatar. It, like the other prototypes she'd made, was incredibly realistic. This - the world she'd created - could have been the city that, by this point, was as close to "home" as anything she was ever likely to find again. Except it wasn't. Here, she could be whoever she wanted to be. Here, she was in control of the story. Here, she didn't have to constantly look over her shoulder, so paranoid that she hadn't even told most of her closest friends her real name, knowing that at any moment they might find her and she'd end up back there, back in the endless nightmare she tried so desperately to distract herself from remembering.

A ping from the computer screen let her know the code had finished compiling. Heart racing, exhaustion all but forgotten, she smiled as she put on the VR glasses and clicked "run," and was off to explore a new world of limitless possibilities.

Emily

She was exhausted, but tried her best not to show it as the camera captured her photo. The picture, along with those of her bandmates, would be put on a flyer and photocopied by the band's drummer, who by day was an aspiring graphic designer and for this reason had volunteered to do it for free. The flyers would then be taped up on every surface in the city where she and her friends could find to post them, as well as handed out to the people in the barter town where they'd be performing tonight, and the next week, and the week after that.

To an observer, it might seem frivolous to put so much effort into organizing concerts at a time like this, when the people inhabiting these makeshift towns lacked access to many basic necessities. But they'd partnered with some of the local charities to put on the events, and it would be a way of helping get people access to these resources. And she knew, in any case, that music and art and stories were in and of themselves as necessary as any of these things. Necessary, because they gave people a reason to keep going, a way to imagine a better future in spite of the chaos and devastation that surrounded them following the events of the last few months. Music had saved her life on more occasions than she could count, she thought. As a teenager, feeling like she didn't fit in anywhere, she'd found a home in the crowded basement shows of the local punk scene, and this had been her anchor ever since, even when the rest of her life was anything but stable. It had made her feel less alone. It had given her hope. Even now, when everything seemed to be falling apart.

Looking at the state of the city - the world - that sometimes seemed naive, pathetically inadequate. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But really, what was the alternative? True, she as one person couldn't do much in the greater scale of things. But as long as one had hope, one could do something, however trivial, toward making a difference. And that was what she wanted to tell people, through her music. She glanced out the window as they arrived outside the barter town at the crowds of people. Letting the dismal scene inspire her, paradoxically, to resist the despair that seemed to be all around with her entire being, and to encourage others to do the same. This was the one thing she could do in this situation, and she was going to keep doing it as long as she could.

Judith

The title on the journal's table of contents page - "Recent Archaeological Investigations in Carthage" - caught her eye, and she quickly read through the article. Looking at the works cited page, a familiar name stood out, confirming her suspicions. This must have been one of his grad students, she figured. Curious, she decided to go back and reread her own field notes from the site, written nearly half a century ago - at least, the one small notebook that was still in her possession, it having been in her pocket when she set out on that fateful journey. The rest of her field notes, thankfully, had been left behind in her tent. She would have loved to have had the chance to analyze the data she'd meticulously collected, to have been the one to build her career on what she'd suspected, correctly, would turn out to be groundbreaking information, indispensable to archaeological interpretations of the region. But her impulsive decision had made that impossible, and rather than being an author of some of the many papers published about it, she was relegated to a line in the acknowledgments section, having - as far as anyone knew - vanished, and presumably died, decades ago. In any case, the knowledge had not been lost, that was the important thing. As far as she was concerned, who got the credit for it was less important.

She hadn't looked at the notebook since before that day, but she knew exactly where it was, and quickly retrieved it from the top of her bookshelf. Brushing what was likely years' worth of dust off the notebook's crumbling cover, she opened it to the first page. To her surprise, a photograph fell out. She'd forgotten it was there, but now she remembered in detail the day it had been taken. Her own face looked back at her from a snapshot taken nearly fifty years ago, the paper worn but the image nearly identical to what she looked like today.

