#shit...you made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard and he's not even really a character

[angst-fairygodmother]

*rubs hands together* Might I request “Can I have this dance?” for Valdo x Reader? (if not I’ll gladly take Jaskier x Reader lol)

A/N: I cannot even begin to explain the grin on my face from this request. I can only hope the result pleases.Word Count: 1848 (a lovely vintage)Rating: T (maybe M?)Content Warning: light angst, implied smut 

Valdo Marx was seething. The invitation from the king of Cidaris to play at the prince’s birthday made sense. After all, he was the “Troubadour of Cidaris” and quite famously known. And then when he arrived, he was given this…this insult, this disgrace. It was not the ballroom or even the banquet hall that he was playing. He was shoved in the back corner of some cramped study, playing the same three ballads over, and over, and over for a bunch of stuffy intellectuals, who didn’t even appreciate his talent and were talking over him.

“Minstrel!” one of the black-robed philosophers said, snapping at him like a dog. “Come here.”

He snarled, considering not answering, or responding with a swift strike to the man’s face. But he had a reputation to uphold and would not be seen as undignified, so he set his violin carefully aside on the red-cloth draped table and walked over to the man.

“Don’t you think it’s time to take a break?” the man – Harilad of Rissberg, Valdo recognized – said, making it clear in his tone that the comment was not truly meant as a suggestion.

Valdo reeled back, shocked and trying to school his face back into calm. He glanced around the room at all of the chattering men, most unaffected by the absence of “ambiance” and some even looking relieved.

“Pardon me sir?” he asked quietly, feigning confusion as to Harilad’s meaning.

“To be frank young man, we are attending this ridiculous party out of obligation, and trying to take advantage of the fact that we have been granted leave to gather together outside the insipid peacocking of the main events. Your continuous shrieking on that thing may pass to the masses as music but it is unwanted here.”

Valdo felt his heart drop and he swallowed down the urge to rise to the bait.

“Yes, good man,” another man said, not even bothering to look up from the chess game he was engaged in. “Our debating is much easier without the noise.”

‘Noise?! It was music!’ He flushed angrily. ‘Good music! His performances were praised by emperors, by other artists, by a fae queen! And he dared to call it “noise”?!’

He turned on his heel, collecting his instrument and all but stormed out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind him deliberately. Looking around the hall, he saw that there were not many people passing, for which he was quite thankful. He felt…less than put together and did not want to be seen like this. With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall not far from the door and closed his eyes. He felt his world spinning, a familiar but long suppressed feeling of self-doubt bubbling up in his chest.

~

You had been looking for Valdo all night. Rumor had circled that the king had summoned all of the greatest bards from around the continent for the prince’s coming of age, so obviously he would be in attendance, somewhere. The problem was that quite a few different rooms had been opened, each with a different theme or purpose and you didn’t have the time to look through every one of them for him.

It had been many long weeks since you’d seen him, leaving a strange pseudo-relationship between you when you had parted ways. You hadn’t wanted, but you were a baroness’s personal servant, and had to follow your mistress when she went on a long progress touring her lands, and Valdo’s commissions were taking him in a different direction, and unfortunately, timing had meant that you hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye.

Following the sounds of violin, Valdo’s preferred instrument for courtly performances, you wandered into a room draped in fine gauzy cloths and filled with a sweet-smelling smoke. You coughed, fanning the air in front of your face ineffectually to try and clear the air so you could better breathe. The room was populated by people who lay in hedonistic recline and various states of undress. Nearly naked dancers undulated and swayed for the lounging guests, and a heated blush crawled across your face and neck.

Even squinting through the haze you could not make out the face of the resident musician and silently willed yourself to move closer. Hands brushed against yours invitingly, trying to coax you to join them on couches and divans, moving bodies pressed toward you in a tease. You swallowed thickly. Finally getting a good look, you sighed, almost in relief that the curly haired and clearly embarrassed young man was not Valdo, and quickly fled the room.

You continued down the hall, frustration building as you passed room after room with no sound of strings.

‘Where was he?’ you wondered. ‘Was it possible that he had in fact not attended? Or perhaps he has found a distraction in someone other than me.’ The thought made your gut twist in an unfamiliar way. The pair of you had mostly flirted, only once exchanging a heated kiss, both wine-drunk and dizzy, in a broom closet after one of your mistress’s banquets. He likely didn’t even know you would be at the celebration. There was no reason to believe he would wait or seek you.

Just as you were considering giving up and returning to the baroness’s side for the rest of the night (despite her insistence that you were attending as her guest and should enjoy the night off), you spotted someone seated against the curve of a corner, head in their hands, fingers buried in familiar dark curls. His doublet was rumpled, the rich blue velvet riding up in the back to expose a black undershirt, as if he had slid down into his current position.

“Valdo?” you asked softly, kneeling beside him in concern, hoping that he would not be angry at the disturbance.

He looked up at you, lips parted softly in surprise. “Y/N? I…I didn’t expect you to be here.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to ask if he seriously believed that a Cidarian noble would skip such an important and prestigious event. He chuckled, the sound tinged with unhappiness and you frowned.

“What’s…what’s wrong?” you asked hesitantly.

“Everything.” He tilted his head back to rest against the stones and stare up at the ceiling. “I’ve been made an utter fool by men half in the grave. They called my performance noise, and shrieking!”

You felt a bubble of rage rising up in you. “Well obviously they have no taste. Or they’re morons. Those are the only explanations.”

“Some of the most brilliant and renowned scholars in the world were in that room, Y/N.”

“Oh good, so they wouldn’t know decent music if it bit them.”

He rolled his head to stare at you, intense green eyes boring into you.

You shifted uncomfortably at the attention but plowed onward. “You are the Valdo Marx. A lyrical genius. Master of three instruments, four if you count that weird box thing you showed me—“

“Hurdy-gurdy,” he interrupted softly and you stuck your tongue at him.

“As I was saying…you have more talent in your left little finger than they could collectively dream of possessing. If they would dismiss you then they don’t deserve you. For that matter, if the king would push you off to a side room, he doesn’t either.”

Your eyes flashed with a passionate fire as you praised him, and Valdo found himself awed by it. For all that he had been complimented and flattered throughout his illustrious career, none of them has ever struck him the way yours did now.

“Thank you, Y/N. That’s very kind.” He rolled his eyes at the flatness of the statement, not nearly enough to express what he was feeling. Still, you blushed, looking down at your knees which you had tucked up to your chest at some point during the conversation.

The pair of you sat in an awkward silence, both unsure of the other’s intentions or where to go from here. With the quiet, you were able to catch the opening strains of one of your favorite reels drifting out from the ballroom. On an impulse you seized Valdo’s hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the sound.

As you led him through the doors and turned to face him, he cast you a questioning look.

“Since we both have the rest of the night free, and this is one of my favorite songs, and it might cheer you some…can I have this dance?” you asked, holding yourself, waiting expectant and hopeful, in the starting position.

Smirking, he fitted himself against you, far closer than was strictly necessary. “It would be my great pleasure.”

As you spun in great whorls across the floor with the other dancers, your gazes were intent, lost in each other. When the steps called for you to part, your hands lingered reluctantly, and when you came back together you felt his grip flex, pressing you teasingly closer. The dance required him to lift you into the air and you flushed, swearing that you felt his mouth brush against your stomach when he did.

Unable to resist any longer, as your feet planted on the ground again in a little stomp, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pulled his mouth to meet yours. He returned the kiss with vigor, teeth gliding against your lower lip. You parted for him with a low groan as he tasted and explored your mouth, memorizing every inch.

Pulling away breathlessly, he looked at you with a heated intensity that made you shiver.

“You mentioned having the whole night?” he whispered, lips brushing the curve of your ear.

You nodded, lost for words and he grinned wolfishly.

“Then what do you say we continue this dance somewhere more private?”

Suddenly remembering the room the baroness had secured for you upstairs, you nodded, taking his hand and leading him, a coquettish sway to your hips.

~

The next morning, you awoke alone, the other side of the bed cold. You felt your heart drop, ashamed that you had let him get to you so completely (but in no way regretting the impassioned tangle) only to have him slip away.

