#no promises or specific days but chapter 1 of the fic will be up when it's ready! thank you for your patience!

[north-noire]

perhaps catching up a bit wouldn't hurt?

#hidden hands au #no promises or specific days but chapter 1 of the fic will be up when it's ready! thank you for your patience! #i will also try to answer asks but i'm very slow i apologize </3 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's fanart #five nights at freddy's au #fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf fanart #michael afton #mike afton #charlie emily #charlotte emily #fnaf michael afton #fnaf mike afton #fnaf charlie emily #fnaf charlotte emily #fnaf marionette #fnaf puppet #my art

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an Adult pt 3.5

Hi. So I wanted to a sub-chapter kinda thing about Lena's side of the relationship/first few months etc. So here it is. Also shout out to the anons who gave me some inspo for this - u really helped. Also, I would like to preface this by saying I don't really know much about the Wolfsburg team as a whole, so if anything's wrong please let me know.

In this fic - the bold text is meant to be in German (but I didn't want bascially the whole thing to be unreadable for people) so just imagine it's in German

Barca Femeni x Reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader / VfL Wolfsburg x Lena Oberdorf

Description: R and Lena's relationship from Lena's perspective

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Lena was too smiley. That was the first thing Jule noticed after the Barca match. The hotel they were staying in was nice, the weather was very warm compared to Wolfsburg, and the day off was well deserved.

“What’s up with you?” She asked her best friend, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Lena dismissed her as she fell onto her bed, phone in her hand.

“Speaking English now, are we?” Jule teased, studying Lena. She had a slight flush to her skin that wasn’t there this morning. She seemed too happy for someone who had just been ‘exploring’ all day. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing … uh, nothing much; I just wandered ‘round a bit,” Lena said distractedly. Jule hummed in false agreement. Something was going on.

A gasp pulled Jule from her inspection. It was Lena, staring joyfully at her phone before hurriedly typing away. Ok, something was most definitely going on, and Jule was going to find out what and soon.

“I’m going …” Lena cleared her throat and shook her head as if to shake away the English. “I’m going to go shower … uh … yeh.” She gathered up her stuff and headed to the attached bathroom, leaving her phone on the bed. Perfect, it was time to snoop; Jule congratulated the universe on its opportunistic timing.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’:  https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

Who was ‘[Initial]💙❤️’ ? And why were they sending Lena a link to old One Direction songs? Specifically, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’? And why was Lena sending a song back telling them ‘next time’? The bathroom door opened a little.

“Jule, did I leave my phone?”

“Uhhhhhh, yeh, you did. Here,” Jule quickly locked Lena’s phone and rushed to hand it to her.

“Gracias,” Lena said absentmindedly, closing the door again. Spanish? Since when did Lena speak Spanish?

Slowly, the pieces slid into place for Jule. Lena had been out all day. Lena came back too happy and constantly looking at her phone. Lena replied in English and Spanish. Lena had received a text telling her that someone should have kissed her. Lena responded with the promise of next time. Lena was definitely on a date.

It wasn’t confirmed for Jule until the return leg. Much like in Barcelona, Lena disappeared all day and reappeared, looking far too happy the day after. She definitely went on another date.

“So,” Jule said as she cornered Lena in the locker room during recovery. “How was your date?”

“Oh, it was great. We went-” Lena froze. How did Jule know about her date? “W-what date?” Lena tried to cover slip up. Jule grinned devilishly, refusing to let Lena weasel her way out of this questioning.

“You know, your date with the Barca player,” she laughed at Lena’s horrified expression.

“I didn’t … What … me? No … I don’t,” Lena rubbed the back of her neck, trying to hide the dark blush adorning her cheeks.

“Don’t lie to me, Lena Sophie! I am your best friend. You went on a date, 2 dates, and didn’t tell me,” Jule said, slightly hurt that Lena didn’t trust her with this. It was well known that Lena didn’t do dates; she didn’t do the emotional side of romance. She flirted, she charmed, and she took people home – only to have them leave the next morning, often not quite remembering their name when the sun rose. To see her friend finally consider a date, multiple dates - and maybe something more – Christmas had come early for Jule Brand.

“What d-” Lena started to deny, but after seeing Jule’s face, she knew she was caught. She sighed before spilling her happiest secret, “She asked me after the Barca match if I wanted to see some stuff in Barcelona. It was such a good time. We went to breakfast, and she made me try all these Spanish and Catalonian pastries. Then, she showed me all the tourist spots. She took me to lunch and stuff and then showed me all the quieter places she likes to go. Then, we ended with dinner, and it was just, ugh. So, so perfect.” Jule smiled, liking this side of Lena she hadn’t seen before. “And then, we so nearly kissed when she walked me back to the hotel and then she sent me a song telling me she wanted to kiss me and,” Lena sighed dreamily. “And we’ve been texted and phoning and whatnot, but I asked her out after our match on Sunday, and we went to the Christmas Market, even though it’s only November because she mentioned she’d never been to one before, and we ate far too much and then …” Lena paused, the romantic gushing so uncharacteristic of her. “She kissed me. She kissed me, Jule. And it was so perfect, and, ugh…” she trailed off again. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, grinning to herself as she confessed.

“She sounds wonderful, Lena. But who is ‘she’?” Jule teased lightly, nudging her best friend.

“Um … Y/N. The number 17 put 2 past us on Sunday,” Lena smiled as she said your name, a lovesick expression taking over. “She’s got this smile and, god, her laugh. It’s like angels or something. She so, so beautiful, Jule.” Lena gushed. Jule hadn’t seen Lena like this, ever, but she wasn’t opposed to the in-love ramblings. She liked this side of Lena and hoped she would stay for a long while. “But she’s also funny, and kind, and sweet, and just … she’s already picking up German for me. I didn’t even ask her to; she just turned up here, and at the Market, she went to ask a seller about this piece of jewellery, and it was in pretty decent German. She was so cute, she got all blushy and shy afterwards and…” she sighed again. Her fingers coming to fiddle with the woven bracelet on her wrist – a gift from you to remember you by. Like she could ever forget you.

“Wow, Lena. When can I meet the girl that’s got you so lovesick?” Jule teased gently, bumping her shoulder against Lena’s.

“Not for a while, sorry, Jule. It’s just, it’s all so new, and we haven’t really discussed what we are yet, and we won’t be able to see each other for a while because of our schedules and, um…” Lena had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at her response, but she loved the idea of being able to keep you all to herself for a little while.

“No, I get it, no worries,” Jule smiled understandingly. “I can see that she makes you happy, and that’s all that matters,” she added, squeezing Lena’s hand at her words. “But I will require regular updates from you about how things are going, ok? ‘Cos … my best friends in loooove,” she sang out, laughing at Lena’s bright blush.

“Yeh, yeh, let’s go to recovery, c’mon,” Lena said, shoving her friend out of the empty changing room.

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

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

Lena had permission from you to tell the team, and she was so, so happy about it. Telling Jule made everything feel so much more real; she couldn’t imagine how telling the team would go. She figured she’d start with the girls she was closest with.

Jule, Ewa, and Sveindis all gathered in her living room as Lena stood nervously in front of the TV.

“Um, so … I have something I need to tell you guys,” Lena said, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. Why was she so nervous? She loved the idea of being able to take you out on dates without hiding anything; she wanted to be in the crowd when watching your matches; she wanted to kiss you in front of the whole world … and yet she was nervous about this. If she had to guess, she would say it’s because she hasn’t done this before. She doesn’t date, and she’s never had to introduce her teammates to a partner before, but here she was, about to burst your little bubble of private joy. You had told her you’d done it already – or at least, you didn’t discourage the team when they snooped and didn’t stop them from guessing.

“Oh, my god. Are you leaving?” Sveindis asked.

“What? No!” Not yet, anyway. Lena replied.

“Are you dying?” Ewa countered. Lena was slightly shocked at her question.

“Ewa!” Lena gasped.

“Are you pregnant then? Did something happen? Are you ok?” Sveindis sat up, full of concern for her friend.

“No, good God, no. No, I’m fine.” Lena looked horrified that that was what her best friend’s brain jumped to.“I … I just needed to tell you that I have a girlfriend…” There was a split second of silence before Sveindis and Ewa burst into hysterical laughter. Lena looked towards Jule, unsure of the scene in front of her.

“Yeh, right. Good one, L.” Sveindis joked between peals of laughter.

“A girlfriend, nice one, Lena” Ewa wheezed.

“Guys,” Jule tried. She could see Lena’s face fall. When Lena had invited them to come over this afternoon, she had been so excited—she could finally share with her friends, her family, that she had a girlfriend—an actual, real girlfriend who treated her well and made her oh-so-happy. And now they were laughing at her. Was the idea of her being in a relationship so comedic that it brought tears to their eyes?

“You know what, fuck you. Get out, get out now.” Lena shouted, causing an immediate cease to the laughter.

“Lena, c’mon. That was a good joke -” Ewa started.

“It wasn’t a joke. I have a girlfriend. And I wanted to tell you today, but you think it’s basically impossible for me to have one. So, Get. Out!”

“Are you serious?” Sveindis asked.

“Get the fuck. Out. Of my House.” Lena replied, moving to open the door for them.

“Not about that, about having a girlfriend?” She ignored the open door, a clear sign that she was unwelcome at the moment.

“Yes. And I was really excited to tell you, but you guys find it so hilarious that I could have a relationship.” Lena said, hurt that her friends were so disbelieving of her.

“No, it’s just … you’ve told us so many times that you don’t date. You are … were … so adamant over it.”

“And when you stopped mentioning your one-night stands and stuff, we figured you were going through a dry spell or something,” Ewa added.

“We’re sorry for not believing you,” they both hung their heads, embarrassed that they hurt a close friend. Lena closed the door gently and returned to the living room.

“Does this mean I can finally meet her?” Jule asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“You know who she is? That’s not fair; how come Jule gets to know first?” Ewa moaned.

“Not yet, Jule. I still need to tell the rest of the girls first,” Lena sighed, sitting down on the armchair by the window. “And Jule knows first because she figured it out.” She explained to Eva.

“You should have seen her after the Barca match. She was so giddy, all blushy, and staring at her phone. Ugh, it was so cute. And then, after the home leg, she came into the changing room and couldn’t stop smiling. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner; she’s not very subtle.” Jule gushed.

“So, it’s a Barca player? Who is it?” Sveindis asked.

“No, wait, let me guess,” Ewa shouted. “Ba-Batlle? Is that how you say it?” Lena giggled as Ewa bounced excitedly on the sofa.

“No, she has that maybe-thing with Bronze. Coll?” Sveindis countered.

“No, she’s definitely in a relationship; they did a lock screen video thing, and she was her girlfriend” Ewa and Sveindis pushed their heads together, coming up with ideas of who might have stolen their best friend's heart.

“What about Y/S/N? Y/N? Is that her name?” They looked to Lena for an answer. Whilst a verbal one wasn’t given, it wasn’t needed. The beaming smile was all that was required.

“Awww, she’s a cutie.” Ewa came over to hug Lena

“Real sweet, too. She came to check on Camilla when Pina did that tackle.” Sviendis agreed. “Now, tell us all about it. I want all the details!” They all got themselves comfy as Lena spilt all the information about the best few months of her life.

L💚: I told some of them

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg really??

[Initial]💙❤️: What did they say?????

L💚: They didn’t believe me at first ahahahaha

L💚: They thought u may have been Ona or Cata !!!!

[Initial]💙❤️: ahahahahahahhahahhahahahhahahaha

L💚: But then they said ur a cutie and real sweet

L💚: Which u r, obviously xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Stoppppppp

[Initial]💙❤️: Ur gonna make me cry xx

[Initial]💙❤️: R u gonna tell the rest ?????

[Initial]💙❤️: No rush or anything xxx

L💚: Yeh I am xxx

L💚: I wanna tell the world ur mine xx

[Initial]💙❤️: now I’m actually crying wtf

[Initial]💙❤️: 1 photo image attached

[Initial]💙❤️: I wanna tell the world ur mine xxxxx

L💚: Schatzzzzzzz xxxx

[Initial]💙❤️: A nickname now?

L💚: Shut uppppp

[Initial]💙❤️: never

[Initial]💙❤️: Meine Liebeeeeeeee

L💚: 🩷🩷🩷🩷

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

“Obi,” Alex called as the training ended for the day. “I need to talk to you.” Fuck! Lena tried to remember what she might have done to piss Alex off. She had behaved all training session – for the most part; the thing with the water was Riola’s fault, not hers. She was guided into an empty media room and was met with Svenja sitting on the table. Fuckkkkk! What had she done? Two players she saw as maternal figures had their Angry Faces on.

“Before you say anything. It wasn’t me,” Lena rushed to cover her back.

“What wasn’t you?” Svenja asked.

“Whatever you think I’ve done,” Lena answered cryptically. She wasn’t admitting to anything.

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend then?” Alex asked. “Sveindis was lying to Vivi?”

“Um … my answer depends on how mad you will be.” Lena ducked her head to avoid Alex’s gaze.

“We’re not mad that you have a girlfriend, Lena.” Svenja pushed herself from the table and took Lena’s hand.

“We’re mildly irritated we found out from changing room gossip,” Alex added, coming over to squeeze Lena’s shoulders. “Look at me,” she instructed when Lena still refused to look her in the eye.

“Your girlfriend is Y/F/N Y/S/N, yes? Barca’s number 17.”

“Yeh,” Lena couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her face at the mention of you.

“Does she treat you well, Obi?” Svenja asked.

“Yes, she treats me very well.”

“And you treat her well?” Alex added.

“I like to think so. She said I make her happy.”

“Good. When will she next be in Wolfsburg? Or at a match?” Svenja asked

“I’m going to see her at her away game in Madrid when we have the free weekend, but our schedules don’t line up for a while after that. They match up again just after the international break, so she’s coming here.” Lena explained.

“Good, gives us longer to prepare a speech.” Alex said to Svenja

“Speech?” Lena asked, slightly weary of what might happen – she knew that the 2 women could be very intimidating, especially if you weren’t German or didn’t know them very well.

“Yes, a speech—the ‘do not mess with Obi’ speech. I don’t doubt you will get one from Putellas and maybe Bronze and Paños, too. They seem very protective of her.” Svenja pulled Lena into a hug as Alex ruffled her hair.

L💚: Whose speech will be worse? Alexia’s or Alex and Svenja’s?

[Initial]💙❤️: Hmm, scary Germans or scary Spaniards???

L💚: I will endure it

L💚: Just for u Schatz

[Initial]💙❤️: As will I

[Initial]💙❤️: Only 4 u meine Leibe

I hope you enjoyed this little sub-chapter thing. I'm on my uni holidays atm so hopefully I can write the next chapter fairly soon but I do have deadlines etc <3

Also thank you to all the love from the anons ahaha - it means a lot to me <3<3<3<3<3<3

#woso community #woso #barca femeni #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso imagine #lena oberdorf x reader #ona batlle #lena oberdorf #jule brand #alex popp #vfl wolfsburg frauen #vfl wolfsburg women #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fluff #woso oneshot #woso one shot

[hihhasotherfixations]

Wedded - Dragon! John Price x Reader | Chapter 1

When you are mistaken by a dragon as his promised bride, you unexpectedly need to learn how to live with your new husband. After all, the dragon made a deal, and he wants his end of the bargain - you.

Current | Next Chapter

The results of the poll were clear. Dragon Price is first to come up and be written. This was also the only option who’s fic had multiple chapters sooo, woop woop! Hope you all enjoy :3

CW: f!reader, dragon Price, violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3028

Walking into the town, your eyes curiously looked around, an excitement blooming inside you – one you always found yourself in any time you got to a new part of the land, finding cities and villages you never knew existed.

This time, you’d made it to a village just south of the roaring mountains. A range that spanned the border of the land near the east. It was a relatively small village, and as you walked through to the marketplace, you immediately became aware of how close-knit the community was, as everyone seemed to know everyone.

Making you stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, your travels hadn’t gotten you this far if that was something that scared you off. And without further thought, you stepped up to one of the market brokers. The man was a botanist, obviously, selling herbs and wildflowers, your keen eyes curiously scanning around.

“Hello, madam!” The vendor perked up, giving you a once over, noting the large bag slung over your shoulder, as well as the leather-wrapped stick you were leaning on. “New to town?”

“Good morning.” You smiled politely. “Yes I am. It’s very nice.” You said, though as you looked around, it was evident that a scuffle had recently taken place. Broken wood and scorch marks riddling the buildings around.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked, that typical salesman smile on his face.

Giving a small smile back, you shook your head. “No, I’m just looking for now.” You declined.

As you perused, you recognised most of the man’s wares. Within your own bag that was currently slung over your shoulder, you kept several exact specimens like the ones laid out before you.

After all, you’d been collecting them.

For the last three years, you’d been scouring the land, finding and testing herbs and wildflowers for their potencies and effects. What was once a hobby had become your life, with you abandoning your old one in the process. Yet not a day passed where you regretted your newfound freedom.

“Say, you seem very knowledgeable in this.” The vendor suddenly spoke up and you glanced at him, tilting your head in curiosity. Seeing that, the man explained. “Your eyes zero in on the rarer plants and skip over the common ones. Not many know them like I do.” He complimented.

“Oh, yes.” You smile. “I’m… well, a researcher. I’m writing a field guide on the plants of this continent and their effects.” You said, slight pride in your voice. Though it wasn’t a secret per se, saying it out loud was not something you often did. But giving the man’s profession, you figured it was worth a shot. “I’m looking for some rarer plants and I must ask, what is this one?” You questioned, pointing at a flower to the right. It had white, pointed petals that slowly turned blue the closer it got to the core, yellow spore marking the centre while the stem and leaves itself were green. Nothing like you’d ever seen before.

“That? Oh, that is a mountainscale lily.” He smiled, picking up the dried specimen. “Very rare. Found only in caves high up in the mountains.” As he said that, he turned and pointed to the looming mountain behind the village.

“I’ve never seen them before.” You mused, leaning in to get a better look.

“They’re native to this region. Only grow under very specific circumstances.” He explained and you nodded, curious.

“Is this in a place I could reach?” You questioned, making the vendor frown.

“I would not advise-“ “Ah! Hold on!” A woman suddenly interrupted, sliding in beside the merchant, her hand on his arm. The man looked a little startled, glancing at her in confusion, to which the woman nudged her head in your direction with an easy smile. “Look at the lady, she’s well equipped! Don’t be underestimating her now.” She teased, bumping her hip into his before squeezing his arm to get his attention and sending him a pointed stare, one you felt you shouldn’t be witnessing. At it, the man glanced from her to you – who was standing there confused – before grunting as he looked away from you, muttering under his breath.

Confused, you turned to the woman who turned to face you while smiling wide.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“That’s… okay.” You hummed, shifting your hiking stick to your other hand, a little put off by her sudden appearance. “So, am I correct in saying you think I could get to where the flowers grow?” You questioned, the woman seeming to light up.

“I am positive! In fact, I would like to ask to make a deal with you. Hire you, if you will.”

That was both intriguing and concerning at the same time. Anyone could take one glance at you and see you weren’t exactly a mercenary for hire.

“Darla, no-“ The man started, placing his hand on her shoulder, but the woman just shrugged it off.

“Hush now, I’m sure it will be no problem.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on you, to which the man grabbed her elbow, forcefully turning her to face him.

“Don’t. This is our problem. We must bear the consequences.” He said pointedly, but Darla scoffed and yanked her arm free.

“We have a perfectly capable young woman here.” She spoke, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” You asked, confused and before the man could say anything, Darla stepped in.

“These flowers. They have a healing capability. About a month ago, our village was raided and our supply stolen.” She spoke, a resentment sounding in her voice. “It was supposed to last us through the winter but now new flowers need to be plucked. The problem is that gathering them requires skill and knowledge. No one but my husband can do it, but he injured his leg during the raid and hasn’t been able to make the trip.” She said while gesturing to him.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear.” You frowned in sympathy, looking at the vendor who had a defeated look, sitting down on his stool behind his stall. When looking around at the village, the evidence of a scuffle was clear. And not a small one. Not only were there the ruins and scorch marks around you, some houses were even burned down on the outskirts – which you’d seen when coming into town.

“Listen.” The man spoke up, catching your attention again. “The mountains aren’t easy to traverse, especially with an injury. It’s not a safe road. Think about this.” He warned, looking at his plants, avoiding your eyes.

Your brows creased together in thought as you then looked at the woman. “So… what is it you want?”

Darla perked up, her eyes landing on you before turning pleading as she walked around the stall, grasping your hands and holding them up between you and her. “We will tell you how to find the flowers. And in return, I beg you to retrieve a satchel full of them for our village. We cannot survive winter without them.”

Blinking in surprise, you looked from her, down to the pressed flower laying on the wood of the stall. You’d never heard of a flower which had capabilities such as that. 

“I-“ You glanced up at her again. Her hand was holding yours tightly.

“You can take this one for free.” She then quickly spoke, grabbing the pressed flower and pushing it into your hand.

Frowning, you looked down at it, briefly studying the colours and make before sighing, looking at the vendor again, who was still looking down. While the thought of a flower having such potent capabilities was hard to believe - not without it having some sort of addicting feature – the opportunity to study it was too good to pass up. “Okay.”

At your simple word, Darla lit up, grinning wide, though it was almost scary as she then turned to her husband and hugged him. “We’re going to be alright!” Before you could say anything, she moved back over to you, gripping your shoulders. “You will save every young maiden in our village from a terrible and ill fate.”

Letting out a bit of a confused chuckle, you leaned back a bit. “Why, does the flower not affect men?”

At that, Darla cackled a laugh – a surprisingly pleasant sound.

“Come, let me give you a map and explain how to get there.” She smiled, placing her hand on your backpack, gently pushing you with her, leading you across the market.

And in the haste of her offering you a place to stay at her impressively lavish two-story house, food, a map into the mountains and all the instructions that came with it, you failed to realise that the herbal vendor never came to the house, nor that neither him or Darla wore wedding rings.

- - - -

Leaning on your stick, you paused at the edge of the trail, huffing and puffing.

Since the early hours of dawn you’d been walking, resting periodically to make sure you’d be fit to continue.

According to Darla, the hike to the nearest cave containing the wildflowers was ten hours – on top of the hour you’d already travelled by horse together with the woman.

She had been incredibly helpful, sticking close to you and repeatedly thanking you for being willing to do this. Hell, it almost felt like she was glued to your hip until the moment you reached the foot of the mountain, where she was all too eager to send you off on your way, taking the horses back home.

Not that you blamed her.

Walking over to the rocky face of the mountain, you leaned against it, staying away from the trail’s edge, not to keen to fall down it. Shifting down to sit, you pulled your backpack off your back, digging in to get your journal where you flicked to the most recent entry.

Opening the page, you carefully picked up the pressed mountainscale lily, turning it in your hand. Before parting ways with Darla, you’d asked her many questions about the flower’s properties. She’d seemed a little flustered, almost unwilling to talk about it.

Glancing down at your notes, you pulled out the charcoal pencil from the spine of your journal, drawing a line down from the drawing you made of the flower.

Hunching forward, you scribbled a single word before a loud thud suddenly echoed through the forest down below, making you snap your head up, looking over the sea of orange-leafed trees before you. Far in the distance, birds rose to the air, making you hum curiously.

Glancing back down at the journal, you placed the flower back between the pages before closing the book, getting back to your feet again, ready to pass the next few hours mulling over your new hypothesis, that one word echoing in your mind.

‘Addictive?’

- - - -

Pulling your coat tightly around yourself, you shivered, tying the strings directly under your chin. Even with the sun shining fully in the sky, the air was frigid – a cause of both the height you were walking at, as well as the nearing of winter.

You’d long since pulled out your woollen hat, keeping yourself as warm as possible, your hands feeling like ice.

Holding your map tight, your eyes glanced from the parchment and up the trail you were currently on. It was small, a goat’s path more than anything and one misstep would result in you plummeting down onto rocks far below.

Yet as you looked right, you couldn’t help but be in absolute awe by the view.

As far as your eyes could see, the forest stretched. Along the way, a wide river shimmered in the slowly setting sun, everything bathed in a gorgeous light, enhancing the golden leaves of the autumn trees. If you weren’t at threat of losing the light, you’d have sat down to draw it.

Looking back at the map, you breathed out, exhausted. Your feet hurt, every step making you question whether or not this was worth all the hassle. Yet as you grasped onto the brittle rock on your left and rounded the bend, you saw it.

A large opening sat in the side of the mountain, a plateau in front of it providing plenty of space. The cave opening alone must have been the size of nearly two houses beside each other.

And about ten meters in front of you, you saw it.

A mountainscale lily gently flowed back and forth in the breeze, the petals gently moving.

Firmly pushing off your stick, you began walking towards it, crouching beside the flower.

It was small, incomplete and evidently not growing in ideal circumstances, too exposed to the wind.