Kinah

The church and the surrounding area were desolate and silent. The mortals who could usually be seen in the area even at this hour were conspicuously absent. Knowing what she did about what was within, even she - who had spent the equivalent of a human lifetime in the study of all things supernatural, who had in fact left behind her mortal life altogether in exchange for having the time to learn even more about it - felt nervous as she approached. Still, she had to come here, to find out anything she could. Being here was unpleasant, to be sure, but not knowing was unbearable.

As she got closer, her surroundings took on a familiar cast of death and decay. She tried to ignore the wraiths as they came into view. It was difficult, as there were many more than usual - it seemed like thousands of them. Finally she reached the church, and not only confirmed that the doors were in fact still locked, but discovered the handles were freezing cold. Nothing more to see here, she thought with relief, turning around to go home.

Something was different about the wraiths, she realized. They seemed to be - more organized, or something. She noticed a cloaked figure in the distance, which they seemed to be taking orders from. Almost instantaneously, it looked in her direction. She quickly focused back on the physical world. Something was wrong, and she'd figure out what it was and how to deal with it later, but at least they couldn't affect her here. Or so she'd thought. With growing horror, she watched as part of the air seemed to ripple, reality distorting. Something was trying to follow her back, and she wasn't going to stay around to see what it was. Suppressing a scream just in case there was anyone around who might hear, she ran from the town square.

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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Okay so the Flash tag was very misleading. This wasn't the best 100th episode they could have done but it was the sweetest.

Don't get me wrong, none of that painfully contrived plot made a lick of sense, starting with being so blasé about going back in time when its pretty much the golden rule for them to not do that anymore (and er. Did Hunter Solomon just get Time Wraithed five episodes too early? What?) Nora not knowing Eobard killed her grandmother what in fuck and the whole thing about popping up the same day S2 Barry did (I know it was supposed to be all tense and menacing but I was giggling so hard. Someone should write a fic about various Barry Allens interrupting Thawne's work day to heckle him into fixing more and more shit. "Hi. My name is Barry Allen. You killed my mother. How do I fix the plumbing in STAR Labs? Bitch.")

AND FOR GOD'S SAKE WHY DID THEY KEEP VOLUNTEERING THAWNE INFORMATION.

After all that, the plan didn't even work.

BUT OH MY GOD I LOVED KILLER FROST. She is the most badass bitch and I can tell DP has a blast playing her. Train her up and send her against Cicada for real, cause that fight I would watch.

I loved seeing Eowells with Cisco and Caitlin, I loved revisiting all those milestone moments through Nora's eyes, and my God this episode was 75 % the tour de force that is Tom Cavanaugh. He nailled every scene - the suave menace of pre-series Eowells, the barely contained malice of S1 Eowells, the frenetic single-minded, almost callous version of Harry we first met and (sigh) Sherloque. Who somehow managed to be so distinct from the other personas that I didn't even think to compare his absurdity to the groundedness of Harry and Eowells. Cavanaugh's direction was also beautiful and seamless, even with all the recycled shots.

I didn't even mind missing Iris as much as I would have - she was always there somehow, maybe because of Nora. Mama Flash trying her hardest not to be the closed off woman who holds her daughter back, encouraging her husband to do the same. And then stepping back and letting them do their thing, trusting them to come back home to her.

Seeing her shooting Savitar to save Barry, seeing her be the one to hold and comfort him before they were ever together and then watching them so young and innocent waiting in the crowd during the pilot really encapsulated their journey together (thank god Eddie wasn't in this. Nothing against the character, I just hate that he existed at all). Iris has always been Barry's secret hope through his whole life. During the Zoom episode they were still tentatively trying to find a new footing between feelings that could not yet be spoken and the entirety of S3 was spent in terror that fate would still rip her away. Now they're rock solid and their daughter is right there next to Barry, the promise and realization of everything he had ever hoped for him and Iris.