Sitting up, you rubbed the sleep from your face and swung your feet out of bed. When the blanket shifted, a folded paper fluttered to the floor, your name written in graceful calligraphy across it. Opening it you read,

My dear Y/N,

Last night was truly special. And waking beside you, seeing you in the pre-dawn was a sight I will not forget. I will cherish you and these memories in my heart. I regret that I could not say goodbye or stay, but I am summoned to Oxenfurt and I dare not miss the performance, so I had to depart quickly. I had not planned for my night to contain such a wonderful distraction.

I pray that I will see you again soon, and if it is at another ball, that I can have a dance?

Yours,

Valdo Marx

#Valdo Marx x Reader #The Witcher #The Witcher fic #Valdo Marx #reader insert #my first request! #oh this was a lot of fun #send me more! I'm on a roll #I sort of lost the spirit of the prompt list maybe? #also when I started writing I was not planning it to go here #but here is where it ended up and I am quite content #sorry I went with the fade to black #but Constitutional Law does not exactly inspire 'the mood' #also I'm not good at smut #I've only ever written it once and it was an accident #shit...you made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard and he's not even really a character #...or I made me fall in love with this smarmy bastard? #I dunno I just know I love him and I hate it

[jaskierswolf]

Could'st we get some English major Valdo and performing arts major Jaskier? Por favor? 💖🥺💖

Comfy!! Of course you can my darling. 🥰

Rated E

CW: public sex, butt plugs, anal sex, top Jaskier, with a side of humiliation.

Jaskier wanted to tear his hair out. The whole fucking play had been his idea. He’d been spitballing ideas with Pris and Essi on the green outside the canteen on a free period, and he’d come up with a rather marvelous idea: a valiant battle between monster slayers and monsters, an undertone of what really made a monster, a side helping of tragic backstory for the lonely yet incredible handsome protagonist, and, of course, a gay as fuck romance story. It was fucking fantastic, and Essi had helped him act it out on the grass. They’d just been messing about, but he hadn’t noticed the spy lurking by the trees.

Valdo fucking Marx.

An unreasonably attractive, yet equally annoying, English major who had a habit of stealing Jaskier’s very best ideas. Well, not a habit exactly, this was the first time it had happened, but the bastard was getting all the credit! Not to mention that he’d taken out the gay as fuck romance and replaced it with something so drearily heteronormative. Jaskier didn’t have a problem with Yennefer, the lead actress, but he’d really been hoping that he’d be able to swindle a smooch with his long term crush and fellow thespian, Geralt Rivia.

The man was completely dreamy; tall, brooding and built like a house. There weren’t many men that were taller than Jaskier, and certainly not many who could throw him around like Geralt could. Jaskier was completely smitten.

But no.

Valdo just had to steal his idea and sell it to the theatre studies teacher before Jaskier could pitch it. He’d taken something utterly brilliant and made it unremarkable. It was pandering to the masses, taking out the gay romance to make it less ‘controversial’. It was bullshit, absolute fucking bullshit.

Jaskier sighed, tugging at his costume. It was itchy and cheap as fuck, instead of the fancy silk the bard character would definitely prefer. Dandelion was a nobleman, a bard, a poet, a troubadour. Dandelion wasn’t limited by the college costume department. It was devastating. Jaskier’s whole vision was falling apart. Even the witcher’s armour was scrappy and ill-fitting. Poor Gerald wouldn’t be able to fight a dog let alone a wyvern. Of course, for the next three scenes, Gerald would be off having adventures without Dandelion, because Valdo fucking Marx had butchered his script. It was supposed to be him and Geralt, sorry, Dandelion and Gerald, for the whole play. The bastard English Major had known exactly what he was doing, the cockblocking little prick.

Fuck.

He really needed to get laid. It would wipe that smarmy look off of Valdo’s face, and Jaskier could go back to being the phenomenal actor that he was. He sighed again and peered out behind the curtain. Valdo was sitting in the auditorium watching the dress rehearsal, his bloody shirt barely done up, his long dark hair bunched up in a bun on the top of his head revealing the undercut on either side.

He was really unfairly hot.

Which gave Jaskier an idea. It was as stupid as it was ridiculous but he was horny and he wouldn’t be onstage for ages. Everyone else was on the stage or busy getting changed. He had at least fifteen minutes on his own… he’d have to be quick, but he was a master of seduction, even if it was his nemesis.

He waved Valdo down from the wings, delighting in the obnoxious way the English Major rolled his eyes. Jaskier was going to have so much fun taking him down a peg or too. He licked his lips, and ruffled his hair up a bit, going for a roguishly handsome look. His cock was already started to fill out at the thought of fucking his rival backstage where they could be interrupted at any moment. Maybe it would even be Geralt… and Geralt would join in…

Shit. No.

Focus.

“What is it, Julian?” Valdo sneered, but he didn’t have time to say anything else before Jaskier had him pinned up against the wall.

“You stole my play, Marx,” Jaskier murmured in his ear, pressing their bodies together so that Valdo would be able to feel his erection.

Valdo scoffed. “And you get off on plagiarism now?”

“I get off on wanting to fuck someone that I hate,” Jaskier growled, running his nose under Valdo’s jaw, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. “If you’re down? We won’t have long though?”

“What?! Now?”

“Shhh, quiet. Yes, now. Problem?”

Valdo smirked, his smile almost sinister. Fire burned in his eyes as he licked his lips, his gaze taking in Jaskier’s appearance like a hungry dog. “No, no problem. Just unexpected.”

“Brilliant, turn around,” Jaskier snapped, releasing Valdo just enough so he could spin the English Major so that his chest was pressed against the wall. He ignored the protests of the man beneath him, “and be quiet.”

“Bastard, Pankratz,” Valdo hissed. “You better make this good.”

“That’s not being quiet,” Jaskier growled in Valdo’s ear, fishing a condom from the other man’s pocket. “how predictable, do you have lube too?”

“Other side,” Valdo grumbled, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers. He took his cock in hand whilst Jaskier fiddled with the condom and searched for the packet of lube, grinning when he found it.

Jaskier was about to slick up his fingers when he noticed the pretty green plug stuff into Valdo’s hole. “Oh you little whore, how often do you wear this?”

“I thought we didn’t have much time, shut up and fuck me, Julian.

Kissing Valdo’s neck, Jaskier worked the plug free. It came loose in no time, lube glistening around the ring of muscle. Valdo moaned quietly as he tried to muffle the sound, biting against his own hand. “How long have you wanted me, Valdo?” Jaskier purred his rival’s name in his ear, sultry and low.

They both groaned as Jaskier pushed inside. Even with the plug, Valdo was tight around his cock, and it felt completely divine. The thrill of people so near to other people was intoxicating, lighting a fire at Jaskier’s core. He could hear the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer running through their lines on the stage, some stupid argument that hadn’t been in Jaskier’s original plan. Of course, Jennefer had been Gerald’s best friend and confident in Jaskier’s version, and Dandelion was the love interest.

He fucking hated Valdo Marx.

“Why did you change it, Marx?” he hissed through gritted teeth, nipping at Valdo’s earlobe. “It was perfect, it was mine.”

“It would never have been allowed,” Valdo gasped, half moaning as Jaskier pounded into him at a relentless pace, one hand wrapped around his rival’s cock. “The idea was too good to waste.”

Jaskier grunted as he bit down on the tender skin of Valdo’s neck. He hadn’t realised he was this wound up but he was close already, his mind a foggy haze of arousal. Geralt and Yennefer’s voices sent shivers down his spine. They were so close, only a curtain’s width away, and that was so fucking hot. He never thought he would fuck Valdo Marx, the infuriating bastard, but like this, not even able to see his face as he used him for his own pleasure...

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned, losing any witty retort he might have had. His only thought was for his own release, movements getting erratic. Jaskier barely bit back a moan as he grew ever closer to cumming deep inside his rival.

His hips bucked forward, pinning Valdo against the wall. The angle must have changed because the obscene moan that Valdo let out was absolutely sinful. Jaskier barely managed to stop his thrusts, both men freezing as they struggled to keep their breaths. Panicking, Jaskier threw his hand across Valdo’s lips.

“Careful, you whore,” he hissed.

“Oh like you didn’t want that to happen,” Valdo spat back, pushing back onto Jaskier’s cock and guiding Jaskier’s hand on his cock. “You wanted me, Julian, not the other way round.”