Leaving it where it was, you kept going. The cave sat about thirty meters ahead and your heart began thudding in excitement.

Every herb and wildflower you’d documented so far was one you either already knew, or had vaguely heard of. All of them were known, most likely researched, used in experiments until every purpose was exploited. But this one? You’d never heard of a flower like this. And the thought of you being the first to properly document it? It filled you with an eager excitement.

Reaching the cave, instantly you saw the lily’s on the edges of the opening, blooming in the dirt-like ground that littered the plateau you were standing on, the forest behind you and far below.

Taking off your backpack, you moved over the left, crouching by a cluster of the flowers. Digging into your pack, you pulled out your journal and knife, carefully starting to prod at and study the flower, carelessly scribbling anything of note down.

Your mind was only focused on a single thing, yet as you inspected the flower, you noted that even in its alive state, the colours were less bright than the pressed flower the vendor had given you. Even these flowers weren’t sufficiently growing.

“Is it the cave?” You mumbled to yourself, setting your items down and getting to your feet.

Slowly, you started to walk in through the massive opening, your body casting a tiny shadow in the large circle of light.

For a minute or so, you moved. Yet the further you went, the more you walked, a dread slowly started to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Something felt off.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, ominous and casting shadows onto the top of the cavern.

The light from the entrance was pale, limited. And as you walked forward, you slowly got to the cap of it. Daylight reached into the cave in almost a halo. A safe circle of pale light, ending where you stood now, right at your feet.

Normally, you didn’t feel like this. Normally, you’d step into the shaded part of a cavern without trouble but in this moment? You couldn’t.

There was something about this place that wasn’t right. Unnatural.

…Warm.

The cave was warm.

It was subtle, not immediately noticeable until you focused on it, but still your eyes widened in realisation of that fact. Despite climbing high up, damn near into the mountains to get here. There was no frigid cold. The difference from the moderately chilly air outside and in here was noticeable. And it definitely didn’t come from the watery sun outside.

A breeze suddenly picked up, a gust of wind so fast you had to snap your hand up to hold onto your hat, your eyes closing on instinct as your clothes billowed and ruffled.

Clutching the strap of your bag with one hand and your hat with the other, you dared to peek an eye open. Yet as you did, your heart sunk, watching as the sun that had been shining on your back was blocked, a shadow sliding in and covering your body.

The gust of wind passed, your heartbeat thudding harshly in your chest as you could hear every breath you took, your eyes wide as you stared at the unnatural shadow currently cast over you. A shadow that shouldn’t be there. A shadow that wasn’t a second ago.

Slowly, as if a thousand weights hung on you, you turned your head around. And the clench of your jaw slackened as a terror fell over you.

Sitting there, sprawled  across the opening of the cave, hung a dragon.

With scales a deep green, its eyes were fixed on you, unblinking while it sat. Hanging on the rock, its massive form blocked out the sunlight, small slivers only escaping near the corners of the scaly creature, the light almost casting it in a halo. Or hellfire.

You’d never seen a dragon before, only heard stories of knights or travellers, regaling the terror and power they could wreak.

You didn’t dare blink or move, just stuck in a staring contest until for the first time, it made a noise as a billow of smoke escaped its maw, a rumble echoing through the cave as it shifted, muscle rippling and scales glistening in the light.

With a deliberate and slow movement, it flexed the joints of its wings, stretching them slightly and blocking out even that last bit of sunlight that was on your body, fully encasing you in its mighty shadow.

With barely anything else to do, you turned your body around to face it like your head was, and as if on cue, that made it move.

Slinking down from the large cave entrance, the dragon landed on the rocky ground, front paws thudding down before the rest of the body followed, moving towards you.

Terrified, you stumbled back, wanting to run, though your heel hooked behind the uneven ground of the cave, making you fall onto your back harshly.

With the wind knocked out of you, you’d barely opened your eyes before you found the dragon’s maw hanging right above you, an amusement dancing in the crinkle of its eyes.

“Please-“ You whispered, only for the dragon to not hear as it instead spoke.

“Finally made the decision to show up, did we? You’re four hours late.”

-

I’ll try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can! Please let me know what you thought and if there is interest for a tag list for future chappies ❤️

#john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod x reader #dragon john price

[tragedybunny]

Slow Dancing In a Burning Room - Chapter 1

༺Summary༻

In a moment of weakness, Serafina helped Astarion ascend, forever altering him and their relationship. Irrevocably bonded in violence, can she survive life at his side, or will she be broken by the cycle of pain and terror.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav)

༺Warnings༻ Dubcon / Noncon elements (mild this chapter), violence, toxic / abusive relationships

༺Word Count༻ 2128

༺A/N༻This will be a bit of a darker take on Ascended Astarion and the relationship with his Consort, and a bit of an AU for how I normally portray him and Serafina's relationship. As such I am not tagging anyone unless specifically requested for this fic. Additionally I would like to note this is my take on Ascended Astarion, or maybe one of my takes on him, but I will not say it is some definitive take and does not invalidate anyone else's headcanon or ideas about the character. Thanks to @leomonae for betaing this chapter.

꧁༺Chapter 1 - The Ascendant Vampire Lord ༻꧂

“Isn’t that what you want, to be mine forever?” the man that still bore Astarion’s appearance, but seemed less like him every passing moment, asked. 

A great, black pit opened in Serafina’s heart at his words. Never once had she indicated that she wished to be his spawn - or Consort, as he was so deviously calling it. “No, Astarion, that’s not what I want at all.” 

None of this was what she wanted. The ritual had promised him freedom, and in a moment of weakness, with his tormentor there on his knees, she’d agreed. The thousands of spawn couldn’t be loosed upon the world, and this way Astarion would be safe. Maybe it was the exhaustion and fear that had worn down her senses, maybe it was her foolish heart, so blindly in love, but something had clouded her judgment in that moment. And now nothing felt right; there was something different behind those crimson eyes she’d thought she knew so well. Or maybe she hadn’t; maybe this was him all along. There was something cruel and hungry, lurking, waiting, and when he stared at her too long, it made her shiver. And all those souls…

“Ah, pity. You deserve to be beautiful forever, my love.” Then those eyes softened and it was the Astarion she knew looking at her. Smiling warmly, he wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her forehead. “But whatever makes my darling happy.” 

Burying her face in his chest, she could feel his hands softly rubbing her back. Was it possible she’d been imagining all that darkness? After almost a full day without sleep, and the trauma of the battle with Cazador and the ritual, she was no longer sure of anything. 

Just thinking about it made her yawn unconsciously. “Is my little love sleepy,” he cooed in her ear, hands running through her hair, just like all the nights they’d shared a bed and he’d cuddled close to her. 

It was her own guilt, that was all. The guilt for those lives that had been taken in the ritual. This was still Astarion; her exhausted mind was just playing tricks on her. “Mmm, yeah, I can hardly stand.” 

She gasped as her legs were swept out from under her and Astarion held her to his chest. “Private room, a little time for just the two if us before you sleep?” he asked in a sultry whisper, his offer clear.

Suddenly much more awake, looking up, she caught his gaze again, wondering at the sudden desire. “You’re sure?”

“Don’t be…” His response was almost snappish, but he caught himself. “Of course I am. I love you.” 

Three little words, everyone’s favorite. Was he sincere? But why wouldn’t he be, after everything? Gods, she really was too tired. “I love you too, Astarion.” 

“Always?” It sounded like a plea: like the man who told her that he’d deceived her into loving him, but that he wanted it to be real. 

“Always, my Starry Sky,” She kissed the hollow of his throat softly, content to accept his words, and let him carry her away to the room at the Elfsong set apart from the shared common area.

The room was full of soft candlelight and the bed was freshly made, the scent of clean linen mixed with Astarion’s own blend of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. It felt vibrant, alive, and welcoming. He gently laid her down amongst the pillows. “Let's get you comfortable,” Astarion purred, pulling her boots off. 

Sera shifted, pushing up on her elbows as her boots were discarded, her exhausted brain trying to fend off the last of the drowsiness. Something cold slithered into her stomach as Astarion began to strip off his shirt, baring himself to the waist. No, they were celebrating, this was their victory. There was nothing wrong with it. 

“Like what you see?” he smirked, the picture of that roguish charm she'd fallen for. 

A hesitant smile answered him. This was what she wanted, Astarion happy and the two of them free to be in love. “Is there any doubt, my love?” He was too far away though. “Come to me, I want to touch you.” That would put things right, having him in her arms. 

“Soon, my treasure.” He was already tugging on the laces of his trousers. The way he was rid of them and his boots was too precise: methodical, not passionate. 

Sitting fully, she pushed back against those thoughts. They were finding themselves again. For a moment, she drank him in, in all his impossible beauty, as though hand-sculpted by some god. “Astarion.” The word was a plea: for him to touch her, to show her those doubts were unfounded. 

With feline grace he came to her, kneeling beside her on the bed, his lips capturing hers before traversing down. “My sweet Serafina,” he murmured, lips burning hot against her skin as fangs teased her throat. Fingers that no longer held the cool of the grave brushed her skin as he tugged at her shirt. Shrugging out of it, she pulled him to her, hands wandering his ivory skin, the lines of his scars rigid against her palms. A reminder that he had paid the price for all of this years before the ritual. Didn’t he deserve the freedom it gave him?

“I love you, I want you,” she moaned as his tongue ran along the shell of her ear. 

“Then you shall have me, my love.” Already his hands were working to free her from her pants, moving to them from her waist at such speed, she’d hardly noticed. He stripped them from her with demanding fervor. 

Greedily, his eyes roamed her bared body. “My love, all mine,” he growled, shifting to kneel between her thighs, spreading her legs. 

As he leaned down to kiss her again, the press of his cock against her already wet slit made her whimper and roll her hips against him. My love, the blood in her veins sang, echoing him; her whole body craving him and her heart trembling with love. 

“Mine,” he whispered again, darkness slipping into his voice. 

A shiver ran through her and her lips parted. Whatever words she might have said died on her tongue as his unyielding grip fixed on her wrists, pinning them above her head. A gasp was pulled from her as his cock pushed inside her, forcing her open for him. 

The pain was momentary as slow thrusts of his hips let her accommodate his girth. And it was so good to feel him inside her, to be together in this way. Rolling her hips, she met his thrusts, even as her wrists remained pinned above her. Soft whimpers filled the air between them as he lavished soft kisses on her skin from her chest to her throat. They lingered on the spot he'd bitten last, marks all but faded. 

Without warning, his fangs pierced her skin; Sera let out a yelp, but the sting faded into the haze of pleasure quickly. Blood pumped from her heart to his, nourishing the man she loved. “Astarion,” she breathed, feeling herself clench around him. 

“Come for me, my pet.” Something was wrong again, his voice like ice, the hands that held her turned to iron. Gasping, her release came, but his fangs remained in her neck, drawing out a crimson tide.

“Astarion, stop.” Her voice had already grown quiet, the edges of her vision blackening. Panic weighed down her already struggling heart. He had no intention of stopping, did he? Weakly, she tried to fight the grip on her wrists that held her in place and robbed her of her ability to cast magic. Far away, she could hear something: a slow thudding, her heart beating out its last feeble pumps. Eyelids that were too heavy closed and the cold of the grave Astarion had escaped enveloped her. 

“You’ll thank me later, little love,” the Vampire Ascendant said, with the voice of the man she loved. 

There was nothing, just an endless sea of icy darkness. It was peaceful though: no tadpole, no warlock pact, no family to run from and haunt her memories…no Astarion and whatever the ritual had done to him. If this was eternity, she could embrace it and lay down her burdens. 

It seemed that was too much to ask of the universe; awareness slowly came back to her. Limbs stiff and cold, not responding as they should, lungs that didn’t move of their own accord anymore, and a heart that barely beat. Flashes of images filled her mind, sensations and snippets of what had happened, Astarion on top of her, draining her life away, betraying her. Her dead heart ached and she hesitantly ran a tongue over her teeth, finding elongated canines sharp enough to prick. Maybe if she just kept her eyes closed, she could finish dying, and not face what had been done. 

“I can sense you stirring, Serafina. Open your eyes, love. Let me welcome you to your new life.” It wasn’t a command that compelled her and yet, she found herself inclined to do as he asked. Another wound to add to the others tearing her apart. He was her murderer and master in the span of hours. And she, his spawn and consort. 

Eyes opening, she found him sitting next to her, peacefully reading. “There you are,” Astarion’s smile was enough to bare his fangs as he greeted her. “How do you feel?”

Sera whimpered, eyes surprisingly wet for someone who was dead. “Why?” 

Astarion’s book snapped shut violently and his crimson eyes turned hard. “Are you really going to be petulant and ungrateful? I did this for you. You weren’t ready to accept it yet, but now you’ll live forever, perfect and beautiful.” Wetness dotted her cheeks and his voice turned gentle again. “Shh, I’m sorry I was short with you.” Sliding closer, he wrapped an arm around her, coaxing her to lay her head on his shoulder. “I love you Sera. I had to do this, I couldn’t bear to ever be without you. Don’t you understand?”

She hadn’t been ready for everything that had happened since she was taken by the Nautiloid. All she had wanted was freedom, not to become everyone’s leader and pillar of support, not to fall so helplessly in love. One misstep had brought it all crashing down. The striving had tired her, and it was easier to nod her head, stifle her tears, and agree with him. Easier to believe him. That it was for love. “I wish you would’ve given me time to think.” 

���Sera.” His voice caught in appropriate regret, “I’m sorry. I just did it, I didn’t think. We’ll be alright, won’t we?”

“We will,” she reassured him, taking his hand in hers. They were bound now anyway; looking back just meant more regrets. 

Tilting her head up, he brought his lips delicately to hers, leaving a pleasant haze in her mind, so unlike the last, violent, touch of his that had ended her life. “That’s more like it, my sweet.” A sudden pain in her abdomen caused her to wince, and Astarion cup her cheek softly, rubbing a thumb along it comfortingly. “You poor thing, I bet you’re starving too. Once we get some blood in you, everything will be alright. Let’s go get changed and see to it.”

Astarion rose, offering her his hand and helping her up. Her legs trembled slightly and she fought to steady herself. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he chuckled softly. “At least you didn’t have to claw your way out of your grave.”

He let her lean on him all the way back to the common room, his touch making her feel safe, wanted, loved. Perhaps there was something to this new Astarion: a stronger man than before, more sure of himself. Not that he hadn’t made her feel those same things before, but there was more confidence in him now. 

There was no mistaking what Astarion had done as their group gathered to plan their day. Her companions studied her, none of them remarking on the change for the moment. Finally, when their eyes seemed to harbor some unvoiced suspicion, Astarion whisked her away, explaining her need to be fed. 

As she changed for the day, Shadowheart wandered over, some laundry of Sera’s that had been mixed into hers in her hand. Sera was about to thank her, when she leaned in and whispered swiftly, “I thought you didn’t want to do this?’

Swallowing thickly, Sera let her eyes wander to where Astarion was discussing something with Gale. “I changed my mind,” she lied. They wouldn’t understand; they were so ready to condemn him as a monster. “Astarion needs me.”

#bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x original female character #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #bg3 tav #bg3 tav serafina #ascended astarion #slow dancing in a burning room

[peachy-posy]

Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: After putting yourself in a dangerous situation, you and Vash have one of your first major arguments.

A/N: Third Trigun fic, woohoo! This was my first time writing something with the 98 versions of characters specifically in mind, so I hope everything feels in character! I tried my best hehe Last chapter will have smut (my first time writing any hhhh), minors DNI!!! Cross-posted to my AO3 <3

Chapter Tags: Established relationship, canon-typical violence, minor violence/injuries, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3.1k

Traveling with only men is decidedly… not very fun, in your opinion. At least not the ones you're with. You lean your head in your hands, listening vaguely as Vash and Wolfwood argue between themselves in their good-natured, but annoying way. You tuned them out about half an hour ago when the conversation started heading in that argumentative direction. 

You miss Milly and Meryl. When the boys start debating and arguing, the three of you have your own conversation, laughing and joking with each other. The insurance girls had been sent to a neighboring town several days ago, promising to meet back up with you three in a week or so. That day could not come sooner. 

Your eyes, which have been glazed over for some time now, focus as Wolfwood huffs, leaning back in his chair. Vash does the same, but you don’t feel any real malice between them as usual. Seems like they are finally done. 

You glance over at the blonde, feeling his turquoise eyes on you.

“Everything okay, Mayfly?” He questions with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand. 

You smile, even as Wolfwood groans something to the effect of ‘Oh, here we go.’

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking about Meryl and Milly,” you answer, prompting a bright smile from Vash at the mention of the two girls. 

“Aw, what, we aren’t fun enough for ya, sweetheart?” Wolfwood asks, his tone teasing. 

You glance at him tiredly. “Unfortunately not. Sorry.” 

He feigns hurt, over-exaggerating his reaction. “You wound me!” Vash chuckles to your side, and you share an amused smile with him. This ramps up the theatrics from the preacher, and he looks at Vash. “How can you lie down and take this? You’re included in that statement, you know.” 

Vash shrugs, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. Your heart flutters at the action. 

“Oh, please. Get a room,” Wolfwood remarks. You can’t help but snort, even as Vash puffs up. 

As he begins to reply, gunshots echo from somewhere outside: perhaps near the town square. You jump, slightly surprised, and Vash’s hold on your hand tightens as he hears shouting from outside. 

You know what comes next. 

Wolfwood grabs his Punisher, stretching casually as he stands. Vash stands as well, walking over to you briskly, kneeling at your side. He takes you by your shoulders, locking eyes with you, and calls your name.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a bit, right? Don’t come out unless one of us comes for you.” 

“I know the drill, Vash. Be careful,” you reassure, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He smiles against your lips, able to get lost in the moment, but only for... well, a moment. More gunshots and screams ring out, and he stands up with renewed urgency, meeting Wolfwood at the entrance with long strides. 

Vash glances at you one last time before exiting. You blink and the two are gone, leaving you behind in the old tavern. The few patrons that were there as well had gone to investigate the commotion, leaving you alone. 

You sigh, unwanted frustration with your situation bubbling up in your chest. Unfortunately, it’s like this all the time. After all, you aren’t some incredible, talented gunslinger. You’re just a healer in love with one. 

You slowly stand up, leaving the table you three had been occupying, scrutinizing the room for a good place to hide. After a few minutes, you find yourself a nice little spot behind the bar. It’s not necessarily perfect, but it’ll do. 

You lower yourself to the floor, preparing yourself for the waiting game. You wonder how long it’ll take for them to come back today. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour? 

You hear more gunfire and shouting in the distance, and you try your best to ignore it for now, despite the uneasiness settling in your chest. There’s nothing you can do for anyone until the danger is over. You know that this general course of action is what is safest for you. You hide yourself away, waiting for the ‘all clear,’ then tend to any and all wounded people who happen to get caught up in whatever happens, a reassuring smile plastered on your face all the while. This is how you do your part in the small group you’ve found yourself in. 

It also allows Vash to not be worried about your safety while actively dodging bullets. 

You’d worked in a small clinic before meeting the Humanoid Typhoon what feels like ages ago. Your role as a doctor’s assistant made you happy at the time; it made you feel fulfilled and helpful. And it still does! 

That said, you sometimes find yourself wishing that you could protect others the way Vash and Wolfwood can. Not that you want to throw yourself into the fray of battle, but you hate feeling so… useless at times like this when the fighting first breaks out. Weak. Like something that needs to be tucked away and protected. 

Vash adores that you are a healer. He’ll sometimes sit with you on quiet nights, his fingers rubbing affectionate circles into your hands while he holds them, saying that your hands were made for saving people. You tell him that his hands were too, but he denies it every single time. He says his hands were made for violence. For destruction. 

You couldn’t disagree more. 

Not when you see all of the good he does, protecting those around him with the very hands he swears will bring destruction to everything they touch. 

You are startled out of your thoughts by the sound of a bullet ricocheting particularly close by. You hold your breath, trying to gauge how far away the person who fired it is. You can hear voices in the distance that sound closer than wherever the main incident is. You bite your lip, considering if you are hidden well enough. Slowly, you begin to notice the sounds of… crying? 

You know Vash doesn’t want you to put yourself in harm’s way, but what exactly would looking through a window do? Besides, the crying sounds too much like a child for your comfort. 

You rise slowly from behind the bar, finding your resolve to investigate. Making your way over to a nearby window on light feet, you carefully peek outside. At first, there is nothing that you can see. Suddenly, though, a small child running down the street comes into view. He’s crying, dust coating his hands and knees. He’s bleeding from a few small cuts that you can see from your current view of him, but otherwise seems physically unharmed. 

You gasp as the boy trips, tumbling hard into the dusty ground. He sucks in a sharp breath, bottom lip wobbling. In the blink of an eye, four men concealing their faces with bandanas are upon the boy, one of them grabbing him roughly. 

The child shrieks, thrashing in the man’s hold. To your horror, another one of the men points a gun at him. He can’t be more than five years old. The sight of it makes you nauseated. 

“You’re gonna regret running, you damn brat,” one of the men rasps angrily at the sobbing child. 

“Bring him back to where the other townspeople are. Make sure you don’t lose any this time,” one of the other men orders. 

“G-got it,” one of them replies nervously. 

“If it happens again, it’s your head.” 

It seems like this gang took some hostages when they got here, and this boy escaped. You can’t let them take him back. They don’t seem to have any issue shooting him, as you heard that gunshot earlier as they chased him. Your hands are trembling and clammy, but you know you have to do something. 

But with what? You don’t have a weapon. You desperately look around the tavern, and your eyes land on a knife and empty bottles. Acting quickly, you grab one of each, a messy and dangerous plan forming as you go. 

All you have working for you is the element of surprise. You can’t fight, but you know where to hit someone to make it count due to your medical training. You just hope you’re fast enough. 

You look outside once more, and you notice that two of the men are gone. The other two that remain are talking to one another for the time being, distracted. One holds the child in a punishing grip, surely causing bruises to form on his small wrist. He's wailing in earnest, despite the captors' barking at him to quit. 

It’s now or never. You open the door as quietly as you can manage, gripping the bottle. You’ll have to hit one of the men as hard as you can in the head with the bottle, then use the knife you’d pocketed to strike the other. Your plan is to slash the ligaments behind the knee, immobilizing the person. The bottle isn’t very ideal, but you’re worried your lack of skill with a knife will cause you to accidentally lose the weapon in a body if you try to use it for both men. 

Unfortunately, you know your plan has little chance of success. Once you attack one, the other knows you’re there. Your best bet is to incapacitate the one holding the child first and to assess in the moment if you can deal with the other. There is a large chance you’ll just have to grab the kid and run as fast as you can, hoping you find Vash or Wolfwood if you make it to the town square. You look down at the threshold of the tavern, trying to will your legs to move forward. Your body is frozen, unable to walk outside. 

Suddenly, one of the men turns on his heels, striding back down the street where they originally came from. That gets you moving. 

You hide yourself behind the door hastily, praying you haven’t been spotted. Several terrifying moments pass where you wait for them to descend upon you. You can hear your heartbeat thrumming in your head, throbbing in anticipation of the worst. 

The attack never comes. They haven’t seen you.

You can’t believe your stroke of luck. You may actually be able to pull off incapacitating a single person, even with your limited capabilities in combat. 

You carefully set the bottle on the ground, reaching for the knife you grabbed. You peek around the door, eyes finding the man and boy immediately. The man is yanking the child, trying to get him to cooperate. His back is towards the tavern. 

You grip the kitchen knife firmly, trying to control your shaking hands as you emerge from behind the door. You approach as swiftly and quietly as you can, soon finding yourself within striking distance of your target. 

Just slash the back of his knee. He shouldn’t be able to chase you if you tear a ligament. 

Steeling yourself, you aim for the back of the man’s knee, slashing with as much force as you can muster. 

You know you succeeded when he howls in pain, immediately letting go of the child and grabbing his knee, falling to the sandy, dusty street. He is bleeding, gripping his knee tightly, and he turns to look at you with a shocked glare, his eyes filled with malice. 

You drop the knife in shock, your bloody hands making you nauseous. 

Time to go! 

The child is pale, shaking like a leaf as you scoop him into your arms. The man shouts from the ground, and you see him start fumbling around, looking for something. 

“Get back here! You bitch!” 

You turn on your heels, sprinting as fast as your legs can go. You hear a deafening gunshot, flinching as a bullet hits the dirt nearby. You realize that he had been trying to get his gun, and unfortunately for you, he found it.

He shoots again, but you have already begun weaving as you run, hoping to throw his aim off. The child is clutching onto you fiercely, burying his head into your shoulder. More bullets hit the ground around you, and your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. As you turn the nearest street corner, you find yourself shocked and relieved your plan is working. You just might actually be able to save this child. 