I love Iris and Westallen, but The Flash has always been Barry Allen's story first. Taking his daughter through the journey of all his mistakes and defeats instead of his victories was such an aching, vulnerable choice. I'm not perfect, I've never been the man you think I was, I have made so many mistakes and been hurt so badly and all I have learned from it is how much I cannot change, no matter how powerful I become, no matter how much I love. It was the moment when he went from "father" to "Barry Allen" in Nora's eyes; when she started to see him as a person first. I understand and I still want to know you. Still love you. It was the most heartaching moment. And such a shock for Nora to realize that they both know the trauma of losing a parent, such a terrible connection to share.

Nora visiting her grandparents killed me. The Allens so young and happy and whole, not knowing their lives are about to be ripped apart in moments. Barry simply turning up at her side, almost casually, guessing she'd go there because he does the same thing. The quiet, sad resignation in his eyes when he says "every day." He has had to experience and accept Nora's own nightmare, that nothing she does will change her family's fate. How many times has he time travelled just to see his parents like this, knowing he could change it but also knowing the price of doing so is too great? His family in front of him, flesh and blood and alive, but still only ghosts he can never touch nor save?

But then Nora's there, again the living reminder of all that he stands to gain, all that of himself and his loves that will continue. Nora carries Barry's mother and father in her blood, Iris and Joe, and the legacy of his own life. And she's there, smiling at him, pulling him out of the past into the future.

Barry is still young, but he's aged beyond his years. The non-linear confusion of his life doesn't help him advance in stages. He's twenty-five and shaped by a vendetta ten years into the future, he's twenty seven and faced with himself a thousand years old and warped, he's watched every timeline unfold in the Speed Force till his mind broke apart, and now he's the father of a young woman he's never yet held as a baby and still loves with all his heart because she is his. It's such a surreal dissonance of age and identity when Nora calls him "old man". For a moment, he remembers that he's still young, and young enough to be hilariously offended by it.

I'm not going to touch on the Nora-working-with-Thawne "reveal" because we've seen that coming from the first. Instead I want to gush about Jessica Parker Kennedy. You guys, this woman is incredible. She was the sweetest, most precious thing this episode, the perfect audience surrogate. She has killed every scene she's in so far this season, so much so that her calling Barry and Iris "Mom and Dad" has never seemed weird, her love and connection to them has never seemed untrue, keeping her character so emotionally balanced right where she needs to sell it that we don't think overmuch about her bizarre age situation (2049? Really?). I don't know why this fandom doesn't appreciate her more, especially the Westallen fandom. Nora is literally the legacy of the show and of Barry and Iris's love. I cannot imagine anyone other than Jessica doing it so much justice.

Special notes:

- I wish we had more Golden Trio moments. Barry, Cait and Cisco's friendship was the lynchpin of the first two seasons and its disintegration in the third season is something that still hasn't been healed. SHOW ME BARRY'S CARE AND LOVE FOR CAITLIN SNOW. SHOW ME BARRY'S LOVE FOR CISCO.

- I am always torn between appreciating what this show wants to tell me and frustration of how badly it's usually told. Nora seeing Iris being Barry's comfort and support during one of his worst moments before they were ever together should have been heartwarming. But instead of showing a sweet, silent moment where Barry is allowed to curl up in her lap while she holds him in the aftermath of a traumatic experience, we see her pushing him to get up again before he even changes out of his suit. It made the scene seem so forced and contrived. Sometimes it's like the writers only know the theory of how humans work.

- It stood out to me again how embedded Cisco is in the emotional narrative of this show. It's Barry's story but Cisco's universe, his presence is vital, ubiquitous, pervasive. Seeing him innocent and sweet and vulnerable with Eowells, craving his approval, and then seeing him face down Cicada as a confident full-fledged superhero (are my baby's hands healed now?) was so satisfying. His character arc has been so amazing and consistent through four seasons of shoddy and uneven writing. He is literally the Samwise to Barry's Frodo and the fact that we havent heard stories of Uncle Cisco from Nora is a farce.

- I know fandom jumped on "at least you still have one" as a reference to Donovan's existence but I'm wondering if it's a reference to Thawne's own daughter Melonie. Did she still marry Don in his future or was she erased?