“Shut up!” Jaskier whispered, pressing them closer to the wall, unable to stop himself from rocking into Valdo.

The play hadn’t stopped. Geralt and Yennefer were still verbally sparring, with the occasional interruption from their director. They’d gotten away with it. Jaskier let out a shaky breath and continued his movements. The pleasure began to build again, quicker than before and it didn’t take long for sparks to fly as he felt the all too familiar twist at his core. He bit his lip as he came, burying his face into Valdo’s shoulder. Valdo whimpered and gasped alone a few moments later, spilling over his hand.

Jaskier pulled out in a hurry, wrapping up the condom and tossing it in a nearby bin as he pulled up his trousers. He was pleased to see Valdo still panting against the wall as he tried to regain his composure. Jaskier chuckled, swatting Valdo’s arse as he went past. The forgotten butt plug was lying on the ground next to the wall so Jaskier picked it up. He pressed it into Valdo’s hand. “I think this is yours.”

“Fuck you, Julian,” Valdo stammered.

“Maybe next time, Marx, I have a play to finish.”

#the witcher #valskier #valdskier #valdo marx #jaskier pankratz #valdo x jaskier #wolfie’s witcher writing

[tfw-no-tennis]

hxh....MUSICAL

as soon as i saw that a hunter x hunter musical from the year 2002 starring the OG 99 VAs existed, i knew i has to see this...so i set out and watched the nightmare of zoldyck (i would later find out that theres ANOTHER musical, which i plan to watch too)

luckily its all on youtube subbed! in 360 quality...oh hell yes lmao

ok i logically knew this was gonna be a musical but seeing the characters singing is like. a lot. THIS IS SO STRANGE 

musical illumi is played by a woman which is interesting. shes got a good voice 

i think they just panned to killua but it was so pixelated that i legitimately could not tell hvbadjkfbjkdsf

i have no idea whats going on vhbajdfhhajsdf theres a bunch of people falling over on stage...i think theyre dying? who are yall 

oh shit backup dancers?

lmao illumi killed the backup dancers rip.

oh that IS killua lol. s/o to the 3 pixels that are visible 

is this gonna be the zoldyck arc but a musical? lmao

OH WAIT IS THAT KURAPIKA AND LEORIO? i cant even tell lmaoooo

i can 100% tell these are fan subs lmaooo i love bad fan subs SO MUCH it makes a viewing experience even better

this is p much just a musical version of the manga/anime so far lmao i love it 

the way theyre spelling zoldyck is. a lot 

is every character gonna get an intro song. how much of this musical is singing and how much of it is dialogue cause theres defs a range w/musicals 

lmao i love gon leorio and kurapikas interactions even here, they rlly feel like two parents being dragged around by their energetic kid 

i cant even see the set at all so im just gonna assume theres like, the gate and all that behind them, but it all just looks like a dark wall to me lmao

i love singing exposition 

HISOKAS IN THIS???????????????????? oh my lorddddd 

OH i see now in the description that hes played by the 99 VA too lmao i love it 

wow musical hisoka rlly b like [writes himself into the zoldyck family arc]

oh here we go w/the song introducing the zoldycks 

damn grandpa got mad flips 

this is. wild 

its especially wild that alluka isnt here bc she like...didnt even exist yet at this point in the story 

zoldyck family sitcom wow 

i see the gon/killua romance is still going strong in the musical 

oh so they did all the training and goin thru the door stuff offscreen lol

this is actually doing a pretty good job expanding on the canon stuff from this arc lol so props. espec w/showing more of killua being scared of illumi 

oooh this is interesting actually, this is like....an AU where illumi is present during this arc, and how that would change things. And Also They Sing 

the zoldycks are so fucked up lmao 

also i feel like theres some ‘early adaptation’ character weirdness going on, like w/the grandpa, who seems much less intense here than in the anime (at least after seeing him in the yorknew arc), and milluki, who seems like a gag character here lmao

oh my god lmao is hisoka here to visit illumi?

the hilarious irony of illumi telling killua that assassins cant have friends, then going to hang out with his good buddy hisoka

kurapika is the only one here with a brain cell (for now) 

ah yes hisoka and illumi doing their nasty murder flirting thing 

HISOKA IS SO NASTYYYY I HATE HIM tho his actor is very good and smarmy

OH its canary!! is there uh. blackface goin on there. i cant actually tell, what with there being only 3 pixels present at any given time

really love how half of this is just the regular arc but with the characters singing abt stuff during it 

the lady playing killuas mom has a rlly good screeching voice jesus lmao 

ohh i love musical fighting so much

the sound fx on kurapikas sticks are cracking me up

butlers got mad cartwheels

oh theyre doing the coin thing! this is so out of order lmao

oh my god i love that theyre doing like, sick dance moves while coin flipping

ah the zoldyck messenger hawk makes an appearance. i love that thats canon and real

the 12 yr old gay romance is REAL even here 

the subs seems to be translated very literally, especially in the songs, so its honestly not clear what theyre even singing about vbsjkdjhfskjfd

gon and killua singing about each other is adorable tbh. also i love how silva asks killua abt his friends and killua is like yeah i made some friends. and then only talks abt gon ahjsduhfabhskdf gayboy 

ok so the zoldyck arc is like, ending, but theres still an hr of musical left so whats even gonna happen lmao. also where did hisoka go

oh no the audio and video arent synced anymore huvbhjadfbhjsakdf

oooh they asked canary to come w/them, thats cool

theyre having a party??? hvbajdsfbhasjkdf

oh shit??? what did zeburo just do to killua??? WHATS GOING ONNN lol this is UNCHARTED TERRITORY 

OH GOD IT WAS ILLUMI. SHOULDVE KNOWNNN

omggg all their formal outfits....everyone cheering wildly at kurapika is cute 

LEORIO AND KURAPIKA DANCING.....

the fact that both killua and gon are taller than kurapika in this is rlly funny 

the idea that the zoldycks are also highly trained ballroom dancers is super hilarious to think about, even moreso when you consider how isolationist they are 

seriously grandpas got mad flips

also i love leorios outfit 

this feels like a filler arc tbh. and i dont mean that in a bad way!

leorio trying to get kurapika to go to the hot springs with him lmaoooo

HVDSJBJFSBFJHS HISOKAS BACK. IN DISGUISE. OH MY GOD 

hisokas stage presence is fantastic gotta say 

damnnnn dad zoldycks got mad flips too. guess it runs in the family 

props to the actors for managing to keep their wigs on while flipping around like that 

its so fuckgin funny thats hisoka just introduces himself as illumis friend, when this whole arc is all about how assassins Cannot Have Friends 

so hisoka is just here trying to get family approval too huh

gon miming a fishing trip was adorable and realistic...sometimes u get skunked and It Just Be Like That

leorio is rlly tryin to shoot his shot w/kurapika and kp is just Not Realizing huh vbjsdufjbsaukjf

wow leorio breakin the fourth wall like that lmao 

wow so illumi hacked killua. rude 

hisoka and illumi are lowkey hilarious in this 

leorio is rlly sending every signal possible to kurapika and kp is like. No 

leorio: killua is a scary murder baby, but also im adopting him 

kurapika singing abt how weird it is having friends after dedicating their life to Revenge(tm) is v on brand 

HISOKA OH BOY 

LMAOOOO HISOKA IS SUCH A FUCKING SNITCH I CANT 

no wonder illumi didnt wanna tell him abt his evil plan lmaoooo he fucked up even telling hisoka that much clearly 

the zoldyck siblings just staring at hisoka in confusion bc How The Fuck Did This Clown Get In Our House hvbhjdksfnjksdf

you can tell the subs are off when the audience is cracking up but you dont even see a joke there lmao

oh my goddd hisoka using bungee gum to make everyone dance is. hilarious 

oh my god synchronized dancing 

HVBSHDJFBJDSKFHBSJ illumi doing a dance routine independent of hisoka and hisoka being like ????? vhbjsdkhfjkjsdnfkj THIS IS HILARIOUS

supremely funny to me how illumi makes such a big point abt assassins not having friends, yet hisoka is announcing himself as illumis friend w/every given opportunity hvbhajdkdfhjskf

this feels so filler arc i love it. thats so charming to me since the 2011 anime doesnt have any filler (from what i can tell?) 