Your thoughts come to an abrupt, violent halt when you notice a dark blur in your periphery. A man slams his gun into your head with a snarl, and you are thrown towards the ground. On your way down, you attempt to shield the boy as best you can, wrapping your arms around him tightly and trying to absorb the shock of slamming into the ground. The breath is knocked from your lungs as you collide into the street with a groan of pain. Your head is swimming, but you unwrap your arms, trying to sit up as quickly as possible and get the boy to his feet. He seems relatively unharmed, but terribly shaken up. 

“Run! Now!” You scream, and he thankfully listens. 

He darts off, right as the man reaches you. You see him start to move after the boy, but you lunge for and grab one of his legs, causing him to stumble with curses spilling from his lips. He whips his head down to look at you, and you do your best to not recoil from his gaze. 

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He scowls, kicking you off him. You gasp, hitting the ground once more with a painful thud. Your ears ring, and your vision is blurring. 

“Just who do you think you are?” He kneels in front of you, gripping your shirt’s collar and yanking you up. You whimper in pain, your head throbbing as he jostles you. 

“I hope it was worth it. You can take his place.” 

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie, managing to catch his eyes. Truth be told, you're terrified. But you’d never tell this scumbag that. 

He lets out a low, threatening laugh. Chills race down your spine. “Oh, you aren’t very smart, are you?” He laughs again, gripping your collar tightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. I’m still deciding. How about I rough you up a little till then?” 

You feel the burn of tears in your eyes, and blink quickly to dispel them before they can form. You refuse to cry in front of him. 

You desperately hope the boy is safe. You’re so close to the town square. Vash and Wolfwood should be right near here. 

Through your blurring vision and pounding head, you see the man rear his hand back. You shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself. 

Instead of feeling the collision of his hand, you hear a sharp intake of breath. You crack open your eyes hesitantly, vision blurring. 

Your breath is pulled from your lungs, tears of relief flowing immediately. Because even with blurring vision, you are able to recognize the long, red coat blowing in the wind. Standing behind the man who tackled you is Vash. He’s holding the man by the wrist, and he looks furious . 

“Vash,” you breathe out, voice trembling. 

The man drops you from his grip, and you fall into the ground, immediately using your heels to scoot away from him. After blinking several times to focus, you take a good look at Vash. You’ve never seen him so angry before. The hand he’s using to grip the wrist of your assailant is trembling with restraint.. 

“I-I know you! You’re Vash the Stampede!” The man realizes with wide eyes, his face pale. 

Vash says nothing, his eyes narrowing. The man continues his nervous rambling. 

“L-look, I didn’t… we didn’t know you were here. If you want this town, it’s all yours. We’ll leave.” 

You hold your breath, watching to see what Vash does next. Your heart aches for him, knowing that he is bothered by the rumors that precede him. That said, that infamous reputation is pretty convenient right now. 

Vash uses his gun to knock out the man without a word. He immediately goes limp, crumpling to the ground as Vash releases his wrist. You release the breath you’d been holding, noting the pain in your head and body, but mostly feel great relief. Vash’s gaze remains trained on the unconscious form before him, his expression complicated. Several beats of silence pass, and you feel yourself becoming slightly anxious. Why hasn’t he said anything this entire time?

“Vash?” You call hesitantly, voice quiet. 

Your voice snaps him out of his daze. His eyes flicker up to yours, relief washing over his features as he races forward, throwing himself on his knees in front of you. 

“Oh Mayfly, god, look what they did to you,” the words spill from his mouth as he holds you in a bone crushing hug to his chest. 

You let yourself be cradled in his arms, disappointed slightly when he pulls back after a moment. He looks pained. 

“Your head,” he murmurs, hand gently reaching for your temple. You hiss when his fingers graze the throbbing, painful area. He retracts his hand, the blood on his gloved fingertips making you realize you’re bleeding. 

“I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” he whispers, holding you close again. 

You furrow your brow and shake your head, trying to ignore the dizziness it causes. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my-” 

The words die on your tongue as you hear a familiar voice chattering animatedly around the corner. Both you and Vash turn to face the noise, seeing Wolfwood strolling around the corner of the building nearby, holding a child in his arms. You feel the tension drain from your body fully at the sight of the familiar little boy unharmed. 

You hastily stumble to your feet, trying to get over to him, doing your best to ignore the dizziness that overtakes you from the sudden movement. Vash scrambles after you, holding onto you as you sway. 

“Easy, easy! I think you have a concussion,” Vash implores, but you press forward stubbornly. 

The child sees you, squirming from Wolfwood’s grasp to reach you. With dried tears on his face, he looks up at you with big, worried eyes. You feel Vash’s hand at the small of your back, gently steadying you. 

“Well, looks like we found her! Good job, bud!” Wolfwood praises, ruffling the kid’s hair. 

A bright smile forms on his little face. He reaches out and snatches your hand. 

“Come help me find my mommy!”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #peachy writes!

[jamesbarnesbestgirl]

Una Noble Reina - Chapter 1

Summary: 

K'uk'ulkan’s mother knew her son was special from the moment he was born. It wasn’t until she realized that he was aging at a far slower pace that she felt a deep sadness for her son. She turned to Chaac, who had blessed her shaman with the vision that saved her people, for solace that her son would know happiness and love. Chaac bestowed upon her the knowledge that when the time was right her son would meet his match in a woman with K'áak'o' tu yicho'ob (fire in her eyes). 

Nearly 500 years later K'uk'ulkan is faced with the startling reality of his own mortality in the aftermath of the defeat at the hands of Shuri. With relations with Wakanda improved but still strenuous, K’uk’ulkan turns his focus to strengthening Talokan by any means necessary. While recovering from the battle he is reminded of his promised match and sets on a path to find her.

CHAPTER 1 - Nos despedimos con un saludo

Notes: 

The inspiration of this story is very loosely based around the Venezuelan legend of María Lionza (also referred to as Yara) the goddess of nature, love, peace and harmony. 

I have not written a fanfic in quite some time so please be gentle. 

The only specific physical description that I plan on writing into this fic is going to be that the reader has central heterochromia in both eyes. This is a genetic condition in which an individual has two eye colors, with a primary base color and a secondary color in a ring around the pupil. The base color is up for your personal interpretation, but the inner ring is described as a ring of fire in the reader's eyes. The reader is also aprox. 27 years old. 

Present Day - Orlando, FL

The world was going to shit. At least, that’s what you thought as you walked away from your advisor's office back towards your own. Ever since the second alien invasion of earth (that you were aware of at least) had whipped out half the planet only for everyone to be brought back five years later, your life had been slowly imploding. 

First your entire family had been snapped away, leaving you to fend for yourself and grow as a person on your own. Now, a year after they had returned, your PhD advisor dumps the fact that the University is redistributing all research funds for her lab towards vibranium research. Thus, leaving her without a way to fund research and you without a clear path forward to obtaining your PhD.

“That purple demon should have just done us the mercy of snapping everyone out of existence. At least that way our lives wouldn’t be falling apart.” You said begrudgingly as you sat down at your desk.  Hiding your head in your arms in the process. 

 “You too, huh?” your friend and fellow former PhD candidate Itzel said. “It could be worse. They are at least granting us a masters for the work we’ve already completed.” She said placing her hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. 

“Yayyy…” you say unenthusiastically waving your finger in the air without lifting your head. You take a few deep breaths to gather your feelings before sitting up in your chair. “I guess I will just start tutoring full time while I’m job hunting.” You said, attempting to smile. 

“You know, my mother is the principal at the local elementary school in my hometown.  A few days ago when I spoke with her she mentioned that they are looking for an English teacher.” Iztel stated, while fully turning to face you. “I’m sure if I ask she would be happy to get us both jobs at the school. Plus, aren't you always saying you want to improve your spanish? What better way to do that than to move to Mexico?” She added enthusiastically. 

“Supongo que eso podría funcionar. Un cambio de escenario debería hacerme bien.” you responded after careful consideration with a smile. 

“Perfecto!” Itzel exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I will speak to my mother tonight and then you can come over on the weekend and we can figure out the details.”

Feeling a renewed sense of hope you nodded in agreement. You finally turned towards your computer ready to get back to work for the day. 

Present Day - Talokan - Underwater Cavern

K'uk'ulkan was agitated. He was still attempting to wrap his head around his loss to Shuri. He had clearly underestimated her hunger for vengeance. Luckily for him and his people she had shown mercy at the eleventh hour. The loss was making him face a reality he was not expecting. That maybe, despite his best efforts, Talokan was not ready to fully protect herself from the surface world. Remaining hidden was becoming more difficult year after year. The tentative alliance that stemmed from the conflict with Wakanda would only act as a temporary solution to his dilemma. He needed a stronger way to ensure his people's safety. But how? 

“You’re doing it again.” stated Namora, as she entered his hut. 

“Doing what?” he asked, still lost in his thoughts. 

“Sulking.” she voiced. “You are the one that assured me that this alliance is what is best. If that has changed…” She continued.

“It hasn't.” K'uk'ulkan cut her off, finally turning his attention to Namora. 

“Then what has you so troubled?” Namora asked, her concern for her cousin seeping through her voice. “I ask as your cousin, not as your general.” She proceeds to sit next to him and look at the mural he was previously mindlessly staring at. 

K'uk'ulkan turned to her and sighed. “I stand by that the alliance with Wakanda is what’s best for Talokan, but I will not lie and say my ego was not bruised by the defeat.” He admitted. “I underestimated the princess, underestimated her drive.” he turned back towards the mural. 

“The surface world will turn on Wakanda, and when they do Talokan will be their only ally. I just need to make sure we are ready. That if, when the dust settles and Wakanda turns on us, there will be no question as to who the final victor will be.” He turns back to Namora, his jaw set in determination. 

Namora sits there with him, letting his statements sink in. They sit in silence as Namora scans the murals her king had painted throughout the hut. Moments of his history, of the history of Talokan, captured in the beautiful traditional paintings. One mural caught her eye. Slightly obstructed from view, below the mural depicting his birth, was a figure. The small mural was of a woman, one wearing an intricate crown, her eyes full of fire. 

“What about Le Reina?” She asked, breaking her cousin's contemplation once again. His focus shifts the mural Namora is gazing at. 

“She doesn’t exist. I’ve spent years searching for her.” he scoffs slightly, turning away from the mural. 

“I’ve never known you to be one to give up.” Namora says with a raised brow, a small smirk pulling at her lips. 

“I haven’t given up.” he scoffs in offense. “Le Reina, my match, I have always assumed would be a mutant, like me. I would know if there was another mutant within the waters of Talokan.” he stated firmly. 

Namora sat in contemplation for a moment. “It sounds like there is one place you have yet to look.” She turned her gaze to the hut door. 

“The surface world?” he questioned. “You think the queen of Talokan is from the surface world?”

“Well, have you checked?” Namora countered back. 

They let the silence once again take over. It is true that he had never considered a surface dweller. K'uk'ulkan had expected his match to be born in Talokan from the day his mother had told him of his intended. He had spent the better half of a century after he had first come of age searching for her. After almost 300 years of no sign of her, he had all but given up. 

“The surface world is a large place.” he stated. 

“Then we better start looking.” Namora said. She stood up and turned to exit his hut. 

16th Century - Yaracuy, Venezuela

In the rainforest of Venezuela, in a small village along the Yaracuy river the chief of the village waited impatiently outside his home. He paced back and forth along the river embankment. He could hear the labor pains of his wife from within his home. After a particularly loud groan from within the home he began to pray to their mountain god for the safe delivery of his child. 

A few minutes went by and the chief finally heard the cry of his newborn child. After a few moments one of the village women, who had assisted during the birth ushered him inside to meet his new child. 

“My love, come meet our beautiful daughter.” His wife gestured towards him with an exhausted smile on her face. 

The chief knelt beside his wife and pushed back her sweat soaked hair in a loving gesture. “May I hold her?” he asked as he kissed his wife’s forehead and silently thanked the gods for a safe delivery. 

His wife carefully transferred their newborn daughter into his arms. “She needs a name.” she said while smiling at her child. 

“Yara. Our beautiful Yara.” He said with a smile as he gently held his beloved daughter. 

As the family began to bond with their new member the child slowly opened her eyes. Both parents paused their loving gestures and looked from their child to each other. The girl's eyes were unlike anything the chief had encountered. She had eyes as green as the rainforest with rings of fire surrounding her pupils. 

Present Day - Orlando, FL

After your initial talk with Itzel you had finished up work for the day. That weekend you had spent nearly 5 hours on facetime with your friend and her mother. As Itzel had predicted her mother was enthusiastic about the idea of you joining her school as their English teacher. 

Now, 3 months later, consolation masters done, you were packing up the last of your things for the move. You had sold all of your furniture, as it would have been far too expensive to move.

 “How long of a drive is it again?” you ask Itzel as she loaded her last bag into the back of your car. 

“44 hours if we were to drive straight through without stopping.” she said as she walked around to the front passenger side. 

“If we aim for about 8 hours a day we should get there by the end of the week.” you state as you enter the driver side of the car. Itzel was from the small coastal town of Sisal, just north of Mérida in the Yucatan province of Mexico. As you plugged in her family’s home address into your phone's GPS system you ensured that you could see out of the rear view mirror with the trunk pact full of your stuff. 

“We better get going then if we want to reach the panhandle by dark.” she says as she adjusts her seat. 

You pull away from your apartment and start the drive north. It was strange leaving the place you had called home for the last 6 years, but in saying goodbye you were saying hello to a new chapter of your life. 

Translations

Supongo que eso podría funcionar. Un cambio de escenario debería hacerme bien. - I guess that could work. A change of scenery should do me good.

#namor x reader #namor #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan

[thebrownstone]

Anniversary Fic Exchange

June 13th marked one year of our server, so in celebration we hosted a fanfic event! Each participant submitted a prompt and was randomly assigned a prompt in return. You can read all the fics by going to the event’s ao3 collection or on this tumblr post. Thank you to all our participants! And, again, happy birthday to our little server. We love you dearly. 

key: title by author (tumblr)  [rating*, word count, chapter count]

prompt

*G - general audience, T - teen and up audience, M - mature, E - explicit; 18+

Tiempo de Vals by 14carrotgold (@14carrotghoul) [T, 5.5k, 1/1]

Alex was having a perfectly wonderful time when the very last person he wanted to see came waltzing into view - Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.

Baby, it's Cold Inside by Celaestis (@celaestis1) [E, 9.8k, 1/1]

Acting like they’re cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets.

It's Getting Hot in Here (So Hot!) by Celaestis (@celaestis1) [E, 10.8k, 1/1]

Acting like they’re cold to have an excuse to cuddle or share clothes or blankets.

All The Ways I Love You by Treluna [G, 1.5k, 1/1]

People think they're doing it on purpose but they're really not - they're truly THAT nauseatingly in love with each other.

Trick Rider by OrchidScript (@orchidscript) [E, 2.5k, 1/1]

Chaotic night with the super six ft. Henry saying yee-haw and any character saying the dialogue "Can I offer you a nice Shirley Temple in this trying time?"

jump in with your heart first by stutteringpeach (@stutteringpeach) [E, 7.5k, 1/1] 

he moved in the day we met and never left.

the beagle, the ghost and the wardrobe by stutteringpeach (@stutteringpeach) [M, 10.9k, 1/1]

he moved in the day we met and never left.

questions and answers by elegantdumpling [M, 1.6k, 1/1]

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer." - Zora Neale Hurston

“You jump, I jump, Jack.” by Muddbloodpotter05 (@mudbloodpotter05) [M, 8.8k, 1/1]

"I just saved your life, so you're welcome."

Hoping You'll See What Your Love Means to Me by politics_and_prose (@historicallysam) [T, 2.4k, 1/1]

Nora and Alex get drunk or high and one of them starts waxing poetically about their partner and the other gets it on video to make fun of them

Always Where I Need To Be by chamel (@cha-melodius) [T, 5.4k, 1/1]

Alex can’t find his glasses again - but he has a suspect in mind for the theft.

The Wrong Classroom by viciouslyqueer [T, 2.6k, 1/1]

Alex and Henry are college professors and are accidentally assigned to teach one of each others’ classes, which is so utterly specific that they know absolutely nothing about it.

SNL | Season 45 Episode 2 | HRH Prince Henry & FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz by TheLastKnownSurvivor (@xthelastknownsurvivorx) [M, 9.7k, 4/4]

"Listen, I’m trying to cut down on the innuendo. But it’s hard... so hard."

i was right there beside him all summer long by hearitinthesilence (@heartitinthesilence) [T, 3k, 1/1]

“You really thought you could get away with this?”

pull the truth right from my lips by athousandrooms (@athousandrooms) [M, 2.4k, 1/1]

"I think someone's a little needy."

There's Smoke in my Eyes (and love in this kitchen) by vonPeeps (@vonpeepsisback) [T, 1.8k, 1/1]

"I didn't know it was possible to burn scrambled eggs to a crisp without actively trying to, sweetheart, but it's still the nicest thing a date's ever done for me."

don't you let it go by smc_27 (@smc-27) [M, 6.9k, 1/1]

Henry blinks into the mirror once, twice, and then frowns, wondering who the brown skinned, curly haired man is that’s staring back at him.

No Sense or Sensibility by InexplicablyMine (@inexplicablymine) [T, 5.5k, 1/1]

“Don’t look at me I thought we were getting Ice Cream.”

Uncut not Uncultured by InexplicablyMine (@inexplicablymine) [E, 6.4k, 3/3]

“Don’t look at me I thought we were getting Ice Cream.”

Promises, Promises by EmmaLostInWonderland (@emmalostinwonderland) [E, 1k, 1/1]

Henry and Alex explore Henry using 'every inch of authority in his blood.

of fathers and sons by adreama (@adreamareads) [T, 7.6k, 1/1]

"Not a win, no, but certainly not a disgraceful performance."

peace by raysletters (@raysletters) [M, 14.2k, 1/1]

Sky High AU

Burnin' Through The Sky by cricket (@cricketnationrise) [E, 5k, 1/1]

museum curator x lawyer au

dibs - (informal) The right to use or enjoy something exclusively or before anyone else, often expressed as an interjection by Poutini (@Cheesecurdsgravyandfries) [E, 1k, 1/1]

"I walked into this party and someone yelled 'dibs!'"

Dibs, the extended cut by Poutini (@Cheesecurdsgravyandfries) [E, 2.4k, 1/1]

"I walked into this party and someone yelled 'dibs!'"

There's No Chocolate by logan_love [T, 2k, 1/1]

And then it was found that all the chocolate was gone.

(you just) call out my name by outofthesun [T, 3.4k, 1/1]

"Sorry, my hands are shaking."

Lost and Found by sherryvalli (@sherryvalli) [T, 3.9k, 1/1]

“Single dad Henry (non-royal) moves to the United States and meets the hurricane of Alex.”

‘Kiss,’ ‘Egg’ and ‘Meeting You’ by everwitch (@everwitch-magiks) [T, 4.9k, 1/1]

An Outside POV from the painter/painters Henry/Alex hire for getting the Brownstone ready to move in.

Dinners and Diatribes by alightlefton (@a-light-left-on) [T, 7.6k, 1/1]

“5+1 anniversaries, any kind, any pairing”

Maybe Dreams Do Come True by Softheart777 [G, 1.3k, 1/1]

"You must be dreaming"

Just Business by bleedingballroomfloor [T, 11.3k, 1/1]

wedding ringer au (but make it gay)

three grubs in a trench coat + gay brit wizard by clottedcreamfudge (@clottedcreamfudge) [E, 8.1k, 1/1]

"Can y'all stop flirting in the google doc :/"

Biggest Fan by Sirius4Life [E, 905, 1/1]

Alex and Henry meet at a Con while separately cosplaying characters who are a couple in that franchise.

Diners & Double Dates by ACDs_Coffee [T, 2.4k, 1/1]

“It’s not a date - we’re just third and fourth wheeling!”

So Quiz Me by indomitablelove (@indomitable-love) [E, 10.6k, 1/1]

“Baby, sweetheart, I love you, but what in the everloving fuck did you just say?”

Not Even At All by ifigo (@juxtaposed-variety) [M, 4.3k, 1/1]

“10 things I hate about you” style AU: “But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all”

#rwrb fics #rwrb discord #rwrb #red white & royal blue #firstprince #junora #rwrb fanfic

[sleepy-shinx]

Fellow submas fans what are your favorite reunion scenarios

And I want to hear two things from y’all:

1. Your favorite way to imagine the reunion happening in your head

2. Your favorite reunion scene in a currently existing fanfiction (AND TELL ME THE FIC/LINK IT SO I CAN READ IT IF I HAVEN’T ALREADY)

My response to prompt 1 turned longer than expected so I’m putting it under the read more, but my answer to 2 is fucking @dittolicous’s fic ‘the only way to be sure of catching a train is to miss the one before it’ I swear to god it’s the most delicious submas fic I’ve ever read I have reread it so many times purely for the reunion alone but then I get sucked into the rest because it’s just a beautiful story and all of the characterization is my absolute favorite and. It. Is. AMAZING.

HERE’S THE LINK. READ IT.

Anyway my answer to #1 is below the cut- it’s long- it got away from me- I would love for y’all to read it but if you don’t it’s chill and I’d still love to hear your own thoughts on my prompts-

For me for #1 I LOVE the idea of Ingo getting his memories back but somehow the reunion is still a surprise for both him and Emmet. The way I have it play out in my head is a whole story that could hypothetically be a fanfiction if it weren’t for the fact that I have very few details lined out and also that takes effort.

But essentially Volo’s still being a bitch but after a talk with Akari, Arceus realizes some of the mistakes it made with bringing her into Hisui with no prior warning and forcing her to tackle everything alone, so it approaches her and Ingo to request their help in stopping Volo once and for all, returning both of their memories at the same time. It also promises to send them help, but does not elaborate on what the help will exactly look like. It does say that it will call on them for assistance once it has chosen those who will join them. It also says that if they are successful in their endeavors, they will be rewarded with one favor from the God.

Naturally after getting his memories back Ingo’s a whole mess of grief but having committed to staying in Hisui for the time being he has no choice but to stay. In this, Akari is Dawn the DPP protag and Arceus gave her a false memory of what her name was when she was sent to Hisui. She’s also not doing super great after getting her memories back but not as bad as Ingo who was there longer than her (I’ve settled on 4 years for Ingo and 1.5 years for Dawn)

However, Arceus may have seemed like it was still deciding who to send when it spoke to them, but it already knew exactly who to send.

And it involved righting the wrongs committed by Volo and Giratina with the space-time distortions.

Cut to modern day Unova! Emmet is a wreck in his brother’s absense, but he’s doing better than he was in the first couple years. Things have changed for those Ingo left behind; Elesa and Skyla start dating while he’s gone in this fic, and I like to imagine that Iris becomes Champion in his absense (specifically because Hil(da/bert) were still missing, so Unova technically had no Champion and Alder had fully retired from the battling scene. This was leading to complications in getting clearance to branch out the search for Ingo to other regions and Iris, fully sick of it, challenges the League herself and Drayden calls in a favor from Alder to get her a ‘Champion’ to battle. And she ends up being one of Unova’s best Champions in many different ways! Also I imagine the events of BW2 absolutely happened except Rosa/Nate decided not to challenge the Elite Four. Oh god that was quite a tangent uh)

And then one night four years after his disappearance (and like two weeks after Arceus asks Ingo and Dawn for their help), Emmet and Elesa both have the same very weird dream.

In which Arceus asks them both for their assistance, because shit’s going down in ancient Sinnoh and it needs more human help in getting it to stop. It does NOT tell them why EXACTLY they specifically are being asked, just that there IS a specific reason it’s asking them of all people and that they won’t regret going. It gives them two days to think and decide, also offering them the reward of a favor if they succeed.

This gives the two of them time to not only decide, but also TELL THEIR LOVED ONES THAT THIS IS HAPPENING

Emmet’s initially hesitant about doing it, but the favor seals the deal for him. With no context to what Arceus is doing at this point, he is determined to try to use the favor he will receive from the God to get Ingo back. He doesn’t really tell anyone except Elesa, not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up in case Arceus is unable to help, but deep down he hopes that if NOTHING else he will at least get closure.

Elesa was down from the start, she has no reason to say no and the favor is very enticing. For reasons.

(Cute side note I only have Elesa’s favor decided on. And she asks Arceus to ensure that on her and Skyla’s wedding day, the weather will be absolutely perfect. Perfect temperature, partly cloudy, slight breeze. Just exactly what they need for a beautiful wedding. And Arceus gifts her a pen that it tells her to write the date down with once it is decided upon and it will make sure it happens.)

(I also think that up until that point the two of them had absolutely talked about getting married but Elesa wasn’t ready because she had decided years ago that if she ever got married she wanted the twins to walk her down the aisle (bad relationship with her parents) and. yeah)

Anyway! They were instructed to go to Sinnoh if they decided to go and so Skyla flies them there (she doesn’t stay in Sinnoh, it was made quite clear that Emmet and Elesa would potentially be gone for a couple months (and they are)). They go up Mount Coronet and climb The Stairs into Arceus’s domain to meet with Arceus in the flesh this time.