- I like that Eowells touched on the fact that Savitar was actually Barry. It gets persistently glossed over, that while Barry can't be held responsible for his future self, it was very much still him. I hate that Savitar was our Barry because the fact that any version of him could ever kill Iris is such a fundamental betrayal of his character, but jeez, if you're going to put it out there at least explore the ramfications of that concept in full.

- I missed Jesse L. Martin so much. I had really hoped we could have at least gotten five minutes of recycled footage of him.

- Also missed my cinnabun Cecile, and I want to see Iris interacting with her new sister! I need her to hold Jenna trying to imagine what Nora will feel like in her arms. I want Wally to be delighted at having a sibling he can watch grow up. GIVE ME MY WEST FAMILY DAMN IT.

- I still want my vow renewal (will literally kill someone for it at this point, preferably Guggy. No one will miss him) but that last iconic porch scene with the Allens is a compromise I can live with.

All in all, not the best 100th episode we could have gotten but very far from the worst.

#the flash 100th episode #the flash spoilers #recap #review #commentary #barry allen #iris west-allen #nora west-allen #cisco ramon #jessica parker kennedy #carlos valdez #tom cavanaugh #harrison wells #eobard thawne #caitlin snow #danielle panabaker #westallen

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 years

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Reaped (Part 6)

Emma decided to take Regina for a walk. She thought that some fresh air might be good for her. After getting her to step out of the car and walk up to Mother Superior’s residency, she began mustering up the strength to keep doing it. At first Regina would only walk from one room to another, at most she’d cross the house if she had to. Emma, ever a fan of tough love, was hoping to push her a little harder. The former mayor still refused to dress herself; “what’s the point?” And when Emma did so she kept whatever the sheriff tossed on her under the guise that it didn’t really matter what she wore anymore. As a treat Emma decided not to take the easy sweatpants route and dressed the woman in one of her more elaborate and expensive power suits. If she was going to parade her around the town against her will, she may as well let her keep her dignity.

“I was wondering if you wanted to walk Henry to school with me.”

Regina turned her head from the window to face Emma. Another round of silence and Emma knew that the decision was hers. She ran a comb through the former mayor’s hair. “We’ll leave when Henry gets down here. You should eat something, Mary just went shopping.”

.oOo.

Her stroll to the table was a ghost of an emotion, done only to appease Emma. She had learned that if she wanted to be left alone then it was best to just get things over with. It didn’t really matter, she just wanted some quiet. She took the first cereal box her hand landed on and poured herself a bowl. Distantly, from a life away, she remembered that she used to hate the taste of that one. But brining the spoon to her mouth, she is wholly indifferent. Everything tastes the same to her anyways. She ate only enough to dull the ache in her stomach and then pushed the bowl away and rested her cheek on her hand until Henry dashed down the stairs.

“Hey kid, your other mom is walking you to school with us today.” Emma informed him.

Regina disagreed vastly with the phrasing. She wouldn’t be walking, more or less trailing behind as they carried on happy conversations she couldn’t muster up any interest in. On a normal day Henry passionately sharing his fan-theories on the X-Men would have made her smile despite having only a vague clue as to what he was talking about. She tried to smile as she sulked along, she tried to muster up that warm feeling. But it refused to come and it only sunk her deeper down. It only fueled her longing.

Her soul.

She pined for it.

She didn’t know how much longer she could do without.

She began to think of herself as less of a human and more of a corpse. She was dragging herself through the day to day things like one. An animated one. She didn’t realize that she was standing in the elementary school parking lot. She missed it when Emma waved Henry off with a, “good luck, kid, have fun.”

“You ready, Regina.”

She looked up from the ground to see Henry running up the stairs and into the school building, Mary-Margaret greeting him gleefully. She felt awful, she hadn’t even wished him a good day at school.

Awful.

It was the first thing she truly felt—or at least felt small pangs of—in a long time.