kurapika and leorio rlly feel like killuas parents here lmaooo

this is all dramatic but kurapika keeps repeating what leorio says and its cracking me up hvbajhkdhfbjsk

i lov this fambly 

ah, even in the musical illumi is still such a manipulative bastard 

i feel like the quality just went down EVEN MORE, which i didnt think was even possible hvbhjkdsfskf. at least the audio is synced w/the video again

illumis got a good evil laugh 

this is the exact brand of dramatic angsty filler content that i was hoping for in this lmao i love it 

oooh more zoldycks 

honestly this is more how i expected the zoldyck arc to go in canon hbshjdkujfkjsfdas

dramatic gay filler angst + somewhat incorrect fansubs = perfection

OH SHIT CANARY 

BRO DID SHE JUST DIE???? OMFG

the subs keep calling illumis power ‘spells’ which seems to imply that illumi is some sort of assassin wizard rather than a nen user hvbsudhfkjsdjgf

come to think of it, what point was the manga at when this musical was written? it has to be pretty early on, maybe just as nen was being introduced

gon boutta go ham on illumi...Get His Ass

OHHHH GON DOING THE ICONIC ARM GRAB....ARM GRAB REPRISE

gon doin the good ole reliable shounen ‘punch your friend and yell at them so they snap out of a funk’ lol

i do love how typically shounen this is. friendship speeches! but delivered by SONG!

illumis main hobby is butting in at the worst possible moments 

HISOKAS BACK OH BOY

hisokas playing card blocked killuas hit hvbhjakdhsfjnakdsf thats like in jojo when those manga blocked dios knives 

wow the whole zoldyck squad is here

ooh forbidden zoldyck lore lmao

killua: mom u guys are lame im joining this much cooler family now. bye 

i love how hisoka is just weirdly lurking around for all this zoldyck drama lmao

silva seems like such a bro in this but i feel like hes rlly not like that in canon vhauidfhbsjhdkjfk

oh nope there he goes w/the evil laugh lmaooooo

sorry dude but leorio is his dad now 

gon sniffing zeburo hgbajkdfshbjkdfjnsjdk oh my god

oh hell yeah some synchronized main character finale dancing 

actor showcase! everyone loves kurapika which, same 

ah so the director of this musical also directed the sailor moon musicals, which i didnt know existed but of course that exists...thats funny considering the hxh mangaka is married to the sailor moon mangaka 

anyways that was fun honestly!!!! i fuckgin love musicals, and musical adaptations of non-musical source materials can be like, SO different tonally, but this honestly felt like a fun filler 

it was really interesting seeing something based on the canon from this early on - as i said above, some of the characterizations (like the zoldycks) seems a bit different than we’re used to, but others were spot on - like hisoka only showing up intermittently to sow chaos and do nothing else vhjkadhbfhkjdsfnj im assuming the yorknew arc hadnt happened at this point, but hisokas actions in this musical were hilariously similar to how he acted in the yorknew arc, so, props. 

plus it was cool to see the ‘what if’ factor w/hisoka and illumi also being there, espec illumi interacting w/killua bc its so wildly different from how killua reacts to any of his other family members - hes clearly scared of illumi, in a way he isnt w/anyone else, and that was done well here w/the scene where illumi threatens killua’s friends to get killua to listen to him

also the angst was honestly great, and there was some REALLY sweet wholesome parts that i loved. and the music wasnt half bad either!!

i think the VAs did a great job playing the characters - hisokas VA was especially great (and i really loved kurapika too). gons hair was not very similar to how it looks in the show so it was a little more obvious that he was being played by a grown woman, but still a great performance. 

anyways fun times, i love musicals and this was a fun ole 2000s filler shounen musical adaptation

#lj watches hxh #well. hxh ancillary material #also we're almost done w/the chimera ant arc but i still gotta edit up my heavens arena stuff hvbhjsdfbjdskgs epic fails #i have all my chimera ant liveblogs ready to go but i dont wanna post things outta order Ls #hxh

[corancoranthemagicalman]

Prompt: Crowley overhears Aziraphale threaten someone/something on his behalf

Anon, holy shit. Were you like blessed with great ideas?? Where do I sign up to have those??

         -------------

The last time Crowley could remember walking up to Aziraphale’s bookshop and spotting Gabriel there, he had flowers and chocolates in his hands that Aziraphale would never see. That was one of the few days throughout his millennia on Earth that he could remember with clarity. One of the first modern threats of losing Aziraphale, as it were.

This time Crowley had not been expecting it. He had not been expecting it the first time, of course. But this time he fully had put it in the hands of the book girl’s great-something-or-another that Gabriel was but a distant figure in the Bentley’s rearview mirror. As it was, spotting Gabriel standing there in his stupid suit with his even more stupid face had sharp teeth pricking at Crowley’s slowly sneering lip. He doubted a faux talk with a coat could get Azirpahale out of whatever trouble he was in now.

Like the snake he was, he poised himself carefully before striking. He waited, nearly swaying as neither Gabriel nor Aziraphale spotted him. It always sent something like a pang through his corporeal heart that Aziraphale’s little bookshop reeked so heavily of demon that there was no sensing Crowley’s arrival.

He held his unnecessary breath as he crawled closer to the window. He strained to listen, not daring to perform a miracle to allow himself in. Even Gabriel would be able to smell the sulphuric entrance. Crowley hissed at himself, berating his insatiable urge to provide Aziraphale’s batting eyes with whatever he so wished as he clutched the bag full of fresh baked goods.

“So, really, it’s all for the best if you come back with me.” Gabriel gave that smarmy grin of his, purple eyes a deadly strike of sugilite against a smaller crystal. But Crowley’s angel was no smaller crystal. He was the Bearer of Her Flaming Sword for Someone’s Sake.

“I believe we’ve made it very clear that we’re on the side of Humanity,” Aziraphale’s prim voice rang out. That Crowley could hear over any distance without strain. His being so attuned to his angel’s own as it was.

Gabriel’s laughter was not like a ringing bell unless that bell was tolling something horrid. “And I believe I’ve made it very clear what will happen to that little... boyfriend... of yours if you don’t come with us.”

Something shifted, even outside of the bookshop. The air took on the smell of electricity. Something unnatural charged, lifting the hairs of Crowley’s corporation on end. He instinctually licked at the air, tasting and smelling that charge he could recognize from a small airbase in Tadfield as Aziraphale wielded his sword, his words, against Crowley to move him into action.

“And I believe I told you exactly what would happen if Crowley so much as senses you in his vicinity.” Aziraphale’s eyes took on that ethereal glow as Crowley peered through the window. A near blinding light as the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Principality Aziraphale, flashed his true form. All of his eyes stared Gabriel the fucking Archangel down. Crowley swore he saw some illusion of that flaming sword at his side.

And it must be something, that this once Principality of Heaven would stare down an archangel in a small bookshop in Soho. It must be something, that Crowley watched frozen to his spot as Gabriel flinched at the unexpected show of force.

Gabriel sneered, shaking his corporeal head. “You’re a fool. You could have had everything.”

Aziraphale’s face, true beauty and grace, the only show that perhaps Her Work did have something precious. Truly precious. He smiled primly, head held high. “I have everything I need.” That small Soho book clerk, that great warrior angel, that creature that had held Crowley’s minuscule and shriveled heart, or soul, or whatever the bloody equivalent for an occult being, for millennia, that clerk held out his arm and showed Gabriel the fucking Archangel of Heaven the door. “Have a lovely day.”

There was no argument. Just Gabriel’s face turning nearly as purple as his eyes as he deprived his corporation of air. The archangel must have still held that fear from Aziraphale’s trial to not make a move against that great show of force. Aziraphale politely smiled. It reminded Crowley of what face he had put on during Aziraphale’s trial. Gabriel’s face had been just as contrite. He was like a child being denied a sweet. Crowley’s idly wandering mind left to an estate and an American family and the wrong child until he returned to Gabriel’s pouting leave.

Crowley stayed in his natural shadow until Gabriel had turned the corner. He dusted himself off, brushing at his knees and sauntering into the bookshop. The bell rang, this one. familiar toll. Crowley smirked as he spotted Aziraphale righting several books that Gabriel must have displaced.

