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spnexploration · 4 months

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A Christmas Case

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

Words: 1.1k

This is my submission for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa 2023 (ignore the fact it was posted in Jan 2024...) and is a gift for @apocalypseornaw ❤ Sorry for the delay!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Come on, we’ve got a case,” Dean said, shaking you awake.

“Fu’ offfff,” you grumbled at him. “You’re not allowed in my room.” What you’d really like was Dean to stay in your room permanently, maybe some ravishing… But that was never going to happen.

He chuckled, “Just channel that energy to the monster. We leave in twenty.”

---

You sulked in the backseat. It was December 23rd, why the hell were you off on a case? You’d put in a little bit of effort at the bunker, getting a tree and some dollar shop baubles. That was all for naught, now.

Dean caught sight of you in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up with you, princess? We interrupt your beauty sleep?” You didn’t appreciate his teasing.

“I don’t see why monsters couldn’t give us the bloody holidays off.”

“It’s just another day in our line of work, don’t know why you got your hopes up.”

You glared at him. “Yes, how could I, when known Scrooge, Dean Winchester, was going to be trawling for cases at 6am on Christmas Eve Eve.” It was his own damn fault he wouldn’t be getting the present you’d spent a lot of time choosing for him.

“Hey! I didn’t even find it!”

You turned your glare to Sam, “Got anything to say, Second Scrooge Winchester?”

“I just have some google alerts set up, sorry.”

You crossed your arms.

“You might have been expecting a bit too much from a Christmas at the Bunker anyway,” Dean said in a tone of voice as if he was trying to make you feel better. “We’re not very good at Christmases.”

You rolled your eyes and looked out the window. The boys decided to let you be.

---

You decided to keep a tally of how many people said something about the FBI making you work so close to Christmas: you were already up to 4 and it was only mid-afternoon on the first day. Happily the drive hadn’t been too long from the bunker to the crappy town where the case was, so you’d been able to get started straight away.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the main street of town. You felt like it was mocking you.

You dragged your feet as you followed the boys into the library, conveniently still open. You wondered if Dean even realised everything was going to be closed on Christmas Day. Serve him right if he couldn’t get pie that day.

You half-heartedly trawled some books, not really contributing to the research effort.

“Sorry,” Sam said quietly as he came to sit by you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your holidays.”

“It’s alright,” you said, not really feeling it but not wanting to sound petty, either.

“I can tell you’re upset. Hell, even Dean can tell you’re upset.”

“You know, Dean’s better at reading people than people give him credit for,” you said, always quick to defend inappropriate criticism of Dean.

“Ok, you’re right, that was a low blow. But you’re still upset, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, solve the case fast enough and maybe we can do Christmas on Boxing Day at least.”

He gave your arm a friendly squeeze before standing up again and heading back to the shelves.

“I think I found it!” Dean called from somewhere. You stood to go find him.

---

It turned out to be a very quick case, over by late evening Christmas Eve. It was late enough that ordinarily you’d all head back to the motel room and go home early the next morning, but Dean suggested something different. “How about we head back to the bunker tonight, I’ll drive.”

“It’s pretty late,” Sam said, nursing a couple of injuries.

“You can sleep in the backseat until we get there. Won’t it be better to get to sleep in your own bed?”

“If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to,” you said. “It’s fine, it’s just a stupid day. You don’t have to kill yourself driving late at night just for me.”

“No, come on, it’ll be nice to be back home.” He gave you that beautiful smile and you couldn’t help but melt.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Sam mumbled agreement and so you all piled into the Impala, Sam stretched out on the backseat. He was asleep almost instantly, and you weren’t too far behind.

---

“Hey, hey,” you woke to Dean whispering your name and gently shaking your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You looked around blearily, this wasn’t the bunker. It looked like the middle of nowhere. You started to ask Dean, but he held up his hand.

“Shh, don’t wake Sam,” he said, still whispering. “Come out of the car for a sec, I’ll explain it all.”

You looked at him quizzically but followed, closing the door as quietly as you could behind yourself. Dean took your hand and pulled you around to the front of the car. Your heart was racing; this was different…

“I’m sorry Sam and I ruined the Christmas you had planned,” he said, standing very close to you. You looked up into his stunningly gorgeous face wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but knowing that he saw you like a little sister. “But I thought we could look for Santa delivering presents,” he said, gesturing to the huge expanse of the night sky you could see.

You laughed, “What am I, 7?”

“Well, ok, it doesn’t have to be Santa. But it’s a nice night for stargazing, and I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over your cheek. This was definitely new. You nodded in agreement and he took your hand again, pulling you up on to the top of the bonnet.

He scooted very close to you. You could feel his body heat, which was good in the freezing night air. You felt a wave of goosebumps break out over your skin, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the cold or the proximity of Dean.

He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket you hadn’t seen was there, then put his arms around you and draped it across your shoulders. He was so close, so beautifully close. And yet, always so far.

He didn’t put his arms back down, like you were expecting.

He put a hand on your shoulder. What was he doing? He put his other hand on your cheek. So warm, so close. So... intimate.

You looked up into his big, green eyes.

He leaned in close.

Oh. Oh! This was happening!

His soft, Adonis-like lips were suddenly on yours. You closed your eyes and leant into the moment.

He pulled away, “Merry Christmas. Hope this makes up for having to be on the road.”

“Oh, this definitely makes up for it,” you said before capturing his lips again.

The stars looked down from above, forgotten.

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muldermuse · 5 months

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Plus One (Fox Mulder X Reader)

This is based on an ask I recieved <333 thank u for sending it through

Scully is unable to attend an event so Fox asks you to be his plus one.

“It means a lot that you’re coming tonight, I’ll uh- I’ll pick you up at your apartment at 6? Have a chat about the mission in the car and then go from there…I’m looking forward to seeing you…Scully said your dress looks good and you know that she knows more about that stuff than me *laughs*. Um, okay well this is a long voicemail so uh-right, I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh! This is Fox by the way.”

It definitely was not your usual practice to have a glass of red wine before getting ready for a mission but you had to admit that you felt nervous about tonight. It was standard for Mulder and Scully to do something like this. To get intel about a case, they’d dress up and rub shoulders with people unknowingly involved in an X File. Sometimes they’d pose as a couple and other times they would pose as two singles trying to seek out a partner for the evening. They would collect as much intel as possible and within the following weeks; the case would undoubtedly be solved.

This was a huge case so Scully was in another state, sleeping in her car to avoid the bed bug-ridden motel that Skinner had put her up in. Fox was too nervous to ask you so you got a call from Scully late last night. The key contact Fox had been trying to speak to about this case was attending a Gala in Washington. The contact was old school, any guest to the Gala had to have a date for the evening, and of course; it was a black tie event. You were reluctant and Scully knew you would be. “Listen, if you want to fly out and take my place in this crappy rental car, which stinks of fries for some reason- I would thank you for it. But, you’ll have a great time and I know you have that black dress that you’re looking for an excuse to wear…”.

So here you are, pouring a large glass of red wine and listening to the Spice Girls as you try to focus all your nervous energy into applying your make up and curling your hair. You slip your dress on at quarter to 5. The dress was expensive and it looks it. It’s black and shimmering under the fairy lights strung over your bookshelf. It’s hugging your curves, it’s hiding any insecurities and you have to admit- you look amazing. The remaining wine in the glass slides down your throat and gives a final rush of adrenaline. Fox knocks at the door at exactly 6 o’clock.

***

He's wearing his glasses. That’s the first thing that you recognize. Not the bouquet of flowers tightly clutched in his fist, not the perfectly tailored suit or the nervous expression covering his face.

“You’re wearing glasses, I’ve never seen you wear them outside of the office.” You smile at him and he smiles back but he seems distracted. He doesn’t reply for a few seconds and as the awkward energy fills the air; he thrusts the flowers towards your hands.

“Yeah, I think they make me look smarter” He awkwardly laughs. “These are for you...obviously…you usually have peonies at your desk on special occasions so I thought you’d like them.”

“They’re beautiful, I didn’t realise that you noticed stuff like that. Maybe you’re a better agent than I suspected Fox” you wink as you go back into your apartment and place the flowers in the sink with some water. You take the moment with the faucet running to compose yourself.

God.

He looks so fucking good.

The nerves that have slowly dissipated over the past hour are suddenly back without warning. He looks so good- do you look alright? Oh god, are you not dressed up enough? Does he think you look okay? I bet he wishes that Scully was here right now, you could potentially jeopardise this entire case and you know how hard they’re both working on it.

You’re too lost in your own thoughts to hear Fox cross the room and place a warm hand against your lower back. The tension zapping through your body streams out with a deep exhale.

“I have a car waiting downstairs, we should probably go”. He holds his arm out for you with a grin and he guides you downstairs. He holds the car door open for you. Whilst you have a moment alone; you whisper to yourself an affirmation that tonight will go well.

You have no idea that Fox is doing the same thing.

***

Fox has liked you for a while and he suspects that this occasion is all Scully’s doing. There was no real reason for her to travel to Wyoming, it was some anonymous call which Fox completely doubts the validity of. When it comes to the X Files and his career, Fox is a ‘do-er.’ He wants to get out there, prove the importance of his work and save lives.

However, when it comes to his relationships. At the minute, Fox is less active.

The moment he saw you smiling; you had never been far from his thoughts. Scully struck up a friendship with you through a mutual love of the same sandwich served a local deli. Fox would sit in on your lunch dates together, he’d always try and make you laugh- feeling an immense sense of pride when he did.

Scully had disclosed to him her feelings on your boyfriend, Jason. You had so much love to give and he seemed to be the opposite. Closed off and cold. Scully told Fox you’d been arguing more and were getting close to breaking up. When you did, Fox watched from afar as your usual bright smile never reached your eyes.

***

The car ride is filled with idle chat. The tension in the air seems to mount as you both try desperately to ignore it. Fox tells you about the Gala and what to expect. It’s more of an occasion to scope out the group rather than to gather intel on a specific target.

You don’t realise that as the car drives closer to your destination that your knee begins to bounce and your fingers fidget with the tassle on your handbag. Fox rests his hand on your knee and his thumb rubs calming small circles on your soft skin.

“You look amazing, thanks again for doing this.”

Before you can thank him or compliment him back, the car pulls to a stop and the door opens.

***

The room is grand and glamourous. It’s a decadent affair with rich red velvet curtains and carpets decorating each room. The different perfumes and aftershaves blend together to create a sweet floral scent that lingers as every person passes. It’s a crowd of black tuxedos and billowing ballgowns, everyone smiling politely with a clear hint of judgement to every passerby. The sound of the band is lost over the exchanging of pleasantries and the distinctive pop of champagne corks, followed by a polite cheer.

It's completely unlike anywhere else you have ever been or anywhere you are likely to ever go.

“I think I’m the poorest person in here by about three million dollars, Fox”

“Oh no, it’ll be way more than that,” Fox says with a wink as he hands you a glass of champagne. He moves in close enough to whisper to you and you try to ignore the sensation of his breath fanning your neck.

“See that guy over there with the red suit, he has a huge interest in extraterrestrials. It’s massive so much so that he spends around five and a half million dollars a year trying to prove they’re real. He’s got that much money it’s basically a game.”

The bubbles of champagne trickle down your throat as you move closer into Fox’s hold. He holds your waist and rotates you to look at another corner of the room. His breath remains hot on your neck and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or his presence that is making your head feel fuzzy.

“That lady over there with the huge hat, like, ridiculously big hat.” You nod at Fox without taking your eyes off her. “The Lone Gunman guys suspect that she gets all her money from selling UFOs that crash, on the black market. She only leaves her guarded house three times a year and this is one of the occasions.”

“Suspect? So it could be something completely different.” You smirk up at Fox, he grabs another two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to you. “Who knows, maybe she makes her money selling really big hats.”

“Or maybe, the reason her hat is so big is because it’s broadcasting a message to a UFO flying over Washington”. His grin matches yours.

You clink the glasses together and without the other knowing, both of you acknowledge the butterflies fluttering in your stomachs.

***

Neither of you speak to anyone else, you find a quiet corner tucked away in the hall room and chat. You sip on a glass of wine and Fox holds a tumbler of whiskey but both drinks go warm as you get lose in the conversation with each other.

It dawns on you that before tonight, you’ve never really spoken to Fox as it’s usually a group environment or a passing hi-goodbye as you both make your way home at the end of the day.

He tells you about his family, he tells you about his favourite cases and more importantly than all of the things he’s saying to you- he’s present with you the entire time. Conversations with your ex were one sided and that was something that took months to admit. You realized your relationship with Jason was over during a conversation. You’d just got the promotion that you’d spent months working on and he asked one simple question that felt like a knife to your pumping heart.

“When were you going to tell me about that promotion?”

You had told him; of course you had. You’d told him when you first heard about it, you’d told him the planning you’d spent weeks organizing and you told him the morning of the interview.

He hadn’t heard any of it.

You’d been together over a year. You had met each other’s family, met each other’s friends, you’d fallen in love and within that conversation; you realized how far from love you both had fallen.

The big band music was gradually playing louder and louder. You’d both been straining to shout over it to keep the conversation going. Eventually, you realized a way you would be able to hear Fox better, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

***

The music was soft, flowing through the air as the lights began to dim slowly and the illuminated table decorations filled in the dark spaces. You placed your arms around Fox’s shoulders as his large hands slid down to your waist. Your heart was beating the steadiest that it had all night.

“How did you know about the peonies? I’ve never told you or Scully about that.” Your hands remained interlocked around his neck as you fought the urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“Well, I know your birthday and you had peonies on that date. When you got that promotion, you had peonies, and when uh…yeah, you have peonies.” A nervous look flashes across his face. You know what he was going to say.

“When I broke up with Jason, someone in the office got me peonies and left them on my desk. It was the only thing that made me smile that week”. The memory still makes you emotional, the week was relentless sleepless nights and non-stop crying. On the last day of the week, there was a gorgeous bunch of peonies in a vase on your desk. No note, no name- nothing.

His hands tighten around your waist as he rests his forehead against yours, “I’m glad you liked them…it was hard to see you look so sad”.

Of course it was him.

It always was.

It always is.

Before you can carry on speaking or stop the tears trying to fill your eyes. He tilts your chin to meet your eyeline with his thumb and forefinger.

“I don’t think I’ve told you how beautiful you look tonight or thanked you for this…I mean thanked you properly."

You place your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, continuing to sway to the music; you hear him take a breath before carrying on.

"I've liked you for a while and god, does that sound childish to say. This means a lot to me and you being here means even more. I'd like to take you out, I can't always promise it will be this fancy...actually, I can guarantee it never will be but I want to spend time with you. In any setting, I possibly can."

He doesn't look at you and you don't look at him. It felt like a confession he needed to make but perhaps didn't have the confidence to say it to your face. Which is amazing to you because Fox Mulder doesn't strike you as someone who struggles with anxieties.

"I think this place is a bit too fancy for me, maybe we can chat more at the 24 hour diner near my apartment? I think we'll look a bit different from the usual patrons" You gesture at your black gown and his tuxedo. He smiles as he takes your hand and leads you to the exit.

Before you get back into the car, you press a kiss to his lips and thank him for the evening. For the entire journey to the diner; you hold each other's hands tightly.

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whaledenwtf · 6 months

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Astarion x Reader - In the Candle Light

I'm OBSESSED with Baldur's Gate 3. Between Astarion and Halsin I can't choose, so I'm writing both and then will write a threesome fanfic soon!! All my Baldur's Gate 3 fanfics will be uploaded on Tumblr and AO3 so you guys can download them! Thanks for all the love on the Halsin fic <3 Here's the links for the Halsin Fanfic: Tumblr || AO3 The AO3 upload for the Astarion Fanfic: AO3 LINK

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Oral (Male Receiving), Praise Kink, Biting, Blood, Body Worship (Male Receiving), Angst and Fluff (Astarion deserves the world and I will give it to him)

I was pretty good at writing Astarion in the Halsin fic, so I tried to keep that energy here, but he is significantly softer. I don't normally write angst but I felt it fit with Astarion. His personality is fractured between a mask and his pain, and I felt that the complexity of his character (and his trauma) deserved to be explored. What was supposed to be a smutfest became something so soft and gentle that I couldn't help but tear up while writing it. I hope you guys enjoy this!!

WORD COUNT: 5624

Despite the tadpole in your brain, that was the least of your concerns. Your ragtag group has been bringing their problems to you. Since you became the leader in this journey to deciphering your illithid problem, everyone has come to you to solve their own problems. You love your companions, but holy shit, you're one person.

Well, maybe two if you counted the little bastard wriggling in your brain.

"As I was saying, there is not enough of anything for me to feed off." Astarion tells you, annoyed at your lack of attention. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, alright. You can have my blood tonight. Will that shut you up?" You can't help but be rude to the vampire. He was the fourth person today to ask you for something. You already accidentally gave Gale a valuable artifact to absorb, the wrong artifact; Karlach had accidentally burned your arm when her flames went out of control and then Shadowheart and you had gotten in a fight over her Shar worship. You didn't expect to be travelling with a group of overgrown toddlers, but here you are.

"Easy there tiger, don't need to get mad at me." Astarion tells you, wide eyed. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You feel guilty, you do. Today has just been testing your very limited patience.

"I'm sorry Astarion. I'm just exhausted, and everyone keeps coming to me for their problems." You move your hands to cover your eyes, rubbing them with the palms of your hands. He is silent next to you. He... does feel bad for you. He's been watching you struggle with everyone's burdens, especially since you had been also helping them alongside the tadpole issue.

"Darling, you gotta tell them to leave you alone." You whimper at his words, shaking your head.

"These people need me Astarion, how can I tell them off?" He scoffs.

"Like this: Hello, kindly fuck off." You take your hands off of your eyes and look at him with a smile on your face.

"It isn't that easy." Astarion shrugs.

"It can be." You giggle.

"Yeah?" He looks at you with a smirk.

"Of course, it would never work on me. I know I'm your favourite." You smile, looking down.

"What if Halsin is my favourite?" You both glance over the tall elf. He is playing with Scratch, petting him as he sits in his corner of the camp. Astarion scoffs.

"The tree hugger? Darling, come on. Look at me-" He stands up and gives you a twirl, before bowing in front of you. "I'm marvelous!" You blush, chuckling.

"Maybe I like big beefy elves who carry me out of danger!" That was a lie. Halsin was certainly attractive, but your attentions have always been held by the sarcastic vampire next to you.

"I can carry you out of danger sweetheart, just ask." He tells you huskily. You blush again.