Where, before sending them to Hisui, it tells them a story. About a man named Volo, who wished to remake the world so no one would suffer, so he manipulated Giratina into doing his bidding and started ripping tears open in space-time. Creating space-time distortions, and eventually even the rift above Mount Coronet.

It also says that when were opened, usually they connected Hisui to the modern world, and usually, the rift openings that were much smaller in the modern day than in Hisui, would open in areas far enough away from human civilization to prevent humans from being sucked through them.

With one notable exception.

Arceus reveals that four years ago, one particular distortion opened in the Hisuian Icelands that connected specifically to the subway tunnels underneath Nimbasa City.

And Emmet and Elesa understand instantly.

Both are a mess at this point, Emmet much more so. He hadn’t expected to get answers right off the bat. But there’s the terror rising in his heart of if his brother was dropped into unfamiliar, freezing cold territory 200 years in the past, would he have survived that???

He asks Arceus with a choked voice if his brother is still alive.

Arceus responds by calling Ingo into its domain, having called upon him prior to this to ‘ensure that those it was sending to the past would have someone to guide them through the unfamiliar time and place’.

Leaving the twins open to having a truly glorious, loud, and extremely emotional surprise reunion.

(Aside from knowing it wanted to send Ingo and Dawn’s loved ones back to be reunited with them, Arceus thought it would be VERY funny to have a team of six humans like humans have teams of six Pokemon. Barry and Lucas end up being the other two sent back to Hisui, to reunite with Dawn.)

I have not a lot of details about the meat of this story figured out. The vague outline is Emmet having separation anxiety, Elesa feeling like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders because she no longer has to grieve Ingo while simultaneously keep Emmet going despite his own heavier grief, Ingo having serious identity issues and feeling inadequate because he forgot Emmet while his brother grieved him so heavily, so he doesn’t talk to him about his own trauma and grief and ends up having a mental breakdown eventually that Emmet helps him through, and Volo has found some other legendary from another region that he’s using to try and remake the world again. I haven’t decided which one.

And then once Volo is beat they go home, both twins firmly convinced that their reunion was Arceus granting them their favors early as ya know, Emmet wanted his brother back and Ingo wanted his FAMILY back. Arceus catches on to this and promptly informs them that no, that was part of its plan from the beginning, that it was merely righting a wrong it should have righted long before then, and that their favors are still very much available to them. They do not use them at that time, since they did not expect to still have the favors, and they did not have anything else in mind.

(Elesa asks for her aforementioned one on the spot. At this point she’s so excited to have a much more serious conversation with Skyla about their future, and with her best friend alive and safely home, she’s finally ready for the next step.)

All the weary time travelers are returned to modern Sinnoh. Skyla hops on her plane the moment Elesa calls. They all go to Twinleaf town, Unovans included while they wait for Skyla. Dawn reunites with her Mom.

Skyla is fucking ecstatic when she sees Ingo’s alive, and they fly home to Unova after saying goodbye to Dawn, Barry, Lucas, and Johanna. They specifically fly to Opelucid, thinking Uncle Drayden’s house is a better place for Ingo to readjust to the modern day than their apartment in the middle of bustling Nimbasa City.

They are absolutely correct, but that doesn’t stop the breakdown Ingo has when he finally comes to terms with the fact that he’s home and can rest and not have to worry about his safety in the wilderness with angry wild Pokemon constantly posing threats to his well-being.

But he has his family by his side, who are more than happy to help him through it :3

#pokemon #submas #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #pokemon legends arceus #subway boss emmet #gym leader elesa #vague outline of a story I constantly rotate in my head #akari #dawn #unova #hisui #arceus simultaneously being a bitch but also it does better and rights its wrongs #reunions #reunion #long post

[damagedintellect]

Dazai Osamu x reader

💌 Reading into the palms of isekai bullshit:

Chapter 7 💌  

Summary: You were no stranger to isekai bullshit. It’s not like you had a problem with it. The genre took over the anime scene for years now but you try to stay away from thinking about how you would handle the situation. The last time you thought about inserting yourself into your favorite show you wrote a 100k word xReader fic for your favorite characters and you didn’t want to spend all your time consumed by the brainrot again. Never again, you promised yourself that was the last time you’d let the devil on your shoulder win. You clicked on chapter 1 to start the adventure over again but when you opened your eyes and saw Dazai O-FUCKING-samu getting choked by Kunikida you honestly hoped it was a dream.  

Notes:   With Artfight slowing down on my end I have come to feed the hungry readers...also idk why this chapter turned out so angsty bc that wasn't the plan but yeah know what it sounds about right. Another isekai so I can play around with BSD like dolls.

★ Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] ★

💌 Word count: 2,286 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

A few days later was the day Kunikida had a very important schedule to uphold. Everyone was left to their own devices and it was a nice change of pace compared to the past few weeks. Kunikida had left a few minutes ago while Ranpo was still complaining about the lack of snacks. You had mostly finished up your tasks for the day and were acting like you were still busy so Ranpo wouldn't bother you. It's been weeks since you were relieved of your snack fetching duties but you could feel him practically directing all of his grievances at you specifically. There were other people in the office. Why did it always have to be you who gets the snacks? Aside from Kunikida and Yosano, everyone else was here. You observe Dazai as he agonizes over not being able to ruin Kunikida's day yet. You still don't know what the hell happened the other night.

All you know is that Ranpo made a suggestive comment about it which didn't help you piece anything together. Dazai had been acting weirder than normal too. It's like he was having more mood swings than usual and you’re not sure how much of it is an act. You are also not the only one who's noticed the brunette’s weird behavior, even Atsushi said something about it. Although he thought you and Dazai had an argument because apparently the brunette would tense up at the mention of your name. Even more puzzling was that the moment you were left alone with Dazai he would act one of two ways. One being that he would reluctantly cling to your side, hovering over you like he was expecting or waiting for you to do something or two he would scoff and make some excuse, no matter how stupid, to disappear. Like he actually made it a point to tell you instead of just leaving like he has in the past. Almost like he was reasoning more with himself then having the goal be informing you of his absences. As much as it was intriguing it was almost hard to watch but you didn’t want to ask him about it because who knows what can of worms that will open and you weren’t ready.

Speaking of can of worms, Ranpo has been calling your name trying to get your attention. You slammed your hands on the desk standing up to look at your senpai. "Okay I get it, what snacks do you want?"

"Chips, pocky, ramune and you know what it feels like a melon pan kind of a day!" He smiles wide, kicking his feet up on his desk. Cocky bastard.

You rolled your eyes "So the works then got it," you looked at Dazai who was still moping. "Anyone else need me to pick up anything?" The room filled with a chorus of "No"'s as you grabbed your wallet and made your way out the door. The agency would reimburse you for Ranpo’s snack habits later.

Dazai watched you leave. It's been infuriating that you refused to ask about that night and seemed to brush it off like it didn't matter. So much for that confession of yours. He was aware that, yes, technically he wasn't supposed to know that. He promised you he wouldn't tell, but you told him yourself. He can't get over the fact you haven't picked up his bitterness on the subject or that you are blatantly ignoring it all together. He doesn't understand what your play is and moreover he can't get over the irrational thought of wanting to touch you. It has been driving him insane. He doesn’t get these kinds of impulses but since you shared your feelings with him he wants to be close to you in any way you’ll have him. You were also the one who saw through and called him out on his bullshit, not many could do that so why has that stopped? Is it because you need to see his palm again? Did the alcohol mess with your talent that badly? All he has is more questions and really no way of getting answers out of you unless he talks to you like a normal person. Dazai was by no means a normal person and what was the point if he wasn't supposed to know this information to begin with. If it was anyone else he wouldn't care about the confrontation or lack thereof but he does now and he hates it.

The sound of an incoming text rang out through the office. He looked over at your desk. It was your phone, you forgot it since you stormed off. He sighed, reaching for it. You would be back soon but he was bored and all of his attempts to shake up Kunikida weren’t working either. Was he losing his touch? If he sent Kunikida a message from your phone he would probably have a better chance at fooling the blonde. When he opened up the messenger he nearly dropped the phone as he read who the incoming text was from. 

Chuuya<3

Hey, I have time today if you wanted to do the thing

Dazai gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. Why was Chuuya messaging you and what was with that contact photo! You were both naked in bed. You looked like an ethereal being while the smug redhead was holding you like he owned you, giving Dazai eyes that were taunting him. It made his blood boil. Was this why you didn’t care to find out about that night? Was this all really just a game to you and how could you betray him with Chuuya of all people! Dazai grit his teeth. Realistically he shouldn't care so why does he feel like this? He knows how demented his line of thought was but for the first time he let his jealousy cloud his judgment. You guys weren't exclusive, heck you guys weren't even anything to begin with. Just two coworkers who sometimes hung out outside of work but still he felt it was a low blow. He needs to stop his train of thought before he does something he'll regret. His emotions were already festering by the time you finally made it back to the office. He felt that itch again, the sudden urge to touch you. Why? He didn't understand it at all.

You dropped the bag of snacks on Ranpo's desk hoping that the ramune crushed a bunch of chips. This is the last time you’d be going on his snack run or else you were going to- you know what you don’t know what you could do as a counter. Ranpo kind of has you by the balls since he knows your secret. You deflated once you realized that he could actually make your life a living hell if he wanted. “Enjoy.” you sigh slouching as you turn around colliding with someone as you were grabbed by the arm and hastily pulled into the infirmary. 

Dazai had dragged you across the office without a word. It was unsettling for the others to witness. Atsushi was concerned he'd never seen such a grim expression on Dazai before. Could it be because he failed at tricking Kunikida and he needed to take it out on someone else? "Shouldn't we stop them?" He asked warily but no one made a move. Everyone continued on like this was an everyday occurrence.

Ranpo only kicked back further into his chair, opening the bag of chips "Leave 'em. You might get scarred for life if you try to intervene." Ranpo rolled his eyes. This is what you get for playing with fire. Although he doesn't exactly know what Dazai saw on your phone, he does know that the two of you were a ticking time bomb and have been the whole week since the fall of the guild. He only hopes you know what you’re doing because babysitting you was not his job unless you were getting him more snacks.

As soon as the door locked, Dazai pushed you against the wall, easily pinning your wrist so you couldn't escape. His tone was dark. It would have made you shake with terror if it wasn't so hot. Right now, the position you were in, was a sexual fantasy of yours for sure. 

"What happened to not being so easy? Huh?" He accused you, almost demanding an answer. It was jarring to hear him be this intense. 

“Um, ow! I don’t even know wha-” He cut you off with a messy kiss, aggressively biting your bottom lip as if to say don’t lie to him. You actually had no idea what he was talking about. In fact you almost thought this was all of his pent up emotions from the past few days.

 "Such a pathetic lie when you throw yourself at anyone who gives you the slightest bit of attention. Tell me was I not-"

"Who am I throwing myself at if not you?" You spat back not waiting for him to finish his monologue. You were furious because from your point of view you have no idea what the fuck he's going on about. He's the one who's been acting strange. If anything you should be the one yelling at him for not talking with you if he had an issue. Although you should have seen that coming. Technically it's what he was doing right now so you guess he did get there eventually but still you were mildly flustered and enraged with the delivery.

Dazai was silently scanning your eyes. You weren't lying to him. His fingers were digging into your wrist and your heart rate remained the same. Your eyes were clear and there were no obvious tells that your statement was false. He fucked up. He was wrong. He knew he was from the start but the impulses were too much for the rational part of his brain to stop while he was ahead. This is why he distanced himself. He wasn't capable of having nice things. He's spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop he can't even trust that things could be different this time. As he loosened his grip on you the words cascaded from his mouth. "Then why did you sleep with Chuuya?" It shouldn't hurt him but it made his heart clench just the same. Dazai has had his fair share of one night stands. Sometimes it was nice to feel a human connection with another person. It should be no different but this was you. When did you become so important to him?

Your eyes widened in shock. He saw the photo. The trap you had set up weeks ago. Dazai was jealous, it worked. That's why he'd been acting weird. How long has he kept this to himself? Was that why he wanted you to ask about that night and the things you don't remember? Before you could register your actions your body moved on its own to close the distance between you with a tender kiss. Caressing his face you looked him in the eyes. It was now or never.  "Dazai, I am in love with you! Chuuya was only trying to help make you jealous so I could gauge if you even remotely liked me back." You blurted it out in a huff as you watched his expression drop and become unreadable. 

"Well it's a shame I don't feel the same because right now I think I hate you the most." There was no emotion to his words and he practically vanished out of thin air. Dazai needed space while he figured out what was going on in his head. Isolation was the only thing he knew that would bring him said clarity. He doesn’t regret his word choice but he also doesn’t think hate was the right word for it. He was irritated for sure but he didn’t exactly hate you. He definitely hated the situation though. The brunette was still wondering how you managed to get under his skin like this. Now that he wasn’t in the same room as you he understands the train of thought behind the picture and how Chuuya’s involvement led to the prank. It was partially his fault you even met to begin with. This also answered his questions about the redhead after the encounter. Looking back this must be how the others feel when he pulls one over on them. It was not a pleasant feeling.

 The room spun around you in a blur. It took you longer than you would have preferred to get yourself together and rush out of the infirmary. All the others pretended to mind their own business but you didn’t see Dazai so he probably bailed out of the office. You had to fix this before it was too late. Although something in the back of your mind wasn’t adding up. Why now? If he knew about the picture since that night why was it only today that he brought it up in a blind furry? There had to have been something to trigger this reaction. You don’t bother making an excuse to leave the office but you do grab your phone from Dazai’s desk. It didn’t click until you were halfway down the stairs that you had left your phone on your desk so how did it end up on Dazai’s. You frantically checked your messages and sure enough there was one from Chuuya. You frowned as you messaged him back blatantly lying about the other’s reaction to the prank. On one hand it did work as intended but how did it end up like this?

★ ★ ★ Pervious Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]  ★ ★ ★

#the BSD isekai au that no one asked for #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd x reader #bsd imagines

[sequinsmile-x]

Buy the Promises - Chapter 3

It gets harder to keep the promise as time goes on, as Emily goes from his girlfriend to his fiancée to his wife. He wants nothing more than to put Elizabeth in her place, to stop her from hurting her daughter in a way that only she could. 

AKA The three times Aaron doesn't tell Elizabeth off, and the one time he does

Chapter 3/4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the love on this fic so far - as always it means so much to me!!

This is the last chapter where our dear Aaron bites his tongue...in the next one he will finally tell Elizabeth off.

Please let me know what you think &lt;3

-x-

Warnings: Infertility, struggling to conceive

Words: 3.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily is just leaning in to check her reflection in the bathroom mirror, double checking that her hair and make-up look good, when the alarm she’d set on her phone just three minutes ago makes her jump. 

She turns it off quickly, well aware that her husband would have heard it too, the brief pause in his footsteps around their bedroom all the confirmation she needs. 

The mix of hope and anxiety as she approaches the counter she’d laid the pregnancy test down on is familiar. A feeling that had become commonplace ever since they’d started trying a year ago, quickly followed by the searing disappointment every month when the tests would come back negative, her period often following only a few days later, a cruel reminder from her body that she didn’t have what she desperately wanted. 

They’d gone to her doctor before they’d started trying. She’d been told in Paris that her fertility had a question mark over it, that whilst the table leg Ian had driven through her hadn’t done any specific damage to her uterus, the overall trauma to her body meant she might struggle to conceive. At first, it had been a blow but it was one of many at the time. She was dead to almost everyone who knew her, forced to hide away as Ian was still at large. Then when she came home she thought about it a little more, but it felt like a moot point if she didn’t have someone to have a baby with.

Then Aaron happened. 

He’d been the first to mention having another kid. It had been a random Thursday evening at his place, just before she’d moved in, and he’d watched her as she helped Jack with his homework. Once the little boy was in bed Aaron had asked her if she ever thought about having a child, citing how good she was with Jack, how much he wanted to see her with a child that was half him and half her, and it had left her breathless. For a moment she’d struggled to explain just how much she wanted it, how she’d been thinking about it since the moment it became clear Aaron was just as in love with her as she was with him, but the doubt that it could ever happen was a mark on the future she imagined with him.

He’d, of course, been nothing but understanding as she told him what the doctors had told her in Paris, and he’d gone with her to all of her appointments she had to have to try and find an answer. He’d held her hand through all of them, assured her afterwards when her anxiety was at an all-time high that he didn’t need another kid to be happy, and he’d shared in her joy when her doctor confirmed she saw no reason why Emily wouldn’t be able to get and to stay pregnant. 

They’d started trying immediately, and since then they’d got engaged, moved into the house they were now living in and got married. Her life was what she once thought it wouldn’t be, full of love and joy but the disappointment that she hadn’t become pregnant yet lingered at its edges. Her hope dwindled with every negative test, and the feeling that she was doing nothing more than letting Aaron down only increased. 

She blows out a breath as she looks down and she shakes her head at herself when there is only one line staring back at her, the treacherous hope that had lingered in her chest turning to anger, bitter and burning as she berates herself for getting her hopes up again. She closes her eyes and clears her throat, giving herself a moment before she opens them and throws the negative test into the trashcan. 

“Sweetheart…” Aaron says as he walks into the room, he drifts off as he looks at her, the expression on her face all too familiar. He looks down at the trashcan and sees the empty pregnancy test box and the negative test on top of it. He allows himself to feel his own disappointment, his own sadness, for a second before he pushes it down, her feelings far more important to him than his own, “Em-”

“We need to go,” she says, cutting him off and walking past him into the bedroom, “Otherwise we’ll be late,” she forces a smile at him, “We both know how my mother feels about tardiness.” 

He sighs as he looks at her, the anger and irritation at herself thrumming under her skin, making her practically vibrate with it as she picks jewellery from her dresser, a barely discernible shake to her hands as she slides a bracelet he got her for her birthday over her wrist. 

“We don’t have to go, we can just stay home.” 

She chuckles bitterly and shakes her head, wishing that it was that simple, that her mother would accept them cancelling at the last minute with a feeble excuse of not feeling well. 

“No, we can’t,” she says, looking at him desperately, “Because then she’d ask why and…I don’t want to get into this with her.” 

He wants to argue, wants to tell her that he’ll call her mother and say they weren’t coming, but he knows that won’t help. Instead, he nods and crosses the room to pull her into a hug. She melts into it, her grip on his back so tight he idly thinks about the creases it will form in his jacket. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he says, knowing she always needed reassurance after a moment like this, and he’d always be willing to give it to her. 

“I love you too,” she says, pulling back and looking at him with a shaky smile, “We should get going.”

He nods and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her jaw before he pulls away, “Come on, I’ll take you to any drive-thru you want on the way home,” he says, kissing her forehead before he pulls away, linking his arm through hers as he leads her out of the bedroom, “We both know you’ll be complaining that the food she serves doesn’t fill you up.”

She squeezes his arm, grateful that he loves her enough to change the subject, to try and distract her, and she scoffs lightly, “It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Sergio, honey, and you know it.”

___

In a strange way, she’s almost glad they’d already agreed to go to her mother’s for dinner. 

She feels her walls go up as soon as they park up on Elizabeth’s driveway, and the automatic reaction Emily can’t remember life without. A reaction that was planted in her childhood and then cultivated throughout her adult life, protection of herself against her mother and the way she always knew how to press her buttons. 

She’s grateful for Aaron, for how he sits by her side through dinner, his hand on her knee as he laughs and jokes along with everyone else as if he’d been born into this life. It makes her love him even more, how he accepted this part of her, the part she couldn’t escape despite years of trying to. He’d always say it was his job that made him good at it, that politics was so deeply ingrained in his role that it came naturally to him now, but she knew it was more than that.

It was because of the same reason he would practically vibrate with fury every time her mother upset her, his shoulders tense like he was a caged animal of sorts, the promise he’d made her a muzzle that kept his need to protect her from the one person who should truly love her back in his chest. 

He loved her, thats why he did all these things, and all she could ever do was hope that he knew she loved him back just as fiercely. 

She feels Aaron squeeze her knee a little tighter, and she realises she’s drifted off. Lost in her own thoughts about the negative pregnancy test in the trash and the box of ovulation tests in the cabinet that never seemed to do her any good. She looks up at him and he nods over to her mother, whose eyebrow is raised at her, a look she would have once gotten for scraping her knee just before she had to be at an event of some sort.

“Sorry,” Emily says, clearing her throat, “I was miles away.”

“Margaret was asking you a question,” Elizabeth says, and Emily turns to her mother’s friend, a woman she’d met countless times who always seemed the strangest mix of overly interested and completely bored by everything. 

“Elizabeth tells us you got married recently,” Margaret says, her smile as fake as the veneers that sat behind it. 

“Six months ago,” Emily says, flashing her eyes to her mother’s, “It was lovely. It’s a shame it clashed with one of Mother’s assignments.” 

Aaron coughs from next to her and she shares a quick smile with him when she realises it was so he could cover a laugh. She feels a sense of satisfaction when she looks at her mother and sees a flash of irritation passes over her face. 

“Well, what about grandchildren,” Margaret says, clearly trying to change the subject, “When are you going to make your mother a grandmother.” 

It feels like a punch to the gut and it briefly does take her breath away, her mind immediately back on her bathroom and the negative test and all the ones that had come before it. She places her hand over Aaron’s on her knee and links their fingers together, squeezing so hard she’s sure if she could see their hands their knuckles would be white. She opens her mouth to speak, to say something, anything, to move the conversation along.

“We have Jack already,” she says, smiling tightly, “He’s Aaron’s son from his first marriage and we’re raising him together.” 

Margaret reaches for her wine glass and smiles, “I mean a child of your own.” 

She can feel Aaron’s hand grip her knee even tighter, his irritation forcing his shoulders tighter together. She’s about to say that Jack is her child, that blood has nothing to do with what makes a family, but she’s cut off by her mother.

“Oh, Emily is far too interested in her career to have a baby,” Elizabeth says, chuckling softly, wholly unaware of how her words felt like a dagger to her daughter’s chest.

Emily isn’t sure whether it’s the irony, the fact her mother of all people was saying she was too focused on her career to have a child, or the fact she’s so determined to not cry that causes her body to force out a laugh. It’s wry, and tastes bitter on her tongue, something she chases away with a sip of wine before she stands up. 

“Excuse me,” she says, clearing her throat, “I need the bathroom.” 

She’s up and out of the room before Aaron can react, his hand slipping from her leg down to his side. If he thought he’d been angry at his mother-in-law before he was wrong. This was a new type of fury, one that he hadn’t experienced in years, that made him feel a little bit too much like his own father. He has to remind himself that Elizabeth doesn’t know, that she has no idea that having a baby was something they’d wanted for so long, but he knows that’s also her fault. Emily never spoke to her about anything like that because she didn’t trust her, because their relationship simply wasn’t a typical mother-daughter one. 

He almost says something, a scathing comment on the tip of his tongue before he reminds himself of the promise he’d made, and the fact he wouldn’t be able to say anything without telling Elizabeth, and her friends, the very thing Emily hadn’t wanted to share with even their close friends. It was something just between the two of them, something they shared and grieved together every month when it didn’t happen. He’d encouraged her to tell someone, especially since Penelope kept on asking them when they’d have a baby, but she’d refused. A sad smile on her face as she shrugged and said her best friend already knew because he knew. 

He clears his throat and he stands up, throwing the napkin in his lap down onto the table with more force than necessary, and he looks at Elizabeth, hoping he’s somewhat able to keep a neutral expression.

“Excuse me,” he says, leaving the room without any further comment. He walks quickly to the bathroom and knocks on the door, “Em? Sweetheart, it’s me.” 

The lock unclicks and he pushes the door open, his heart aching as he sees her leaning against the counter tears she won’t shed here shining in her eyes. He purposely keeps his distance, not wanting to touch her and send her over the edge, to force tears to breach the dam she’d kept them behind with nothing but a comforting hug. 

“She really does have a knack for pushing my buttons,” she says, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, “Even the ones she doesn’t know are there,” she presses her lips together and shakes her head, “It’s quite the skill.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Do you want to go home?”

She nods, “Yeah, I do. I don’t think I can sit there through dessert. I might just say I feel sick,” she smiles wryly at him, “It wouldn’t be a total lie.” 

“We’ll go home then,” he replies, and he reaches for the door, ready to go out and tell his mother-in-law in no uncertain terms that they were leaving. 

“Aaron?” Emily asks, drawing his attention back to her and she bites the inside of her cheek, “This might sound juvenile, but can I have a hug before we go back out there?”

He’s across the room in seconds, enveloping her in his arms as he kisses her forehead, “It’s not juvenile,” he says, kissing her forehead again, “The only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to make you cry.” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Not here,” she says, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “Maybe when we get home though.” 