“Oh! Crowley!” Aziraphale brightened. “How are you today?” The angel’s eyes wandered to the bag in Crowley’s hand. “What’s-”

“Nothing,” Crowley said abruptly, throwing the bag to Aziraphale. “Just spotted a small shop that piqued my interest.”

Aziraphale opened the bag, the smell of hot and fresh sweets permeating through Gabriel’s sour presence and filling the bookshop with something much more welcome. “Oh,” Aziraphale’s voice came softly. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley swaggered over to the couch, falling on to it with as much grace as a demon who vaguely sauntered downward could. “Ngk, don’t mention it.” He turned away from his angel, not allowing his corporation’s cheeks to flood.

He could hear his angel shake his head as he moved closer to the back. “Well, regardless,” Aziraphale smiled softly, like a treasured secret. “Thank you.”

“Fine.” Crowley allowed the thanks and the four-letter word. “I saw Gabriel as I was leaving.” He brushed his words across their conversation as he grabbed the wine that Aziraphale had set out. The bastard acted as if he didn’t know Crowley was coming, as if Crowley hadn’t been here as long as Aziraphale had accepted him.

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale took out the napkins and treat that Crowley had brought. “Thought he could convince me to rejoin the Force, I suppose.”

“And the offering wasn’t up to your standards, eh?” Crowley smirked without smirking, raised an eyebrow without his face ever moving. Always speaking with his body without moving.

Aziraphale paused, turning to Crowley fully. A quiet conversation that had slowly been building throughout all their millennia took place between Aziraphale’s glowing eyes and Crowley’s shielded ones. Crowley knew the answer to his posed question, and yet...

“I quite like the prospects of Earth and Humanity,” he started, “our side.” Crowley smiled at his words, hiding the gesture behind a sip of the wine he had poured some time during their silent passing of words.

...and yet Crowley would always ask. He was known for his curiosity, for asking questions. And Aziraphale would answer.

#anon asks #c prompt #good omens #ineffable husbands #send me some prompts! #thank you this prompt was... awesome #I almost wanted to make it like a full thing :\\ #ur too good to me

[aziraamane]

All the Better Part of Me (Human AU) - Part 7

(Previous) - (First)

Anathema strolled into the lounge, cleaning her glasses on the hem of her frilly blouse. "Both out for the count," she murmured. "Thought they'd stay up all night, the way they were running around…"

"Tired 'emselves out," shrugged Crowley. He'd sprawled out across his sofa in a tangle of limbs, head resting on the rather unwieldy sofa arm and sunglasses askew on his face. 

"That's putting it mildly. I've never seen Adam so excited." Anathema slipped her glasses back up onto her nose as she shuffled around the room, picking up stray toys and rubbish the boys had left lying around. "It's nice, though. I'm glad he's got a good friend now."

"Yeah. Me too."

"And it seems you have as well." She fixed Crowley with a curious gaze. "I wasn't trying to tease you earlier - much, anyway. You do like him, don't you?"

"Ngk."

"Anthony."

Crowley's mouth twitched. "'S not...professional...to talk about that with my employee."

"Anthony," Anathema repeated, dropping to her knees in front of the sofa, "as your employee, I spend a lot of time around you, and I notice things. Namely, that you fucking light up like a beacon whenever you mention Ezra. I've not seen you this happy in years. Something about him is affecting you, and honestly, it'd be great if it carried on, because you're much less of a pain in the ass when you're happy."

Crowley shoved at her, groaning. "Stop it. He's just a friend, alright? Leave it at that."

She opened her mouth to argue back, but suddenly there was a long, repeated pounding at the front door, and they exchanged confused glances. "What on earth…?" Crowley flung himself out of his sprawl and gently shooed Anathema out of the way as he loped towards the commotion. A prank call, maybe, some kids being stupid…

Nope. It was a dishevelled, beaming, and very drunk Ezra Fell.

"There he is! My friend! He won't ridicule me all night!"

"Holy shit, angel. The hell happened?"

Ezra stared at him for a moment - then the smile dropped and he burst into tears.

"They're all so mean to me!" And he fell into Crowley's arms, sobbing his heart out.

Naturally, the best thing to do in a situation like this is to offer some sort of comfort. Maybe a pat on the back, or a firm, squeezing embrace. A few soft words of reassurance and some tissues to mop up the tears. Instead of all that, Crowley uttered, "ngk," and his brain promptly short-circuited into tartan-filled oblivion.

That was how Anathema found them a moment later, Ezra with his head buried in Crowley's shoulder, Crowley clinging to him with a sort of awkward desperation and, presumably, a look of help me in his eyes. Her own eyes rolling, Anathema flapped her hands at Crowley and took a sniffling Ezra to the kitchen, leaving Crowley to stand in the hallway looking utterly bemused. 

Once he rebooted, Crowley realised what must have happened at dinner with Ezra's siblings, and he shook his head to dispel the last dregs of stupor before storming into the kitchen. Ezra sat at the island, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve and looking very wobbly atop the narrow stool while Anathema made tea.

"What did they say to you?" he demanded, grabbing for Ezra's hands. 

"Anthony, calm down," Anathema sighed.

"No, sod off," he replied, childishly. 

Ezra let out a watery giggly, more tears spilling down his flushed, plump cheeks. "Should have just gone home," he admitted, "but I - oh, I don't know-"

"Angel."

"They all think I'm nothing. Useless. An embarrassment to our family." Crowley's hands tightened around Ezra's, jaw clenched. "But," Ezra continued, "but they're right. Gabriel's, well - have you seen Gabriel? He's amazing, so clever and - and - but there's me, and…"

Anathema set a mug of tea in front of Ezra. "Let go of him," she said sternly. 

Crowley withdrew with the least venomous glare he could bring himself to adequately muster. Every nerve in his body screamed to, well, scream "how dare they," possibly break a few things. He was good at that, breaking things. Only when Adam wasn't around, though. 

"It's okay," Ezra murmured, diligently sipping tea. "I'm used to it." And oh, did that hurt a familiar pain. Crowley heard his mother's firm tones ringing in his ears, all her years of grinding her brood below her heel to shape them into what she wanted. Never able to question it, just going along with it, never being enough, wanting to be enough. 

Crowley reached for Ezra's hand again, paused, drew back a moment later. "You don't deserve that, angel."

Ezra said nothing, but a few tears splashed into his mug, lips pressed tightly together as his body quivered with emotion.

"Calm now?" Anathema asked Crowley, who gave a low grunt. "I'll be in my room if you need me." And she swept off, the bracelets on her wrists jangling. 

Now wasn't the time to dwell on his own family matters. With Ezra here, drunk and vulnerable, he needed assurance. Crowley gathered his courage and reached out again, patting Ezra's hand softly. "You alright?"

Ezra sighed deeply. "I suppose. Though the room is very spinny right now."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Ah, now that -" Ezra held up a finger, giggling again, "well, that is to say, I - might have taken a very expensive Chardonnay, and told Gabriel I'd stick it up his smarmy arse if he protested." Crowley burst out laughing; how could it be possible for this sweet creature to use even the mildest of profanities? "I believe I had two glasses with dinner, and then the bottle on the way here, so…oh dear, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

"Might be able to out-drink me, angel," Crowley grinned. Now that was difficult to do. Most reporters had learned that the hard way. "Stay here tonight," he offered, "you're not walking alone and I love the Bentley too much to risk you chundering in it. I'll get the spare room ready for you later, yeah?"

"I don't want to impose-" Ezra spluttered.

"I don't think you ever could. 'Sides, Warlock'd love to wake up and find you here. And, uh, I don't have a spare booster seat in the car, so...heh. Forgot about that."

Ezra pondered, staring into his tea. Crowley couldn't help but sigh in relief to see his tears had stopped. 

"Yes, alright then," Ezra said. He looked up at Crowley, smiling broadly, if still a little watery - Crowley might have kissed him senseless if he lacked even an ounce of self-restraint, if he knew more about this peculiar man that had somehow become his friend, knew more about what way he swung, if he swung at all.

 No, it was too good to risk. 

He patted Ezra's hand again. "It's still early. Reckon I might have a few drinks myself. That okay with you?"