"Would you now?" You ask him coyly, looking up at him. He smirks before holding your chin.

"Of course. You're my partner in crime, darling." You smile at his words. He's not wrong. You've spent the most time with Astarion. He has enthralled you since his dagger was held against your pulse point. Your conversation is cut off when Wyll walks up to you sheepishly. You can feel dread crawl up your spine.

"Sorry to bother you (Y/N), but I'm having a problem-" Astarion cuts him off with an eyeroll.

"I'm sure a big boy like you can deal with it." Wyll's jaw drops open.

"I-" Astarion cuts him off again, frustrating the human turned fiend.

"Look at her, Wyll. She's dealing with all of your guys' shit. Give her a break." Wyll scrutinizes him.

"And not yours?" Astarion scoffs.

"What shit? I'm perfect." Wyll rolls his eye.

"Right. Well, I'm sorry for bothering you (Y/N)." He does sound apologetic, turning to glare at Astarion before turning away. You look up at Astarion.

"Thank you." You whisper to him, before giving him a big hug. His body goes rigid. You let go of him and walk off towards Halsin, needing some very needed puppy cuddles from Scratch. Astarion stays in place, the shock rooting him in place.

He can't remember a time in his undead life that people showed real love to the vampire. The last two hundred years of his life have been riddled with suffering and torment. But you! You have not stopped showering him in love and respect. He craves it now, craves your love and attention. He can't help but want to always be near you. He can't help but feel jealous of Halsin. He watches you laughing with the gargantuan elf as you pet Scratch, and bristles. He turns and walks towards his tent, upset. How could he compete with someone who could walk in the sun? Someone who can love freely, and so openly? He was tired. 200 years of living in the shadows, only to find freedom and then once again not feel good enough. His feelings are brewing up a storm of conflict in his head. You were useful to him, his ticket to eternal freedom, but furthermore you were important to him. You made him feel things he hasn't felt in a long time; if he was honest with himself, he doesn't remember the last time he felt such adoration for someone else. He hides in his tent for the majority of the night, brooding.

Your conversation with Halsin was extensive, talking about nature and his worship of Silvanus. It was refreshing to speak to someone about something other than their problems.

Halsin hugs you tightly. "Have a good night, little one." He kisses your forehead before heading to his tent.

By the time you ended your conversation, it was late in the night and most of your companions were sleeping. You decide to go check in on your resident vampire. You walk to his tent, where the flap is closed.

"Astarion." You whisper from the entrance. Not a moment later, he opens up the tent.

"Oh, so you're done with the tree hugger?" He asks annoyed. You giggle into your hand, trying to muffle the sound as to not wake the others. He smirks at that. He may not be as tall or buff as the druid, but he can always make you laugh. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 0, he thinks to himself.

"Yes I am. May I come in?" You ask him sweetly. He nods, lifting the flap of his tent so you can get in.

"You know darling, you're not a vampire. You can come into my tent anytime." He tells you charmingly. You blush softly at the tone of his voice. Always the charmer.

"I know that. I just don't want to intrude on your alone time." You always said these things, such caring things. You cared about his privacy and autonomy, and his undead heart sung your praises.

"You can never intrude." He says quietly. Truthfully. You smile at him, and he basks in its radiance. If he had the opportunity to continue Cazador's ritual, he's not sure he would. Despite his want to walk in the sun again, he wouldn't need sunlight if he had you by his side. Your brightness rivals the sun and all the stars in the sky.

"I appreciate you saying that, little star." That was his favourite nickname you gave him. Little star. You made him feel special; worth it. He chuckles.

"I'm not that little." He tells you huskily. You blush at his words. If he could have the image of you blushing at his words embedded in his brain, he would. At least it would be better than the bastard parasite that's currently taken his body captive. Always the captive.

He gets this far away look, which worries you. You are the only one who notices these looks, and it always upsets you. Despite not knowing much about Astarion's past, you know it was dark and painful. You put a hand on his arm and he flinches. You back away concerned. He clears his throat before speaking.

"Sorry darling." He sounded so vulnerable, your heart ached. Every beat of your heart was hammering in your chest, yearning for him; yearning to protect him. From Cazador, from his past.

"You don't need to apologize to me, Astarion. I shouldn't have touched you like that without your permission." His chest hurts. He'll never be normal.

"You did nothing wrong, sweetheart." He wishes you could understand how perfect you truly are. His eyebrows furrow. You step closer, cautiously.

"May... May I hug you?" Your voice is hardly above a whisper. His eyes get misty, and he nods. You rush forward, gripping him tightly. Slowly, his arms going around you. Your head leans on his chest, feeling sadness as you do not hear his heart beat. As the hug continues, he leans his head onto yours, just... holding you. As he inhales, he can smell Halsin on you. His heart breaks again.

"I may not know your past, but I'm here for you little star." You tell him quietly. If his heart could beat, it would have sped up. He felt your care for him, but he couldn't help his mind from racing. What if you did learn his past? You would not regard him as highly as you do. A single tear falls from his eyes, and then a couple more. You felt the dampness on your hair, and you hugged him tighter.

"You're too good to me." He whispers, his voice cracking. Your heart shatters again. You are filled with such hurt, such anger, that he is broken. You can't wait to crush Cazador's skull with your boots. You pull away, and see the heartbroken look in his eyes. His hands go back to his sides, clenching tightly, as if he was trying to hold himself together. His tears continue to fall, even though he tries to will them away. He doesn't want you to think of him as weak. You gently put your hand on his cheek, and he savours the feel of your soft palms against his skin. Your thumb goes to wipe his tears.

"Oh Astarion. You deserve so much better." Your eyes well with unfallen tears, his pain becoming yours. He shakes his head.

"If you knew what I have done, the people I have hurt, you would never think of me the same." You continue to wipe his tears with your thumb, looking at him with love.

"Little star... I don't care for your past actions. Who you are today, in front of me is what matters. You deserve the world, and have been forsaken by it. I can never think of you poorly. I- I care about you too much." The confession slips from your lips, and you accept the repercussions. You know that if he doesn't return or want your affections, you would still help him find himself; his purpose. You loved him enough to sacrifice your happiness for his, possibly your entire being.

"Oh darling." He whispers, his hands moving to cup your face. You lean into his touch, eyes closing. Without thinking, he rests his forehead against yours, basking in your presence.

"If you don't feel the same way, I am okay with that. I will still be by your side- if you want me to be. I just want to take your burdens on my shoulders. I want to help you find your purpose; find yourself." Your eyes open to look at his ruby eyes. The shined so beautifully in the candlelight. You try to commit him to memory. You don't know if your mind's eye can fully capture his beauty or his being, but you know you would spend the rest of your life trying.

"What more could I want than what's in front of me?" He whispers softly, before pushing his lips to yours. It wasn't just a regular kiss. Despite its innocent nature, it was a lover's embrace, a connection between two souls. Your love for each other was boundless; but for just a moment, a sweet and tender moment, you felt it and its overwhelming power. You both pull away, breathless. You look into his eyes with such adoration, he can't believe how he had never noticed before. Despite being a rogue, it was you that stole his heart and took it as your own.

"I love you, little star." His eyes widen at your confession.

"I-darling-" He is stunned, your words locking him in place as if you had casted Hold Person and Silence at the same time.

"You do not need to say it now, nor ever. I just wanted you to know I will always-always care for you. In the darkest corners of Faerûn my heart will sing for you. I cannot fathom a world where we didn't meet, and my heart shatters when I see your pain. Let me carry your burdens, Astarion." You tell him passionately. He kisses you again, teeth clashing against each other. You hold him to you, with promise of never letting go. When you pull away, you can see the softness in his eyes.

"Even in the darkest corners of Faerûn? That's where I'll be, darling." You giggle. He smiles widely. You brush a curl behind his ear, before smiling brightly once more.

"You're so beautiful like this; when you are happy." He looks away from you, blushing.

"Now you're just flirting, darling." You bite your lip, looking at the blush on his cheeks.

"So what if I am? Can't I tell the man I love that I find him beautiful?" His heart sings again. Hearing you say that you loved him brought him such comfort, such relief that he felt as though he had sprouted wings and flew into the heavens.

"If you continue my ego will grow." He says, turning back to look at you. You roll your eyes.

"Can't have that happen, can we?" He chuckles at your sarcasm. You pull away from him, before taking a seat on his bedroll and patting the spot next to you. He sits, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"So... now what?" He asks you. Astarion never felt so unsure of what to do. He was always 10 steps ahead, and this uncertainty made him uncomfortable and concerned. You lean your head on his shoulder. He leans his head against yours, closing his eyes.

"Let us enjoy each others' presence. We don't need to speak. I just... want to relish this moment with you." You tell him softly. He's never had someone in his bedroll without ulterior motive. This felt like a new chapter in his life. A chapter where you are the main object of his affections, and one where he can put the past behind him- or at least try. He felt rejuvenated, and he smiles, eyes still closed.

"Enjoy each others' presence? I like the sound of that, darling." The rest of the night is silent, occasionally broken by soft conversation with tender words. At one point, you fall asleep on his shoulder. He has never felt so safe. He tucks you into his bedroll, before moving to sit in the corner of his tent. Before he could, your hand grips his.

"Please, stay." You ask softly, eyes open lightly. He nods, before tucking himself into the bedroll. You don't change your position, holding his hand. He curls his fingers to link with yours, and you spend the night innocently holding his hand, fingers linked.

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall into his meditative state, feeling safe and loved.

The next day was not as stressful as the day before. Karlach had already apologized the day before, but she came to you with Clive and told you that you could hug him and pretend it was her hugging you. You were so touched, that you shook your head and told her "when we fix your engine, I will give you a hug that rivals Clive's." And she cried happily nodding. Shadowheart apologized for her outburst, and spoke about her past, and how Shar was all she knew. You nodded, rubbing her arm and telling her you forgive her. And Gale! Gale felt so awful absorbing the wrong artifact that he gave you some of his most prized spell scrolls as an apology.

You decided that everyone deserved a rest day, and they were all grateful for the reprieve. Everyone moved around camp, hanging out with another or doing their hobbies. You spend the morning playing with Scratch and looking at the map, deciding where to venture for the next day. Halsin walks up to you, smiling.

"Hello little one." You smile at him.

"Hi Halsin." You tell him. Astarion hides from behind a bush, eavesdropping on your conversation.

"I wanted to speak to you about something of a more... private matter." He tells you, biting his lip. You turn your head left and right, before leaning in.

"Is everything okay?" He chuckles, nodding.

"Excuse my forwardness, but I can't go on another day without telling you this. Your beauty and radiance rivals that of nature, and I was wondering if you would spend the night with me underneath the stars?" You blush, eyes bulging and mouth wide open. Astarion shakes with fury. For once, for once, he had someone who cared about him. Now she'll be taken away by some-some bear! The poetic tone of his words was beautiful, Astarion admits. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 1, he thinks sulkily. He leans further into the bush, trying to listen to your answer.

"Halsin! I never expected you to feel such a way about me. I'm shocked." Astarion bites his lip, frowning. His anxiety skyrockets. What will he do?

"Of course, little one. Your beauty is captivating. Not just your body, but your soul and mind. I'm truly enamoured." Fuck him and his Parnassian speech. Astarion: 1 Halsin: 2... Asshole, he thinks to himself.

"Oh Halsin. I'm honoured you think of me so. As much as I enjoy you and your presence, my heart is with another. I'm afraid I can't pursue anything knowing my love lies elsewhere. I'm sorry." Astarion's eyes widen. Of course, you told him you loved him last night, but what if you were just trying to be nice? What if you loved another? Before he could spiral, he hears Halsin hum.

"Nature's love is all encompassing, but I understand if you would not want to pursue multiple relationships. Is the one who holds your heart Astarion?" Astarion shuffles even further into the bush, almost falling out into the open. He sees Scratch come close to sniff the bush. He shoos him away, trying to focus on the conversation.

"Yes, he is. I love him more than I love myself, if I am honest. I cannot imagine a world where I would not chase him to the ends of the realms." Astarion's eyes widen. It was him! He was the one who made you feel such a way. Of course, he knew your words last night were honest, but he was never sure someone could be so certain in their affections; especially when they involved him. His heart soared, and he smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt.

"Ah. I can understand how I can not fit in the equation. Your heart is bound to him and his nature. I can't help but feel jealous that he is the object of your affections. However, I am glad you found joy in another. Thank you for telling me the truth. May the Oakfather protect you both and your love." You smile at the gentle giant, before hugging him.

"Thank you Halsin. For what it's worth, I know for certainty you will succeed with expelling the Shadow Curse and find love- or multiple loves." You both laugh at your words, and he walks away, waving at you before going back to his tent. You hear shuffling and a bark before Astarion appears in your view. You smile at him softly.

"Hi little star." He walks up to you and hugs you tightly. You stand for a moment, shocked, before hugging him back.

"Is everything okay?" You ask him quietly. He hums.

"I... overheard your conversation with Halsin." You giggle quietly.

"Overheard? I knew you were eavesdropping Astarion." He backs away, acting shocked.

"Eavesdropping? Darling I would never!" Lae'zel cuts him off from her tent, sharpening her weapons.

"He was hiding in the bush." Astarion gives her an icy glare, and she smirks at the sour look on his face. He turns to look back at you, pouting. You put your hands on your hips and grin at him.

"Innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart." You chuckle. Before he could speak you cut him off, wide eyed.

"I forgot I said you could feed on me yesterday-" You slap your palm on your forehead. "I'm so stupid! You'll feed on me tonight, right?" Astarion hums, smiling.

"An offer I certainly cannot refuse. Can't wait, sweetheart." You blush at his words, looking down. His hand rubs up and down your arm before he walks back to his tent. Lae'zel chuckles at your blush, so you turn to stick your tongue out at her.

The sun had set, bellies have been filled and Gale's telling a wonderous tale about his time in Waterdeep. While everyone is distracted, you walk to Astarion's tent, a path you are intimately familiar with.

"May I come in?" You whisper at the tent flap, waiting for him. He walks out, grabbing your hand. You blush at the contact, you can't help it.

"Once again darling, you are always welcome." He pulls you in gently. Once in the privacy of his tent, he kisses you softly, like a lover. When you pull apart, you look at him starry eyed.

"Wow." He chuckles at your dumbfoundness.

"You're not the first to say so. Continue the flattery~" You slap him in his chest gently, before laying your hand on him.

"Little star, that sarcastic lilt will get you in trouble one day." He smirks.

"Hopefully you'll be the one punishing me, darling." You blush. Your skin feels hot, and you can't help the images he's putting in your mind. When you are quiet for a moment too long, he chuckles.

"Are you thinking about it darling? You punishing me?" You smirk up at him, blush subsiding.

"I'm only imagining you under me, begging for more, little star." His eyes widen, and he swallows. You grin at his reaction.

"I-well. Didn't know this kitty had claws..." Astarion says, nervous. He'd never heard you reply in such a way, and it was affecting him. He couldn't help it, the idea of you and your love enveloping him in a lovers embrace... he has been hurting for so long, but to have another care for him is enticing. Imagining the amalgamation of that love with you, under him... or on top, as you said; it fills him with excitement and desire.

"I just want to show you how much I care, sweet one. Take your burdens from you, to hold you.... Astarion I love you. I always will." His eyes get misty, but he successfully wills his tears away. He wants you, so much. More than anything in his life... possibly more than eradicating Cazador from Faerûn.

"What is stopping you?" He asks quietly. His hands find themselves on the sides of your head, holding you. His thumbs caress your cheeks. Your eyes close gently, lashes fluttering.

"I want you to feel my love and feel safe. I want to explore us... you... at your pace little star." You tell him truthfully. He couldn't imagine himself loving you more, but you have done it. It must be unnatural how light his soul feels hearing those words.

"Please explore what you'd like." He whispers into your ear sensually. You open your eyes, gazes locked. You look into his red orbs, noticing the small specks of burgundy in his eyes.

"Astarion, are you sure? I do not want you feeling pressured for the sake of my pleasure. I could wait a thousand years and would not regret a single moment." He kisses you, pulling you down so you are both kneeling on his bedroll.

"You make everything so easy. The most impossible tasks seem possible. I want to love you, hold you. (Y/N), I want you. Body and Soul." You seat yourself on his lap, and his arms wrap around your waist. You kiss him on the lips, tongue asking for entrance. He allows you, and your tongues softly roll against each other. You take and give, and he does the same. Like the tide, you push and pull. You draw your kisses away from his lips, before kissing down his cheek, then reaching his neck, giving it extra attention. He moans quietly at your ministrations. You begin to grind on him softly, your body touching his like a whisper. He whimpers when you kiss him on his bite.

"My sweet Astarion." You say against his skin, and he shivers. You pull away, smiling.

"May I undress you?" His tongue feels like lead, so he nods. You hum, pulling off his nightshirt. Your hands caress his muscles and the sinew that ties them together, grazing his chest, his abs and then his arms.

"You're more radiant than the stars in the sky. Do you know why I call you little star, Astarion?" He looks at you adoringly, as you show him and his body love and respect.

"Because of my name?" He asks quietly. Astarion meant little star... For elves, you would only get your adult name when you hit adulthood; his name, much like him, was forever petrified in youth.

"That is an aspect of it, yes." You giggle. "I call you little star because you are exactly like a young star. Full of energy, strength, power. Most would look over you, because you are not the largest star in the sky; but I see you as someone who can grow. You have a long life ahead of you, and that path will be bountiful. I know it." You hum, kissing his chest. You have somehow made his disdain for his youth simmer away. He feels unstoppable, knowing that the one he loves holds such a high regard for him, and sees a bright future for him.

"You're incredible." He tells you honestly. You smile at him, running a hand through his perfect curls. You tug gently, and his head tilts back. He is looking at the ceiling of his tent.

"I pale in comparison to you, my love." You kiss his neck again, starting at his bite. Your kisses trail down to his chest, spending an ample amount of time worshipping his nipples. He groans and pants, thighs quivering and his hips rocking back and forth. His member, hardening under you, catches your clit and you moan. You continue your descent, kissing his stomach and showing him love.

"May I?" You whisper.

"Please..." You undress him carefully, kissing his skin as it gets exposed. Once he is fully undressed you smile at him.

"Would you still like to continue?" His mind has forgotten his past, all his suffering. You in all your beauty and care have taken precedence in his mind.

"We can only continue if you're undressed, darling." You nod, undressing for him. You're both nude, and admiring eachother.