He pulls back and smiles at her, and he wipes away a stray tear, not acknowledging it any further, “Good thing I stocked up on Kleenex and your favourite candy.” 

___

She gets into bed as soon as they get home.

Aaron gives her some space and takes some time to put away some dishes and do some laundry, purposely going slowly. When he makes his way upstairs and into the bedroom he’s quiet as he walks into the room just in case she’s fallen asleep, but she’s lying on her side, his pillow cuddled to her chest as she stares at the wall. 

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over and placing his hand on her waist, his thumb stroking at the base of her ribcage, “I have paperwork I could do-”

“No,” she says, shifting her gaze so she’s looking at him, “I don’t want you to leave me alone.” 

He feels relief in a way he can’t really explain and he nods, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before he stands up, “I’m just going to get changed and then I’ll be back, okay?”

She hums, “Okay.” 

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten ready for bed faster. His clothes barely make the hamper, and he just about brushes his teeth. By the time he climbs into bed with her, she’s put his pillow back, and she curls around him the moment he’s settled down. He doesn’t say anything, knows that there is nothing he can say, and he simply pulls her closer.

“What if it never happens for us, Aaron?” She says eventually, her words quiet in the darkness of their room, “I want a baby with you so much but…what if it just doesn’t happen because there’s something wrong with me?” Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence and he feels hot tears fall onto his t-shirt, her sadness burning him

“There is nothing wrong with you, Emily,” he says, kissing her forehead fiercely, wanting nothing more than to be able to press his love into her skin, “We can go back to your doctor, figure things out. I’ll get tests too - it could be me.” 

She scoffs and pulls back to look at him, “You have a son, Aaron. We both know it’s not you.” 

“We don’t,” he says, cupping her cheek and wiping tears away with his thumb, “I’m eight, almost nine years older than I was then. And my body has been through a lot. These things change,” he says, and she shrugs, totally unconvinced and he sighs, “Em, I want you to know even if this doesn’t happen for us…” he drifts off as she stiffens in his embrace, her eyes immediately shinier, “Even if it doesn’t, nothing will ever change how I feel about and our life. I love you.” 

It’s something she hadn’t realised she needed to hear. It would devastate her if she was never able to have a child with him, but she knew that they’d move past it together. That they’d love their life no matter what direction it took them in. 

“I love you too,” she replies, leaning forward to kiss him quickly before she rests her head back on his shoulder, “How close did you come to yelling at my mom?” 

He hums, turning to kiss her head before he answers, “Closer than I did after the wedding dress incident.” 

She shakes her head at him, “If we do…” she clears her throat, pushing down the emotions that start to climb up it again, before she continues, “If we do have a baby, and she ever says anything remotely mean about them or Jack you have my permission to break your promise.” 

He hauls her closer and runs his hand up and down her back, his chin resting on top of her head as she settles further into him. 

“Noted.” 

-x-

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[tommymllrr]

coffee shop cowboy [ch. 2]

agent whiskey x barista!reader (coffee shop!au)

summary: if you were being honest, you’d had an absolute garbage day. up until the moment he strode through the front door of the cute little café that you worked at in those stupid cowboy boots.

rating: Explicit, 18+ (MINORS DNI)

word count: 6.1k

warnings: cunnilingus, oral sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, soft!agent whiskey, lot of kisses

notes: here's chapter 2!! reader is afab, but no pronouns or gendered terms are used so it can be read as gender-neutral. also i'm not super active here so find me on twitter if you're interested in seeing me talk about my upcoming fanfics and talk about pedro pascal and oscar isaac. :-)

chapter 1 on tumblr // read fic on ao3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The months went on and Whiskey showed no sign that he had gotten sick of the coffee shop - or more specifically, you - yet. 

Sure, there had been a few times where he’d gone almost a full week without visiting, but he always turned up one day with a smile and a more-than-generous tip. The two of you made light conversation while you worked the register or, during days you were behind the bar making drinks, after he’d gotten his coffee, leaning an arm on the bar so he could talk to you. Your co-workers, especially the ones you were actually friends with, teased you incredibly hard for it, always leaving your cheeks burning in embarrassment. One of the newest hires at the café, a very sweet girl named Angie, had asked during a slow morning shift how you and your boyfriend met. When met with your confusion, she’d simply replied, “That cute cowboy guy I’ve seen you with. He’s your boyfriend, right?” Your entire body was on fire as you told her that no , you were just friends , and then had spent a good five minutes in the walk-in cooler pretending to stock items while you recovered.

You had thought about making a move by asking if he’d like to get coffee from your favorite place that’s just outside of the city (you refuse to be one of those people who comes into their job to order something on their day off), but the one time you’d tried to ask him, he’d looked at you with those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his and you’d chickened out, instead sputtering something about how the weather outside was nice today. You’d called your best friend on Discord that night feeling absolutely miserable and they’d teased you gently, but reassured you it was okay and that the universe had its way of sorting everything out.

You had no idea how right they would be.

It was unusually busy for a random Thursday morning, but you were managing just fine (even if you were dragging a bit because you’d stayed up way too late last night starting to play The Last of Us now that the TV adaptation of it was coming out soon). And, because your luck happens to be absolutely terrible sometimes, a steady line of customers at the register had started in the minutes before Whiskey strolled in. You gave him a small smile and a wave while the customer in front of you finished paying for their coffee and he tipped his hat to you in response. After getting through the few customers ahead of him, Whiskey was in front of your register, grinning down at you. He had already reached into the pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing to grab his wallet.

“You know what, sugar,” Whiskey said. “I’m feelin’ like a latte today. Can ya make me that one ya always get for me?”

“Yeah, I can do that!” You looked to the people in line behind him and the smile slid off your face. “Actually… I know I always make it, but it’s busier than usual today and I don’t wanna throw off Aubrey by stepping in just to make one drink,” you said apologetically.

“Darlin’, it’s fine. Just promise you’ll be the one to make it for me next time.” He gave you a wink as he handed you a twenty to pay for his latte. Warmth spread through your whole body and you were grinning so big you knew you probably looked like an idiot to the half-dozen people who were behind your favorite customer. Whiskey stuffed the handful of bills you’d given him as his change into the tip-jar and shuffled out of the way. The customer behind Whiskey rattled off a couple of pastries he wanted and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Whiskey talking to Aubrey at the bar. You don’t know why you suddenly felt anxious, but you did. Aubrey knew all about your crush with Whiskey – hell, she was the person teasing you the most about him – but you trusted her to keep your secret.

You put the two’s interaction out of your mind and went back to focusing on helping the people in front of you. While pouring a cup of coffee for a stern-looking businesswoman, you turned and saw Aubrey finally hand Whiskey his latte. Whiskey was about to walk away but you saw Aubrey lean in and say something, but you couldn’t make it out. He looked down at the cup and you watched as a slow smirk slid onto his face. Whiskey nodded his head toward your co-worker and he made his way out of the coffee shop.

The businesswoman you were pouring the coffee for snapped at you for taking too long and, immediately, you were brought back to what you were doing. You snapped the lid on her drink and apologized profusely while you cashed her out. 

A couple hours later, when it had finally died down enough that you weren’t swamped with people, you sauntered over to Aubrey, who was drinking her usual iced vanilla matcha latte and scrolling through Instagram.

“Hey, uh, what was that whole thing with Whiskey earlier?” you asked. Her eyes flicked up from her phone to yours before shooting back down to stare at her screen. You knew her. And right now, she was desperately trying not to look suspicious.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “May wanna check your phone though.”

You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and clicked the button on the side to turn on your screen. A couple notifications from Twitter, a handful of new emails, an alert that your favorite podcast had posted a new episode… 

And a text message from an unknown number. 

You felt your heart stop as you hurriedly typed in your passcode to unlock your phone. There was no way. You were imagining this. Or today was all just one weird, very realistic dream and your alarm was going to go off any minute now. Opening the Messages app, you clicked on the message.

Today, 10:37AM Hey there sugar ;) Finally got your number.

Your pulse quickened. There was no mistaking whose number that was. There was no way. Unless this was some absolutely insane prank that Aubrey was currently pulling off with the help of your coworkers. But you didn’t think your coworkers were that cruel. So the only thing you were left with was that…

“Aubrey, you fucking did not give him my phone number ,” you hissed. She gave you a shit-eating grin and took a big sip from her matcha latte, slurping it way louder than necessary.

“Wrote your number on his cup. You can thank me later.”

Your eyes widened. “ Aubrey ."

“What?!” she said with mock offense. “Look, I know you’re too embarrassed about your little crush to actually do something yourself. If you get a date out of this, you owe me lunch for a week, bestie.” You groaned and covered your face with your hands. Honestly, with how chaotic Aubrey is, you shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest that this happened. But that doesn’t mean you were prepared for this to happen.

You decided to wait until after work to text Whiskey back, but the rest of your shift had been a blur. Even an inkling of an idea of what to say eluded you, even as you were walking through the door to your apartment. Pulling out your phone, you opened the Messages app and stared down at the two lines Whiskey had sent. You eventually just said “fuck it” and typed out a quick text.

Today, 3:43PM god i am so sorry for aubrey if you dont wanna message its totally cool i mean we barely know each other  and my coworker thought it’d funny to give you my number just don't wanna make things weird between us

You flopped back onto your bed and covered your face with your hands for the second time that day, wishing you could sink down into the earth. God, why were you cursed with being so fucking awkward?

Right as you were wishing you could go back in time and say literally anything else to come off as more smooth, your phone pinged with the notification sound of a new text. With slightly shaky hands, you unlocked your phone and stared at the message Whiskey had just sent you.

Today, 3:46PM Darlin, I’ve been wantin’ to get to know you more for a while now. You’re real sweet and funny. Comin’ to get coffee is the highlight of my week.

You stared at your phone, your eyes wide open. Holy shit. Before you even knew what you were doing, you started screaming into your pillow so as to not scare or disturb your neighbors. Your entire body was burning with warmth as you typed out a reply to him. 

Today, 3:54PM oh! im really flattered honestly i’ve wanted to talk more too just been too anxious to say anything

You stared at the screen for what felt like forever until you saw the three little dots inside of the bubble that told you Whiskey was in the process of typing something back. Your heart raced with what he could possibly say. Then, your phone pinged with a new message notification. His response was here.

Today, 3:58PM Oh, really now? Well, if you’d be interested, sugar, I’d like to invite you over for dinner. Could show you a good time. ;)

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You hurriedly typed out a response, too excited to speak, your heartbeat and your mind racing.

Today, 4:04PM consider myself very interested! give me a time and date and i’ll be there, cowboy ;)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You may have taken one or two wrong turns and gotten stuck in traffic along the way, but you finally made it to the address Whiskey had given you. 

The date he’d given you to come over for dinner was a few days away from when he had asked you and you couldn’t have been less anxious about it if you tried. Shifts at work seemed to go by even slower than usual and Aubrey could sense something was up when you worked with her the morning after your text conversation. You didn’t dare breathe a word about it to her, though, you didn’t wanna give her a big head about the whole thing. No, she could wait to find out until after your dinner with Whiskey, even though you have her to thank for this whole situation anyway. (Also, you definitely didn’t need her on your ass about buying her lunch for a week yet.)

As you drove down the path that your GPS was telling you to follow, you realized his house must be at the very end of the street he lived on. A few more minutes passed before your phone said you had arrived at your destination. Despite the map saying you should technically be in his front yard, you could barely see Whiskey’s house from behind a massive wrought-iron gate. A little silver box on a pole was sticking out of the side of the road, so you pulled up and pressed the small black button on the device.

“Hey, darlin’, that you?” you suddenly heard Whiskey’s voice ask. The buzzer must have a speaker in it somewhere. His voice was a little crackly, but you still could tell it was definitely Whiskey.

“Yeah! I’m outside the gate,” you called back. A loud buzzing sound came from the box and, suddenly, the large iron gate in front of you opened so you could drive through. Following the long gravel driveway, you finally made it up to Whiskey’s house.

And your breath was instantly taken away the moment you saw it up close. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous ranch-style home, one that you definitely would have seen on one of those TV shows about people showing off their fancy houses and the thousands of dollars they had poured into making their house look as fancy as possible to impress other fancy people. Whiskey’s car, a gorgeous classic Bronco that was black with white trim, was parked just up the driveway, so you pulled in a few feet behind him. Right as you were getting out of your car, you heard the front door open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he called out. He was leaning up against the doorframe, a glass of amber liquid in his hand and a wide grin on his face. He was wearing his usual blue jeans and cowboy boots, but he had swapped his usual leather jacket for one that was made from dark blue denim and had a bit of a high collar. “Glad you found the place okay. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“I got a bit turned around a few times but I made it. Did have some reservations about you leading me out to the middle of nowhere, though,” you teased. Whiskey let out a chuckle as you approached him.

“Sugar, this is probably one of the safest places you could ever be,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m delighted that you’re here.” You felt yourself start blushing as Whiskey stepped aside to let you in. He closed the door behind you and, as you took in the living room around you, Whiskey fiddled with a security system panel on his wall.

The interior of the house was exactly what you had expected from Whiskey, if you were being honest. Brown leather couches and armchairs were circled around a massive stone fireplace in the living room. A large wooden coffee table, one that looked like it could have been handmade, was in the center of the room and on top of a Western-looking rug. The walls were also covered with paintings, one of a river in a forest with a mountain range in the background and one that you immediately recognized as the exterior of the Statesman Distillery. You could also catch a whiff of the delicious smell of roasting meat somewhere towards the back of the house. 

Whiskey muttered something about needing to check something and walked off, leaving you by yourself. You were a little hesitant at first, not wanting to look creepy or trying to pry, but you couldn’t help but look around.

As you looked around to take everything in, your eyes landed on a wall-mounted glass display case. 

Inside was what looked to be a whip with a loop at the end that had been tied to make a noose. When you stepped a bit closer to inspect it, you could have sworn you saw a flash of blue light somehow. You were staring at it when Whiskey cleared his throat behind you. You whipped around to face the older man and you instinctively took a couple steps backward as if you’d somehow been caught red-handed.

“That ol’ thing caught yer eye, sugar?” Whiskey said. His voice was quieter than usual, softer. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and came over to where you were standing. And all you could do was just look at his face. He had this look that you couldn’t quite decipher what it was supposed to mean as he stared at the whip. But if his stare was a laser, he would have cut through the glass and the wall behind it by now with how intently he was looking ahead of him.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why the hell do you have a whip in a display case? Not that you can’t do what you’d like with your design choice, but it’s… certainly interesting.” You tried to sound light-hearted, attempting to diffuse this situation you didn’t know you had entered into, but Whiskey sighed deeply. 

“Don’t even know why I put this up. Hate looking at it most days,” he muttered. Suddenly, his head snapped to look at you, as if realizing he’d just said that out loud. He spun on his heel and walked back toward the kitchen. “Well, dinner’s almost ready, so you can head on in here. Got everythin’ all set up for tonight.”

You watched him turn the corner and head down the hall, frozen in place until you realized you should follow him. You quickly followed after him and you were suddenly in the biggest kitchen you’d ever been inside of. There was a giant kitchen island in the middle of the room with a built-in sink and a dark marble countertop. You could see two steaks cooking in an iron skillet on the stove to your left and Whiskey was in the process of pulling what looked to be some roasted vegetables in a pan out of the oven.

“Everything smells amazing, Whiskey,” you complimented as you took a seat on one of the barstools that was at the kitchen island. “Didn’t realize you were hiding a knack for cooking from me.”

Whiskey let out a loud laugh. “Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I can’t cook worth a lick,” he replied. “Favorite steakhouse on the other side of the county helped me out. The owner’s real friendly and was willin’ to sell me a steak dinner for two that I could finish in my own kitchen. Will have to take you there sometime.” He tossed a wink your way while he fiddled with the stove and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

After a few more minutes, Whiskey announced the food was ready and he escorted you into the dining room where a table big enough for the two of you to sit at and intimately enjoy dinner was set up. The meal Whiskey had got for the two of you was absolutely delicious and your mouth was already watering at the prospect of being able to eat it again, but this time in the actual restaurant itself. The two of you talked about your day at work and Whiskey even told you a couple stories from his days as a bartender. He had you laughing so hard your sides hurt at the time he had a guy who tried to pay for his tab with his prized chicken.

Whiskey brought out a plate that contained a massive slice of triple chocolate cake for dessert and, despite you insisting you couldn’t eat another bite, you dug your fork into the giant confection and almost moaned at how rich and amazing it tasted. About halfway through the cake slice, you leaned back in your chair to look Whiskey in his eyes.

“Whiskey, this was incredible, thank you so much for having me over,” you said with a smile. The older man smiled back and gently reached out to hold your hand in his. He hesitated for a second, as if he was worried that you didn’t want the touch, but when you scooted your hand a little closer, he laced his fingers with yours. It was the first time he’d touched you all evening and it made the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Real glad you decided to take a chance on an old guy like me,” he replied. “I… I’d been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Was worried how it’d look, what you’d think of me.” 

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling emboldened by his confession. “I, uh, actually thought about asking you to come to my favorite coffee shop with me. The place I go to when I want coffee on my days off,” you said bashfully. “But I… I chickened out at the last minute.”

“Darlin’, I’d go anywhere you asked me to,” Whiskey stated. “Say the word and I’m there.” If you weren’t currently holding hands with him, you felt like you might collapse right then and there. He would have taken you out with his words alone.

“O-Oh.” That was all you managed to get out. You were sure he could see how hard you were blushing. Whiskey let go of your hand and made his way into the kitchen with your plates from dinner. You stood and followed after him.

You watched as Whiskey set the plates in the sink before he turned back to you and walked over to where you were standing in the middle of his kitchen. His large hands settled on your hips, making your heart beat faster. Whiskey’s lips connected with yours in a passionate kiss.

The scratch of the stubble of his chin felt rough against your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. After months, you were finally kissing the man you’d been pining after for so long. Whiskey let out a soft noise as your hands came to rest on his chest, bunching the fabric of his jean jacket in your hands.

“God, baby, you’re incredible, so gorgeous,” Whiskey groaned after pulling back from your kiss. When his mouth returned to yours, his tongue licked into your mouth and it felt so good, it was threatening to make your head spin. In between kisses that had you desperately needing more as soon as possible, he started to guide you towards the back of his house. Whiskey opened a door and you both entered the main bedroom of the property. It was a massive room with an extra-large bed and a door off to the side that was open just wide enough for you to see that it was the primary bathroom. 

The older man pulled back from your intense make-out session to look at you. His large hands were settled on your waist, rubbing the material of your shirt softly. “Please, sugar, tell me you want this as much as I do,” Whiskey said through slightly-grit teeth. “You’ve been runnin’ ‘round my head for weeks an’... I’ve been a patient man, but you bein’ here in my house is doin’ somethin’ wicked to me.”

“I do, I really do, Whiskey,” you replied with a grin. “I want you.” You leaned in to kiss him again, but his eyes drifted downward as he opened his mouth and it made you stop your advance.

“It’s… It’s Jack,” he muttered, turning his face away, suddenly interested in the carpet floor of his bedroom. It took you a couple seconds for your brain to process what he said. You gently cupped his face in your palms, the stubble on his jaw tickling your skin, but the touch made him look back at you. You met his eyes and you could see a little anxiousness hidden behind them.

“Jack…” you repeated. A wide grin broke out on your face as you breathed out his name again. “Jack.” His name fell from your lips and the man in front of you immediately softened. You watched the nervous expression, the tension of letting you know his name, not the moniker he was given during his time with Statesman, bleed out of his body. 

You pressed a kiss to his lips before you pulled back to look up at him. “Jack. Want you to fuck me. Been dreaming about it for so long now… Please .”

As if you’d flipped a switch inside of him, Whiskey – no, Jack – picked you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. You let out a little squeak before you were gently laid down onto the bed and now, Jack was on top of you, kissing you like his life depended on it. He licked into your mouth again and you moaned against him. Jack’s hips grinded down against your clothed core. God, you could feel he was rock-hard under his jeans and you were dying to rip them off of him. You’d thought about this situation before, sure, but nothing from your wet dreams and fantasies could compare to how hot it was to actually be in the moment.

Suddenly, Jack was pulling away from you and stripping off his clothes, you following suit and pulling off your outfit only to toss it all across the room. You were a little self-conscious about his response to seeing you naked, but watching his eyes grow wider and his cock twitch the smallest bit made you feel invincible.

“Absolutely breath-taking, darlin’,” he murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chest. “Scoot up the bed more fer me, baby, wanna eat you like you’re the last meal I’ll ever have.” You burned at his words and you could only nod dumbly and pull yourself back toward the headboard. After getting settled, Jack pressed soft kisses up your thighs until he had reached where you both wanted him to be the most. He started off with teasing licks that made you feel like you were going to explode right then and there. His tongue gently flicked over your clit and you responded by fisting your hands tightly in the bedsheets, eyes squeezed shut as soft noises fell from your lips that you couldn’t back any longer

“Please, Jack,” you whined. “More. I need more.” You weren’t a stranger to sex, but the very limited encounters with your past partners were currently being blown out of the water. No one had ever made you feel like this before, so close to cumming in practically a minute flat.

“As you wish, sugar,” you heard him say with a chuckle. A kiss was pressed to the skin of your thigh before, true to his word, Jack ate you like a man starved. He licked long stripes up your pussy before digging into your clit with his mouth and his tongue that had you seeing stars. You looked down at Jack and you swore you got closer to orgasm just by seeing how his eyes were closed and his big hands were pushing your legs further apart so you couldn’t clamp down on his head.

“F-Fuck, gonna cum, fucking Christ,” you moaned loudly, head tilting up to the ceiling. You felt one of his hands disappear from its spot on your leg and then you felt a thick finger slip inside of you. The whine you let out was long and high-pitched and the instant a second finger was inserted to curl and prod at your g-spot, you came, cursing loudly and crying his name.

Before your brain could even think of something to say or a way to articulate how amazing that was, Whiskey was kissing you again. The taste of yourself on your lips was so incredibly hot.

“Never tasted anything so good in my life, sweet thing,” Jack said. He leaned down to lap at one of your nipples as he tweaked the other gently in between his fingers, making the stiff bud harden even more than it already was, and all you could do was lay there and whine Jack's name at the attention. You really thought he was trying to kill you with how much worship he was giving your body. He pulled off of you to press a kiss to where your heart would be before he looked back into your eyes.

“Now, gorgeous, we can go as far as you feel comfortable,” he said. “If you don’ wanna do anything else tonight, that’s okay with me. Ya can get me off or I can go take care of myself if you’d like, I just wanted to make you feel good.” You felt the butterflies in your stomach kick into overdrive again. Honestly, you really wanted Jack to fuck you, but you were still somewhat reeling from how hard he’d just made you cum with only his mouth and his fingers (that and you were more than a bit anxious about going all the way with him yet). But there was one thing you’d fantasized about several times…

“I… Ireallywannasuckyourdick,” you spat out. After saying it, you covered your face with your hands. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that. You heard Jack chuckle before you felt him gently take your hands and move them away from your face.

“Baby, I’d love nothin’ more,” he assured you. He leaned back and bared himself to you. For a moment, you could only stare at his cock and try not to drool at how hot he looked like this. His cock was hard and curled up toward his stomach with pre-come was spilling out of it slowly, dripping onto his torso. You settled yourself between his legs and licked an exploratory stripe up the vein running down his cock. Jack let out a loud groan and it only egged you on further. You took the tip into his mouth and lapped at the beads of pre-come that had spilled out. The salty taste of him was heavenly and, despite your earlier assumption that you might not be able to cum again soon, you felt ready to go all over again.

When you finally bobbed your head down, you thought Jack couldn’t moan any louder. You managed to fit all of him inside of your warm, wet mouth, the curly brown hairs at the base of his cock tickling you a little. You stayed down for a couple more seconds before it got to be too much and you had to pull off to cough slightly.

“Fuck, sugar, look so good with your mouth so full of my cock like that,” he groaned. Jack threaded his fingers in your hair and gently nudged you back toward his cock. “Gonna burn that image into my brain.” His words had you needing to reach down to gently touch yourself and you did so as you started to move your mouth up and down his cock again.

“S-Shit,” Jack hissed. You set a steady pace, fast enough to keep up with your need to finger yourself while you sucked Jack off, and it felt like all too soon, Whiskey was tugging on your hair just enough to make your body tingle in pleasure. “G-Gonna cum, sweet thing, make sure you take it all, so wonderful, that’s it, my good darlin’ .”

And that was all it took. His praise was what sent you over the edge.

You found yourself clenching around nothing as your finger frantically rubbed circles on your clit, humming around Jack’s cock as you came. Jack pushed your mouth down the smallest bit to fully sheath himself in your mouth and then you felt the hot burst of cum splash onto your tongue and down your throat. His fingers released their grip on your hair and you pulled off, swallowing as you did so. Jack gave you a wicked smirk at seeing you swallow his cum, but in an instant, he was cupping your face in his hands and making you look at him.