"It's your home, darling. Don't stop yourself on my account."

Darling.

Oh, Anathema, you bastard, you’re right.

~*~

The misery of the evening had been promptly forgotten practically the instant the last of the tea vanished down Ezra's throat. He really did feel better - well, still spinny, of course, but no longer with the solid feeling of abandonment lodged in his heart. 

He'd popped his head round Adam's bedroom door, just to see how Warlock was doing, and almost cried again to see the boys topping and tailing in a completely ridiculous sprawl across Adam's bed, cosy in the depths of slumber. Crowley had had to drag him away lest he barge in and sweep Warlock into a tight, drunken hug. 

And now, with the lights dimmed, doors closed, and rock music playing quietly from surround sound speakers, Ezra and Crowley were laughing and joking whilst enjoying a rather splendid Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the year of which Ezra couldn't recall, nor did he particularly care at present. All he cared about was the smooth, dark taste slipping down his throat, the blessed comfort of the sofa beneath him, and the bright, mirthful tones of Crowley's voice on the other side of the upholstery as he rambled.

"-An' I said, I said - shit, what was it now - oh yeah, that it was the whales! Massive brains! Brain city, angel, 'm tellin' ya."

"Well, of course," Ezra giggled, toying with his wine glass. "Quite big creatures, aren't they?"

"That's m'point!" Crowley gesticulated wildly with his free hand. "Huge! An’ - an’ - shit, where was I going with this…?" 

"Whales, brains?"

"Oh, yeah. But then it goes into - into - right, fish ‘r mammal? No idea!” Crowley burst into raucous laughter, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His glasses had come off at some point in the night, revealing the eyes Ezra had been so interested in, but hadn't dared to mention, since he first saw them, the first time he came to the apartment. Amber, they were, or golden, perhaps, with distorted pupils, almost like that of a snake. They were oddly beautiful, if not immediately eye-catching, pardon the pun.

"Anthony, dear fellow." Ezra found himself putting his glass down and scooting closer. Crowley blinked at him, eyelashes fluttering, but said nothing. "May I - I wish to - um…" He shook his head and, without waiting for an answer, raised his hands to cup Crowley's cheeks. The man froze, a choked noise in his throat that Ezra hardly heard as he brushed his thumbs just below Crowley's eyes. "Why do you hide these? They're lovely. Very striking."

Slowly, Crowley lifted his own hands, slender fingers closing around Ezra's wrists. "Have to," he replied. "They hurt otherwise."

"Hurt?"

"Yeah. Light gets to 'em."

"Oh, darling, I am sorry."

"Don't be." Crowley lowered Ezra's hands gently. "Had it all my life. Got a name, uh, colour - colo - coloba - fuck it, can't say words when m'drunk." To Ezra's slight disappointment, Crowley fumbled for the sunglasses lying on the coffee table and jammed them onto his face. "'S better."

Had Ezra gone too far? Even drunk, he felt the gentle pang of guilt, of causing Crowley discomfort in his own home. Dutifully, he shifted backwards on the sofa, putting space between them. With a bleary-eyed glance at the clock, he saw it said two o'clock in the morning. "Oh, goodness me. It's late all of a sudden. I should - well, we should go to bed."

Another choked splutter from Crowley, but after a moment he muttered, "Yeah. Course. Late. Um, I'll set up the guest room - wait here a sec…" And on wobbly, spindly legs, Crowley exited the room. 

It was sweet of Crowley, Ezra mused, to let him stay. A funny, tense sensation in his chest had balled itself up there over the course of their drinking session, and he couldn't quite place it - but he knew who could. With a resolute nod, he pulled out his mobile and, with much squinting and pressing of wrong keys, finally typed out a coherent message to his best friend.

"Tracy, darling, I must talk to you asap."

#tia-lew writes #fanfiction #human au #ineffable husbands #good omens #otp: ineffable #aziraphale #crowley #work in progress #fanfic excerpt #slow burn #crowley is a dork #aziraphale is a precious drunk boi and we must protect him at all costs

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 10 - Because of You.

Tagora x Reader; SFW

You catch up with Lynera, and an outing with Tagora gets interrupted by Zebruh.

It was a mad world, we lived for fun And we got shit for free Had a face like an angel, but inside my heart was as black as a broke movie screen … But then I saw you standing there, like a millionaire Give me a number, call me before I get stupid Make me uncrazy like you did

Look at me now, I have everything You gave to me and my heart can sing I was a kid who could only drink Dance on tables, makin' deal with devils like a drunk beauty queen Fighting the fantasy, hooked on the scene, but you brought me to my knees And it's all … because ... of you

- Lana Del Rey

You weren’t quite ready to head home just yet. With the fire of determination burning in your soul, you hunted down Lynera — her craziness was exactly the sort of personality you wanted to bounce your new high off of. She was lurking in her hideout, focused on some sort of paperwork scattered across her desk. At your warm greeting, she instantly perked up, momentarily abandoning her work to excitedly buzz about your arrival and launching into a million rants about the other jades as you made yourself comfortable on her couch.

Dear, sweet Lynera. You let her run hot and cold with her monologuing so she got everything off her chest, because you owed her a lifetime of perfect friendship for not chasing after her when Lanque had told her off.

You hoped that bastard was fuming after your beautiful payback. Maybe you should have given him your Chittr handle, just to laugh at whatever angry insults he would have sent to you.

“So.” You began with an air of utter discreteness, checking your nails inconspicuously. “I heard you’ve been giving Lanque a hard time lately.”

Lynera had slipped back into looking over her papers before you spoke. She whirled around to face you, her pupils narrowed into thin slits and her cheeks tinted jade. “ - !!! who told you that !!!"

Oh boy. A flustered Lynera was a dangerous one. You plotted your next move carefully and hoped her knife was stashed far away somewhere. Or even disposed of, as you had recommended to her one time. “He told me,” you confessed. Lynera’s eyes widened. “He was keeping an eye on me earlier at the grub nursery and just started venting. And you know what?” You flashed her a thumbs up. “Keep up the good work.”

She blinked in astonishment before meekly fidgeting in her seat and glancing away. “ - i just couldnt let him get away with what he said to me you know.“

“It was pretty fucked up,” you said in agreement.

“ - !!! and !!! “ Her eyes lit up once more. “ - !!! i dont want him thinking that im a weak little pushover because im not !!! - !!! he has no idea who he messed with !!! - !!! that rude pathetic slut !!! “

You quietly regarded her. “Holding a grudge, are we?"

“ - !!! I — I … !!! “ Lynera bit her lip and flushed brighter than before. You furrowed your brows at her odd response. “ - im going to prove to him that im not a weakling who runs from fights and if he has a problem with how im treating him then he can come see me instead of gossiping.” She shook her head. “ - funny how hes doing exactly what he criticized me for.”

“ … it sounds like you want him to confront you again.”

“ - !!! you know what yes i do !!!” She squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest, hands clenched into fists. “ - !!! lanque probably thinks i cant take him on because i ran away last time but !!! - !!! i am stronger than he thinks and i want him to know that !!!”

“Lynera?” She calmed down momentarily and glanced at you. “Do you … Is this some sort of pitch flirting?”

Instead of the sort of vehement opposition you knew only she was capable of — volcanic outbursts and graceless flailing — Lynera merely deflated, hanging her head as her eyes swam with unshed tears. “ - … i just really hate him ok.”

Fuck. Of course she would take his challenge in stride. It was so difficult to keep up with what trolls consider platonic or not.

Guilt pierced through you as though Lynera had personally slid her knife deep into your chest. How could you have missed the signs? It’s not like Lynera was known for being subtle.

And then you remembered the sort of person Lanque was. Toxic, rotten, and completely in control of his vices. Lynera would not survive his manipulative scheming. You were anxious just thinking about how swiftly and efficiently he would break her down.

“Is he really someone you’d want to get involved with?” you asked.

“ - what why.” Lynera narrowed her eyes at you. Uh oh. “ - !!! why wouldnt i he is so hatable and and — !!!” She pushed up her glasses and rubbed away her tears. “ - maybe it could help me get over bronya i dont know.”

“Lyn, come here.”