"You're stunning." He whispers. You go back to sit in his lap, grinding down on him.

"That's my line." You jest, and he smiles at you. Your efforts to keep him comfortable have made him warm; and needy. He bucks into you, and you moan, head tilted back. He begins to kiss your neck, mirroring your actions from before.

"May I?" He whispers against the column of your neck, and you whimper.

"Please do." He bites into you, and its euphoric. The first time he bit you all those nights ago was painful; but tonight, in the lowlight of his tent, you only feel warmth and love. He moans into your neck, your blood tasting like the finest wine. He pulls off of you, licking up the blood from your neck.

"You taste... delectable." Despite him talking about your blood, it was arousing you. You bite your lip and his eyes track the movement.

"Have another taste." You take a bit of blood from your wound and rub it onto your nipples, before rubbing it on your chest. You put your bloodied fingertip in his mouth. He takes the finger in his mouth, licking and nipping at you. He moans at the action, enjoying how you are feeding him. You pull your finger out of his mouth with a pop and push your chest into his face. He spares not a moment to descend on you, licking and savouring your taste. His tongue laps at your nipples, one at a time. You whimper at the act, gripping his curls tightly. He takes one nipple at a time between his teeth, tugging lightly. The mix of pain and pleasure was enthralling, and you continued to moan, saying his name like a prayer. Once he has cleaned you, he pulls away, licking his lips.

"You're perfect." He tells you earnestly. You blush, before pulling yourself off him. You kneel between his knees, crouching down so you are face to face with his cock.

"I will show you how perfect you are." You whisper, before taking him into your hand. He is large, and your fist can barely close around his girth. He bucks into your hand, keening. You trail kisses up and down his length, eyes never straying from his beautiful face. You take the tip between your lips, licking at the pearl of precum. You begin to take him into your mouth, taking care to be gentle and slow. You wanted to make sure if he ever wanted to stop he could; his comfort and enjoyment taking priority over your own. One of his hands go to the back of your head, and holds your hair. You slowly go up and down his length, tongue swirling around and tasting him. His musk fills your nostrils, and the smell of bergamot and cloves envelop you. You moan around him, beginning to speed up. The hand in your hair tightens, and pulls you deeper until your nose is pressed against the tuft of white-blonde hair at his base.

"O-oh fuck, sweetheart." You begin to deepthroat him, going up and down. He pants, and pushes himself all the way at the back of your throat, and you gag. He chuckles breathlessly, before pulling you off him. Your spittle has covered your chin and the tops of your breasts.

"If we continue like that, we'll be finished too soon." You smile at him, before getting in position above him.

"You're such a good boy, little star. Can't wait to feel you." He never expected to enjoy praise, but the words coming from your lips make him whimper out. You take him in your hand, pumping him once, twice, before descending and taking him. Once you bottom out, you both moan out.

"O-oh Astarion." You whimper. His eyes are wide, trying to commit to memory the look in your face as he fills you deliciously. You begin to move slowly. He already feels so close, the safeness and love he feels for you keeping him on the precipice of satisfaction.

"D-Darling, oh gods, you're tight. Might not last much longer." One arm locks around your waist, while the other trails to where you are joined and rubs you. You wince, moaning loudly. You begin to bounce in his lap and soon he begins to thrust up, hitting you in your cervix and that sweet spot. You were close too, but you wanted to finish together. The rhythm you set is sweet but brutal, the sounds of your coupling loud, but not as loud as the expletives and moans leaving your lips.

He smashes your lips together, and your bodies are touching; almost melding together. Your pace falters but he continues to thrust, his hand rubbing your clit every time he thrusts deep into you. You whimper into his lips, and his tongue finds its way into your mouth, tongues battling and teeth clashing. His lips trail down to your neck to take a bite. As he tastes you, he continues to thrust. You are lightheaded, between his thrusts and blood loss. The room spins, so you close your eyes and focus on how Astarion makes you feel.

He thrusts up once, twice, then stops. His thumb rubs you and you finish together. Your cunt is squeezing him, and milking him of his seed. He finishes inside you, and separates from your neck to moan out and pant. Still sensitive, you move your hips and he groans out, the hand on your waist tightening enough to leave bruises. You chuckle at his reaction, before he does something unexpected. He takes the hand that was rubbing you to his mouth, and keens at the taste.

"Just as savoury as the rest of you. I cannot wait to devour you again sweetheart." You whimper at his words, and clench around him.

"I love you." You tell him, laying your head on his chest. His hand rubs up and down your spine, caressing you.

"I love you too darling." For the first time in his life, he has said words he knew were truthful, without being sarcastic. He knew that for as long as he was unalive, he would love you with all his heart.

END

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x reader smut #astarion #baldurs gate #astarion my sweet angel #astarion ancunin #angst with a happy ending #smut #this is my love letter to Astarion #soft smut #he deserves better #i'd die for this vampire #anyways if you liked this let me know teehee

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anguishedlurker · 25 days

Text

Sorry, our hands are tied about this!

Prompt "Nocturne fucked up BIG TIME and now needs help from the ghost kid." from kadziduo on ao3/ @duchi-nesten on tumblr! Get phic phought :) Edit: Functioning Ao3 link now that I have a working brain tonight

“Fix it. Before I do” Was all Clockwork said before vanishing.

Fix what? Nocturne didn’t know, but nonetheless knew that Clockwork was presently threatening its non-life into vanishment.

Many types of accidents could be arranged.

Fix it before Clockwork does, and left to do its own research to boot. How droll.

Creeping, trawling through random dreams for a hint. Its purpose, if not its goal in its non-life. Delightful nonsense and soft desires clashing against horrid possibilities and terrible unrealities.

Fix it, before Clockwork does. How unhelpful.

Fix it, fix it, fix it… What a dreadful chant to have been produced by the English language.

Finally, Nocturne conceded that it would have to either be very lucky, or open its eyes to the waking realm to find anything out.

If pressed for honesty, it would not call this a dreadful task. The waking realm is, afterall, the source of the realm of sleep. It pays to understand what one is reflecting.

But ah, so many dull details to mull over...

Fix it. Fix what? It wasn’t obvious until it was all that could be seen.

Magical items with magical properties are objects largely outside of Nocturne's purview.

Unless it has to do with sleep.

And unless it’s the one that made the cursed things, which were now its problem to solve.

In more ways than one, even.

Clockwork has simply sped the timeline up on this being its problem.

The objects were older than English, but could be generously translated to ‘Ribbons of Night’. Each of the six operated slightly differently from the other five when active.

Which makes it sound as if one ribbon could be depended on to be the same ribbon when activated.

Absolutely not. Even with a ribbon permanently attached to oneself between activations, there was no predicting which one you had at any given moment. They were the unholy fusion of dream logic and schrodingers box principals.

It was more complicated than that, granted. There were in fact signs that could point you towards which you had at any given moment, and thus could be leveraged to accomplish whatever ones goal was reliably if you were willing to wait.

No matter what, they were usually weak enough to not be a bother to much more than the fool who thought they could control the mind, and whatever half dozen idiots they saw fit to terrorize.

Usually.

It greatly depended on the energy willfully put into them, see...

More energy, more chaos and for even longer. What’s not to love?

Adorable little things, so long as a weird cult of both ghosts and humans don’t get all six and strategically place them around both realms and dump a small nations worth of power into each of them.

You know, because who would ever do that? Truly, such a thing would take a ridiculous series of logical leaps (to think it was a good idea) and logistical nightmares (to make real) that it would be immediately branded a fever dream and disregarded.

Nocturne would typically be inclined to not be involved with the whole debacle, its not as if it could reabsorbed the partitioned fragments itself, but there’s a small problem with the ribbons and how they operate.

The issue is slightly two-fold, and also just the same problem twice over. What can Nocturne say, its things like to be complicated like that.

The ribbons are small fragments of Nocturne, modified for usage by the average ghost. Living need not apply, but if they can work around it then power too them. Nocturne's power is a scary thing to have loose in any realm, particularly at small-nation’s-electrical-grid scale.

And also, the dreams are fragments of Nocturne, that turning off requires either patience for their power to run dry or for a test of power and will to succeed.

Backlash from such a test is usually not of Nocturne's concern- if a fool decided to power a ribbon beyond their control and had to pay to turn it off, Nocturne's side would sting for ten seconds and then stop. Whether the fool was dead or not didn’t matter to Nocturne.

But if the ribbons were powered to the point they’d take years to stop, and also all six of them were going strong at once, meaning that everyone would be forced to contest them, win or lose, in the name of everyone’s continued existence…

Nocturne has finite durability, and that’s a lot of damage.

Even if the inflictors will die with Nocturne, it will be done because nothing has a choice right now..

The whole mess did clarify to Nocturne why Clockwork would care to harass it, though. It gave two reasons, even.

World balance… not Nocturne's domain, though certainly one of Clockworks. Accidents could be arranged, but these ribbons were older than most living nations.

Accidents could be arranged, but Clockworks chain was rather short. A plan like this would’ve been decades in the making, if not centuries, and the observants would be none too pleased if Clockwork were to do real work outside their supervision. Meaning for real work and not silly lessons with effects quickly undone, Clockwork’s self initiative had chain of about six weeks in either direction, with one arranged accident per inconvenience before they were pressed about activity.

An accident could be arranged, but unless that accident extended across two dimensions and obliterated somewhere around four hundred to two thousand beings in one go Clockwork was stuck explaining themself to the council. And to papercut a decades long plan to death? That work would be noticed too.

Accidents plural could be arranged, but no accidents Clockwork could justify to a council of the most belligerent asshats Nocturne had ever had the displeasure of meeting would also arrange a solution without sending everyone years back, something the council would not do.

The decorative bow atop the rest of Clockworks restraints was that accidents could be arranged, but even if Nocturne's spot were to be taken the successor would simply have the same problem because the process would make them into the ‘same’ being and they would inherit the ribbons, and killing Nocturne (or otherwise) in such a violent manner would have massive world shaking blowout. Potentially worse than the ribbons were doing and would do over the years.

The final answer was to destroy decades worth of timeline to fix this, and no ghost in the world would agree on how or why to do that. Could the council stop debating themselves to obliteration before their time to solve this was up?

Clockwork didn’t seem to think so.

Getting to Long Now was such a nuisance on average, but Nocturne (correctly) presumed that one it’d gotten to the bottom of its new task then Clockwork would humor it with a more thorough conversation.

This time, it didn’t even have to break the front doors. How unusual!

Clockwork refused to turn from the mirrors before them, and Nocturne had to force down the indignation as it took its place high above.

Dreams are much weaker than the irrevocable force of Time, and killing Nocturne here would be messy and bad, but make the new problems straight forward.

“I will elect not to lecture if you turn to speak on equal terms. I will call this fair, given you’ve decided you’re in a corner. Enough to reach out.”

Ahhh to not lose touch with scathing statements, drenched in politics. Nocturne never misses them much, but such words have use.

Passively, Clockwork flickered and reappeared facing Nocturne.

“Better.” Nocturne hummed, electing to drip onto the floor from the ceiling. “Now-”

“Do not pretend you’ve power over this mess any more than I.”

“Never claimed anything of the sort! But you could do to acknowledge your partner in crime before you bark commands down the chain.”

Clockwork’s hand twitched, tightening around their staff, and Nocturne was sure they were mentally calculating if it was worth trying the conversation again.

“Now, I know the goal is peace, but pray tell if you’ve got a spare thought for how that is going to happen?”

Nocturne would genuinely like to know; Its continued existence was on the line the moment an idiot got martyr-y about it.

“Handling the ribbons is a monumental task at this scale, with few qualified to stop the ribbons and fewer still capable of surviving the job.”

“Yes, very much so. But if you’ll kindly direct some concern to the rest of the issue…”

Clockwork sighed, and turned to mirrors.

With a grand gesture designed to piss it off, the ribbon of… translation pending, appeared before them on the mirrors.

In the realm of volcanoes and fire was a crack, and in this crack was madness, and in this madness was a shard of Nocturne's body.

It was difficult to articulate the appearance of ‘void, but with sharp edges and hatred’, but thankfully Nocturne didn’t need to speak aloud about such a thing. Just stare at it as Clockwork warmed up to their point.

And then they didn’t progress the conversation in an action likely designed to piss Nocturne off even more.

Good thing Nocturne did not have teeth to grind.

“Yes, yes, the ribbon of… pleasure?”

“Close enough.”

Nocturne was sure Clockwork was smiling underneath that hood over its noise of disgust.

“The ribbon of pleasure, in the infinite zone of volcanoes and fire, and at the center my fragment ripe for the challenge. I am waiting to die from these miserable little mistakes, and await your suggestion to the contrary.”

“Now, who said anything about challenges?”

“Me.” Nocturne huffed, shuffling forward to examine the fragment.

“Why?”

Oh Nocturne could just...

“Because the fools who started this will have no further options. Because anyone fit to rise to solve this will not get further options.”

“Wrong.”

Nocturne refused to squirm in the following silence, immediately deciding it would out wait Clockwork of it was the last thing it ever did.

Clockwork seemed to catch on immediately at least, though it was difficult to tell if such a catch on was in fact after two hours of Nocturne commuting to suicide by any other name.

“Petulance will not serve you well in this instance. Regardless, if an appropriately powered being can approach with an appropriately malleable skillset, most fragments of this nature can be absorbed as opposed to destroyed.”

Ah. They’d gone mad, it sees this now.

“A fascinating theory. But see, there’s a lot of ifs you’re not articulating.” Nocturne hissed, jerking back from the mirrors to refocus on Clockwork.

“You first.” Clockwork hummed.

Of modest annoyances, this one failed to land. The predictability was more annoying, really.

“If we can find an appropriate candidate then they’d have to have the theoretical potential of at least me, and if we can find that someone they would have to be a child- still moldable in all ways including accepting my power-, and if we could find that child then even beyond its capacity to change it must have the separate capacity to walk two worlds, and if we find that child then we must hide it for long enough to get to keep it from the observants’ machinations and purify it of my influence. Provided we even can purify it.”

The final two were the truest sticking points of all; Nocturne, just as Clockwork, would never be permitted to keep a child. Nocturne wouldn’t even be allowed to keep a willing adult, but that was beyond the point.

“Not easy enough to hide, but I have my ways in keeping the observants eyes off me to get real work done.” Clockwork allowed.

Nocturne didn’t get chills easily, but it finally clicked to it that maybe, just maybe...

Nocturne was already in some deeply illegal shit just by being here, this time.

“You didn’t. Not already.”

“Oh, but I have. Did you think you’d get to say no to me? The moment the observants understand they have a blank spot in time, you will be found and interrogated as the missing piece.”

Nocturne was forced to pause.

It really, truly had to physically wrench itself back. The wild temperament of Dreams would lead to disaster.

“Fascinating. Would you like to know your odds of sense, in this instance?”

“No. I’d like to know who you have in mind, since you’re so smart as to kill us both.”

Clockwork hummed, pleased with themself as they waved at the mirrors again.

No chills, but…

“You’re joking, right?”

The young boy that had foiled its romp in Amity, desperately trying not to wilt into the wallpaper as his parents ranted and raved.

“Why would I?”

“To lure me into false hope. Your pet child is non negotiable to you, and you’ve missed the part where we’ll need to strip it of everything it gains. You wouldn’t.”

Clockworks hand tightened again, and Nocturne could hear the staff creak ever so slightly as the pressure became far greater than any mortal material could dream of handling.

“My child… I am pleased to know you regard it as such, but no. Young Danny is not mine to keep.”

“In formalities alone, no. But he’s yours, and you’re rather fond of the boy. Unless I’ve been seeing some other ghostling visit you every Sunday.”

Clockwork wasn’t looking directly at Nocturne, which was not technically a good sign.

“Not to keep.” Clockwork growled. Cracks spread along a mirror or possibly three, Nocturne was suddenly much too fixated on every errant twitch to care about the mirrors.

Nocturne did its best to not flinch away- despite the obviously in-equal status, Nocturne was a GOD in its own right. It couldn’t afford to flinch.

“That doesn’t matter, Clockwork. And if you would deign to clarify how we’re going to purify it...”

Clockwork didn’t relax as they shook their head no.

“The fuck you mean no, I’m helping dig your ass out this mess too. You wouldn’t be knocking on my door if you had other choices.”

“Two fold issue, a long story hardly of relevance.” Clockwork huffed, turning back towards their mirrors. With a wave and a suspiciously loud tick noise, the mirrors in question returned to an undamaged state. Phantom’s family resumed arguing on them, the boy left to awkwardly shuffle towards the stairs.

“Kroonoooooossss.” Nocturne elected to drawl after a pause.

Don’t get it wrong, it knew its risks. But it had a very bad hand before it, and would like to know if the pot cards made a difference.

The noise of total contempt Clockwork gave in response made it all worth it.

“There’s no world where you don’t know my problems with this. It’s lunacy at its finest. You’re sending me in blind to lead the meek and blind, the observants would rather I die and they play cleanup than let us do this anyhow, and somehow I think I and the observants have the fewest issues with these events. Forgive the acquisition of slang, there’s too many plot holes with this plan!”

“No, there isn’t. But you don’t have room for negotiation, do you?”

No, but that’s not stopping it.

“You have me verbally hostage, if not physically. I think me demanding a real answer as to why you care is the least amount of detail you can give me.”

“Wrong. Conversation over, go home and decide if you’d like to live.”

Nocturne wouldn’t have been able to take the belligerence anymore, lurching itself forward to assault Clockwork.

But it was already awake in one of its caves, three days before Nocturne figured out its task, one day before Clockwork had even informed it that it had a task, and a full sixteen hours after the cultists had completed the rituals.

Nocturne had fucked up in many ways, big and small.

For one, it had risen to Clockworks bait at all. Talk about taking one step forward and having your shins shattered for the effort…

Impossible to say if the mess could’ve gone differently, though. Clockwork clearly had a plan that Nocturne was but a vehicle for.

For two, Nocturne had no doubt Clockwork had already spent their one cosmic accident budget to make Nocturne look even worse out of this- all the better to force it to their whims. It had an educated guess about where that accident went, but what did it matter? Clockwork didn’t do anything by halves, Nocturne was fucked. Which went back to point one.

There were more fuck ups of course, some of them older than the swears it was muttering. A specific six of them, in fact.

One in the land of Volcanoes, one in the land of Atlanta Georgia, one in the land of The jungle, one in the land of Dallas Texas, one in the largest functioning cyber-network in the zone (now if Nocturne could get a clear answer about what that was, this would be nice), and one in the land of Shenghai China.