“I am so sorry I forced your head down like that, sugar,” he apologized. “Did I hurt you? I-I didn’t mean to, I swear, it’s just…” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“It’s alright, Jack, I enjoyed it,” you replied. Your voice was the slightest bit hoarse, but you couldn’t care less. That was the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced in your life.

Whiskey gave you a kiss to your forehead before he got up off the bed, stretching a little as he did so, and walked into the bathroom. You let out a deep, contented sigh as you flopped down and buried your face into the soft pillow behind you. You felt like if you tried to get out of bed at the moment, you couldn’t. Your entire body felt exhausted, well-fucked, still drunk off of Whiskey’s cock that had been in your mouth mere minutes ago.

“Sweetheart, c’mon, move a li’l bit fer me,” he muttered. His Southern accent seemed even more pronounced than usual, which you thought was cute. “Gotta clean you up. Make sure my sugar’s taken care of.” You shifted from your current position to make it easier for Whiskey to wipe you down. The warm washcloth felt nice on your skin, getting the stickiness of your sweat off of you. Whiskey also pressed the cloth between your legs for a brief second and you felt your body get a small burst of warmth. Honestly, you were so worn out, you didn’t think you could be ready for another round if you tried, but that didn’t stop your body from trying.

Whiskey sat the washcloth down on the nightstand next to the bed and laid down, tugging you into his arms gently. You snuggled into him and you felt like you could fall asleep just like this. However, you did have one question for him.

“So… your name is Jack?” you asked after a few minutes of silence into the skin of his broad chest. Whiskey pulled his head back from where it had nestled on the top of your head to look at you with a smirk on his face.

“Would ya believe me if I told you my name was Jack Daniels?” he shot back. A loud laugh bubbled out of your lips. 

“Absolutely not ,” you laughed. Whiskey shared a laugh with you before he leaned in and gave you a long kiss to your lips. Your hand drifted up the soft skin of his back – the soft skin you had probably just scratched up even with your blunt fingernails – and threaded in the hair on the nape of his neck. Kissing Whiskey in this moment was tender and affectionate and you would give anything to stay like this forever. Curled up in his arms, you felt like you could take on anything.

“Well, it’s not the name I was given when I was born,” he started after he pulled back. His voice was low now, like he was sharing a secret. “Changed my name to it when I was a younger man. So, legally speaking, I’m Jack Daniels.” You blinked at him a couple of times.

“You changed your name?” you questioned. “How come?” Your fingers were still running through the hair on the back of his neck and at the question, you felt him tense up a little. Worried, you’d pried too much – despite currently being naked in his bed – you started to do damage control. Your fingers stilled and tightened, probably almost tugging at his hair. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Before you could babble anything else, Jack pressed another kiss to your lips but it was short and chaste. It had you melting all over again. “Darlin’, it’s alright,” he soothed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Gonna tell you everything one day. All ‘bout my past. You’re real special to me an’ you deserve to hear it from me before someone from back then finds out about you an’ tries to tell you.” His hot breath ghosted across your skin as he spoke to you, making your body shiver. 

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, however. But you realized very quickly into your friendship that Whiskey never really spoke about his life, preferring to change topics over actually giving you an answer to something. You had a couple snippets of comments he’d let slip while in conversation at the café, but it wasn’t much. He’d mentioned that he used to work for Statesman Distillery (then again, his belt buckle had practically given that away the day you met), still had connections to them now that he was “retired”, and occasionally did work for them. He’d also mentioned once that, at one point, he was married a long time ago but he was divorced (you’ll never forget the way he looked incredibly uncomfortable when you’d asked about it before you changed the subject, something Whiskey had been thankful for). Sure, you knew about his hobbies and his favorite movie and other things of that nature, but other than that, Whiskey was a closed book.

Suddenly, you realized you’d been off in your own head thinking instead of saying anything back. Your eyes finally focused back on Jack and you could see that he looked ready to bolt at any second. Instead of prodding for more, you kissed the tip of his nose. “Hey, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “You can tell me more about you when you’re ready. It makes me worry about you, sure, but I still trust you.”

Whiskey gave you a soft smile and his grip around you got tighter. You looked up at him just in time to see his eyes slide shut and his breathing turn steady. You weren’t sure where this left your relationship with Whiskey, but you figured you two would talk about that in the morning. For now, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the scent and the touch of your cowboy.

#agent whiskey #whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #nesswrites.doc #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 216. brb x oc

a/n: HELLO GUYS im back,these past days i had...the need to write, badly. so i hope you guys like it :) (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

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/210/211/212/213/214/215

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-

Beatrice watched Bradley walk away with her smile widening, waving towards him when he turned his head just enough to look at her and wave back. His own steps were slow and careful, almost as if he didn’t want to leave.

Maverick, who was watching this with his arms crossed and his smirk present, just sighed while shaking his head. He knew that Bradley was crazy, absolutely crazy for Beatrice and it still made him happy with how much his nephew showed love towards Beatrice.

Like Goose did to Carole.

It’s incredible how much these two reminded him of Rooster’s parents.

He pushes himself off the wall and approaches Beatrice, “Bea,” she snaps her head back at him with her smile still in place, ‘Ready to move on?”

“Oh,” she looks back to where Rooster once stood and her smile drops briefly seeing he was no longer there, but now was back to his duties within the base, “Oh,sure. Yes, what else could you show me?”

Maverick could sense the shift in Beatrice's demeanor as she briefly looked back to where Rooster had been standing. He understood that she missed her husband, but he also knew that Rooster had responsibilities to attend to on the base.

Not that his nephew would focus on it while he was working, but he also knew he’d try his best.

With a supportive smile, Maverick said, "Don't worry, Bea. Rooster will be back, and I promise we'll keep this tour interesting. How about we head over to the hangar next? You'll get to see some of our impressive aircraft up close."

Beatrice's smile returned, and her eyes lit up with excitement. "Well,we did go there before Mav.” she whispers, placing a hand next to her mouth, “Back then,when you helped us get in here.”

“Yes,yes, of course, but,” he holds up a finger, “It’s much better when there’s light,I assure you.” he says, patting her shoulder then her head - she wasn’t that much shorter than he was, but she was younger than him, so it only made sense for him to do so. And she didn’t seem to complain.

Some officers looked over at them, some of them looked at Bea specifically.  He doesn’t say anything, but he does arch his brow towards them, they knew that if a woman - a civilian woman - was walking alongside an officer it was pretty obvious she was there because someone in her life was in the base.

Beatrice didn’t seem to notice, she just followed along with Maverick, sometimes standing behind him so she wouldn’t end up bumping other people, “Okay,” he begins, “Now, you ready?” she nods offering him a nervous smile, “Come along then.”

Maverick continued to lead Beatrice through the base, his steps deliberate as he navigated the corridors and hallways. He made sure to explain different aspects of the base's operations along the way, pointing out various facilities and departments the best way that he could.

He was a good guide after all.

Beatrice listened with genuine interest, absorbing the information and occasionally asking questions. It wasn’t every day she could do this, she couldn’t miss the opportunity, “You know,” she begins as they walk, “I always saw this base whenever I went to college.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,Northride is,” she gestures over her shoulder, “Around that way, and I always wondered what it looked like inside.”

“Does it fit your expectations?”

“I mean,” she laughs, it’s huge. I can never handle how big this place is.”

Maverick chuckled at Beatrice's observation. "It is quite massive, isn't it? But that size is necessary for everything that happens here. We have to be prepared for all sorts of scenarios, and that requires space and resources." She seemed genuinely interested in understanding the inner workings of the base, and he found her company to be rather enjoyable.

He knew she was a good kid and he also knew that Rooster’s absolute care for Beatrice had a reason.

As they walked, Maverick noticed more glances from some of the officers they passed. He understood that Beatrice's presence might draw attention, however, Maverick's reputation as a seasoned officer and well-respected figure seemed to ward off any prying eyes…that and he heard one of them saying ‘That’s Bradshaw’s wife!’ before skiddling away. 

As they reached the entrance to the hangar, Maverick held the door open for Beatrice with a grin. "After you, Bea."

She stepped inside with a sense of awe, mouth parting in shock her eyes widening at the sight of the impressive aircraft illuminated by the hangar's lights. "Wow," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You were right, the light does wonders.”

Maverick stepped in beside her, sliding his hands into his jacket’s pockets. "Aren't they something?" he said, his tone filled with pride. "I do have that reaction often too.”

Beatrice nodded, her eyes dancing over the sleek designs and intricate details. "It's incredible." she notices that Maverick was looking at her and she smiled at him in question, “What?”

“...Bea,I want to talk to you.”

Uh oh.

Mav? Going serious?

She tried to ignore the coldness at the bottom of her stomach, clenching her hands together and then nodding after a few seconds. “...okay…?” he walks to the side, gesturing to

a quieter corner of the hangar. 

Once they were in a more secluded spot, Maverick turned to Beatrice, his expression earnest and his hands clasped together as he looks towards the aircrafts in front of them, “...did Rooster ever tell about his parents?”

“As much as he knows.”

“Did he ever tell you about how they met?” Beatrice parted her lips, then closed them as she tried to remember if he did do that. Once she found nothing in her mind, she shook her head negatively, “I don’t think he knows, not in detail at least.” he smiles, rubbing his own knuckles before sighing, “...you know,we had talks about Rooster before, I told you how much I appreciate what you do to him.”

Normally she’d tell him she ‘didn’t do anything’ but she knew he’s right. Rooster was a lot more open with her and, as much as she hated to admit, maybe her presence helped a bit. “You did.” she whispers, “...what does that have to do with his parents though?”

“Ah,well,” he claps his hands once, “You two remind me of them a lot. Goose and Carole, they…” he arches his brows, “Were disgustingly in love.”

“Oh.”

Maverick does a double take, seeing his niece in law’s face drops for a second, then he holds his hand, “Woah,woah, no, no, it’s not bad. Not at all.” he reassures her, seeing how she wrung her hands together. “...It’s not bad. You two are just young and in love and I approve it one hundred percent…when Goose and Carole met, God, he was head over heels for her.”

“...Roos,well,” she smiles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “He did mention his mom, often, I know Carole was a good person and I know that she…didn’t share much about Goose when Roos was growing up.”

“It was painful.” Maverick adds, “To all of us.” he pauses, then turns to look back at Bea, ‘You know what I see when I look at the two of you?”

“Goose and Carole 2.0?”

“What could’ve been.”

Beatrice almost felt bad for her joke, closing her mouth shamefully while her cheeks turned a bright shade of red, “...and Goose and Carole 2.0, you aren’t wrong.” Maverick chuckles, patting her shoulder, “Relax,you didn’t upset me.” There was a pause and only the sound of the hangar could be heard so Beatrice allowed it to happen, sitting next to Maverick with her hands on her lap.

Maverick sighed softly as he gazed out at the aircraft, memories from the past playing in his mind like an old film reel. "Carole was a remarkable woman," he began, his voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. "She had this light about her, you know? And Goose, he was one of a kind. The way he looked at her, it was like he hung the stars in the sky just for her. They were...soulmates."

Maverick turned to Beatrice, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and sadness. "When I look at you and Rooster, I see that same spark. I see the way you both care for each other, the way you light up when you're together. It's a rare and precious thing, Bea. You two have something special."

Beatrice blinked in surprise, her voice quivering slightly as she spoke. "Thank you, Mav. That means...a lot to me." She reached out and gently placed her hand on his arm, offering a reassuring squeeze. "I…you did,mention that to me before.”

“I did.”

“...why bring that up again? I-If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maverick gave her a soft, grateful smile and placed his hand on top of hers. "Ah,I’m just an emotional fool sometimes.” he whispers, “...I think it’s because…maybe…that Nikki reminds me of Rooster when he was born. “And I know for a fact Goose and Carole wanted more kids, but…as you know never could achieve that.”

Maverick's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he continued, silently thankful for the sunglasses in front of his eyes. "When Rooster was born, it was one of the happiest moments of their lives, and I remember how much Goose and Carole loved being parents. They had so much love to give, and it showed in every little thing they did for him."

He paused for a moment, his voice catching in his throat. "Nikki…she's a precious reminder of them. I see so much of Carole in her, and sometimes it's like looking back in time." Maverick's voice became more earnest. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, seeing you and Rooster together, it brings back those beautiful memories back…and I’m thankful to be here and see it.”

Tears welled up in Beatrice's eyes as she listened to Maverick's heartfelt words. She let’s go of his hand to wipe her eyes, offering him a supportive smile. "Um,I…wow I… have no words."

Maverick finally broke the silence with a warm smile after both of them were done sniffling and quietly trying to hold back tears. "Now, how about we continue our tour of this magnificent place? There's so much more to see, and I promise to keep the emotional speeches to a minimum."

Beatrice chuckled through her tears, wiping her eyes. "Really? There’s more to see?”

“Legally? Yes.”

"Well, then lead the way, Mav."

-

She got home after that, she couldn’t say goodbye to Rooster but she did send him a message that she and Nikki were home. And honestly…she was pensive, for a little while. She sat on her bed, hands on her cheeks as she looks at her shoes - Nikki was happily asleep in her crib, leaving Beatrice alone to her own mind.

Maverick was always genuine about whatever he had to say, especially when it came to Rooster.

He and I, she thought, we've come so far. Her mind wandered back to the beginning, to the moment when they had first met. She remembered the awkwardness, the uncertainty, and the initial hesitations. She remembers seeing him and…he smiled. 

She should’ve seen the signs, but she couldn’t, not back then.

Beatrice's fingers traced absent patterns on her bedsheet as she thought about how Rooster had always been there for her. Through the ups and downs, the long deployments, and her own issues he had been a constant. His love and unwavering support had given her strength.

It hadn't been easy, not always, especially when he was gone. The constant fear that something might happen to him, the loneliness of those nights when she slept alone, and the longing for his presence had tested her resolve so often she lost count.

Beatrice's gaze shifted to the framed photograph on her bedside table. It was a picture of her and Rooster, arms wrapped around each other, smiling under the bright sun on a beautiful day. It was funny, they didn’t take pictures often, there were only a few in the house.

She picks it up to have a closer look, smiling sweetly as she recalls the scene. That morning at her uncle Roberto’s yacht, their final day of honeymoon and they just looked so happy. They were happy.

She was happy.

She knew Rooster still had things he had to deal with and she wondered if he somehow felt the same as Mav. If they,somehow, resembled his parents so much. She sighed, falling back on the mattress with the picture on her chest, arms wide open and eyes on the ceiling.

“He’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.” she tells herself, recalling the time, “I should prepare something special…maybe.” she could, she could do something. Yeah! She could! Beatrice sits up on the bed with a smile on her face, kissing her husband’s cheek on the picture before sliding on her shark slippers.

However, she heard the doorbell ring, followed by Eleanor’s barking. And this one wasn’t her usual, ‘who’s there’ barking, it was the ‘I don’t like whoever is outside and i want to kill them’ barking. She frowns, checking on the doorbell camera app to see who it was and–

Miranda.

Not her.

She glanced at the clock, realizing that Rooster would be arriving soon. The timing couldn't have been worse. Beatrice knew that she needed to handle this situation delicately, especially with Nikki asleep in the next room. She quickly got to her feet, slipping the framed photograph back onto the bedside table, and made her way to the front door.

Mentally preparing herself.

“Ellie,” she gently pushes the dog away with her leg, then shushes her to the side. She looks up and almost has a heart attack when Miranda’s face is almost pressed to the glass details on the door. “No wonder Ellie was so furious.”

As she opened the door, Eleanor's agitated barking filled the air,even from afar. Beatrice tried to keep a calm demeanor, though her mind was racing with thoughts of what Miranda might want. "Miranda," she said, her voice polite but guarded. "What brings you here?"

Miranda, standing on the doorstep, smiled brilliantly, “Hello,Beatrice.” she says, even that sounded conscedending, “Is this a bad time?’

“Well-”

“No matter.” And Miranda almost made a move to step inside the house, but Beatrice remained still. The other woman blinked, then tilted her head at Bea,”You busy?”

“I’m…currently taking care of my family,yes.”

“Hmmm…I see.” she fumbles with her purse, “Well,I had to come over and see how things were, Navy wives,right?’ and she winks…and Beatrice feels sick, this is like being attracted into the alligator’s mouth almost.

Why did she get the weird people? Why? “Ha…haha,yeah,N-Navy…wives…can I help you in um,” she crosses her arms, shielding herself, “Any…thing you might need?”

“Well-”

“Gorgeous.” 

Both women looked over at Rooster, who closed the door - a bit too strongly, she had to add- with his eyes hidden by his Caravans and his lips curled downwards just a bit, just enough for her to notice he was upset. He keeps his head on Beatrice as he gets closer, ignoring Miranda until he was right by his wife’s side, “Sorry,baby.” he coos, ‘Got caught up at work,everything…good?”

It was hilarious and worrisome how Rooster couldn’t hide his distaste.

“We were just chatting,Roos.”

“About?”

…well,nothing.

Her silence was enough for the pilot who just turned to Miranda, “Listen,Miranda,right? My wife is a bit tired, she just gave birth a few days ago so she needs to rest.” his tone was a bit harder than he intended, but he didn’t care, “So, if you could come back some other day, that’d be much better.”

Miranda's smile, which had been radiant a moment ago, faltered for just a fraction of a second. She adjusted her posture, attempting to regain her composure. "Oh, I had no idea, congratulations on the baby," she said, her tone attempting to sound genuinely congratulatory but coming off as slightly insincere.

Rooster's response was cool and measured, his protective instincts clearly kicking in. "Thank you, but as I said, it's not a good time right now. We'll be happy to chat with you another day." His words carried a firmness that left little room for argument,gently pushing Beatrice back inside the house.

Miranda's annoyance was thinly veiled behind another polite smile "Of course." she replied, her tone now laced with subtle irritation. "I understand. I'll leave you to your family time."

With that, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the pavement. Beatrice watched her retreat, her relief palpable. Once Miranda was out of earshot, Rooster exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Sorry about that, baby," he said, turning to Beatrice with a softer expression. "What did she want?”

Beatrice reached out and gently touched his arm, “I…don’t know, she just showed up here. But…thank you,for that. Really.”

He smiled, the tension of the moment melting away. "Anytime, gorgeous. Come on, let’s get back inside before she somehow changes her mind and wanders back.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Once they were inside, Rooster hums, “Also, remind me to tell you something,” he coos, closing the door while rubbing her hand, “Something I thought about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, “I think you’ll like it.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

[prfctparis]

I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH3]

AO3 Link / One / Prev / Next / Masterlist

summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

“ch3 will be up in a few days,” i said, like a lying liar who lies. i meant to!!! but then i sort of forgot and then got distracted by another fic i’m in the middle of writing mlmao oops. so i won’t promise or say when ch4 will be up, bc this was the last of my already written chapters from ao3 & my update schedule is of the 'when i can and want to' variety. hope u guys on tumblr enjoy this chapter!! :)

warnings for the entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: blood; stressed teenagers; athanasia has a borderline panic attack; vivisection is mentioned again but only once if i remember right; implied animal death but in the past & it’s like 1 paragraph

CHAPTER THREE —

The secret, new headquarters of the Ghost Investigation Ward was in upstate New York. The Wayne Manor was in Gotham City, New Jersey. The travel from Point A to Point B was about three hours and forty minutes long – a much longer drive than any of them wanted. But with Manson’s magic, the van stayed invisible to the human eye and Wesley was able to speed down the roads without cops chasing after them, cutting down the travel time immensely.

Still, it was a risk.

But stopping some place before they got to Gotham was also a risk. One Athanasia refused to take.

Maybe if Ra’s al Ghul hadn’t been there, would she allow them to stop at a roadside motel or something. But he was there. He had been in the room where they were operating on Danny. Mother had one of her servants save Danny from death eight years ago to get him out of the League, allowing Grandfather to believe he was dead, but now he knew.

And Athanasia wasn’t going to let that man get anywhere near close to her twin brother again. So, they weren’t going to stop until they made it to Wayne Manor.

The others weren’t happy about it. She didn’t care.

Of course, that didn’t mean she was happy about it, either.

Believe her, she wanted to stop sooner. She wanted to get to a place where they could properly take care of Danny’s injuries, and give him what he needed to heal, and take those damn power repressing cuffs off. All they could do was make sure the bandages on his chest stayed put and kept too much blood from bleeding out, and made sure that he didn’t die on the way to the manor, which was more difficult than Athanasia would like, seeing as though, as Phantom, he didn’t have a heartbeat.

Eventually, they got the cuffs off. It took a while, and it was mostly done by Foley and Gray, because Athanasia was busy bandaging her own wounds with the limited supplies in the van, and Manson was focused on keeping the van invisible while Wesley drove. They succeeded, though. Once both cuffs were off, a ring of light appeared around him and with a flash he had black hair again, and green blood turned red.

His healing factor didn’t kick in.

“What do you mean he isn’t healing?” Wesley asked, worried, when Foley informed them. “He should be.”

“I don’t know,” Foley said, tone unsure and worried.

“But he has a heartbeat now, right?” asked Athanasia. She kept her eyes on her thigh as she bandaged a wound on there. It wasn’t the best, and she didn’t have anything to clean the wound with, but it would have to do for now.

Gray replied, “Yeah. He’s got one.”

“Okay. Good.” It was the only thing she could get herself to say. The possibility of still being too late to save him, even with him now away from the GIW and LoA, put a restrictive weight on her chest. It lessened with Gray’s affirmation, but not much.

They made it to Gotham in just under two hours and fifteen minutes.

Athanasia only got a split second glimpse of the city’s poorly lit up welcome sign with how fast Wesley continued to drive. Truly a speed demon; he didn’t even slow down when they got into the city’s limits.

As they crossed one intersection, a car with goons hanging out of the windows holding guns sped through it behind them, with what looked to be Red Robin and Spoiler on motorcycles on their tail. Three cops sped through right after. Gun shots rang out as they disappeared behind a building.

“Watch out for vigilantes,” she said. “It’s around the time most start coming out.”

Wesley shook his head. “I can’t imagine having more than one vigilante.”

Gray pointedly cleared her throat.

“I can’t imagine having more than two vigilantes.”

She hummed. “Forget about me again and see what happens.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Athanasia laughed quietly to herself. It wasn’t quiet enough, because he still heard and gave her the stink eye. It was hardly intimidating

Foley hissing made her look into the back seats. He was shaking his left hand, expression a grimace of pain, as he hurriedly passed the vial of liquid Athanasia had taken from the IV to Gray. Gray took it just as fast, twisting the lid back on.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Athanasia asked.

“They were putting that in his system?” The grimace turned into panic when she nodded. “Oh, that’s not good. That is so not good. That has blood blossoms in it.”

“What?!” Gray exclaimed. “That can kill him!”

Athanasia shifted so she sat sideways in the front seat. “What are blood blossoms?” Her eyes flicked to Danny – his chest slowly rose up and down – and then back to Foley.

“They can kill ghosts,” Wesley said gravely.

Foley explained, “They’re a blood red flower, have purple stems – humans can eat them. But for ghosts, they cause extreme pain and make them go powerless. Exposed to enough of it, they die. To people like me and Sam, who aren’t ghosts but have been exposed to ectoplasm for years, it just burns us. Like we touched a hot stove, or something.” He motioned to the vial. “That just felt like bee sting for me, but to Danny? It probably feels like he’s being slowly burned from the inside out.”

“It sounds like they made an oil from blood blossoms and diluted it until it wasn’t so strong,” Gray said.

“Strong enough to render him powerless, but weak enough to not kill him after long exposure,” Athanasia said, and the two of them nodded.

“Sounds like it.”

“That may be why he isn’t healing fast like he should,” Wesley suggested.

Foley cursed again. “This is so not good. We need to get it out of his system, like, yesterday.”

“How do we do that?”

Silence stretched between them.

Athanasia’s brows furrowed, incredulous and frustrated. And scared. “You don’t know?” she demanded.

“It– It’s never been in his bloodstream before!” Foley defended. “He’s only been near the flowers, so we just…moved him away from them. Or them from him. This is… We’ve never dealt with this before!”

“But you should have at least had a contingency plan for this,” she bit back. “Oils from flowers and plants are common!”

“We never thought the GIW would be smart enough for that!”

“Well, you should have!”

“Hey!” Gray shouted over them, “Enough! This isn’t helping Danny. Let’s just get to your dad’s place, yeah?”

Athanasia turned back around without another word. The movement pulled at her injuries, maybe even reopened the wound on her side, but she ignored them as she got out her communicator.

No one spoke for a few seconds.

“The device you are using to block the signals���” she started.

“I already said no,” Foley muttered, tone clipped. “It’s blocking his ecto-signature, too. I’m not risking unblocking it just so you can make a call.”