She looked at you questioningly, and when you patted the open space beside you, she mustered up a weak smile and made her way over to you. You pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she sat down, and she squeaked in surprise, her hands hovering in the air before settling hesitantly around your waist.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” you spoke through her curly hair tickling your nose. “Hooking up with an asshole isn’t going to magically make your love for Bronya disappear. The challenge might be enticing, but you and I both know you deserve someone better.” You pulled back slightly and met her stare. “Only idiots fall for someone like Lanque. And you are not an idiot.”

Lynera sniffled, and this time, her smile was more genuine. She nodded and said, “ - maybe youre right."

“Just think on it, okay?”

“ - yes i will.”

“And will you think more on what I said before about throwing out these torture devices? You know Bronya would be horrified by the stuff in this room.”

She glanced at the iron maiden, panic blossoming on her face.

Oh, sweet Lynera. What were you going to do with her, you wondered fondly.

-

“You did what?!”

“You heard me.”

Tagora looked at you with beaming pride as he sipped his drink. “We’ll have to celebrate this, you know."

You giggled and waved dramatically around the cafe. “What do you think we’re here for?”

“No no, you deserve far more than a coffee for your sleazy efforts.” He placed a hand on top of yours. “I mean it, that was some top-notch payback. Clearly my influence is finally rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, Gor Gor.” You laced your fingers with his and smirked. “You should know by now that the student always surpasses the master.”

He eyed your connecting hands and blushed lightly, yet made no effort to pull away. Progress, you told yourself. “You wish," he teased. “This sort of talent is in my blood. Your intentions are ruled by something far more … concupiscent.”

“Mhm.” You took a gulp of your coffee. “What does that word mean?”

Tagora looked at you like he swallowed sour moobeast milk. This time, he retracted his hand, opting to rest his head against it. “Will you ever cease to amaze me?”

You smiled. “Never. And by the way, there’s been a new development that I may or may not need some advice on.”

“My counseling services don’t come cheap,” he snarked, and you lightly kicked him under the table, earning a disgruntled look as he wiped away the nonexistent dirt from his trouser pants.

”Anyway — pretending I did not just hear that — I realized that I might have stepped on some toes, so to speak.” Tagora quirked his head in question. “It looks like one of my friends is pitch for Lanque.”

“And why is that your problem?”

Damn, leave it to him to be so blunt. “Because she’s my friend, and I don’t want to accidentally get in between whatever fuckfest is brewing? But I also feel like I should. I don’t want her getting hurt by him.”

“What, do they have some sort of history?"

“I guess? She’s the friend who brought me to the hive party and got told off so harshly that she left in tears."

“Hah!” Tagora fell back against his chair in a fit of sharp laughter. “That’s gold. She couldn’t handle the heat then, and so what makes her think she can take him on now?”

You pursed your lips. “The girl has torture devices in her hideout, Gor Gor. Another very good reason for why I don’t want to cross her.”

He simply waved you off and snorted. “Please, like you haven’t survived worse. If you want my opinion, then I suggest you keep doing what you’re doing and let her wallow in her misery. With the stunt you pulled on him, I guarantee you have nothing to worry about. Or better yet, bulge block her, piss her off, and get with her instead.”

“That advice is the exact opposite of what I expected, and also makes no sense."

“What’s there to not understand? It’s a perfect set-up, a win-win situation if you play your cards right.” Tagora steepled his fingers and leaned forward, diabolical intent etched all over his face. “You either reveal your elicit escapades with the slutty bottom feeder and get on your pal’s bad side, or you continue this ongoing battle. It’s quite the beautiful situation, really. You have all the power here."

“This is really weird,” you admitted weakly. “You … want me to have an enemy? Wouldn’t you want me to be free from this drama and let Lanque deal with his own bullshit?”

“Uh, no? Why wouldn’t I want you to be in a kismesissitude? Especially when it’s off to such a passionate start.”

You tried several times to offer a rebuttal, but the words just couldn’t come out. “What do you mean kismesissitude?" you shrieked, earning a few glances from nearby patrons and a smarmy smile from Tagora. You blushed and toned down your outburst. “That is a relationship. What Lanque and I have is explicitly the opposite of a relationship. We — this is, i — it’s platonic hate!”

“Right. And it was also very platonic when you were slobbering all over his bulge."

“Tagora. Disgusting."

“Fine! Be in denial all you want. That’s how it starts, anyway.” He sighed and leaned back. “You owe me another drink for this headache.”

You mentally thanked him for switching the subject, because you were about to lose your mind from his ridiculous assertions. “Sure thing, just put it on your tab."

“You mean your tab.”

“Nah. I’m not exactly on a payroll here."

“Weren’t you the one who recently mentioned lavishing me in expensive chocolate and creating a pile of luxurious ablution robes? I think there was some serenading being offered as well."

“Yeah, but where do you think I’m gonna get the funds to do all of that?”

“You’re planning on wooing me with my own hard-earned money?”

You cheekily grinned and held up your drink for a toast. “Is it working so far?”

He rolled his eyes and lost the battle to return your smile, clinking his cup to yours. “I’ll decide once I see that pile.”

“Assuming that you won’t be the one to make it for me.”

“If you come back to my hive with me right now, I can guarantee a very comfortable pile made from a mountain of spreadsheets detailing your massive list of debts to me."

“And you say I lack a sense of romance — “

“ ♥ Did someone say romance?♥ ”

Oh no.

A hand settled over your shoulder, uncomfortably close to the bare skin of your neck. Tagora was staring above you with an expression of frozen civility, laced with an undercurrent of panic that only a highblood could evoke from him. And as Zebruh settled into a stool right in between you two, flashing you a toothy smile and over exaggerated wink, you wondered if Tagora would be able to take this monstrosity in stride.

“So nice of you to join us, Zebruh,” you weakly said, offering a half-assed smile.

He ignored your obvious discomfort, as usual. “Imagine my surprise when I noticed you while I was taking a stroll! ♠ Not that I was actively looking for you, though. ♠ ♣ That would be a very inappropriate thing to do, because it would seem like I’m trying to take control of your lowblood autonomy for my own selfish gain. ♣ “

“Um, w — well I am sort of on a da — “

Zebruh whirled around to face Tagora, who had noticeably straightened out as though someone had shoved a rod up his ass. He leaned in unnaturally close, forcing Tagora to inch back ever so slightly. “ ◆ Hello there, I don’t believe we’ve met! ◆ “ He held out a hand in greeting, and Tagora immediately met his handshake with vigor, as though spurred by an instinctual pull. Zebruh did not let go. “My name is Zebruh, although you’ve probably heard a lot about me already through our lovely mutual friend here. ♥ It’s so admirable to see a midblood of your stature forgoing commonplace laws to protect an alien! ♥ “

Then, and only then, did Zebruh withdraw his hold, grinning pleasantly all the while. Tagora looked absolutely murderous behind his customer service smile. “The law means everything to me — “ he forced out through gritted teeth, and before he could launch into a scathing attack, your foot darted out beneath the table to rub up against his lower leg. He met your heavy handed stare and seemed to catch the meaning behind the subtle shake of your head, because his breath escaped him like a deflated balloon as he loosened the tension in his frame and weaved his hands together in front of him. This time, his poker face was spot on. “ — and that is why I offer equal representation to all people, regardless of their blood color or species,” he finished off. “Oh, but where are my manners. I am Tagora Gorjek, legislacerator-in-training.”

Usually, Tagora finished off his introductions with the offer to call him by his nickname. He always told you that breaking the ice while networking was of utmost importance to him. The absence of such a peace offering was very telling, at least to you. And you could not be more proud, or more relieved. Zebruh would definitely have taken it the wrong way otherwise.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,“ Zebruh said, and turned to look at you with a contemplative expression. “ ♠ I didn’t know you had teals for friends. ♠ ◆ I hope you’re protecting yourself from exploitation, because they are a really ruthless bunch. ◆ “ He glanced at Tagora, the corner of his mouth curled up. “ ♣ Not that I blame you at all, of course; it’s just a teal’s nature, you know? ♣ “

Tagora sat in silence for a moment. You were starting to grow concerned before he smoothly replied, “I commend you for being so socially aware of my caste’s shortcomings. It is rare to meet an indigoblood who is capable of introspection.”