And apparently at the center of it all, a not-dead child to save them all! Joy!

Lunacy, lunacy, lunacy… What would the point be, in the end? Making the boy suffer like that for the world, once again?

Provided Clockworks pet could live, anyhow…

Maybe that was the point. A dramatic exit for what the observants already had their laser sights on, anyhow. A heroes death at it’s finest.

Whatever. It had its path and task, and despite everything Clockwork wasn’t self destructive. The situation would be solved if Nocturne obeyed.

Nocturne refused to trust any other detail of the situation, not that it changed its new goal.

It had to move fast. Find the portal, enter the house, spot the boy. Shuffling to the stairs as his parents bellowed away over something stupid.

Punctuated by everyone but him collapsing to the ground like all pathetic mortals in The Final Rest’s presence.

Form of stars, voice of satin, dripping like slime from cracks at the edge of the child’s vision.

Nocturne was sure it had made its entrance clear.

The white rings traveled up the child's body, revealing his powered form even as he dropped into an aggressive stance.

“Halt. Despite my entrance, this is more an offer of peace. Nice and quiet now, wouldn’t you agree?”

The boy couldn’t hide the shaky breath he took.

“Knocking people out isn’t peaceful.” He hissed, turning to glare at one of Nocturne’s larger blobs.

“I thought I kicked you out already. Back for another round?” He attempted to taunt, false confidence rising by the second.

“Please, child. Booting me out of one of my more vicious play fights is not a point of pride.”

The boy flushed a deeper green in barely concealed rage, backing away from the bulk of Nocturne’s form as it pooled in the center of the room.

“You have to have seen the news already. Three human locations under mysterious effects. It hasn’t been long, but it’s been profound, no?” It asked bluntly, rising as an owl this time. Rams were so last week, afterall.

The boys eyes flicked to the middle distance, contemplating.

“Maybe. Or maybe I don’t follow politics. Who knows, really?” He huffed.

“Stupidity gets you nowhere. Cultists have stolen artifacts of mine and used them for terrorism in its truest definition, in both the human realm and the infinite realm. It will spread if unmanaged.” Nocturne sighed, glooping its way towards the boy and stretching to far taller.

That certainly elicited a reaction, but who could say what was going on in the boy’s skull?

“And you’re sooo altruistic you wanna solve this yourself, I take it?” He prodded, backing away to the wall. If it occurred to him that he could phase through the wall and simply leave, it didn’t show.

Perhaps the child could’ve been a politician with that tonal bite. Alas...

“I have plenty to lose of they’re dealt with by traditional means. And you have much to lose if this spreads too far. The amount of people who die regardless if traditionally dealt with is uncountable. You, and the world with it, are in just as dire of straits as I with this mess.”

The boy paused, looking Nocturne up and down.

“And why should I take your word for it?”

Hmm… maybe if..

Nocturne made a sound like a shuddering breath and sank its form to only slightly taller than the boy.

“Because it’s not my word, it’s Clockworks.”

Another strong reaction. Nocturne was getting somewhere.

“And if you’re lying?”

Nocturne bowed forward slightly to imply consideration.

The child wasn’t wrong to distrust it, dreams were tricky things afterall. And personal experience gave a firm indication as to Nocturne’s temperament, be that true or false.

But the awake were always so predictable…

“We can visit them to ask, if you like. But permanence will take within days. It needs to be you, and we need to go. Now.”

The boy closed his eyes, considering.

“Clockwork, first. No confirmation, no help.” He ordered, eyes snapping open ans he crossed his arms.

“Of course.” Nocturne muttered, carefully eyeing how the child prepped to fly along with it.

He didn’t get the chance to fly on his own, already plucked away by Nocturne as it swooped down to the portal.

No time to waste, its non-life was on the line. And if the screaming was funny, then that was a bonus.

#danny phantom #dp #fic #long #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #phandom event #Nocturne (Danny Phantom)#Clockwork (Danny Phantom)#Danny Fenton

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veryinnovative · 6 months

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professional chef regulus can't sleep and works a mcdonald's graveyard shift. a small thingie inspired by this. 1486 words & totally sfw!

It came and went in waves, the bouts of insomnia that held him captive in sleep-elusive nights. Those hours of darkness where finding his rest proved itself to be no more than a fleeting chore, often resulting in Regulus dragging himself out from underneath his covers to find respite elsewhere. A place that wasn't a nightmare materialized in four enclosing walls, turning the small space of his bedroom into a reenactment of past events that only surface when he's stuck in that liminal space between consciousness and sleep.

An enigma, truly, the inability to sleep regardless of how much running a restaurant deprives him of his energy. What’s even more riddling, however, is the sight of Regulus Arcturus Black appearing in Stebbins’ office at 1:45 a.m. on a Saturday night, already wearing a McDonald’s polo he keeps stored in the bottom of his nightstand drawer. Why an award-winning chef with a long history of working in upscale establishments turns up at a fast-food chain is a mystery no one has been able to solve yet. Then again, people drink two liters of room-temperature chocolate milk to combat head-splintering migraines so there is no questioning a seasoned insomniac’s methods.

“Sup, Regulus. Another of those nights, eh?” Stebbins asks him with his feet planted on his desk. There is a monstrosity of a half-eaten quintuple cheeseburger in front of him – the equivalent of a heart attack between two buns. On the computer screen, a game of Solitaire is opened instead of the Excel file of expenditures he should probably be working on.

“Grill or cashier?” Regulus asks while working the pin into its place. It says ‘Mark’. Don’t ask him about that either.

Stebbins slurps his soda, the paper straw soggy and disfigured with the indents of teeth. “Sorry, mate, it’s drive-thru for you tonight. Got a newbie who’s gotta learn how to make the patties. Still know how it works?”

There is something incredibly surreal about having a three-star Michelin chef turn up at your restaurant and have them take orders instead, but Regulus doubts that his culinary prowess could elevate the taste of a Quarter Pounder by a large margin. That and Stebbins is high as a kite if the red-rimmed eyes are anything to go by.

“Shit– aren’t you that dude from Food & Wine? Begulus Rack?”

“In the flesh.”

“Man, this is a McDonald’s, you know that right?”

“Yes. Can I work here for a few hours? I’ll only need unlimited coffee as pay.”

“Why?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You’re fucking hired.”

It’s how it had become a common occurrence. Once in a month or two, Regulus would enter the shabby building and take his spot at whatever station was available at the time. Stebbins, the manager working graveyard shifts, welcomed him with little inquiries every time.

It’s how Regulus finds himself nearly thirty minutes into his shift, wireless headset on, and the seconds ticking by with little hustle and bustle. It’s not the social interaction that bothers him, but the lack of attention the entire ordeal demands. He’s bored. Not tired enough. And wonders if he should go for his nth cup of coffee since sleep is most definitely not going to be it.

Then, a car pulls up to the intercom post, and he taps on the screen before him, pulling up the order tab. “Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?”

A loud yawn reverberates through his earpiece before a gravelly voice mumbles, “A McDick menu, please.”

Regulus is going to stick his head in the deep fryer. “Go away, Barty.”

Then, another voice joins, the rasp of a French accent lilting his words, “I’ll have the same. Can I upgrade mine to a large?”

Barty snickers into the intercom and Regulus bridles at both their voices. “Can you both sod off?”

Evan tuts. “Now, that’s no way to speak to a customer now, is it?”

“Yeah,” Barty interjects, sucking his teeth. “Where the fuck is your manager? I want to talk to him.”

“Probably off wanking somewhere or getting high,” Evan mumbles in the background, to which Barty hums in approval.

“Go home, you both stayed out late tonight.” Barty and Evan had not returned to their shared apartment after their shift at L’Astre and had instead chosen to use their night to mindlessly drive around.

“We went home and you weren’t there, Reg. We’re here to pick you up.”

“Barty, I’m fine. Just go.”

“Don’t be like that, Reg. Come home and I’ll make you a hot choccy before cuddling you to sleep. How’s that sound?”

“Evan, we both know you and Barty are going to be fucking each other's brains out. If I’m not going to be able to sleep, I might as well do that here.”

“Look at this git,” Barty barks out, “some cuddles from his Jamie and suddenly he’s giving us the cold shoulder, Evs. Are you telling me that Mr. Sunshine is a better spooner than I am? We might have to hold a spoon-off.”

More angry grumbling before Evan sounds through the intercom again. “I’ll call in James to drag your greasy ass home. Bring one of those Sugar Donuts with you.”

“You will do no such th–” The sound of tires screeching cut him off before the intercom goes quiet again and Regulus sighs, deeply, lamenting the fact that is his best friends always butting in.

Does he have unhealthy coping methods? Yes. Definitely. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Does this warrant cosseting (his friends just caring for him)? No. Absolutely not.

So it’s no surprise that when a car pulls up, approximately twenty minutes later, James’ voice resounds through the intercom, speech slurred with sleep.

“Mi vida,” he sighs, “come home.”

“I’m working.”

“You're not working,” James counters. “You're tiring yourself out in the most ridiculous of ways."

“I'm not tiring myself. This is quite calming, actually.”

“Baby, there is nothing remotely calming about working at a McDonald's at almost three in the morning.”

“Order. You're holding up the line.”

“Wha– there's no line! It isn't common practise to drive to a McDonald's this late, amor.”

“Your order.”

James groans loud enough for the intercom to fill his headpiece with static. “The usual.”

Regulus types in a singular Cadbury Flake Chocolate McFlurry.

“That will be one ninety-nine. Pull up to the window.”

James pulls up to the first window, driving a fancy trust-fund-baby Porsche, to pay for his purchase, and Regulus slides open the window to extend the terminal toward him. Only to end up watching how James turns off the engine, exits the vehicle, keys in hand, and dressed in pajamas still.

Regulus blinks. “Why did y– James!”

There is a startled sound when he suddenly climbs through the window.

“Get out,” Regulus hisses, trying to push him. “You can’t–”

“Watch me.”

“Are you mad?!”

“Not mad enough to work a McDonald's shift,” James grumbles, flinging both his legs over and coming to stand before Regulus. His hair is mussed and there are rabbit slippers on his feet, the socks mismatched like they were haphazardly put on before leaving through the door.

“Out.” Regulus points his finger to the window.

The thing is, James is an amiable man – not easily deterred nor someone who can be promptly riled up with little to no effort.

None of that is applicable when he is woken up between the sacred hours of one and four for inconveniences. And Regulus working a graveyard shift hardly counted as an emergency.

What’s the worst that can happen when two boyfriends have a stare-off in the ass of the night, in a McDonald’s?

“Oh, James, here to pick up Regulus?” Comes Stebbins’ voice.

James doesn’t look up. “Yeah, could you make me my order real quick?”

“Sure thing, mate. The usual?”

“Extra chocolate drizzle, please.”

“Right on.”

Regulus isn’t backing out now. He keeps his gaze glued to his, expression indifferent and arms defiantly crossed over his chest.

“Regulus.”

“Oh, it’s Regulus now, is it?”

“Your other nickname rights have been rescinded until you enter the car.”

“I think I can decide for myself, Potter.”

“You– That’s unfair!”

James’ bottom lip juts out just slightly in the makings of a pout and, well, Regulus is a weak man.

He sighs, tired, and rubs his eyes. “I’m tired.”

There are arms around him immediately, tugging his exhausted body into a warm, tight embrace, despite his aversion to public displays of affection. “Let me drive you to my place instead, baby, how’s that sound?”

Regulus snorts against his shoulder. “I doubt much sleeping will happen.”

“Maybe, but it will tire you out for sure. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it much more than working the drive-thru.”

No other incentive is needed for Regulus to open the window and clamber out of it, followed by a grinning James who is undoubtedly happy with having obtained a McFlurry and one Regulus Black for a two-for-free deal.

#jegulus #jegulus fanfiction #regulus black #james potter #marauders #marauders au #i had to write this #i have no self control #the mcdonalds cap stays on during [censored]#THIS IS PARTLY CRACK

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brewstersbru · 9 days

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A little riz ficlet i started last week and finished today (pok feels 💚)

Your name is Riz.

Riz knows Kristen didn’t mean it, knows she was just being funny, trying to ease his nerves before his first big game on the Owlbears. But he can’t stop hearing his mother’s voice in his head, digging, nudging him to buck up and fight against it.

He regrets snapping at her, but not as much as he should, probably. He’s not certain he would’ve even said anything if his mom hadn’t had that conversation with him.

And now Kristen’s getting expelled, but not really, and instead they have to go through a harrowing trial of standardized testing coupled with fighting monsters where it only ends if all of them die or they kill all the monsters.

No one has ever killed all the monsters before, and Riz isn’t arrogant enough to actually believe they’ll be the first. Not with the weight of Junior year on their shoulders. It’ll be nice to see his dad again, outside of the tiny little hologram on his watch, or when he talks to the air around his grave- never knowing for sure but believing that he’s there, listening.

But dying hurts. Riz still gets nightmares about that first time he did it, and it doesn’t help that the video of it happening is still up for everyone to see. The views keep climbing, no matter how time marches on people still search it up. It makes him a little nauseous to think about.

There’s a lot on Riz’s mind tonight- not that there hasn’t always been- but for some reason he can’t tune it out right now, can’t push it down with work or school or trying to solve a mystery. His mind is just running, turning over and over itself, churning through the complicated web of problems he’s found himself caught in.

There’s just so much that needs fixing, that needs to be worked on and chipped away at and he can’t do anything about it. Just has to stare at the ceiling of the living room in Mordrid Manor, trying to will himself to sleep while his friends snore beside him. Well- Adiane isn’t really sleeping, but after finally dropping the mental weight of her finances, she’s been falling deeper into her trances to regain her energy.

It feels almost like his heart is about to jump right out of his chest, like it’s squirming around, trying to wedge itself up his throat and out of his mouth. Riz would never tell anyone this but he’s terrified that he’s still that same futile little thing he was in the palimpsest. Scratching at thick walls until his hands bleed, littered with shards of the effort, but in that righteous violence, ultimately having done nothing of real use.

How many times does he have to bleed for it to mean something? How many times does he have to die before his friends can stay with him? Before people and gods and monsters stop trying to pry them away from his bloody, clenched fingers. He worked for this, he dug deep and rent himself in six equal pieces for the hope of staying together. How much more could the universe possibly expect from him? When is it enough?

There’s a soft beep from his wristwatch- which, unlike all of his other gadgets, he never takes off, not even when sleeping- and Riz takes the opportunity to get away from staring at the same crack in the ceiling he’s been looking at for the past hour. He stands and picks his way through a maze of limbs and drool to the kitchen.

With some semblance of privacy, he checks the watch. What could his dad- Agent Gukgak- need from him at this time of night? Does time work the same way up there? Is he ok? Is it possible for him not to be?

A small hologram of his father appears above the watch, disheveled, as if he just got back to the office. As soon as he appears, he steps back for a moment and quickly catalogues his son’s state. After about a minute, he heaves a deep sigh.

“You’re ok.” It’s not a question. Riz nods, slowly.

“I am, sure. But what about you, Agent Gukgak- sir? What’s wrong? Why’d you call?” He tries to keep his voice quiet, and moves towards the front door, hoping to get outside so he and Agent Gukgak can have a serious business conversation without him sounding like a teenager at a sleepover. He is a teenager at a sleepover, but that’s beside the point.

Agent Gukgak tilts his head at him. “Kiddo, I didn’t call for me, I called for you. Your heartbeat spiked about a half hour ago and hasn’t returned to baseline since. I called as soon as I could get back.”

Riz, having just made it outside- the door creaked just slightly, but he’s not worried about any of the others having heard; they sleep like logs- stumbles a bit as he tries to settle himself on the porch steps.

It’s late, so he can be forgiven for lacking his usual tact as he stutters, “Wha- huh? This thing can track my heartbeat?” Like that was the most important part of what Agent Gukgak had said.

Agent Gukgak smiles at him, wry. “Course it can, and your blood sugar, iron levels, as well as body temperature. You should talk to your mom about iron pills, actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I know you haven’t been to the doctor for a while, but we’ve been detecting low iron in your blood for a while. And don’t even get me started on your eating habits, you’re just like your mother, waiting until you’re near ready to faint to give your body anything substantial.” His tone starts warm, but quickly devolves into something more scolding. Riz allows the conversation to derail a little bit.

“It’s not that I do it consciously, I just forget. There’s a lot of work to do and it’s hard to schedule out non-school-mandated mealtimes for myself. I’ll make a note about the iron though.” Riz thinks they’re both overtly aware of the fact that he doesn’t move to jot anything down. Iron pills have got to be expensive, and if he’s made it this far without, he doesn’t see a reason to ask for them now. Agent Gukgak sighs.

“Riz- it’s- I-“ He pauses, takes a second to collect himself. “I often find myself wishing, when we talk, that I was able to come down there and live with you and your mother. At least until we sent you off to college.” There’s a wistfulness to his gaze that Riz can’t find it within himself to watch, he knows what’s at the end of this train of thought and it’s never pretty. ‘What ifs’ and ‘could have beens’ are only as good as a wish, because they’re never rooted in reality. Always washed with rose and drowned in nostalgia.

Riz cuts in, “You’ve been doing good work where you can. And- and I think I turned out pretty okay. All things considered.” It feels a little strange to be defending his father to himself, but Agent Gukgak just shakes his head.

“More than ‘pretty okay’, kiddo. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done, not just in your work, but in who you are. I see the way you care for your friends, the way you help your mother, the way you meet every problem head on with a plan and a backup plan, just in case. I just wish the world had been kinder. Wish I coulda been there to make it be, when it couldn’t get there on its own.”

And then, for some, mortifying reason, Riz bursts into tears. It’s not loud or messy or even really all that different than what he usually looks like. At a distance, you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell. But there are tears streaming steadily down his face and every so often he has to sniff and blink his eyes to catch up with the stream. He swipes an arm roughly across his eyes to try and stem the flow, or better, stop it completely.

“I’m sorry, Agent-“

“Dad. Just call me dad kiddo. Please. Or Pok, just- not ‘Agent Gukgak’.” Pok’s own expression has crumpled, brows furrowing at the sight of his son so obviously distraught with no way to physically comfort him.

Riz nods, “Sorry, dad, I don’t-“ He sniffs, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s just Kristen’s being expelled unless we do this last stand thing tomorrow where we’re probably gonna die at the end, and I saw my name in Kipperlilly’s file but I haven’t had time to figure out why it’s there, and Fig skipped class again, which, I know isn’t going to fail her probably but it makes me nervous because what if she starts skipping every day again? Also our vice principal might be crazy and evil and I haven’t had any time at all to look into that-“

He cuts himself off with a gasping, cut-off sob, burying his face in his arm in his overwhelm but keeping his wrist level so Pok remains visible.