“You didn’t risk stopping, Ana,” Wesley said before she could respond. “Let us not risk this.”

There was a tightness in her throat that had been building up for the last ten minutes. It kept her from speaking; if she wanted to or even had a response, she couldn’t say it. She worked her jaw, ignoring the stinging in her eyes.

One brother was behind her near death, with a large incision that needed to be stitched. Her other brother was out in the city fighting crime, who knows in what type of danger in the crime capital of America.

She just wanted to know that at least one of them was okay.

It was as they went through another intersection, barely making it through a green light, when she noticed an unmistakable large, black shadow swing from one side of the road to the next.

“Stop the van,” she choked out.

“But–”

“Stop the van!”

Wesley slammed on the breaks. The ones in the back went tumbling, and she heard Manson let out a curse, concentration on the van’s invisibility broken after over two hours.

Athanasia got out of the van as fast as possible. She raced to the other side of the road and climbed skillfully up the fire escape on the side of a building. As she got to the roof, she spotted the figure speaking to another – red and black – in the shadows.

“Batman!”

Both figures turned. She dimly registered that the person Batman had been speaking to was Red Hood.

“Yes? What is it?” Batman questioned as he stepped forward.

Red Hood followed. The way his helmet tilted a little told her he recognized her. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Athanasia made it halfway across the roof before she faltered. Her father was…an imposing man. If she hadn’t grown up in the place she did, she would probably be fearful of him because of it. Instead it just caught her off guard. Seeing him in person, up close, was…

Well. Unexpected.

She blinked and forced herself to stay on track. To not get distracted. She stopped a few or so feet away, wary to get too close. “We need your help,” she started off with. “My…acquaintances and I – we have someone who needs medical attention that only the Batcave will be able to provide for, and I need you to take us there.”

“The Batcave,” he repeated.

“Yes. A regular hospital is out of the question.” Her eyes flickered around the roof. Something wasn’t right. “I would take him there myself but I do not know where it is.”

What wasn’t right?

“I have no idea who you are. You aren’t authorized to go to the Batcave.”

“You would make an exception for us.”

“You sound sure.”

“Because I am. Just help us help him!”

“Who is ‘him’?”

“B, I don’t think it’s time for an interrogation right now,” Red Hood said.

“My…” Athanasia stilled. She knew what wasn’t right. Her entire body tensed. “Where’s Robin?”

Her father’s posture changed. Right; Batman was protective of Robin.

But as his older sister, so was she.

“Out,” he said. “Listen, you’re injured, and I understand you need help but–”

“What do you mean ‘out’? As in patrolling? Out of town? Country? Earth itself?”

Red Hood took a step towards her. “Whoa, kid, relax. It’s okay–”

“Where Robin is isn’t your business–”

Red Hood muttered a curse.

“Not my business?” she seethed. “Knowing where he is, is most definitely my business. I am not asking for dental records – it’s a simple answer to a simple question.”

“I–”

“My twin brother is dying in the backseat of a van, and my little brother is not by our father’s side like I thought he would be, so please just tell me where he is so I know at least one of them will be okay! I–”

“Hey! Hey,” Red Hood interrupted. “Robin is okay! He’s okay, alright? I promise. He twisted his ankle pretty badly the other night and the old man benched him until it’s healed. That’s all. You can breathe, kid.”

“I am.” Barely. It felt like she had been running for hours. She was out of breath; her intake of air had increased in the past few minutes. Her throat was back to being tight, but so was her chest, this time.

“Yes, you are, but your breathing is too fast,” Red Hood said. “You need to slow down–”

“There is no time to slow down!” she shouted. Her feet moved backwards when Red Hood tried to come closer to her. “I had the GPS taking us to the manor, but it’s worse off than we thought, and I would take him to the Batcave if I knew where it was–”

“How many of you are there?”

Athanasia blinked rapidly. Out of surprise, not because she was about to cry. She snapped her eyes back up to her father. “What?”

“You said you had acquaintances with you. How many?” He was doing something on his gauntlet, a hologram-like screen faintly glowing above it. She tried to make out the words backwards but gave up pretty quickly.

“Six in total,” she said. “Myself included. They do not know your identity.”

He hummed. “Are all of you injured?”

“Except for one, my– our getaway driver. Danny is the worst off.”

“Hard to believe, you’re pretty banged up yourself, kid,” Red Hood muttered, with a small motion to her entire body.

“They vivisected him.” The words hadn’t meant to come out, but they did.

Batman and Red Hood stilled.

The latter sucked in a breath of air. “Jesus.”

“The Batmobile is on its way,” her father tensely informed her. He stalked forward, and she was expecting him to walk passed her so she was thoroughly surprised when he stopped in front of her. He raised a hand and her body tensed for another time that night. She didn’t know what she was else expecting, but it wasn’t a comforting hold on her shoulder; it wasn’t a comforting tone and assurance. “Your brother is okay. Your twin is going to be okay.”

Athanasia stared at the hand on her shoulder. It took a second or two to finally tear her gaze from it, and look at her father’s cowl covered face instead.

“I promise.”

+++

The sound of footsteps gradually becoming louder alerted him that someone was about to disrupt his peace.

“Hey, I’m going to bed.”

Peace officially disrupted.

Damian looked up from his sketchbook long enough to spot Duke Thomas poking his head into the living room, before focusing back on the drawing he was working on. “Okay.”

“And Bruce wanted me to remind you to finish your homework if you haven’t already.”

He sighed. “I have.”

“And Alf says no sweets if you have any snacks.”

“Okay,” he said, annoyance seeping through.

“And they both say not to stay up too late or walk too much on your ankle–”

“Leave me be and rest your empty skull on the warm side of your pillow before I stab this pencil through your jugular.”

Thomas snickered. It occurred to him, then, that the older teen had continued on to annoy him on purpose. It worked. That annoyed Damian even more.

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving,” Thomas said through another chuckle. “Goodnight, Damian!” he called as he walked off.

He huffed. “Goodnight.”

Duke Thomas was Father’s newest addition to his ever growing brood. The older boy wasn’t adopted (at least, not yet), only fostered. His parents were still alive – just victims of Joker Venom. They found a cure, although it wasn’t instantaneous, so Elaine and Doug Thomas were slowly healing and recovering with the help of professionals while their son stayed here.

Damian was sort of surprised he was still here. He had an uncle he could go to, and who he did visit often, but he had chose to stay. Not that Damian wanted him to go – he actually didn’t mind Thomas that much anymore. He liked to think they got along well, even if sometimes the atmosphere was awkward, or when they deliberately annoyed one another.

Recently when the two either merely existed in the same room doing nothing, or ventured into the city out of boredom, Drake tagged along. Or was the one to drive them around. It had been tense at first. It was less so, now. Damian truly didn’t know how to feel about it.

He stopped drawing and stared at the page. He erased a few lines that didn’t look right and grabbed his phone, unlocking it to study the reference picture he was using. Just as he was about to put it down, his phone vibrated with a text.

It was from Drake – in the groupchat he made that included himself, Damian, and Duke. Damian tried to leave it multiple times only for Drake to add him back every single time.

drake

hey

evrrhthing ok at the manor??

thomas

yeah

i’m about to go to bed, damian is sketching in the living room & alfred is in the basement

why

is something wrong?

drake

idk but b is heading back

w jason

neither have have said a word they wont answer

thomas

that’s sus

you guys have only been gone for what?? 45 min at least

drake

yea

barbara cant even get ahold of them

hey little d

bat brat

u sure ur ok

Damian rolled his eyes. Drake was almost as bad as Father and Richard when it came to hovering if he got hurt, the buffoon simply showed it differently. He only twisted his ankle; nothing major.

And if his back had been hurting him the past week, nobody had to know.

…Except for Pennyworth and Richard. They knew of the metal in his spine and the damaged nerves, and so he told them when the sharp aches and pains kept coming back.

Alfred insisted it was just a few nerves growing back.

Damian focused back to the groupchat. Drake had resorted to spamming it because he took too long to respond. Obnoxious plebeian.

He took a picture of his legs covered by the blanket he was using. One knee was propped up to angle his sketch book right, while the other was stretched out as his injured ankle rested on a small pillow. Alfred the cat was fast asleep, curled into a circle, on the arm of the couch, while Titus made himself small enough to lay on the couch beside his outstretched leg. He sent the picture with nothing else. Drake stopped his spamming and liked it while Thomas sent another text asking what Damian was drawing.

With that, he put his phone down – only for it to start vibrating repeatedly. A phone call.

He somewhat expected it to be Drake, but still wasn’t that surprised to see it was Father, instead.

“Father?” Damian answered the call. “Drake said you were heading back. With Todd.”

“Yes.” Father’s voice was rough, but in a distinct way that Damian knew it wasn’t his Batman voice. In the background he heard the rumble of the Batmobile. “We are. And we have some company with us.”

His brows lowered. “Is everything okay?”

Silence.

Damian sat up and tucked his foot under his other leg’s thigh. Titus shifted, getting off of the couch to lay on the floor instead. “Father?” Carefully, he closed his sketchbook and set it on the coffee table.

Thomas decided to walk back in, at that moment. “Hey, I…” He trailed off when he saw that Damian was on the phone. “Is that Bruce?”

“Father, is–”

“Do you have an older sister?”

Damian froze. He even stopped breathing for a second. Did he know? If he did, how? Was it Mother, was she in Gotham? Did she tell Father? Athanasia told him not to tell him or anyone else, and he hadn’t. Why was he asking this? Were they okay?

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Cassandra–”

“I’m not talking about by adoption, son,” Father interrupted. “Biologically, do you have a sister? Or even a brother?”

He involuntarily sucked in sharply. If Father heard it, he didn’t make any indication that he did.

“She would be around Tim’s age, seventeen or eighteen. Five foot eight, ten at most. She mentioned a twin brother.”

Damian kept his eyes on Titus. He ignored Thomas stepping further into the living room to stand near the couch. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said. “She said not to.”

“Who? Talia?”

“No.”

“Your sister.” Damian stayed quiet. “Why?”

“I don’t– do not…” How was he supposed to answer that? He had no idea why Athanasia told him not to tell Father, but Damian refused to break the promise he made her. Yes, he wanted to tell Father – all the time, so badly – but it was the last thing Athanasia asked of him. Even the idea of breaking that promise felt wrong. Even now, even though he somehow knew. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and hated how childlike he sounded.

“…It’s not your fault, chum. We will be at the Cave soon. If– when,” he corrected, “you come down, put on a mask. They have acquaintances who don’t know our secret identities.”

“Yes, sir. Are they okay?”

Father didn’t immediately respond. It sent warning bells through his mind. “We’re about to be at the cave.”

“Wait, Father–”

The call ended.

Damian let out a huff of frustration. He went to call him back, but stopped.

Athanasia was in Gotham. She went to Father for help. Did that mean she called him on the League communicator and he missed it? Did he? It sounded like she needed help, they both did, and he…

Damian vaulted off of the couch. Thomas shouted after him, but he ignored him and the pain in his ankle as ran through the halls and up the stairs to his room. He took the communicator out from its hiding spot under his mattress.

Nothing. No calls or messages. Not a single thing.

Why did she go to Father and not him?

Damian sent a message. It didn’t go through, just like the past hundreds of times. He tried a call, it did the same thing.

“Damian! Don’t run away like that, man, you’re gonna hurt your ankle more,” Thomas reprimanded as he finally caught up. “I’m sorta responsible for you right now, and I don’t feel like getting Alfred’s disappointed look because you’re running around.”

The words went through one ear and out the other.

He cursed in Arabic and tossed the device onto his bed. He snatched an emergency mask from a drawer of his bedside table, and left the room.

“Damian,” shouted Thomas. “Seriously, dude!”

“If you follow me to the Batcave, put on a mask,” Damian said. “We have guests.”

Whatever his foster brother’s response was, Damian didn’t hear it. He rushed down the stairs, simultaneously putting on his mask, and then ran to the study where the clock was. Standing on his toes, he moved the clock’s hands to the correct time and squeezed through before the secret door opened all the way.

As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he slowed. A cacophony of noise grew as he got further into the cave. He stopped on the last step and just stared.

Whatever he had been expecting, it was not a group of injured teenagers talking over each other to his father and the family’s grandfather of a butler. Todd stood a few feet away from the group, back to Damian. He seemed to be merely watching the scene unfold.

“We’ve taken care of him before, we know how to do stitches!” a girl with short black hair shouted. “This isn’t new to–”

“He’s not– you need to let us help,” a black kid argued. “We know what to do for him–”

“I have already seen it!” And there’s Athanasia. “It is not a pretty sight, I know, but I can help–”

“None of you are in shape to help Penny-One,” Batman tried to speak over them.

“I am!” Another girl. She held a red and black helmet in her arms that matched a vigilante-like suit she wore. “Please, just let us–”

“We’re his friends! Please–”

“We– Well, I don’t but they do – they know what to do,” a red headed boy said. “He’s different, you’ll need their–”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, so sudden even Damian flinched. As did Thomas, who appeared at his side the instant it happened.

Everyone quieted immediately, eyes falling to Jason Todd. The helmet was off, but a red domino still covered his eyes.

“Everyone shut up or else it will be too late for anyone to help anybody,” the young man snapped, “Let Penny-One do what he does on a regular basis. I promise, he knows what he is doing, and has seen his fair share of bad injuries between the eerily large brood he cares for. Even if he did need help, it would not be from any of you. Like Batman said, none of you are the right shape to help – either from exhaustion or injuries or both, each one of you looks like shit. So sit your asses down, let the professional do his job, and take a breather.”

No one said a word. No one moved.

“Thank you, Red Hood,” Pennyworth said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a patient to care for.” He ducked behind a curtain he and Father were guarding. Damian wasn’t able to get a glimpse of the person behind it.

In the back of his mind, he knew who it was. It didn’t dissuade his worry.

Father stared down the teenagers.

The girl with short black hair and gothic clothes glared harshly back at him. Angry, she spun around with a scoff and stomped over to a chair, a palm on her forehead the entire way.

“Sam,” the black boy called after her and followed. They quietly began talking to each other.

The girl in the red and black suit and the redhead boy glanced at each other. The former shrugged helplessly, and the latter frowned in response, looking away.

Damian finally looked – truly looked – at Athanasia. Todd was right: she looked like shit; they all did. But his big sister had the most blood on her, and a green substance on her hands and right side that had a too close resemblance to Lazarus Pit water. She had numerous injuries that were bandaged hastily, but not enough for all of the blood to be hers. It looked as if she tried to scratch some of it off on the few areas of exposed skin, only for it to not work. Her black hair was in a ponytail that had once been neat; now, curly strands were loose and framing her face, and the ponytail itself was unkempt.

The others didn’t look that much better. Except for the redhead. He just looked stressed and exhausted and worried.

Damian shifted a foot forward, then back to its original spot.

He didn’t know what to do. Say her name? Simply walk up? Run back upstairs? He didn’t want to make a scene, but he also wanted to go up to his sister.

He spotted Ace laying down near the bat-computer. Silently, decision abruptly made, he moved in that direction.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Um… B?”

Damian stopped, freezing behind Todd. He looked over to Thomas and glared. The older teen didn’t acknowledge him other than a split second glance.

“D– Signal? What are you doing down here?”

Todd shifted. Damian moved with him. He turned his head slowly and sent Damian a suspicious side eye.

“Oh, uh… Red Robin contacted us – said you were coming back here. I just want to make sure you don’t need any help,” said Thomas.

Todd reached behind him with the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet, and aimed for Damian. He pinched Todd’s wrist when it got close enough, making him hiss in pain.

“We might– Hood?”

Todd shook his hand. “Sorry. Bug bit me.”

Father continued speaking with Thomas, who walked further into the Cave.

“Brat,” Todd hissed under his breath.

Damian didn’t deign him a response. Once it was clear everyone else was distracted, he continued his way to the bat-computer in the shadows. When he got there, he crawled underneath the desk. Ace moved to lay his head in Damian’s lap.

His hiding spot didn’t stay hidden for long, though.

Someone silently walked over. Then, they crouched down and slotted their body next to his under the desk.

“Did Todd tell you where I am?” he asked. It came out more petulant than he intended.

“No. I saw you when you first came down.”

“Tt.” Damian muttered, “…You smell vile.”

Athanasia hummed. “And you are still short.”

There was a shakiness to her voice he didn’t like. It kept him from automatically responding with another insult.

He turned his head to look at her again.

Her eyes were staring at nothing in particular. Her breathing was a bit too fast for comfort, sort of choppy too. Tension lined her entire body.

“Stretch out your legs,” he said quietly.

She eyed him in question. He motioned for her to hurry up. Hesitant, she eventually did it. Then, he wasted no time in ordering Ace to lay on her legs.

Athanasia sucked in sharply. Her hands lifted to her chest. “Dames–”

“You won’t hurt him,” he interrupted. “He won’t hurt you.”

He was aware of why she was so hesitant – almost afraid, even. She tried to hide it from him, but League trainers had forced her to slaughter animals. Those same trainers did that to him a couple times, too, after she left. Apparently it was to make them stronger and better assassins. Less prone to weaknesses.

He wondered if Dányál had to go through that. If Mother knew.

Damian didn’t think she did, but…

Athanasia kept her hands to her chest.

“So, you found him?” Damian asked. He kept his voice low, and scooted closer to her.

She nodded. “Yes. He is… He will be okay,” she said, keeping her voice low like he did. “I apologize for taking so long.”

Damian didn’t know how to respond to that. It made a flicker of anger from in his chest. She was sorry for being gone for so long, but not for leaving?

“…He isn’t a clone?” was his next question.

“No.” Her arm lifted, and for once he let her pull him into her side in a hug. He wasn’t big on touch, and Athanasia wasn’t either, but she was definitely more tactile than he was in some ways. From what he remembered, she and Dányál had hugged a lot.

“Are you positive?” His mind flashed to Heretic. He held back a wince, twisting until his back was into her side and her arm wrapped around his chest. He had to bend his knees so he could fit all the way under the desk.

“Yes.”

“You made sure of it?”

Athanasia stayed quiet for a moment. He felt her eyes on the top of his head. “I did,” she said. “Penny-One is aiding our brother. Not a clone, or a shapeshifter, or anyone else. Dányál.” She paused. “I intended on going to the manor instead. Then, I saw our father, and demanded he take us here.”

“Why the manor?”

“I did not know where the cave was.”

Damian stared at his knees.

There was no way.

Did he hear that right? It was jarring. He grew up thinking his big sister knew everything.

How did she not know this?

“Athanasia,” he whispered.

“What?”

“The Batcave is below the manor,” he told her in Arabic.

For seven seconds (yes, he counted) Athanasia didn’t say anything. Then, “It is what?!” she hissed in a harsh whisper.

Damian felt a laugh coming up, and did his best to keep it quiet. His shoulders still shook. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” she muttered. “Thank you making me feel stupid.”

“My pleasure. I will be sure to do it again.”

She huffed a small, wet laugh. “Brat.” Her arm wrapped around the front of his chest more, and her hand gripped his shoulder. A second later, he felt her place a kiss on the crown of his head.

Damian couldn’t help but grip her arm back. One hand on her forearm, the other on her bicep. He pressed his knees closer to his body.

“I missed you,” he whispered through the lump in his throat.

She sniffled, and whispered back into his hair, “I missed you, too.”

A blanket of silence fell over them. Damian heard Father speaking to the others, his voice overlapping with Thomas’ and one of Athanasia’s acquaintances. Footsteps softly echoed as they all moved about near the medbay. They should probably go over there soon.

Damian didn’t want to. For the first time in four years it was just him and his big sister, hiding under a desk that was reminiscent of them hiding in an alcove back in the League just to spend time together. It hardly felt real. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared this was just some sort of dream.

“Can we stay here for a little bit longer?”

Her arm tightened around him again. “Absolutely.”

+++

It took a good while for someone to come look for them, which surprised Damian, but he was relieved and thankful no one came sooner. He wasn’t about to complain about the silent one-on-one time squished underneath the desk, uncomfortable as it was.

It also gave them time to stop any tears they let loose.

He eventually moved out from under her arm, and sat beside her. It took a bit of time. Damian wanted to say it was because he was done with the physical touch, that he let go. The truth of the matter was that he had to force himself to, to mentally talk himself into doing it. It was irrational, but he was scared that the moment he let go she would leave him again.

That didn’t happen. She didn’t get up and leave, or disappear, or anything of the sort. She stayed right beside him.

As he scratched Ace behind the ears, Athanasia merely watched. She kept her hands away from the dog. When he moved to lay down across both of their laps, she stiffened until he stilled, arms crossed over her stomach.

That was how they were found.

The large boots and bottom of a black cape were unmistakable.

Father crouched down, the half of his face that wasn’t covered by the cowl betraying nothing. It made Damian want to squirm. Was he mad? That he kept Athanasia and Dányál a secret?

“You two weren’t easy to find,” he said. He sounded more like Bruce Wayne than Batman. It was comforting, in a way. “Your friends got worried when they didn’t see you around.”

“Acquaintances,” she corrected. “And I am fine, I have no idea why they would worry.”

Damian gave her an incredulous look. “You’re covered in blood.”

“A lot of it does not belong to me.”

“Mostly yours or not, your injuries still need to be taken care of,” Father said. “The Wes kid said you weren’t able to clean them properly.”

Athanasia’s face did something quick and complicated that Damian couldn’t decipher. Her mouth settled into an annoyed frown before he could really question it. “Of course he did,” she muttered.

“And you, chum, need to get off the ground and prop your ankle up,” Father said. The man, with gentle hands, inspected the aforementioned ankle. “With ice. The swelling is worse again. Did you run on it?”

He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to admit he ran, either.

“…Maybe.”

“Hn.” Father stood. The joints of his knees popping and a quiet groan didn’t go unnoticed. “Come on out. Let’s get you both some medical attention. Ace, get up, boy. Up.”

The German Shepherd did as told.

“I didn’t do anything to it,” Damian grumbled as he scooted out and pulled himself to his feet with the help of Father’s hand. Putting weight on his ankle definitely hurt worse than it had before, though…

“It won’t hurt to check.”

Athanasia came out from under the desk next. As she stood, also with the help of Father, he noticed she seemed to be in more pain than when he first entered the cave. That made sense; the adrenaline had to have worn off by now, allowing the pain finally register.

Once she was steady on her feet, she stepped a little away from Father. “Thank you,” she said. “For bringing us here.”

“Of course,” Father said. “If you need to stay here, you can. I will even open up the manor to you and your fr– acquaintances. Whatever aids you the best and keeps you safe from whatever you’re running from.”

She nodded once. Her eyes, glassy with tears, blinked rapidly, and she turned to head to the empty medical cots.

Damian watched her, exhausted and hurting, then looked to the curtain hiding away Pennyworth and Dányál.

He tore his eyes away and hurried to follow.

#dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp fic #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc au #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #dc #danny #danny phantom #batpham #stay with me my blood #my writing

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

The Case-Book {Masterlist}

Hey, I'm Case! My blog was getting a little crowded, so here's a masterlist for the stuff I write.

And here's an {Updates Page} for when I finally make myself a schedule I think I can stick to in terms of posting & to "announce" upcoming work.

Some of this will be a liiiiiittle empty until I edit my work and decide to post it.

Organized by fandom!

Your Favorite's Here {Masterlist} — Eddie Munson Eddie and his band bask in their success over a drink at a restaurant he's never been to before. But Eddie gets far more than he bargained for when he stepped through the front door.

1989 — Eddie Munson Returning to Hawkins after years of helping Eddie through English class (and specifically poetry assignments), you make Eddie watch a new film with you called Dead Poets Society.

Not Quite Dead — Eddie Munson You find yourself alone in Hawkins, a town ripped to shambles despite the sacrifices made to save it. Is it better or worse that Eddie doesn't live to see it? He'll tell you himself.

Like Another Tattoo — Eddie Munson Eddie learns to appreciate the scars he's covered in, one comment and show at a time. His friends also manage to make him cry.

A Kiss Kiss — Eddie Munson The Hellfire Club is one member short, but Eddie refuses to let the campaign slow down. That's where you come in, Eddie's "tutor" turned into his muse.

The Graduation Lineup — Steve Harrington Billy Hargrove comes between you and Steve at graduation—but only by last name. Additionally, you finally find out Steve's middle name (among other things).

Rain-Soaked Kisses — Steve Harrington Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.

Bob Seger — Steve Harrington Is there a handbook for what to do when your crush walks into your store to buy a gift for his girlfriend? There should be!

Eddie's Girl — Steve Harrington Steve finds himself pining over the one girl he can't have, and he has no idea how to handle it. It's a good thing you notice before Eddie does, and, by God, is Steve's timing perfect.