Why did it have to be something unsavory?

The guilt gave way to a blunter version of sadness. She counted herself thankful that she couldn’t seem to feel it in full. All the same she began to wonder if there was really a difference between the woman she was with her soul and the woman she had become. Sadness, guilt, and anger was all she ever felt prior. Sadness, guilt, and anger was all she felt now. She mulled over whether she had a soul to begin with, perhaps the wraith was a figment of her imagination, but that wouldn’t account for Emma saying that her soul had been reaped.

Suddenly she found herself wanting to feel the anguish in full. It was better than feeling nothing at all. If only she’d known that when she wished to distance herself from her emotions. Life must spite her if the only wishes of hers that it ever granted were the ones that would surly destroy her.

Walking through the town offers her nothing but longing and temptation. She can see them. Sense them. The brilliant white-gold radiant auras of the souls around her. The souls that she couldn’t have. Some weren’t as bright as the rest, Leroy’s was pretty dour actually. But it was a soul. Choosiness isn’t a luxury afforded to the desperate.

Emma muttered something and pointed to the Storybrook library. Regina watched her slip into it and was only faintly curious as to dialogue what she had missed. She didn’t care to chase her down though, so she would make her own way home. It took her a few moments but she set off in the direction of her mansion. It was an easy straight shot, all she had to do was force her legs to keep moving.

Soon she found herself wandering across the street, mostly tugged by the abundance of souls clustered on the other side of the street. She was drawn to it like some moth to a porch light. She didn’t have the willpower to stop herself from acting upon that pull.

The motion was absent, her hand reached out. Paige had a particularly alluring soul. An untainted one. Regina had to make it hers. One way or another she just had too…

Emma’s hand curled around her shoulder. “Regina! I left for maybe three minutes! If I knew that you were going to take off like this then I would have held off on my bathroom break.”

“Let go.” Regina mumbled. Paige was walking away. “Let go.” She repeated a little louder. Paige was nearing the street corner. She tried to shrug Emma off. “Let go of me.” She repeated. Paige was rounding the corner, she was going to lose her. She was going to lose that vivid, pure soul. “You have to let go of me.” She sounded so desperate. So pathetic.

“Regina, what’s going on with you?” The confusion was plain on Emma’s face. Up until now, she had been so indifferent, no wonder the savior was befuddled by her frantic pleas.

“I need to go get it, Emma.” Regina whispered. “I need to…” But she knew that her moment had passed. It doesn’t sit well with her, how strongly she craved that little girl’s soul. She dropped to her knees and began to sob.

.oOo.

Seeing Regina cry had been a relief. A very strange sort of relief. Emma wished that it had been any other emotion. But emotion had still been present. Over what, Emma didn’t know, but for a fleeting moment, Regina felt again.

Emma was determined to spark kinder feelings in the woman. That was how she came to sit with Regina in front of the television with an absurdly large bowl of popcorn and a deck of uno cards. Unfortunately, Regina’s capacity to feel seemed to have been spent for the day. She was back to staring unfeelingly as Emma dropped another draw four on her. If that couldn’t spark a rage then she didn’t know of anything that could. “New color is red.” She watched Regina set down a red two. She couldn’t help but zero in on that clydsdale horse. If Regina noticed her lapse in focus and her staring, she didn’t say anything. She simply waited for Emma to say uno and set her last card down. She can’t help but stare again as she takes the remaining cards from Regina’s hands. She thinks that her next thought could count as intrusive; a part of her wonders if it is possible for her to earn a tattoo next to that one. She wonders if it would be possible for her former rival to love her. She wonders why she is pondering it at all.

That time it seemed as though Regina did catch on to her staring. Regina took to rubbing the ink with her thumb.

Emma thinks that she can detect a faint trace of something in Regina’s soft brown eyes. It might be sorrow or longing but it could also be affection.

So, without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she took Regina’s hand.

#Regina Mills #Emma Swan #Swan Queen #Once Upon A Time #Fanfiction

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