It’s hard to see through the rivers of tears that are spouting from his tear ducts, but Riz thinks he sees his father tugging at his hair, pacing as he watches this unfold. Huh, they kind of are the same.

“You’re seventeen. Seventeen, you shouldn’t- I can’t-“ He seems at a loss for words, baffled by the injustice of it all. Riz has stopped trying to fight the waves of tears, instead letting them wash over them, swiping at his cheeks every couple of seconds to keep them dry.

Pok paces for a few more minutes, fiddling with different parts of his outfit until he’s gathered his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Riz.” Is what he settles on, moving close to the image capture of the hologram so that, if Riz were to tilt his head forward, it could almost be as if they were touching foreheads. Pok continues, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there and I’m sorry that you have so much to deal with right now. I wish I could do more, but all I can give you is advice. What you’ve got on your plate right now, every piece of this hellish puzzle, both is and is not a war. There’s you, and there’s the problem, and a lot of times it seems like the problem is so much bigger than you are, so much more than you’re equipped to handle. Like you’re a man at the base of a mountain with a shovel, hoping to dig a hole through it. But once you start thinking that, the moment you let yourself become less than, that’s when you start losing. You either gotta grow to match the size of it or cut it into little pieces you know you can handle, and I’ve never met anyone who could do the first of those.”

Pok takes a deep breath, then his lips quirk into a rueful smile.

“Also, it’s a lot easier to do things when you eat, and you let other people help you.” He emphasizes the last parts with a heavy look directly into Riz’s eyes. Like he knows exactly how he’s been doing things thus far and is telling him to change it up, for his own sake.

Riz sniffles, nodding. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel the warmth of his father’s skin through the hologram. Or the illusion of it.

“I can do that.” Riz takes a deep breath. “I can do that.”

Pok smiles. “I know you can, kid. Just take it slow. Don’t lose yourself in it.” He speaks as if he’s learned from experience. The realization of how little he truly knows his father hits Riz like a bucket of ice water. A shiver works its way up his spine.

For a moment, he considers asking. Thinks about spending the night on this porch, effectively on the phone with his dad, talking and learning things he’s wanted to know for as long as he’s been visiting Pok’s grave. Then, Pok clears his throat, expression pinched with regret.

“Sorry, kid I-“

Then he remembers that life isn’t fair, and the world moves on, whether you’re ready for it or not. Riz blinks away his tears.

“Yeah- no- I know. You’ve got badass angel things to do. I’m good. Thanks for calling.”

Pok gets a look on his face, equal parts proud and devastated. His eyebrows furrow into poignant resignation.

“I’ll try to do it more. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And then he’s gone, and all Riz has is the cool fingers of the wind, grasping over his shoulders in an icy embrace. He puffs a breath into the air and watches it fizzle from fog to nothing.

It’s dark. It’s going to be dark for another eight hours at least.

Riz is going to die tomorrow, probably. He’ll be fine, but he doesn’t want to.

He really doesn’t want to.

#riz gukgak #fantasy high #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #pok gukgak #father son feels #nothing is okay ever #i will never write a completely healthy father son dynamic mwahahaha #riz is so small its crazy how u can fit sooooo many issues into one little guy #one guy so little as he #might be incomprehensible it is late #brublurbs #cross posted on ao3 as always bc i crave attention

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frostyhelltime · 9 days

Text

I See You

(ft. HuskerDust)

Warnings: Little bit of angst on Angel's part, but this is mostly just hurt/comfort.

Prompt: "I see you. I see you, I always have and I always will." Prompt from @unfriendlywriter

Set before they're dating, but sometime after 'Loser, Baby'. I had a lot of fun making their graphics for this as well. Hope everyone likes it!

There's a blissful silence in the air as Husk polishes glasses behind the bar. No static that would allude to Alastor being near, no Nifty obsessively cleaning, no Charlie planning new group activities. Just. Peace.

Until a certain tall spider comes lumbering in, shoulders slumped low, and head pointed towards the ground. Husk doesn't even think Angel Dust is even aware of the weary sigh that leaves them as they trudge in, barely having the energy to even shut the front door behind him.

Husk is already grabbing a bottle and a glass for him but as soon as he pops the top off he hears Angel speak.

"I'm good Whiskers. I just...I just wanna go to bed. Maybe tomorrow." Angel waves him off sluggishly with two arms, which only makes Husk furrows his brows as if trying to analyze him.

"That bad huh?" He offers as he puts the lid back on the bottle, hesitating only a moment to see if Angel changes his mind and wants a drink after all. When Angel just sighs and keeps walking, Husk does finally put the bottle away.

"Wanna talk about it? People don't have to buy a drink to sit at my bar." He says before giving Angel a toothed grin.

"Least you don't anyway."

He's speaking genuinely, but also hopes the remark might make Angel chuckle even just a little. He doesn't, but he does let out a huff of air that Husk thinks could be close enough to a laugh that he thinks he's successful.

He does manage to get Angel to crack a smile with that one, though it is weak. But still, a smile is a smile.

"Maybe...I dunno. I don't wanna take up ya time and space if someone else comes in." Angel shrugs, looking for excuses for Husk to not comfort him. It's something foreign, having someone care about how he's doing. He's used to people only pretending to care to get what they want, usually his body or whatever it is they need. So his instinct is to try and dodge those attempts at care because it's hard to handle when they aren't genuine. He certainly wouldn't be able to handle it if Husk's care wasn't genuine. But that's a whole other issue to dig deep into as he's falling asleep.

But Husk doesn't hear any of Angel's thoughts, only what Angel says, so this time he waves Angel off with a lazy wave of his wrist.

"Most everyone is out as far as I know. And if someone does come in I can always take a break." He assured the taller one, who shifts nervously from foot to foot as he considers maybe...it would be okay to show that vulnerability to Husk again? Just this once of course. Husk busies himself with cleaning more glasses to not make Angel feel pressured into a decision one way or another.

"...Maybe but...I dunno. I just...talkin' out here in the open where someone can walk in...Maybe another time but thanks." Angel stumbles over his words until eventually he talks himself out of it and even Angel winces at how lame it sounds. Husk eyes him a moment, as if analyzing him like a math problem. He's trying to figure out how far is too far to push, but he doesn't feel good at all about letting Angel go in this state.

"...Break time it is."

"W...Wha?"

"I've decided it's time for a break. Let's head somewhere quieter to talk. Problem solved."

Husk says it so casually with a shrug of his shoulders that it just confuses Angel even more, as if it was natural to stop what he was doing to help him. By the time he processes what his feline companion has said, Husk has already put things away and is standing next to Angel, waiting only a little impatiently.

For the first time tonight Husk looks a little anxious standing next to him, hands in his pockets and waiting to be directed on where they're going to go.

When Angel comes back down to earth, he blinks a few times, standing up a bit straighter.

"Right. Yeah. Uh. We can talk in my room I guess?" Angel says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Husk only nods and gestures for him to start walking.

Neither Angel nor Husk can tell if the silence between them as they walk is peaceful or awkward, but either way they're happy to reach the door once they get there.

Angel goes in first, plopping down to sit on his bed as Fat Nuggets immediately crawls onto his lap, nuzzling into Angel eagerly to try and cheer him up.

Husk lets out a small chuckle at the admittedly adorable display and he shuts the door behind him, taking a seat right next to Angel Dust.

"Alright. So what's bothering you?"

"...The Big V. Who else?" He scoffs venomously, looking away.

"And Charlie enjoys singing. I figured that much. What did he do this time?" Husk relaxes as they begin talking im earnest, leaning back a little bit and getting comfortable.

"I just...I don't even know how to describe it. He makes....he makes me feel so worthless. Like all I'm good at and good for is his stupid fuckin' shoots." Angel grits out, hands pausing on Fat Nuggets a second.

"And when I can't even do that right..." He trails off, letting the end of his sentence go unspoken.

"I just feel...so damn invisible there. Even when all eyes are on me it feels like no one is really looking at me."

Angel hates that his voice takes on a choked sounding quality the further he talks, the tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. He turns away from Husk as if that would actually keep him from finding out.

It takes a moment for Husk to figure out what to say and then he reaches out to place his hand on top of one of Angel's, hesitating halfway there eventually deciding, fuck it, and placing his hand on top of his and giving a small squeeze.

"I see you."

It's the softest Angel Dust had ever heard Husk speak and it's so jarring he snaps his head back to look at Husk, forgetting he was trying to hide his tears moments ago.

"...What?"

Husk clears his throat, giving him his best comforting smile.

"I see you. I always have and I always will." Husk speaks with a little more confidence.

The tears that were only beginning to gather begin to flood now and Angel doubles over as his body is wracked with sobs, unable to stop himself, especially after the day he's had. Somehow it was both exactly what he needed to hear and also what pushes him past the tipping point. He doesn't know why it makes him snap, he just knows it does.

Maybe it's because he really is starting to believe Husk could be genuine, and somehow placing that vulnerability in another person's hands is terrifying and overwhelming.

But Husk doesn't judge him, just sneaks his free hand around to rub soothing circles on Angel's back as he lets him get it all out. Neither of them says anything for the duration of it, Husk out of respect and Angel out of shame.

But eventually Angel's cries do settle down into sniffles and he sits back up again, wiping what's left of the tears off his face before looking at Husk again.

"Yeah. Sorry. I...I don't know what came over me." He mumbles apologetically but Husk just shrugs. Angel only barely sees it in his peripheral because he's looking anywhere but at Husk.

"Nothing to be sorry about." He assured him, his voice soothing and neutral.

Husk's words just keep ringing in Angel's head over and over again though.

'I see you. I always have and I always will.'

Angel can't help but snort out a laugh now.

"Fuckin' liar. You didn't always see me. You hated me when I first showed up here." Angel laughs, although he still appreciates the sentiment.

But Husk just smiles like he knows something Angel doesn't.

"... Technically I didn't lie. Back then I saw you were hiding your real self. I didn't know why but I knew the you that you were presenting wasn't real...and I was right." Husk is appropriately wearing a mischievous Cheshire grin as he leans over to playfully poke Angel in the chest.

"So I still saw you, even if I was annoyed you weren't being honest." Husk's grin only grows wider when he sees the flush of red that finds itself on Angel's cheeks.

Angel opens and closes his mouth a few times as he struggles to think of words to say. But he comes up empty.

"...I...I...Thank you." Angel eventually whispers, smiling at Husk, genuinely smiling. It's a tired and exhausted smile, but it's genuine and it makes Husk relax, smiling back.

"Anytime. I'm going to head back to the bar and let you sleep." Husk pats his back as he stands up and Angel realizes how cold the top of his hand feels without Husk touching it and he's immediately standing too, Fat Nuggets letting out a small squeak of surprise before he lands on his feet on the ground. He only lets out one small huff before he seems happy again, his tail wagging, so Angel isn't too worried.

"Well since I feel better...maybe...a nice drink to relax after work doesn't sound so bad?" Angel isn't even sure what he's saying, he just knows he wants to follow him.

He thinks Husk knows it too because he flashes Angel the smile of a gambler on a winning streak and it makes his heart race.

"I'll make something extra good for you when you come down. See you in a few minutes?" He offers, wanting to allow Angel time alone to collect himself before going if he needed it.

"See you in a few." Angel nods, confirming their plans as he sits back down on his bed a moment, watching Husk wave goodbye as he leaves, shutting the door behind him to give Angel some privacy.

He can't help the goofy smile on his face as he fixes himself back up to look presentable before he heads back down to meet Husk at the bar, who is already standing there, waiting with a knowing grin and some bright pink concoction that suits Angel Dust perfectly already sitting in a glass on a napkin, waiting for it's owner to take a seat.

#hazbin hotel #husker #husker hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust #huskerdust #hazbin hotel imagine

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cleverri · 8 months

Note

[KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR]

HELLO MY DEAR FELLOW SO I SEE THAT YOUR ACE ATTORNEY MASTERLIST IS EMPTY BUT DO NOT FRET, I'M HERE TO ASK FOR A HERLOCK SHOLMES SCENARIO ABOUT HOW WOULD BE HE AS A S/O? THANK YOU FOR READING

HERLOCK SHOLMES x READER | written by MOD clever

warnings; A few cuss words here and there but that's it-

romantic headcanons for Herlock Sholmes in a relationship…

The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles

Now, listen- This man seems charming. You know, being smooth and having the most out-there deductions. He seems like he has it all, especially with that intelligence of his. But listen here- His life is a chaotic mess. He lives a life of yes, a detective, but also a dad, and an annoyance /hj

Very quirky, very dramatic, can be very frustrating at times. Though because of how expressive he can be, and how he loves to jump into people's lives- (Much to the annoyance of most-) He's a very social person. He enjoys talking to others and figuring them out, it's practically a hobby for him at this point. Though there are his days- They're not many.

Not allowed in the kitchen. At all. Don't let him, you'll be making a huge mistake. Iris is the one making food- And though this does come off as strange- You soon learn as to why exactly only Iris is allowed near the kitchen. Speaking of Iris-

Sholmes is technically a dad. Whether anyone will admit to that or not. A total dilf? Absolutely- Okay, seriously though- It probably comes off as a shock that a very famous detective has been taking care of a child for the last ten years. Seeing how chaotic his own self seems to be. Honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if y'all found this attractive, an actual good parent!

He's very affectionate. In more ways than one. He loves being near you, knowing you're safe, and that you're close enough to grab in case of a dangerous situation. He loves seeing your face during a stressful situation because now he has someone to be happy around. He's just a very loving guy, okay? Accept his affection.

He enjoys someone who's rather affectionate too. Someone who's willing to just, stick with him and deal with his crazy life. Someone who will stick with him and Iris. He’ll admit someday, that he’s happy you’ve come into his life.

Will rant to you about any ideas or inventions that have been starting to brainstorm within his mind. He can’t keep these ideas to himself, he needs someone to get excited with, dammit! He’ll make exaggerated hand motions while doing so, it’s funny to watch sometimes-

Literally drags you along for adventures and cases he's working on. He's literally just like an excited puppy, he's so happy to have you around to give him ideas- Or simply to just show off these difficult cases that he's already solved.

Absolutely LOVED dancing around with you. Just humming a little tune as he takes you by the hand and starts twirling you around- It's the cutest thing. I think it'd be funny if he knew how to waltz, as he doesn't seem like the person to know how to do that??? But he simply says it was for a silly little case he dived into.

Pretty much Golden Retriever energy. Just a big ball of energy, charisma, and goofiness. Also including how affectionate he is- He loves nuzzling into your neck, muttering how much he loves being around you. He loves holding you close, listening to your heartbeat.

His main love language is Gift Giving. He loves making you little trinkets to help out with everyday life, or just making you little things that you’d love to simply stare at. But his second love language is Physical Affection. As said before, he absolutely loves clinging onto you, like there’s nobody else in the world. Holding onto you as if you’d disappear any second.

“Herlock-!?” “My dear, you look absolutely ravishing tonight, do you know that?”

Lanky. Lanky, tall, stinky man- /JBut seriously, he’s not very good in the strength department, as much as he hates to admit to it. He’s focused more of his life into solving mysteries and using intelligence, he never really focused on getting stronger.

Every single date always somehow gets into chaotic messes- Either it has something to do with Iris, or a sudden crime scene where Herlock must figure out what had happened- Of course, dragging you along for the ride.

We all know how chaotic his life is. Raising a child, having to solve Britain’s biggest mysteries- And now getting himself involved in a romantic relationship. But we all know he wouldn’t change it for the world. And I know y’all wouldn’t either.

#mod clever #ace attorney #s/o headcanons #ace attorney x reader #the great ace attorney #the great ace attorney chronicles #herlock sholmes #headcanons #herlock sholmes x reader #ace attorney herlock sholmes

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dragonrider9905 · 1 year

Text

Sorry I'm Late

Summery: You go out with your friends for a drink and run into some…..not so nice coworkers. Not having a date on Valentine’s Day was prime targeting fuel. Hunter finally has enough and steps in.

Warnings: Bullying, people making mean remarks, reader has sore feelings.

Hey guys! Wrote this on a whim of an idea. Hope you like it! Snow days are nice because boy do they really encourage me to get some writing in without feeling guilty! I always love hearing from you folks, if you like it, I'd love to hear from you.

You quickly slammed the door to your apartment, sliding down the back of it, to sit on the floor where your energy waned and abandoned you. It was safe and quiet inside. Where there was no one. In your home. You’d just gotten back from the worst Valentine’s Day of your life. It didn’t start out so bad but by the end, you had a headache and close to tears. Your friends who were medics with you at the general station on Coruscant saw your condition and found a secret and non embarrassing way of getting you out of the situation. You purposefully took the afternoon/evening shift as you had no one to spend it with. Foolishly you thought you’d be left alone. Some of your least pleasant patients and coworkers wouldn’t stop bugging you about why you were working, why you were alone and on and on. Luckily your friends came in early, cutting their own special dinner’s short. They took over the rest of your shift discreetly; it was only by thirty minutes but every second spared helped you.

You panted hard and felt your pulse. It pounded in a quick rhythmic sequence. Your legs hurt from running and now felt like stiff noodles, softening in a pot of water.

Ugh, this is stupid.

You shook your head and got up. Another day, another gift.

You shook yourself and ripped your jacket off, shaking the dirt away aggressively as if that would solve your problems. It didn’t, but it made you feel a little better. You kept your head level during the day and didn’t like showing your emotions to people you didn’t trust, but you had to let it out sometimes, somehow.

Normally you were the shoulder to lean on, the smile to lift another up. But every once and a while, that flame flickers and falters, needing more oxygen to keep itself from burning out. Needing life to continue to give you reasons to shine.

You’ve been single for a while. It never bothered you. You never needed a relationship, as you were a person full of exuberance and effervescence—creative and helpful—but sometimes certain days of the year made you lonely, and long for someone special to share your love for life with.

Life Day, New Year’s, Valentine’s Day.

Whatever, I’ll get up and restart tomorrow, just like always.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and straightened your back. You’d take a shower, get some sleep, then your resolve would revive. After all, tomorrow was another day.

— — — —

Two weeks later found you hard at work at your desk, scribbling on flimsy and making notes in datapads. Your friend, Rita, approached you.