The Only Tally Mark — Steve Harrington The 'You Suck' tallies are getting pretty high, but there's a girl in Scoops Ahoy who knows Robin in wrong. If she can just get the courage to open her mouth, Steve's luck is about to change.

steve harrington hcs (pt. 1) corroded coffin setlist detective harrington au idea

(more coming soon...)

Burns Like Rum — Astarion (Baldur's Gate 3) Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Sweet Like Wine — Astarion (Baldur's Gate 3) Your monthly bleed is over—just in time for you and Astarion to find yourselves with a bit of alone time. You might not be able to feed your vampire as easily, but there's another hunger for the two of you to satiate.

Crawl Home to Her — Astarion (Baldur’s Gate 3) As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

astarion ancunin hcs (pt. 1)

(more coming soon...)

A Job Unfinished — Santiago "Pope" Garcia It's been days since you last saw Santiago, days after he promised he'd be back. One last (very illegal) mission in Colombia, and then he'd be yours forever. But Santiago is five days late.

(more coming soon...)

Hmm... It's a ghost town in here.

(there's a multi-chaptered Poe Dameron fic currently sitting in drafts)

Operatives One-O-Three — Barty Crouch Jr. Knowledge is a curse, and we know all. Lord Voldemort's regime grows stronger on the daily, and it's up to a ragtag group of teenagers and an undercover operation to stop him: Operatives 103, otherwise known as Operatives One-O-Three (one-oh-three in the official Ministry log books). But there's more trouble than Voldemort for the undercover spies, and the root of it starts in the home. (available on A03 or Wattpad)

(more coming soon...)

Looks like this part of the museum isn't open yet...

(yes that's a hint at my current marvel wips)

Well, uh, I think we'll be in purgatory for a bit, folks.

These are probably hidden in a locked desk in Ketterdam.

I, uh, hate all the old ones I wrote, so I won't be linking those, and I'm gonna sit in my mind palace for a few hours until I can come up with some better ones.

No, no, don't panic! They're in here somewhere. I just have to remember which room...

I need a section for my random stuff! This is it.

(Baldur's Gate 3 content is now under its own label, underneath Stranger Things. Go back up!)

I'm bound to write the strangest one of these at some point, so might as well be prepared.

It's a bit empty in here, isn't it?

REQUESTS ARE OPEN as of May 7!

Check out the... ☟

Have something you'd like to ask me to write? Don't hesitate! Here's what to do.

DM me to make your request and include the fandom & charcter(s) you'd like me to write for, as well as the general "premise" of the fic (such as a prompt). Answer any clarifying questions I send to you and wait for your fic to arrive! I won't be able to get to every request, of course, so please be patient with me! If I can't think of what to write or have no inspiration, I will let you know. Sometimes, the fic just doesn't come to me.

Additionally, chances are I can probably write for more fandoms than are currently on this list. There's a Miscellaneous section for a reason. If you're not sure, it doesn't hurt to ask!

If requests go over well, I'll start making some prompts to make requesting easier for you guys.

Happy reading & requesting!

#masterlist #the-case-book-of-fanfiction #marauders #stranger things #star wars #triple frontier #oscar isaac #marvel #mcu #st #bbc sherlock #eddie munson #doctor who #supernatural #miscellaenous #the mandalorian #six of crows #shadow and bone #grishaverse #requests #requests open #request policy #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin

[something-pithy]

Heyo, glittercats and kittens! So chapters 6 and 7 of an echo, a stain are up! And starting this week, I'm going to start including story notes along with the link.

I'm a note writer lol. Part of how I even begin to keep track of all the wildness of writing something longer than a grocery list is to write about it before I start writing it, if that makes sense lol. Character sketches, ideas about why certain things are happening, backstory, setting details, etc.

I'm pretty verbal about my writing process because -- well,  I like writing about writing a lot, and also, I think it improves both the work and how I get there. Anything might end up here -- character sketches, ideas about why certain things are happening, backstory, setting details, etc. I don't really wanna be leaving like eighteen thousand words of notes on every chapter, so here we are!

Sometimes I think they might add some interesting context for readers, sometimes it's information that I think is important but it's too much for the notes section on the story itself, and sometimes it's just so I have a document of my progress for this story. So here are my notes for chapter 7! ---

Chapter 7's title is from "Come to Me" by Bjork, which is definitely one of my Astarion / Tav falling in love themes for when I'm up in these flashbacks, back before Astarion Ascended (and he still had a soul loool).

The notes from previous chapters had promised a Shadowheart & Tav conversation in this chapter. This is not the Shadowheart & Tav chapter I promised, but it is the one that continued to demand to be written until I capitulated. 

And also, honestly, the one that's going to benefit that other chapter that was supposed to be 7 and the story as a whole in the long run, so I hope you like it! 

I was getting really stuck with my original plan, and so I just started writing -- well, this. And the chapter after this. And possibly the one after that. Loooool there is a LOT going on at this point in these kids' lives.

The original plan is still 100% happening, but I think I needed to 

1. explore the foundations of who these people have become (by these people of course I mean Tav and Astarion, but also friendship is magic, so our beautiful OG friendgroup babies) 

2. what the relationships between them look like and 

3. some clues, at least, as to how they got there. 

(tl;dr we're purposefully time-jumping, and I'm having fun with it, so I hope you will, too!)

But never fear, Shadowheart and Tav will of course be chatting when we return to the story's present. And it won't be in just one chapter.

OR

hey y'all, we're gonna be doing some purposeful (and hopefully at least coherently executed) flashing back and jumping forward (or up! or laterally! OR WHATEVER) in/on/around this story's timeline!

Final note, but an important one, on Tav's identity: 

I tried to keep Tav ambiguous for the first few chapters because I know that sometimes a really detailed and specific-looking or backstoried Tav can make people disengage from the story because they don't relate to the identifying details provided. (also, it's me, I'm people, or at least one of the people lol)

But at the end of the day, as soon as I started even thinking about writing a BG3 fic, I started really digging into and developing this Tav, who does reflect the dialogue, action, and relationship choices I've made in my current playthrough of the game with her, yes. But in having spent / continuing to spend some time thinking and writing about who this Tav is.  I'm not going to lay them all out here, but I think when you want to play in a sandbox as fucking ginormous and intricately, infinitesimally detailed as Faerun / The Forgotten Realms / DnD,  a little story/character-relevant contextual frontloading can help readers have as much fun with it as the writer does. 

Also, and I'm just going to say it, Tav is a queer, first-generation Baldurian child of two immigrants. She's the Faerun / Baldur's Gate equivalent of a BIPOC, with parents who were born in places very different both from Baldur's Gate and each other's home cities / kingdoms. Also, she's mixed-heritage elf (sun, moon, sea -- yeah, I'm that guy, come at me bro loooool). All this context is key to who Tav is as a person, as a creator, as an adventurer, and just in general.

I want anyone to be able to read Tav and be able to understand who she is, if not be able to relate to some small part of her -- but in my mind, people like Tav are essential to the story of a place like Baldur's Gate, and I really enjoy exploring what that looks like.

I'm having fun with it, so I hope you will, too!

#ascended astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #bard!tav #slow burn #redemption arc: now nontoxic! ... i think? #manipulative astarion #yandere astarion #tav's insight proficiency tho #banter #the companion gang is there too #how do i even tag this

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 4

Rating: E (I changed it for the whole fic, it is not specific to this chapter)

Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2] [chapter 3]

tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I’m so sorry–please let me know and I will add it ASAP!

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

Belle parked as close to her building as she could, hardly seeing the curb as she searched for Nosty. She’d given him her address and he promised to meet her here after she dropped off Joseph. A small part of her thought he’d bail again, but too big a part of her had hope. 

He wasn’t outside, but then, she didn’t actually know how fast he could walk. Maybe he hadn’t made it yet. 

She climbed the stairs to her second floor flat, watching out the window even though that wouldn’t help. If Nosty was going to show up, he would make his presence known when he was ready. He wouldn’t just wait for her to find him.

As she unlocked the door, she half expected him to jump out and surprise her from inside, but her flat was as empty as it had been when she’d left that morning. Deciding to have hope, she locked it behind her—it would have been in character for Nosty to sneak in if it was unlocked—and shed all of her work clothes on her way to the bathroom. 

She touched up her hair and lipstick, then added another layer of mascara before looking for an outfit. She wanted to wear something more special than she wore to work, but she was prone to wearing all her nice clothes to the library since she had nowhere else to dress up. All of her coworkers wore jeans most days, leaving Belle as the only one in heels and skirts.

Someone knocked while Belle was still standing in her underwear in front of her closet, and she felt like she could float out the window. Was he here? Was it really him?

Making a quick decision, she grabbed a dress with no zipper and yanked it over her head as she jogged to the door, careful of her makeup and hair. 

“Coming!” Along the way, she picked up her discarded clothes and shoved them into her dad’s room—the spare room, now. 

Standing in front of the door, she smoothed out her dress and swallowed. If it really was Nosty on the other side, this was about to change their relationship forever. It was almost a bigger step than the first time they’d kissed.

If it wasn’t Nosty, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t cry.

She straightened her back and took a deep breath before opening the door. The hall was empty, but she had no time to process this because then Nosty was there, real and true and solid, lips tilted up in his affectionate sneer.

“You are here!” She opened the door wide and he sauntered in, taking in the room. 

“In the fucking flesh.” His gaze lingered on the window, and she wondered if he was calculating his exit options. “I was eavesdropping on your neighbors. Fucking nutters.”

She couldn’t stop her giddy grin. He was here, in her apartment, and he hadn’t been trying to hide from her—he’d just been drawn in to her neighbors’ loud conversations. 

“If you’re here long enough, you’ll probably hear them having sex,” she said. 

He finally turned back to her, raising both eyebrows. “What’ve you got, some fucking perv hole to listen?” 

“Our bedroom walls adjoin.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, and then slung an arm around her shoulders. “All right, give us a tour then. Can’t believe it took you this long.”

“My sincerest apologies.” She ducked out from under his arm so she could take his hand, surprised when he followed her to the kitchen with no protest. She showed him the fridge and where the cups were, hoping he’d feel free to eat and drink as he pleased, and then he let her tote him back out to the living room. 

Before her father died, this flat had been his. She’d lived in a studio to save up money after grad school, but once he got sick, she moved back into her childhood bedroom, and then when he passed, inherited the whole thing. When he’d owned it, the only real decorations were family photos—mostly of Belle in various life stages. Now, she had taken down most photos of herself except the ones her dad had loved the most, and the walls had blank gaps waiting to be filled with art. She’d added rugs to the living room, a bookshelf that covered most of the wall, and replaced the old threadbare furniture with a plush red couch and reading chair.

Nosty let go of her hand and sidled over to the bookshelf. At one point, it had been organized by genre, but she couldn’t just reorganize the whole shelf every time she added something, and with no family or friends, most of her disposable income went toward new books, so it was haphazard. Some places even had books in a stack instead of shelved neatly.

“Who’d have fucking thought.” Nosty chuckled, running his finger over the spine of a fantasy novel. 

“What?” She chewed her lip. She’d been called all manner of things for living in books her whole life, even by her own loving dad, and while nothing bothered her anymore, she wasn’t sure she could take any cutting words from Nosty.

“Me on a fucking date with a nerd.” 

She had to laugh because Nosty was still touching the spines of books like he couldn’t quite believe how many there were, and because now, after months, she recognized the tint of affection to his voice. 

“Don’t you want to see the rest?” she asked.

“I’m self-guiding it now.” He left the bookshelf, wandering over to a cluster of graduation photos. Some were the professional headshots taken by the school, and some were pictures of her and her dad or her and her grandparents. 

He zeroed in on one from her undergrad graduation where she stood between her two roomates, all three of their arms around one another. It was the only photo with anyone in it who wasn’t family.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“My old college roommates,” she said. “I haven’t talked to either of them in years.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. She didn’t really know why she kept the picture up, except that it reminded her that she had once had friends, people to spend time with outside of work.

“We lost touch.” 

He took her hand then but kept his eyes on the photo wall as they meandered toward one of the blank spaces she’d left. 

“What was here?”

“Nothing. My dad had way more photos up, so I took some down thinking I’d hang art or something.”

He touched the blank space, then moved on, brushing his hands over one of her throw pillows as they passed her reading chair. 

When they reached the hall that led to the two bedrooms, he stopped, and she thought he would say something, but he just looked between the rooms, then pulled her toward hers. 

“Another bookshelf?” He dropped her hand, heading for the small shelf she kept by the bed as a nightstand. It contained books she was currently reading, books she planned to read soon, and some of her favorites.

“I thought it looked nice,” she said, and as Nosty rushed past her bed without a glance, she had the sudden realization that not only had Nosty actually come to her home, he was now in her bedroom. 

Maybe he realized it at the same time she did, or maybe this had been his plan all along, because he spun and sauntered toward her. She’d never been barefoot with him before, and he dwarfed her this time when he pulled her to him by the hips. 

“So, how long do we stay here before we hear anything interesting?” He jerked his head toward the wall she shared with her neighbor.

Her arms rested on his chest as they always did, and she was about to answer when she realized it wasn’t as soft as it usually was, and something poked her in the wrist. She moved her hands back and found buttons. Buttons.

“What’s this?” She traced a finger down the crisp white seam, marveling that it had taken so long to notice.

“What’d you think took me so long to get here?”

Something caught in her throat. She traced the buttons, blinking and blinking and blinking because, if she didn’t, she was going to cry, and she didn’t want Nosty to think he’d done anything wrong.

“Belle?”

She slid her hands up his chest to trace the lapels and the bit of Nosty’s chest exposed by the open collar.

“You dressed up for me.”

“What, was I supposed to wear some manky old tshirt on our first date?”

He’d probably stolen it—that was probably what had taken so long—but she found she didn’t much care. The system had failed Nosty so much that he lived on the streets. She didn’t begrudge him a shirt, especially since he’d stolen it because he was taking their date seriously. Their first date. 

“You look good.” 

“Yeah?” His fingers trailed up her side and then her neck until he could lift her chin. “How good?”

His wolfish grin told her exactly what he wanted, so she kissed his collar bone, then stood on her toes to kiss his lips. He cupped her cheek, holding her close, but then she leaned away.

“Oi, that’s it?” he asked. “One little kiss? I’m wearing a fucking collar.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be going on a date?” She couldn’t stop smiling, and even Nosty’s grin didn’t wane.

“What, this isn’t good enough for you, hey?” 

“I thought we were going to the cinema.”

He groaned dramatically, letting go of her waist so he could take her hand again and lead her out of the bedroom. “Fine, let’s go.” 

“Any requests?” she asked, tugging on his arm so he’d pause for her to get shoes. 

He considered for a moment, eyeing her closet with interest while she pulled a pair of sandals out. “Nothing violent,” he finally said.

There was not a lot about Nosty that could have truly shocked her, but his admitting that he didn’t want to see violence did it. She ducked to hide her smile while she slipped her shoes on.

“That’s perfect,” she said. “I don’t like violence either.” 

Before he could make another move, she stood on her toes again and grabbed his face, kissing him like she’d spent all day waiting to be kissed. Then, just as he was responding by gripping her hips, she pulled away.

“What was that for?” he asked, sounding, for the first time, a little breathless.

“I just really like you,” she said. “That’s all.”

His eyes jerked back and forth across hers, like he was quickly reading a disclaimer, but then he settled. “Lucky me.”

****

Nosty didn’t hold her hand on the eight blocks to the theater, and he walked like he was afraid someone might steal the sidewalk from him. This was probably the closest to seeing him in his natural habitat that Belle would ever get, so she didn’t complain, just kept up while she told him all about a school visit she was planning for next week. She might have worried she was boring him, but they spent much of their time talking about the library and Belle’s life, and he always had insightful questions. Sometimes Nosty told stories, but she could tell he altered them, made them more palatable to a sheltered woman like her. 

When they arrived, he eyed the growing Friday night crowd.

“Need a smoke.” He pulled a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his jacket and a lighter from his kilt. 

“I’ll go get the tickets?” she offered. 

He nodded, still scanning the sidewalk as he lit up. She squeezed his forearm before heading to the box office, trying not to stare at him as she walked away. He was just smoking. He wasn’t going to bring her all the way here only to abandon her while she was buying tickets.

Since they didn’t have a plan, she chose the movie that would be starting soonest, which happened to be a romantic comedy. It was better than the slasher film starting around the same time. 

Nosty was still waiting for her, cigarette finished, looking no less antsy. 

“Popcorn?” She handed him his ticket and it vanished between his fingers like a magic trick.

“Aye, if you want.”

She couldn’t help feeling guilty that brash, cocksure Nosty felt so out of place somewhere as basic as the cinema, but that made it even nicer that he’d come at all. He’d changed his shirt, calmed himself down, and now he was standing in line with her to get popcorn and sodas.

The moment they sat down in the dark theater, she felt him relax. Even so close to the showing, she’d managed to get an aisle seat near the back, so Nosty had the open air on one side and Belle on the other. 

He popped the foot rest out. “Jesus fuck.” 

“What?” she asked, following suit.

“Last time I went to the cinema, it was all fucking folding chairs compared to this.” He reached across the arms and tapped her on the belly. “I was gonna be romantic and put me fuckin’ arm around you, but I guess this is all you get.” He pinched her this time and she laughed, scooting out of his reach when he wouldn’t let up.

“You can romantically put your arm around me later,” she said. “How’s that?” 

“Might need convincing later,” he said. “Now that I know you took me to the cinema so we could sit a meter apart and take a fucking nap.”

“We can still hold hands.” She offered hers to him, palm up. “And then later, we can sit at a romantic corner table in a candlelit restaurant and talk with our heads close together.”

“Not the same,” he said, but he took her hand anyway.

****

MacAvoy thought he was going to take a few sips of the vodka and pass out immediately, but he hadn’t counted on his body being used to pushing itself until he was more alcohol than human. He laid in bed fully-clothed, wishing he had something more than this to drink.

His monthly stipend wouldn’t be coming until next week, and he didn’t have much money left to live on. A smart man would take the money and buy cheap, shelf-stable foods to eat. MacAvoy considered, as he lay in bed trying not to wonder if Belle would be frightened of Nosty’s monstrous cock, that he could be a smart man. If he knew what a smart man might do, he had the capacity to be one. 

In fact, he was counting on being smart enough to remember that Belle didn’t work tomorrow. 

So he dragged himself out of bed and found one of his stashed-away tenners. He ignored the glares he received at the grocery as he added tinned beans, bread, and eggs to his cart. He could have added a few more things, but if he used money he actually had on alcohol, he’d be less likely to get kicked into a gutter, so he bought the cheapest handle of gin they had.

Impressed with himself, he lurched his way home and put everything away, then flopped back on the bed and gulped more vodka. 

“Belle, I hope you’re okay,” he wheezed into the empty room. He still had her phone number in his pocket, and he caressed it with shaking fingers. 

She’d said not to call tonight, but what if his deviant fantasies weren’t images sent from Satan but visions sent from God? Visions that, were he to ignore them, foretold Belle’s horrible fate? 

He only needed one more sip of vodka to convince himself of this, to imagine Nosty with fangs and claws capable of ripping out Belle’s poor, devoted heart. 

When he called, though, it went straight to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message; he just shrugged out of his shirt and closed his eyes.

****

It wasn’t the best movie Belle had ever seen, but she and Nosty both laughed, holding hands through most of it. They sat in the theater through the credits until it was mostly empty, then Nosty stood and offered his hand.

“So, was it everything you hoped?” he asked while he helped her up.

“It wasn’t bad.” She picked up his trash, stuffing his empty popcorn sleeve into hers and then adding the empty soda cups. 

“I mean our date, hey?” He wiggled his eyebrows, but there wasn’t the same swagger in it as usual. He wasn’t just talking.

“Is it over?” she asked. “I don’t want it to be.” 

With his free thumb, he reached up and wiped something underneath her eye—probably some rogue mascara from when she’d teared up near the end. 

“What’s next then?” he asked. “I’m no fucking romantic, so you’ll have to lead this one.” 

Privately, she felt that he was wrong, he was a fucking romantic, but she didn’t say anything. “I’m hungry. Do you want to go out or eat in?” 

He started down the steps to the exit, still holding her hand but no longer looking at her. “There’s no restaurant dark enough to keep people from seeing us together.”

“So?” Was he embarrassed of her? He probably thought she was embarrassed of him since she always insisted on secrecy in the library—but that was her job. She could be fired if she was caught making out on the clock.

“So, I’ve got bad table manners.” He let go of her to skip down the rest of the way, whirling at the bottom of the steps to watch her descend with his arms folded. When she reached the final step, he grabbed her hips, putting them at eye level. 

“No you don’t,” she said. “We’ve eaten together loads of times.”

“You keep forgetting, sweetheart.” He kissed her on the throat. “I’m an animal. The monster you invited over your threshold?”

“Maybe I like monsters,” she said. “Maybe I don’t believe that monsters are exactly what they seem.”

He kissed up her neck until he could tug on her earlobe with his teeth, and as her knees buckled, she was keenly aware that not everyone had left the theater.

“Fine, love,” he hissed into her ear, and she thought she might faint. “Let’s go.”

Dinner was a quick affair. Without reservations, there was no way to get into a romantic, candlelit restaurant, so they went to a little burger joint, and Nosty relaxed a fraction.

Belle leaned toward him. “Are you afraid of me?” She popped a chip in her mouth, raising her eyebrows.

“Wee fucking bird like you?” He took a gulp of his beer. “Fat chance.”

“Why are you so skittish tonight?”

“Not fucking skittish,” he said. “Just alert, hey? Don’t want you to get fucking snatched or summat.”

“Don’t trust me to defend myself?” She jabbed a chip toward him like a sword, and he swiped it from her and ate it with a teeth-baring grin. 

“I’m sure you’re a fierce bint when its called for,” he said. “But a fucker what sees me’s not gonna try anything with you.”

She watched him with narrowed eyes, then took a bite of her burger. “I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

“Yeah?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Tough shite, that’s the best you’re getting out of me.”

“I think that you’re nervous because you think I won’t like you out here in the real world,” she said. “That’s why you were jealous of Joseph. Because you think if I had any other option, I wouldn’t pick you.”

“S’a fine fucking tale.” He drained his pint. “You spin it all by yourself?”

She plucked a chip off his plate to make up for the one he’d taken of hers, feeling as on top of the world as she’d felt all night. 

“It’s not true, you know,” she said. “I could have hundreds of options, and I’d still pick you.”

He watched her from his leaned-back chair, over his crossed arms, down his nose through narrowed eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know that,” she said. “I knew it as soon as you kissed me the first time.”

He turned his head, watching the restaurant, and then glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Hurry up and finish.” He picked up the bit of burger he had left and gestured for her to do the same. 

“What’s the rush?” she asked, even though she obeyed.

He plunked his chair back down, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m tired of not being alone with you.” 

****

The closer they walked to Belle’s flat, the more Nosty touched her. He started with one arm slung across her shoulders, and by the time she was unlocking the front door, he had one hand across her stomach, one in her hair, and he pressed open-mouthed, toothy kisses to her neck while he held her against him. 

Somehow, despite this, she got the first door open, and then climbed the stairs without losing any contact with his hands, and as she fumbled with her own key, he closed his teeth around her pulse and she whimpered.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled, and she didn’t even know if she’d be able to unlock the door, but then his hand was on hers and he was taking the key from her. She blushed at how helpless she became whenever he focused his full attention on her. 

“Nosty,” she said as he finally got the door open and they stumbled in. “I don’t think we should—tonight.” 

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” He shut the door behind him and pressed the key into her hand before sliding his other hand more possessively around her waist. “Some days, I don’t even fucking know where I’ve been.”

She didn’t have much time to be relieved that he understood because her brain and body wanted to focus more on the rough sound of his voice in her ear. “We’ll get tested together,” she managed.

“Whatever you want.” He nudged her forward, toward the couch, and then at the last second, sat himself and pulled her on top of him. 

He shifted to hold her across his lap, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Will you stay tonight?” she asked.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Belle,” he said, and she thought he might have meant it. “You want me to fucking strip naked and sleep at your feet? Fine.” He kissed the apple of her cheek, then her earlobe, lowering his voice to his quiet growl. “You want to lie back and spread your legs so I can eat your cunt ‘til dawn?” He licked her ear and she thought she might die. “Just say the fucking word.” 

“I want you to hold me.” She brushed her thumb down his jaw. “Just hold me.”

He cradled her head in one hand and brought the other to her cheek, brushing his thumb across her lower lip.

“Nothing else?” 

She shook her head. “I feel safe when you hold me.”

He kissed her lips, then down her neck, and she thought he might bite her again, mark her as taken for anyone to see, but he just kissed his way back up to her ear.

“Safe from everyone but me.” He tightened his arms around her and she hoped he never let go.

#anyelle #anyelle fic #macelle #nostelle #macelle fic #nostelle fic #new update #covetous #anyelle fanfic #anyelle fanfiction