“Hey love!” She hugged you from the back, “want to grab a good dinner tonight?”

You squeezed her arm and craned your neck to look at her. You smiled, touched but confused. “I’d love to…but isn’t Echo here? Is he busy? I heard the 501st were here on leave.”

“Yeah…”she blushed and started looking sheepish, “but I thought you’ve been working so hard and haven’t been doing great lately…we should have a girls’ night….without the guys….you know.”

Fives was like a brother to you, and Echo….once you had a tiny crush on him but you, well, *crushed* it when you found out just how far Rita had fallen for him. They were a better fit anyway. Seeing her so happy was enough to make your heart glow with warmth and pride. She was so shy at first and it took a lot of encouragement and nudging on your part to get either of them to make a move to act on their obvious feelings for each other. When the zing finally clicked, Echo and Rita were one of the most adorable couples you’ve ever seen. And they had you to thank for it. Echo now was nothing more than a brother and that was ok. He was with who he was supposed to be with.

You forced a smile. Rita was so sweet and considerate but you couldn’t steal her for the night, not for the short while Echo was stationed there. It would be petty of you.

“Nah, hun, I’ll be alright. We’ll go to 79’s. You should spend as much time with Echo as you can.”

“But—“

“Rita, if you don’t comm him, I will do it myself and he’ll wonder just why you didn’t do it yourself and give him a mini heart attack thinking something bad happened to you. You don’t want to do that to Echo now do you? I’ll see if Fives and Lil want to come too. I think our bros Rex and Cody are busy—they came through here not long ago with the kind of look on their face that could curdle milk—probably reports from the latest mission. I’ve been hearing it was a doozy. But Nova and Stella might come. Where the 501st is, the 212th usually isn’t that far away.”

“Great! I still think you should wear the red dress though! You look lovely in it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

— — — —

Needless to say, you wore the red dress. It was between a vibrant and deep red. It not only made Rita happy—she initially talked you into getting it—but it made you happy as well. Red was always your color. You looked good in it. It made you feel like it supplied the confidence you lacked. The skirt of the dress went down to your shins, allowing the black glittering heels that wrapped around your ankles to show themselves off. The neckline rose high into a halter top, with which you wore a black scarf to complete the look. It was so flowy that when you walked, it swayed mesmerizing like you were wading through water.

Though you weren’t meeting anyone didn’t mean you couldn’t dress up a little.

You drove your own speeder. You only intended on having one drink anyway. Your self imposed rule in case you’d be unexpectedly called to medical. You arrived at 79’s and waited on the platform near the door.

“Hey, there’s one of my favorite medics!”

You turned around to see Fives bound toward you and wrapped you in a hug.

“Hey! Glad you’re back in one piece!”

“Hey there, Doc.”

“Echo!” You gave him a hug as well. You could see a little nervousness in his smile.

“Your first time seeing Rita since you got back?”

“Yeah, do I look alright?”

You didn’t get to answer. Nova from the 212th called out to you next.

“Hey this was a great idea. Just wait until you hear the crazy stories we have from this mission.”

“They never disappoint.” You grinned.

“Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if he’s making some of it up.” Echo raised an eyebrow.

“Think what you want, gents. It all happened. It’s real as I’m standing there.”

The small group of you continued to converse until Rita, Lil and Stella showed up. The boys let you girls gush over each other’s fashion choices in silence before entering the bar. The place was crowded and noisy like usual but you were feeling happy and hopeful tonight. The air was clear, your friends were home and together and a night of fun was ahead of you!

The bar was busy, per usual, and you made your way back to a circular unoccupied table, trying to block out the noise and the music that buzzed all around you. You were surprised you were able to find a table to seat your large group so easily, as you had to push past groups of people just to get there.

“Guess I forgot the 104th was here too. I should have made a reservation or something.”

“It all worked out!” Rita kissed your cheek. “We always find a way anyway. A little crowd couldn’t stop us.”

Each person claimed their seats. Rita sat next to you and Echo sat next to her. Then Fives took his place and Lil next to him. Stella sat next to Lil and Nova was between the two of you. The music was loud and the crowd seemed energized and alive.

“Sure is good to be home!” Fives sighed and relaxed into his seat.

“Say, Rita, would you care for a dance?” Echo asked, a bold grin on his face despite sounding a little shy.

“I’d love to!”

Echo stood up and held his hand out for Rita to take, seeing only each other.

“Sure, just abandon us like that.” Fives rolled his eyes. “We’ll order then dance. Sound good, Lil?”

Lil winked “I don’t think he heard you. I’m famished anyway. Double shifts leave me hungry!”

The group laughed and chatted a little while longer until another group made its way into the bar, and when they spotted you, they made their way toward your table. Why did they have to show up? Your annoying coworkers just couldn’t get enough of their mean games. You automatically tensed, and subconsciously knew the others were doing the same.

You swirled the contents of your drink, frowning at it in a concentrated stare, thinking that if you focused hard enough, maybe it would combust and your ‘companions’ would get the idea to back off.

— — — —

Hunter was sitting in “the Batch’s booth” with his squad when you walked in. Conveniently, you and your group of jovial friends sat at a round table a little distance away. He’d cast glances your way throughout the night, with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. Seeing you happy made him happy.

He didn’t know you personally but he knew your face. You were the nurse that patched Wrecker up after he’d gotten injured. Wrecker afterwards would comment how kind you were to him, and that you were probably the nicest person in the GAR; Hunter kicked himself for not talking to you. He wanted to but Crosshair was injured too, and he was giving his nurse a very difficult time. Hunter had to intervene for his own sanity as well as hers (she was increasingly getting annoyed and that wasn’t making his job any easier either). As a result, he never got to talk to you. He wanted to at least to thank you for taking such good care of his brother, but circumstances never played in his favor. Before he knew it, he and his squad had to leave Coruscant on another mission.

And he hadn’t said one word to you.

“You’re staring.”

“What?”

Hunter turned to look at Crosshair. He had the most absurd smile on his lips.

“It’s impolite.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“You should talk to her. You got the chance.”

“She’s sitting at a table of couples. There is no way she’s not with someone. He’s probably just not here yet. It would be wrong of me to…”

That’s when the other group walked in and the shift in mood at the table changed. He didn’t have to look over to feel the tense waves falling off all the individuals. He tightened his grip on his glass and stared down at its contents, focusing on the conversation happening a few tables down. He went from relaxed to stiff in milliseconds.

He heard every single hurtful thing fall out of their mouths in a public humiliation.

“You know, I still can’t believe she didn’t have a date on Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? I thought it made perfect sense. She’s nothing incredible you know. That fake act you play with the patients is repugnant. You think she does it to see if she can lure one of them?”

“Why are you so dressed up tonight? Not like you’re meeting anyone.”

“Well, maybe she’s hoping someone will buy her a drink as nothing else seems to last.”

Hunter cast a glance at you; you were trying to remain calm and unreactive, but tears gathered in your eyes anyway. Your shoulders slouched, tired like, lips in a firm line and you were staring so hard at your glass he was surprised it didn’t shatter. He looked at the faces of the others, clearly having too much fun at your expense.

You were always vocal on other’s defense. He’d heard stories from the 212th troopers you took care of in the same explosion that hurt Wrecker. They’d been injured multiple times and seemed to know you more personally, always ending up in your ward. You demanded that they were treated like people, stopped other patients from name calling the clones and got them little comforts. So it surprised him to see you sitting there, wishing you’d disappear instead of saying something.

Perhaps this was too often of an occurrence that you didn’t even want to fight back? Another shocker was that no one else at the table intervened. He couldn’t get it. Maybe there was more he didn’t know though. Perhaps their silence was a way of defending you. Hunter had noticed Nova from the 212th there with his girl—he was a good man. He wouldn’t let this shit slide if he thought talking would help. He peaked at him too and saw Nova throwing daggers with his eyes. The same look was reflected in the other trooper sitting at the table. Though Hunter didn’t know him, he seemed like a solid dude.

Hunter turned and scowled down at his drink. Blood boiling with anger. He looked at his batchmates. Wrecker was poking fun at Tech and Tech retaliated with a shove, trying to focus on whatever displayed on his pad. Crosshair was the only one seeming to be aware of the shift that took over him.

“What do you hear?’

“Is this a little pity party for her because she missed out?”

Hunter had had enough. He downed his drink and stood quickly.

“I’ll be back.”

He walked around your table the long way so he wouldn’t be seen.

— — — —

The mean medics laughed menacely, holding onto their chests and shedding tears at the jokes they threw at you. The lump in your throat threatening to force a choked sob out. The group then was broken up by a new man that entered the crowd.

“Hey Cyare, sorry I’m late.” a deep, brusque voice gently called close to you. You turned around to see a clone in dark gray armor make his way towards your table with a gentle, tired smile. He looked a little familiar to you but you couldn’t place when or where. What you did know was that you had no idea who he was, yet he was calling you his sweetheart. Maybe this was part of the joke, or it could be an honest mistake.

He pulled up a chair close to yours and put his hand on yours for a moment before taking them away and resting his arm behind you on the seat. “I know I missed our date on Valentine’s day but General Kenobi’s plan ended up backfiring and it was a mess. We had to re-route and pull them out of the jam. I’m so sorry. Thanks for meeting with me tonight. So happy you had the night off.”

“Well, uh, um….” Your eyes widened and you felt confused. Was this man mixing you up for someone else? You started to look around to see if you could find who he initially meant the compliment for when you caught Nova’s expression out of the corner of your eye. He seemed delighted to see the trooper. The strange man spoke first.

“How’s it going, Nova. Good to see you here!”

“Heeeyyy Hunter man! What you boys did was totally amazing. Thanks for the save again.” Nova smiled his impish smile, the one he had when planning something mischievous. He gave you a pointed look which somehow comforted you. You were still confused but now you were curious. If Nova knew the man and trusted him…you decided to play along. You gave the dark haired man a big, gracious smile not needing to fake the blush that came with it. You took in his features. He was quite handsome, a little tired and dirty—must have just gotten back from his mission—and well poised. Your eyes glanced up at the red bandanna he was wearing—it was the same color as your dress. For some reason, it made you want to laugh. It was too perfect. You matched your faux date. You shook your head.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Your voice sounded small, nothing else coming to mind.

“Wait….you’re dating THE sergeant of Clone Force 99?! Really? You?”

Clone Force 99. Yeah, you knew who he was. You helped a batchmate of his not too long ago. Poor guy was stressed dealing with his other injured batchmate and his nurse. You heard all about the cranky sniper and often saw the leader mediating between the marksman and your fellow medic. You’d wanted to offer some sort of encouragement or comfort to him. He seemed tired. But you were overrun with patients…

“Why? Don’t think we’re a good fit?” Hunter raised an eyebrow with a frown, crossing his arms. The deadpan could have convinced anyone you two were together. The looks your girlfriends were sending you….seemed like even they half believed him. Which was ridiculous. They knew you were single.

The others looked horrified at offending him. They shifted uncomfortably and exchanged worried looks with each other.

It was so comical in your mind that this complete stranger’s protective concern was being bought by everyone at the table, you had to try to school your face from laughing. The way he said it sounded so personal, he could have been your boyfriend.

A smirk still found its way there, and Hunter winked at you. The delight at everyone’s astonishment and the humor of the situation was too much. A chuckle bubbled up anyway and your shoulders started shaking.

“Forget about them. Let’s dance, Cyare. I’ve missed you.” Hunter quickly spirited you away from the table and toward the dance floor, pretending not to be aware of the stares that followed you.

Luckily the dance floor was crowded enough to afford you some privacy of the searching eyes and Hunter let his guard down.

A shadow of hesitation crossed his face. “Is this alright?” You smiled and nodded. The slight concern of confusion still present. You could tell he wanted to be respectful of you and not put you in a position you didn’t want to be, so you took his hands, placing one on your waist and gripped the other with firm reassurance.

Confidence restored, he smiled. And that melted your heart to butter.

The music was a sweet, slower one, allowing the two of you to talk.

Hunter took a deep breath. He seemed nervous all of a sudden. “So, I should apologize first. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all…my name is Hunter by the way.”

“No, you didn’t…you have nothing to apologize for; but can I ask you why? Was there some sort of a joke about this?” You started to look over his shoulder to see if you could spot anyone laughing, but he stopped abruptly at your question which forced you to look at him. Shock was written all over his face. He shook his head and resumed dancing. You started to feel guilty at assuming something bad about his kind act.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like a prank…truthfully, I overheard your colleagues and I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Ah, so you felt sorry for me.”

“Yes and no. I’ve seen you around for a bit but never got the chance or the nerve to approach you. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while. To be honest, I thought you were waiting for someone, otherwise I would have, maybe,” he chuckled shyly, “asked you to dance earlier. Hearing that,” his face scrunched in anger and he went to continue but you broke in.

“I wanted to talk to you too.” you grinned.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I remember you boys from the hospital. I’m sorry everything was such a headache for you…the nurse you got was really inexperienced and I heard about all the problems you had…that battle was just so…I had so many patients.” You trailed off.

“Wait…didn’t you just come in…how on earth did you know…” confusion crossed your brow and he laughed.

“No, I’ve been sitting in the corner booth over there,” he indicated with a nod to the shadowed table. You saw a strange set of three clones gathered around, leaning over the barrier and watching you both intently, smiles and giggles on their faces. The goggled one held up a datapad almost as if filming the two of you, the big one who you remembered helping a little bit ago held up two large thumbs up, while the gray haired one raised his glass with a nod and a smirk.

“Idiots.” Hunter shook his head. You tried to follow Hunter’s gaze and saw him looking at reflective glass. You presumed he saw their reactions. That was impressive. Seeing the embarrassment on his face made you laugh. He lightened up a bit seeing as you took no offense to his brothers’ tomfoolery.

“They seem encouraging.”

“You have no idea.”

“How on earth could you hear what we were talking about all the way from over there! This bar is so noisy…”

“Well, my brothers and I are enhanced…I have enhanced senses…like right now I can tell your heart is beating abnormally fast.” You looked down with a breathless blush creeping onto your cheeks and down your neck, biting your lip, “do you need to stop?”

His voice was kind and when you had the courage to return his gaze, you saw nothing but gentle concern.

“Um, sure.”

“I’ll get you some water. Want to meet the Batchers?...well officially, that is?”

“I’d love to know the personalities behind the men on the stretchers.” You shrugged but smiled mirthfully. “Why not!”

The color returned to your face in a healthy way which made Hunter relax. He dropped the dancing position but took your hand in his and guided you with ease through the crowd. He made a pit stop at the bar and got the promised refreshment then led you to the final destination.

His hand in yours felt so natural, you didn’t want him to let go.

— — — —

“Good job, Sarge! You finally talked to her! Proud of ya!” Wrecker exclaimed when you were within earshot.

“Tech, what are you doing?” Hunter asked with a tired sigh, seeing his brother still holding the datapad at a suspicious angle.

“I am trying to see what color dress Miss Medic looks good in. The red is too perfect and Cody will think that we set this up. In order for us to win the bet, it needs to look as inconspicuous as it really was. Her red matching yours is a little too much to be coincidental.”

“But it was coincidental! And woah woah woah, what do you mean bet? With Cody?”

To Hunter’s surprise, your laugh came from the gut, ringing out loud and clear.

“Cody, as in, THE Commander Cody?”

“Why yes, who else would I mean?”

“I think you’d better keep the red. He knows how much I adore the color. Me wearing yellow isn’t going to convince him.”

Tech cocked his head to the left.

“You know the Commander?”

“Very, very well.” You crossed your arms with a smirk on your face. “I used to be his head medic before I trained Patches.”

“You trained that menace of a man?” Crosshair asked indignantly.

“Everything he knows. If you’re referring to his attitude, medics aren’t known for being nice, especially with fussy patients.”

“Ha, but you are!” Wrecker punched your shoulder.

“But…you guys bet on this?” Hunter broke in incredulous, not letting go of the previous topic.

“Well, yes. Cody bet that you wouldn’t get the nerve to talk to her while on leave so naturally we countered him.” Tech shrugged. “We couldn’t tell you as that would make it unfair and biased depending on what you decided. You could have decided to spite one of us and react accordingly, skewing the results.”

Hunter was rubbing circles on his forehead in despair, mumbling something in Mando’a.

“Hey,” Crosshair snapped, “I heard that.”

You realized Hunter had never let go of your hand all the while. You moved your fingers into a flex to get him to relax his hand. Hunter looked down, equally surprised he’d never let go, and started to let go of your hand with a small ‘sorry’ when you surprised him again by interlocking your fingers and giving him an encouraging squeeze.

Tech’s datapad beeped.

“Technically, neither of us still won, as Cody just pointed out to me. Hunter did talk to her but didn’t officially ask her out. I do believe that was part of the double or nothing bet. Seeing as how this is a fake date…I don’t know if that counts.”

Hunter’s face was burning a deeper red than his bandanna. He shut his eyes to center himself. You leaned against his arm, which caused him to look down at you.

“What do you say…” your throat squeezed with soreness. Your eyes flitted shyly between him and the ground. You’ve never done what you were going to do now… “What do you say about rectifying that? A real date, I mean…”

Hunter’s features went from vexed to relieved, a chuckle forming on his lips. He brought your hands together and ran his thumbs over the backs of them. He said your name softly.

“I’d be honored if you’d accompany me tomorrow on a date…a real date.”

“I really accept.”

You ignored the whoop of the troopers in front of you and vaguely thought you could hear quiet clapping from the round table a few feet away.

Tag requests: : @ttzamara @smolbendyhorn

#the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #reader insert #hunter x reader #hunter and you #hunter x fem!reader

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atsadi-shenanigans · 1 month

Text

Feeding Alligators 40 - Mirror, Mirror

Astarion goes fishing (and not for fish).

On AO3.

Y’all coulda made it back by nightfall, now that y’all know where you’re going. But both Wyll and Gale agree that arriving after a whole day of hiking is a bad strategy (to the disappointment of Karlach and the disgust of Lae’zel). So y’all stop about an hour away—close enough y’all can be rested when you get there, but not so close a patrol might trip over somebody’s tent.

Gale has a spare canvas, nobody has spare poles or stakes; Karlach solves that problem by sauntering to the edge of the trees and ripping three saplings out of the ground to whittle into poles with that bigass ax.

She drives them into the ground and does not use a hammer.

You ain’t the only one watching this with a little too much interest.

big lady your brain chants.

She carries a regular pack, from which she pulls out a blanket that smells vaguely like vasoline, and a raggedy teddy bear she introduces as Clive. The bear is singed around the edges, and seems nearly shellacked in the not-vasoline stuff on the blanket. Some kinda fire-resistant salve she says.

She’s careful not to touch nobody, or even get too close. You watch this, lips pressed tight, chest hurting for her.

Dinner is, once again, bread and cheese and wine. No fire so close to the tollhouse. Karlach strikes up a conversation with Lae’zel about the best way to twist somebody’s head off, while Shadowheart watches over the rim of her goblet.

Gale, without much to do in the way of a cook fire, plops down outside his tent with a book, several scrolls, and an ink pot to start scratching away. Meanwhile, Wyll volunteers to go on patrol—make sure y’all really are out of fake paladin range—and set up some snares. You can’t tell if he’s upset with y’all’s decision to let Karlach join, or if he don’t like her around, or if it’s some secret third thing that’s got him so tense. He’s seemed like a real good dude—though everybody has shit takes on something.

The sun sinks low and the light goes gray as evening deepens. Lae’zel actually takes a night off from breaking your ass (either distracted by Karlach, or deciding that leaving you like, rested, increases your chances of not fucking anything up tomorrow).

Which leaves you just…hanging out. For the first time, you have the mental and physical energy to stay awake, but you have no phone, no internet, no books or movies or anything to fiddle with. Maybe you could work on that strip of linen Astarion “gifted” you. But then he’d see you doing it and start shit and besides, you got no clue how to sew.

You’re so busy trying to think up a way to be busy, that you notice the man skulk out of his tent. He’s got something shiny in his hand. He’s positioned his tent slightly facing away from the fire, tonight, which leaves it facing your tent more than usual. He’s not, like, hiding, but he’s not out in the open as he holds up what you realize is a mirror.

Huh. Lots of different cultures have vampire lore; you wonder if the mirror thing is accurate. You got nothing better to do, so you find yourself trailing over, coming up behind him.

“Looking at something?” he says. It’s addressed to you, even though he hasn’t glanced over.

“Saw me coming?” you say.

He stares a moment longer, before turning. There’s no sparkle to his eyes, tonight. His lips are a straight line. “The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn’t make up for a lack of reflection, mind you.”

Ah. That part of the lore is true, then. Ouch.

“Sorry to hear that,” you say. “You must miss it.”

And then you want to kick yourself over how stupid that sounds.

“Preening into the looking glass? Petty vanity?” he says all flamboyant. Until he deflates. Until you see what might be a flash of sadness in him. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

You didn’t know about the eye color thing. None of the others are anywhere nearby; you wonder if that’s why he’s letting this show. He’s never made so much as a peep that wasn’t joke-flirting, complaining, stabby, or bored.

“What color were they before?” you say. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I—” he starts. Blinks a few times and there’s the barest shiver of, dare you call it, vulnerability in his face. “I don’t know. I can’t…remember.”

He stares out at nothing for a pause. Don’t got the presence of mind to slip the smarmy mask back on. It’s like he…like he just realized that. Doesn’t remember his own eyes.

Then his face shutters. Tight-lipped anger slips down and buries all traces of confused horror. He chucks the mirror to smash on the ground.

You try not to wince even as you take a step back.

“My face is just another dark shape in my past,” he says. Looks away. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

You can forget some details about your own face, sometimes. You don’t generally wear makeup (never learned, and then when you could, that shit is expensive), and your hair mostly sorts itself out when you comb conditioner through it in the shower. So you don’t see your reflection every day (the ladies room at the office don’t have a mirror—used to be a closet until the seventies or eighties when they converted it).

But you know your eyes are dark brown the way you know your own name. It’s just a fact about you. You can’t imagine what it would take to just…lose that.

“How long you been a vampire?” you say.

His gaze flits around a second. “About two hundred years, give or take. Things start to run together a little.”

Two…two hundred years? Under that fuckface? Without ever being able to see himself?

Holy fucking shit.

And yet, he’s standing here, traveling with all y’all, acting…well, not normal. But he ain’t catatonic. He’s only killed people when y’all were fighting already, and he only tried to bite you the once (without asking). He’s talking to you, and he makes jokes and…

And he said you were his first “thinking creature” blood.

In two hundred fucking years.

The kind of strength it would take to scrape himself together and hold in there…even if it was barely. Even if he wasn’t all there. You’d known that shit for over a decade. But two hundred motherfucking years.

You been staring. He notices, and turns to you. “What?”

The man teases you. Steals from goddamn refugees (he has got to stop that). And he hasn’t seen his face in two centuries. You can maybe afford to make a fool of yourself if the idea blooming in your brain makes a fool outta yourself.

“I can be your mirror,” you say, your neck heating up, trying not to squirm. “You don’t have to. Or I don’t have to. If I made this weird, that is. I can, uh, leave.”

His eyebrows twitch down into a micro frown. He stands there a hot second, sucks in a breath through his nose. His mask is slipping again, and the man underneath…

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,” he says. “What, well, what you see.”

Slight emphasis on the “you” that you ain’t gonna read too much into.

A long face. Thick brows. A strong, straight nose. Thick lips, pointy chin, and floofy, white hair.

You ain’t never really described somebody in detail. Not like this, and not to their face directly. You ain’t a poet or an artist. This was probably a really bad idea.

“Your face is very, uh, symmetrical,” you say.

He pauses a moment, before drawing back. “Oh darling, you’re terrible at this.”

Fuck you, too!

“Well, I mean, it’s the most noticeable thing aside from the granny hair.”

And now he fucking recoils.

“What? I have the best hair in camp. If this is your idea of a joke—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m kidding,” you say. It’s only kinda a lie. It’s granny hair, no two ways about it. “Your hair is very shiny and it looks real soft. The rest of you” —you wave your hand vaguely around— “looks good.”

“Really?” His usual smirk slips back on and he damn near purrs. Then he lifts his hands and gives a slow, little runway spin. “Anything in particular?”

Jesus lord. Man’s moods turn on a fucking dime and he cannot stop being a prima diva.

You think. What would you want to know about your own face? You got no idea how elves age or how old he was when he got bit. He looks young, in the dim light, but there’s an age to him, a smattering of fine lines at the corners of his eyes that you started noticing on yourself recently. You ain’t gonna mention how gaunt his cheeks are, even if they do make the bones stand out all high fashion or whatever. It ain’t a healthy look (any time anybody mentions native cheekbones, you have to bite back the little historical fact that a lot of those photos was of starving natives, of course their cheekbones stood out like that, their food sources were butchered, burned, or a thousand miles away after a forced march).

You’re gonna ask in the morning if Wyll can bring back what his snares catch before he field-dresses them, and ask Astarion if he wants the blood. Man needs to eat more often. Put some goddamn flesh on them bones (oh god, you sound like your aunties).

“You got these eye creases when you smile,” you say.

But he does not take that as the compliment you mean.

“Excuse me?” he says like you just called his mama ugly. “I’m an eternally young vampire, forever beautiful.”

Forever corpse-y.

“It’s a good thing.”

“It sounds an awful lot, my dear, like you just called me old.”

“You just said you was at least two hundred.”

He gestures down to himself. “Vampire. Come on, darling, you can do better than this sorry excuse.”

And then the man has the audacity to fucking pose. Hand on his hip. Shoulders swaying like some old-timey, rich debutante.

“This whole thing is just you fishing for compliments, huh?” you say.

He looks at you like you’re the weird one. “Well of course it is. Now don’t leave me waiting.”

You ain’t sure if this entire cluster started as a sham, or if it just naturally devolved into one (he’s very good at the latter). His frustration had seemed genuine, though. He wouldn’t meet your gaze for a time. And you’re picking up on a pattern: obfuscation. He gets all fussy and theatric right around the time you notice (or he notices, maybe) he’s expressing something that ain’t flirt or murder.

You…kinda want to see what he’s trying to hide. What’s actually under that mask you caught a glimpse of.

In any case, it’s funner to play along right now, so you don’t got to think about the bullshit waiting tomorrow.

What would a vain peacock like him want to hear?

“Your eyes,” you say. “They’re real sharp, especially when you’re focused on something. I think people call that ‘piercing.’”

He rolls said eyes. “Acceptable. Finally. Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can end this travesty.”

And you can’t help yourself. “Well, Karlach is beautiful. You’re fine, though.”

The moment of truth. See if he’ll engage…

He gasps, but through a grin. Literally splays his fingers over his chest. “How dare you. I thought we had something special.”

Warmth flutters through you. You set the game down and he picked it up. He’s returning it. Holy shit, you went and established banter with a maybe-friend. It’s a damn good thing you got so much practice keeping your face blank.

He clucks his tongue. Nudges at you with his hip. “Still. You’re nice, too.”

Well that’s an overstatement. You are plain and plus sized, and it ain’t some false-modesty thing. If you ain’t in some colorful or flowery blouse, you can feel kids staring at the store. More than once you caught a, “Is that a boy or a girl” and a parent frantically shushing.

You’d always thought the boobs would be a giveaway (they ain’t subtle), but hey, baggy clothes.

Sailing too close to the rocky Shore of Truth. Time to veer back into the humor pool. You deadpan. “Oh good. The pretty boy thinks I’m acceptable. Now I won’t have to cry myself to sleep in shame.”

The smallest snort tears out of him. Seems to catch him off guard. But he quickly folds it under his mask and sighs. “I’d better go get some beauty sleep, darling. Seems like I need it if I’m to catch up with the competition.”

“You do that,” you say, letting a tiny grin crack your own stoic mask.

Which he returns.

Which is right when the ground in the middle of camp cracks open and some kinda hell goo burbles up, spinning in a vortex, before it bursts into flame. Out pops a winged demon lady with her tits half out.

***

Notes:

Hell week is done! Still tired, need recovery time to wash the spoons (this is a metaphor). But updates will continue because those get me through the week and there's Stuff coming up (the Sadness Arc). Probably gonna slap new warnings into the summary (which I'll tag on the chapters as they appear). But that won't be this week. Next chapter: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #plus size tav #demisexual tav #these two shitheads #astarion fic #tavstarion fic

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monsterfloofs · 2 years

Text

Lust Demon (Unnamed) x Anonymous Reader

(A little nighttime ramble, I hope you enjoy! The pink evil one is back in this short hornee turned wholesome story =//3

There was a cool breeze wafting through the window tonight, making your skin prickle from the chill in the air. The heat of the day had finally died down to give you time to relax. You even had to get up to turn off the squat box fan in your window. It had been set to full blast originally when you had first gone to lay down. The beginning of the evening had been extremely uncomfortable with a sweltering heat. Eventually, you had been lucky enough to fall asleep and evenly pleasantly surprised to have been woken up from a sudden chill in air. Now, you lie awake, wondering when sleep would bundle you back into its arms.

You hear the window creak, looking up from your position on the bed startled. You see your box fan now lying on the ground, and the window fully open. Curtains rustling in the breeze. You begin to sit up with a sense of urgency until a hand reaches over and taps your lips. "Shhhh, it's only me," you startle, gaze jerking to follow the hand to it owner. Staring hard as your body relaxes, "Jeeze-- you almost scared the heck out of me, what are you doing here?" You whisper, looking up with a pout.

A large figure sat at the foot of your bed, staring at you from underneath drooped eyelids with a mischevious sharp grin. Four horns encircling their forehead and two studded ones sat just below their lips. They would have looked intimidating if not for their skin tone, which was a very light pastel pink. But you couldn't see all that in the dark. You knew, because of the many nightly encounters that you have had with this particular demon. Body shuddering at the thought of those previous nights.

"Awe, I thought you would want some company, a little nightly visit? A little birdy told me that you were lonely♡"

You feel your cheeks warm, "I mean. . . you w-weren't wrong--" Your breath hitches as a strong hand grips your thigh, "Hmmm?" they purr teasingly, but you shake your head, placing a hand on theirs. "A-actually. . . can I just. . . have a hug?. . ."

They are silent in the dark, the weight of their hand still resting on your thigh. When they talk again, their usual tone is colored with surprise at the request. "A hug?" The sound makes you flinch.

"Mmhm. . . I um. . ." fingers rubbing their knuckles uncertainly. "I missed you, I was thinking maybe if you're not doing anything later we could. . . go out. . . for breakfast or. . ."

Stumbling over your words, it was taking a lot of bravery to talk. To try and find your way from the complicated relationship you had gotten tangled up in.

It started off, more like. . . friends with benefits when you met him. But. . . not exactly. . . A lust demon who needed a consistent energy source, and a lonely heart that begged for some kind of loving hand. Touch starved and too afraid to reach enough out of your shell to try and make connections. It had been wonderful for a while, you felt safe, and surprisingly well cared for, while he held you in his arms. But you began to get feelings that frothed up in your chest, a yearning that could never be solved, no matter how many times he visited. It felt like an addiction, despite how good you felt, there was a hole steadily growing bigger. The evil grins that made you pause before laughing, the sauve bedroom stare when he hovered above you. The confident air, the air of someone who knew what they wanted.

You wanted to have a piece of that. You wanted to know what you wanted, to make bold decisions for yourself and to be courageous. Looking in, it seemed so easy for him. The confidence, the wit-- You wanted to be more like that, and as you began to realize that, you realized slowly, that you had been coming out of your shell. You'd push back now when he teased you, you'd teased back. You were taking slow steps, like a small sprout that had given the light of day, to flourish. You didn't want one night. You didn't want to feel safe one night and lonely the next. You wanted to grow alongside of someone who had showed you it was okay to be yourself. Unafraid, unbridled, the messy sides included.

You take his clawed hand in yours, biting your nail nervously. "Don't you ever want. . . well. . . more?" You whisper meekly, "M-maybe I'm being selfish, b-but I want to get t-to know you outside of th-the bedroom. . . can we go for a walk? Or we could go to the beach. . ."

". . .Would you like that?" The soft rumble causes your expression to crumple, blinking back tears as you nod shakily.

You feel the bed shift as he leans down, his knees sitting on the floor so he can be at your eye level, seeing a flicker of a soft glow in the dark. "We can do whatever you want baby." He chuckles softly, "I don't know how much people will enjoy me out in public though, people might start making out around us if we go to the movies or something. Or worse~"

Your face crinkles, pushing your hands into his shoulders to shove into him lightly. "Don't be gross," you reprimand, but your voice is light, airy. You laugh in spite of yourself before you feel arms pulled around you, and you are bundled into a hug.

"You said. . . you wanted a hug right?" His voice low, and strangely uneasy. Your eyes wide for a moment, before you blink. Expression falling as heavy tears start filling your eyes. Trembling, sniffling, you give a shudder of a breath.

"Aw baby," His voice low, soft, "It's okay, I gottcha," you bury your face into his shoulder, hands slowly raising to hug him back.

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar!ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

#monster x reader #monster x human #exophilia #sfw #fluff #demon x reader #floofydoodles #lust demon x reader #the pink evil one

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underratedandoverit · 9 months

Text

a little more human

~1,6k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian) agender!oc

feeling certain gender things today so in my sad anxiety feelings i made a thing. this could be a lot better but its half five in the morning so. take it as it is i dont want to edit it later to maybe make it worth something more. just lemme project as yes, most of these are my own feelings when being put into this situation, including the oversensitivity to being touched so. yeah they/them pronouns for my beloved (highly self projected) agender!oc. i hope i didnt miss any pronouns i tried to read through this like twice to catch any slipups

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

on ao3

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

With a heavy sigh, Kip dropped down to the hotel room bed, immediately relaxing as his body came into contact with the soft mattress. He hummed quietly with content as he snuggled his face against the pillow, slowly fluttering his eyes back open, landing them on the blond across the hotel room, Cassidy still focusing on kicking off their shoes.

“Come here,” Kip mumbled, clearly tired, making grabby hands towards them, Cassidy only shrugging a little before motioning towards the bathroom with one hand. Kip sent them a little pout but didn’t have the energy to get up from the bed anymore, so he just watched as Cassidy disappeared to the bathroom for a moment. With a sigh Kip rolled on his back on the bed, finally peeling himself out of his jacket, throwing it on the floor just in time as Cassidy returned from the bathroom.

“Come on man,” they sighed, leaning down to pick up the jacket, throwing it over to where they had left the suitcases. Kip just pouted back at him before extending his arms back towards Cassidy, beckoning them to come closer. Cassidy looked at him for a moment, but eventually obliged, Kip not noticing anything out of the ordinary before his arms were already wrapped around his partner and he could feel them clearly tensing against his touch.

“Rough night?” Kip asked as he pulled Cassidy to sit down on the bed next to him, just getting a clearly awkward shrug back. “You’re tense as hell. Would a little massage help or--”

“Not really.” Their voice was really quiet, driving home the awkwardness of the situation even to Kip as Cassidy carefully peeled his arms from around them, setting Kip’s hands back to his own lap. “I would… Really rather you just didn’t touch me right now.”

Kip’s brows furrowed at them a little but he nodded, carefully sitting up on the bed. Cassidy wasn’t looking back at him, they were mostly with their back turned towards him, clearly not comfortable being there, this close, or having this conversation.

“Did something happen out there tonight?”

Kip wasn’t really sure if he should be asking the question or if he was going to get an honest answer for it, but it slipped out of him before he could stop himself. Cassidy just shrugged, taking off the sunglasses for a moment as they rubbed their eyes a little, Kip not being sure if it was a sign of them being tired or if there was more to the small action. He couldn’t confirm Cassidy’s expression before the sunglasses were back on, the ever so stoic expression on their face accompanying them.

The silence continued to linger in the hotel room, Cassidy clearly not wanting to talk and Kip knowing better than to press the issue. Of course he was worried, as this type of behavior wasn’t very usual for Cassidy, but at the same time he kind of understood it, having seen something similar out of them before. Kip had slowly learned that on especially bad days, be it with work or just generally being in a bad head space, Cassidy often retreated into themself like this, resenting all sorts of connections, but especially the physical kind.

After a while, Kip inhaled deeply, hoping it was enough to catch their attention before he spoke up. He didn’t want to push it, but they had to solve this somehow right now, especially if they were going to share a bed tonight. Kip didn’t mind not having cuddles from his partner, but he didn’t want to make Cassidy even more uncomfortable than they already were.

“Well, you can sleep in the bed. I’ll just take the couch.”

As Kip tried to get out of the bed, preparing himself to not stop to listen to any objections from Cassidy, before he could do that Cassidy’s sudden movement caught his attention, easily stopping him on his tracks as Cassidy grabbed one of the pillows from the bed next to him. Kip was ready to protest that he was going to be the one to sleep on the couch, but instead Cassidy finally turned towards him, putting the pillow into his lap before lowering their head down on it, laying down on the bed next to him.

Kip blinked at them a few times as he tried to quickly process the situation, finally a soft smile crossing his lips as he relaxed against the backboard of the bed again as he could see Cassidy’s figure finally relax a little in his close presence.

Kip reached a hand towards them, but stopped before reaching Cassidy, slightly retreating himself back.

“Is… Is it okay to touch you? Like, your hair?”

“It’s whatever.” Their voice was still very quiet, but Kip could have sworn he heard them being more content now than before. Carefully he reached for Cassidy’s head, slowly running his fingers through their blond hair, getting back a soft sigh, which he took as a good sign as Cassidy relaxed under his touch, allowing Kip to be at least a little affectionate with him tonight.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” Kip really didn’t want to push the issue, but he thought offering a chance was the nice thing to do. “I will listen if you want to, though.”

“I dunno,” they sighed, Kip watching as they slowly removed the sunglasses, carefully folding them with one hand before placing them on the bed. “Sometimes just… On more intense days it all gets a little bit too much. I’m sure you feel that sometimes too.”

Kip nodded, despite knowing that Cassidy didn’t see him do it. In a sense he did understand, sometimes emotions ran high in the locker rooms which might have been a mild anxiety trigger to some, but at the same time Kip was pretty sure that wasn’t all that Cassidy meant in this case.

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s quite a lot to be in the locker room.”

Cassidy nodded, but remained quiet, Kip taking the moment to acknowledge the difference in their thinking out loud. “But that’s not exactly what you meant, is it?”

They inhaled deeply, pondering through their words. Cassidy knew they could trust Kip, him being one of the few that they could even think about talking to about this. He might not have understood everything that Cassidy was feeling since it definitely didn’t seem like a thing that Kip personally struggled with, but he was always open to listen and trying to understand. Which was a feat that helped immensely on days like this, as it seemed to be so rarely offered to them.

“It… Becomes a lot sometimes. To listen to everyone around you talk about you like you are a completely different person than what you perceive yourself as. It turns into kind of an out of body experience sometimes which… You know.”

Kip made sure to brush his hand especially carefully through Cassidy’s hair, to make sure they knew he understood where they were coming from and what they meant. Kip had heard about these grievances enough times from them to know the meaning of the emotions behind the words, even if he couldn’t exactly feel the same way himself. And honestly, thinking back to it especially tonight, Kip could place up a few instances backstage that fit the bill they were describing to him.

He. Him. His. Every time someone used those words to describe them, Cassidy would wince. On camera it was less noticeable as they had learned to hide it better where it mattered, but Kip knew from the little hints that it still wasn’t alright with them to hear those words being used constantly. The way Cassidy’s hand squeezed into a fist just a little bit tighter, the eyes staring into nothing as they had to listen to someone talking to them disregarding their feelings whether it was for television or not, how they had to fake not caring to most people around them despite the actual feelings eating them up from the inside.

“Sometimes I’m just so sick of it. I just want to feel human without hiding who I am.”

“I know.”

With a sigh Cassidy rolled on their back, locking eyes directly with Kip for the first time. Kip gently tucked on his hair, getting a soft smile back from Cassidy.

“I know it’s not easy, and I can’t say I know exactly how you feel. But if there’s something I can do to help, just let me know.”

Cassidy nodded, reaching a hand towards him, pulling Kip down to a kiss by his shirt. Kip smiled against their lips, returning the show of affection. As they pulled apart, Cassidy smiled at him a little.

“What you’re already doing is more than enough. More than most. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“Well I mean,” Kip muttered with a shrug, Cassidy swearing they could see a little mischievous grin tucking in the corner of his lips, “If you want me to throw hands with someone over using the wrong pronouns or being a dick, I can certainly do something about it.”

The hearty laugh he got back from Cassidy made Kip bloom into more smiles, leaning down to quiet him with another kiss on the lips.

“I love you, you fool,” Cassidy breathed against his lips, Kip responding with a quick peck on theirs.

“I love you too, Clementine.”

#fic #setting: agender!oc #character: orange cassidy #character: kip sabian #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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rebeccathornewrites · 1 year

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Ways to Woo - Aloy x Seyka fanfiction (ch 4)

“Aloy,” Alva’s bright voice echoed through her focus. “Is now a good time?”

Aloy was knee-deep in mud, swallowing a grunt as the snapmaw’s jaw gears creaked against the metal pole she’d wedged in its mouth. It still pressed against her, razor teeth dangerously close to flesh, driving her deeper into the lake. Not good—she didn’t like her chances in the water with this thing.

“Ah—” Her voice was strained. “Just a little busy.”

“I’ll be fast.”

Sure, why not, Aloy thought, but she didn’t voice it.

After all, Alva rarely called these days. The Diviner was spending every free second in the ruins of San Francisco, reuniting the two halves of the Quen fleet. They’ve begun construction on a new set of ships to return home, but there were ridiculous arguments cropping up in the meantime. Arguments that required a Diviner’s guidance to solve.

It sounded exhausting. Aloy found any reason to steer clear.

But that meant she hadn’t spoken to Alva in weeks. Even just hearing her friend’s voice perked Aloy’s mood.

The pole in the snapmaw’s mouth was bending.

“There’s a party tonight, to celebrate the first boat’s completion. Fireworks, floating lanterns, wine.”

Aloy repositioned her grip on the snapmaw’s jaw, fumbling for her spear. “O-kay.” The second half of the word came out as a wheeze, lost with the air in her lungs as she slipped in mud. It gave the snapmaw a window.

The machine snarled—then bent the pole in half with one vicious chomp.

“So, I was thinking you might like to come. Well, everyone. But especially you.”

The snapmaw lunged. Aloy twisted in the mud and it sailed over her, crashing into the water, which was both good and very bad. It recognized its element and lazily spun, testing its newly-freed jaw… and fatal biting power.

Sopping wet, covered in mud, Aloy scrambled to her feet. She unhooked her spear, her words breathless. “Cheating on Federa, huh? I’m flattered.”

“Ancestors, no,” Alva snorted. “She might sic Compliance on you out of spite. For your safety, it’s best we remain friends.”

“Noted,” Aloy said drily, a hint of a smile on her face.

The snapmaw sailed towards her. She counted seconds, facing off with her spear at the ready.

Three.

“Although… the lantern lighting is typically done with a partner.”

Two.

“It leans towards romantic.”

One.

“I think Seyka will be there, is all.”

Seyka?

Aloy missed her shot. The snapmaw was inches from her face before her instincts kicked in. She barely catapulted out of the way. Fuck. That was sloppy. She gasped, twisting into a roll just as the snapmaw’s massive claws slammed the mud where she’d landed.

Enough of this. Aloy pivoted on her heel, leapt into the air, and buried her spear into the machine’s thick skull. The wicked point cut into it with ease, but she held it there until the vital circuits severed, until the light in its eyes dimmed and vanished.

The creature went limp, sinking into the mud.

Finally.

“Aloy? You there?”

“Ah—” Aloy muted her focus, heaving for breath. She pressed a boot to the skull and wrenched her spear free, watching in mild satisfaction as the snapmaw’s metal carcass slid back towards the lake. Slightly more composed, she unmuted and said, “Sorry. I’m here. Seyka wants me there? Did she say that?”

She sounded like a lovesick kid inside the Embrace. Embarrassment made her cheeks flush, her body hot. She couldn’t find the energy to mind.

She never really did when Seyka was involved.

“Well, originally Seyka asked me for dating ideas, since apparently matchmaking is ‘my hobby.’” Alva’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I’m very busy. A Diviner, for the ancestors’ sake. Just because I set up two couples on the trip out here—”

Aloy had tuned her out, too distracted by the idea of Seyka asking the Diviner for dating advice.

A dark part of Aloy wondered if it was for someone else—but that’d be stupid, with what she and Seyka had. Or… didn’t have. Or had, unspoken? Aloy couldn’t tell anymore, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask for clarification. Not when she herself didn’t have an answer.

She just liked Seyka around.

That’s all.

Alva had shifted to exasperation. “—told Seyka to figure it out, and she spent three hours pacing around camp like she was possessed. People are getting nervous, Aloy. Our lead carpenter heard her muttering about luring a fireclaw into camp. That’s her idea of a date, apparently.”

That could be fun. Well, the fireclaw fight, not the collateral damage. Aloy wiped mud from her face, flicking it onto the ground. “She wouldn’t actually do that.”

Probably.

“We can’t risk it. I talked her down to lighting a lantern tonight. So. Get your ass to our camp before sundown—or any fireclaw injuries are on your hands.” A pause. “Great to talk to you. Miss you lots. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Alva cut the feed before Aloy could reply.

Aloy contemplated her grimy outfit, the machine grease in her hair, the blood on her arms. A quick glance at the sun’s position proved she only had a few hours of flying time left—and that was without changing.

Maybe Seyka would find it attractive.

With a heaving sigh and a fluttering heart, Aloy whistled for her sunwing.

(Read it here on Ao3!)

#horizon burning shores #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #horizon dlc #horizon #aloy #aloy x seyka #seyka #alva #fanfiction

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justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

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A Blue Brid and a Black Cat pt 13

(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)

ao3 Beginning Previous

A great cheer echoed through the Scarlet Scar Bar, as the Gotham Sirens toasted Marinette’s successful second first mission as Ladybug. There was no one to witness their joy except for two passed out drunks, a tired bartender, and a few rats, but the energy of the four costumed Ladies in the corner booth was enough to make the place feal as if it was the busiest joint in the whole city.

“To Lady Noire!” Harley cried with her arm around Ivy, glass high in the air. “For taking ass and kicking names!”

“I did not take ass,” Lady Noire said with a role of her eyes.

“Oh really?” Ivy said after knocking back a shot. “Then what’s this I hear about a certain Blue Bird chasing a Black Cat through the Bat Cave?”

Lady Noire was grateful that her mask hid her blush as she knocked back her own shot. Ever since she had transformed into Ladybug, maintaining her masks had become...challenging and now her Marinette was showing. She had to be careful if she didn't want to spiral. But all she said to Ivy was, “He’s not interested.”

“Oh, yes he is!” Catwoman purred. “You should have seen him this morning. Raving about Ladybug, pining for Lady Noire, he asked about you three times when I told him I was meeting tonight.”

“Oooh!” Harley cried halfway on the table. “The kitten has caught her first bird! Like mother like daughter!”

Now Lady Noire was hiding her blush in her glass for a completely different reason. The two felines had never had the “labels” talk. They had been so much for each other over the years, it was almost impossible to sum up everything into a simple word. Not to mention the fact that Selina was different things depending on which mask Marinette was wearing. How did she even begin to categorize their five years of friendship, mentorship, love, support, and care? Lady Noire glanced at Cat Woman trying to gauge her reaction, but she was only smiling with love and pride as she sipped her own drink.

“So,” Catwoman said, “What happens now?”

“Mm,” Lady Noire said leaning back, “Now I alternate between masks until I find my counterpart. According to the Masters when one manifest soul is born, so is their balance. Which means somewhere out there in the world, is another fluid soul balanced between Order and Chaos, just like me.”

“And then?” Ivy asked.

“Who cares?!” Harley cried at the top of her lungs. “We’re celebrating! The Cat has caught the Bat. The Kitten is leaving the nest. The Bug is back and causing chaos. And we are having fun! The only thing that can make this night any better…is…is if we beat up the Joker! Hell yeah, who’s with me?!”

“Harley you’re drunk,” Catwoman said fondly.

“No, I’m not!” Harley cried.

“She hasn’t even finished her first glass,” Ivy pointed out. The other three Sirens watched in amusement as Harley began to dance around the bar to music only she could hear.

Lady Noire laughed. The lightness that came with the chaos energy swirling within her made everything bright and cheerful. And the women who were surrounding her made the energy sing with joy. There was so much potential for chaos here, that Lady Noire was practically itching. But there was still the order. The weight of creation was still resting in her heart, grounding the flighty and wantonness of the destruction and creating…peace. For the first time in almost ten years, Lady Noire was at peace.

Not all of her problems were solved. Her identity was still splintered into half a dozen masks, that she had no idea how to bring together. There was still the threat on the horizon coming steadily closer and closer. And the League of Assassins was just waiting for her to mess up and fall into one of their traps. But in that moment…in that moment it didn’t matter because she was balanced, and surrounded by the people she loved. Everything else could wait.

“You know what,” Lady Noire said setting down he glass, “We should do something.”

Harley gasped in excitement, but Ivy was quick to say, “We are not breaking into Arkham to beat up the Joker!” Harley pouted but smiled as she slunk into her girlfriend’s arms with a giggle.

“Hmm,” Catwoman purred, “Well, I might have an idea. But you all have to promise to be on your best behavior.”

“Never, what ’cha a got kitty cat?” Harley cried.

Nightwing gritted his teeth as the windowless van pulled up in front of the run-down apartment building. He hadn’t even been back a day before Batman had called them all to order with news of a human trafficking ring operating near the harbor. Now as much he loved electrocuting slavers until their teeth shattered, he hated the aftermath. The broken kids, most of them Damian’s age, staring at nothing, refusing to cry. The hollowed-out girls who flinched when they were touched. No one should have to endure that torture, so while he was looking forward to beating the crap out of the scum, he was not eager for the horrors they would see afterwards.

“The target just pulled up, they're unloading their latest victims now. Standing by for orders.”

“Red Hood in position. B are you sure I can’t use the real bullets for this one?”

“Only in Crime Alley,” came the gruff response through the comms. “Everyone check in.”

“Spoiler standing by. And for the record, I’m with Hood. Oh yeah, Orphan’s with me.”

“Robin in position. And they are right, Father. These animals do not deserve the air they are polluting with their mere existence.”

“Wow! Demon spawn agreeing with Hood. Never thought I’d see the day! Oh, Red Robin standing by.”

“Catwoman in position.” A silky voice spoke through the comms causing everyone to jump.

“What?” Hood exclaimed before.

“I’m heeere! Batsy! Did you miss me?” The too loud voice of Harley Quinn echoed through the comms setting Nightwing’s ear ringing as Batman growled,

“Harley how are you on this channel?”

“Catwoman invited us,” Ivy said coolly, as unseen as the others. “She said you were having a party and invited us.”

“This is not a party,” Robin snarled. “This is a mission.”

“You’re raiding a human trafficking ring correct?” Catwoman purred from somewhere in the night, probably near Batman.

“Yes,” Red Robin said slowly.

“So we get to kick sickos in the nuts!” Harley cried.

“I guess?” Spoiler said hesitatingly.

“Sounds like a party to me!”

“GEEZE!” Nightwing yelped and he spun to see Lady Noire leaning casually against the roof’s railing with a sly smile. Her braid swished lazily as her feline eyes watched him in amusement. “What the hell? Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You should be more aware of you surroundings Blue Bird,” Lady Noire said walking slowly to crouch beside him. “So I heard you met Ladybug, how’d you like her?”

“Um,” Nightwing said confused by her too knowing smile and laughing eyes, “She was very impressive. Why have you talked to her?”

“Only briefly,” she said her grin stretching, as she sung under her breath, “Hey! Macarena!”

Nightwing groaned, but before he could snipe back, Batman growled through the comms, “I’m going to only ask this one more time. What are you doing here?”

“Calm down Batsy, we’re celebrating!” Harley cried.

“Celebrating?” Red Robin said skeptically. “By joining a raid?”

“What exactly are you celebrating, and why wasn’t I invited?” Red Hood almost yelled through the comms.

“Today,” Lady Noire said gently, and Nightwing had to do a double take as she continued, “Is the five year anniversary of me taking the Black Cat Miraculous, and Catwoman becoming my mentor. We went out for drinks, and now we’re here to cause some chaos. Want to join?”

“This is our raid!” Robin growled.

“And we will be happy for the assistance Baby Bat,” Ivy said as Robin hissed.

But Nightwing wasn’t paying attention. Something had happened to Lady Noire in the moment she had been speaking. The nostalgia of the anniversary must have gotten to her, because her face had transformed from predatory glee into something soft and gentle. It was strange on the usually carefree and wild woman, but Nightwing thought it suited her. As if it was glimpse behind the mask she to the real her, like the glimpse he had gotten that morning after the gala. He studied her and then furrowed his brow in confusion.

Lady Noire must have sensed his gaze, because she turned to face him with casual curiosity. “What?” she asked as her braid flicked.

“When did you change your costume?” he asked.

She blinked, and Nightwing was startled to see the flash of surprise and confusion catch on her face. “What?” she said as she shot up and began examining her suit.

Nightwing tilted his head in confusion and then pointed, “You’re shoulder poldrons. Those are new right? When did you get them?”

Lady Noire blinked as she stared at the new pieces of armor. They were black but lined in green, like how Ladybug's were lined in red. She seemed as baffled as him, which only confused Nightwing more. But before she could explain, a new voice broke over the comms.

“Not that this isn’t fun or anything,” Oracle said with some obvious exasperation. “But the boss just finished examining his ‘merchandise.’” She audiblely shivered in disgust, and Nightwing felt like following suit, as she continued. “I suggest you incorporate the Sirens into the plan B, cause its now or never, he’s about to leave.”

“Very well,” Batman said betraying no emotion, except a vague sense of frustration. “Ivy keep anyone from escaping. Harley stay with Hood. Catwoman with me. Lady Noire with Nightwing. No killing!”

“Not even a little bit Batsy?” Harley wined.

“No killing,” Batman growled even firmer than before.

“You do realize, you just put Red Hood and Harley Quinn on the same team,” Spoiler said, her devilish smile evident in her voice. “Right Bats?”

There was a pregnant pause before, Red Hood shouted, “No take backs! Everyone, move in!”

“WOOHOO!” Harley yelled, and Nightwing saw two figures in red and black charge into the building. Batman cursed as Catwoman and Ivy cackled, but they charged in all the same. Nightwing turned to Lady Noire and smiled. She was laughing softly, her posture gentle and relaxed like she had been when she had curled up against Selina during movie night. He wondered if she had changed personas again, or if this was just that other person leaking through. He hadn’t asked what to call that other mask he had seen during their movie night, or if it really was a mask. But now wasn’t the time to ask.

Instead he just gave a light bow and gestured to the building. “After you Black Cat.”

“Thank you, Blue Bird.” She said her mischievous smile returning was she used her magical staff to propel herself off of the roof. Nightwing watched her for a second before smiling softly and following. Tonight, might have just ended up better than he was expecting.

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