Zebruh nodded sagely. “I take this sort of stuff very seriously. ♣ Fighting for lowblood rights is an honor and privilege that very few can boast about, but I am willing to sacrifice my standing to protect the weak. ♣ “

You reluctantly patted his forearm that rested on the table in an effort to get his attention away from Tagora. It worked splendidly — Zebruh’s eyes lit up at the contact, and he scooched his stool a little closer to your side before throwing an arm around the back of your seat. “He’s really such a good friend to me, Gor Gor,” you forced out, discretely inching away from Zebruh until you sat at the edge of your chair. “Your drink is getting cold, by the way!”

Tagora brought the mug so rapidly to his face that he nearly smacked himself with it. You taught him this trick a while ago, to hide his expression if he was getting too riled up in the presence of someone who would cull him for his disobedience in an instant.

With that taken care of, you poked Zebruh’s side and said, “You don’t have to worry about Tagora. He treats me better than most!” His pleasant grin faded a little. “But not as much as you, of course.”

“ ♥ Your safety has always been my top priority, sweetheart. ♥ “ Tagora choked on his drink. “ ◆ If I don’t look out for you, then who else will? ◆ ♥ And considering how close you and I have gotten, I say this as someone who is as invested in developing our potential quadrant as you are. ♥ “

Tagora was openly glaring daggers at the back of Zebruh’s head. Your Gor Gor Panic Meter was lighting up with the intensity of the Alternian sun — you could sense a meltdown coming soon.

“That’s really so kind of you!” you squeaked. “But remember how we decided to just be friends? Very, very good platonic friends with no pale feelings whatsoever? Remember that, Zebruh?”

“I’m fairly certain her quadrants are being filled these days,” Tagora pipped up, his claws digging into his cup as his diplomatic grin took on a darker undertone.

“ ♠ Really? ♠ ” Zebruh glacially asked, retracting his arm from around your seat. “By who?”

“By me,” he replied with slight bite. “And various other individuals. Surely you must have heard, given that you are so close to her.”

Oh, your indigoblood friend did not appreciate that. “ ♣ Well that’s pretty damn presumptuous of you to say, considering you didn’t let her answer for herself! ♣ “ He shifted in his seat to face you and grasped your hands in a pleading gesture. “ ◆ My dearest companion of unspecified nature, please see this toxic situation for what it really is! ◆ ♥ You deserve to be treated like the queen you are, not silenced into submission. ♥ ”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression. “It’s really not that serious, dude.”

Zebruh sighed dramatically and shook his head. “ ◆ I can’t bear to see you beaten down like this and remain so unaware. ◆ Do you see what I mean about teals now?"

Tagora slammed his drink down on the table none too gently. “I’m terribly sorry for having given you such a poor impression of my character,” he hurriedly said. “And I wouldn’t dare presume that you are capable of ever being wrong about these things, but with all due respect, that is my moir — my associate you are speaking to, and I must politely request that you — th — that you unhand her.”

Oh my gods he almost called me his moirail and now he’s going to die after talking down to this crazy fucker —

You were frozen from an onslaught of emotions as Zebruh obliged Tagora’s demand in favor of leaning into his personal space. “You know, I’m sensing very strong hostility coming from you. ◆ I can vibe with that! ◆ ” He tugged on his bowtie and winked. “♠ If you wanted a formidable kismesis, you could have just said so. ♠ ”

Tagora looked like he was ready to faint on the spot from the suggestion. You have never seen him look so pale and scandalized. “Regrettably, I am entirely unavailable in that regard!"

“Oh. ♠ Then you’re just trying to piss me off. ♠ ” He folded his arms in an attempt to appear intimidating, yet his petulant expression made him look utterly pathetic instead. “I came all the way out here to see my best friend, so it’s kind of rude of you to lead me on with pitch flirting and leave me hanging like this!”

You needed to salvage this shitshow immediately. “Didn’t you say you were just passing by?“

Zebruh flushed indignantly. “W — well, whatever! ♣ You should be thankful that I’m even giving you the time of day — either of you! ♣ “ He pointed at you. “In fact, I’ve been nothing but kind and supportive to you, so I think you owe me for my efforts.”

Tagora sputtered in his haste to reply, but you cut him off with a sharp look. He inhaled deeply and slumped back against his chair, his eyes taking on a concerning shade of darkening yellow as he roughly carded his fingers through his hair. “What do you propose I owe you?” you asked lightly.

Zebruh’s eyes widened and he tilted his head in confusion, as though he did not expect you to be so agreeable. He tapped his chin thoughtfully until a smug look overcame him. “I’m feeling pretty hurt by all of this rude treatment. ◆ I wouldn’t mind a chance for you to join me back at my hive for a relaxing feels jam session to discuss how much this exchange has affected me. ◆ “

To you, the statement was utterly harmless — it’s not like you haven’t had a sit down with a friend to talk about personal issues before. But to Tagora, Zebruh may as well have thrown his drink in his face and pailed you right on the tabletop for all to see. His face was practically fluorescing teal, a stark contrast to the eerie orange glow of his eyes. And with the way his teeth were digging into his bottom lip to hold his outburst at bay, you suspected he was about to draw blood soon. Thank the gods Zebruh was turned away from him.

You shot out of your chair and slammed your hands down on the table. “We! We really need to get going, don’t we, Tagora?!” you exclaimed in a wavering voice. “We have to meet with Tyzias soon for your study session!” Zebruh frowned, and you hastily added, “I’m so sorry, we really lost track of time. To answer your earlier suggestion, I’ll have to say no to that, but I am very flattered by the offer! Why don’t you walk us out?”

Zebruh tisked, languidly getting up and stuffing a hand into his pocket. “Fiiine. ♠ It’s not like I was serious anyway. ♠ "

You expertly sidestepped his attempt to wrap an arm around your waist to guide you to the exit, quickly coming up to Tagora as he silently stood and watched the spectacle with no small amount of distaste coloring his sneer.

“We’re almost rid of him,” you whispered conspiratorially, ignoring his sour mood and looping your hand through the crux of his arm.

He nodded stiffly and kept you as far away from Zebruh as possible, situating himself between you two on your way out. You smiled secretly to yourself as you felt him press up against your side, presumably to keep himself away from Zebruh as well. Even in the throes of anger, Gor Gor was still a wimp around highbloods.

The crisp air filled your lungs with much-needed calmness once you stepped outside. Tagora radiated tense energy beside you, staring straight ahead as though in an effort to forget the situation he currently found himself in.

You put yourself between him and Zebruh this time, hoping he would have the chance to cool down while you handled the indigoblood. “Which way are you headed?” you innocently asked.

Zebruh pointed towards the downtown area, where the suburban streets quickly morphed into seedy-looking buildings lit up by neon advertisements. “I was on my way to a hot new club that opened up recently, before I so graciously decided to stop by and see you. ♥ I heard that the owner is a pragmatic rustblood, and I just have to meet him! ♥ ◆ Would you be interested in joining me? ◆ “ He eyed Tagora critically. “I’m sure your friend can get his homework done without you."

You heard a barely-restrained growl beside you as Tagora grasped your hand in his own with a vice-like grip. “I’m sorry, Zebruh, maybe next time,” you said with an apologetic smile, angling your body towards the opposite direction. “Text me all about it later though!”

He pouted and grumbled about not seeing you enough these days, but finally relented in the end, throwing a careless wave as he walked off. You wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t follow you, but Tagora jerked you forward and stormed towards an aimless direction.

“Tagora, slow down!” you huffed, tugging on his hand. “We’re in the clear. You don’t have to power walk us to another continent.”

“There is no place far enough away from that creature," he hissed, coming to a full stop and releasing his hold on you to stare down at his hands in livid contempt. "That disgustingly sweaty palm of his ruined my skin!” He curled them up into fists as they trembled, and his voice began to take on a hysteric edge. "And to add insult to injury, he had the fucking audacity to assume that I would break the law? Like you’re some kind of charity case to me!” he ended in a screech.

“Gor Gor, he’s gone now,” you said in a hushed whisper, hoping to quiet him down as you flushed at his outburst. To your surprise, passersby paid little to no attention to him, going about their day as though this was a normal scene. Considering the violent nature of trolls, you suspected that to be the case.

Tagora groaned and shook his head as he buried his fingers in his hair and pulled so tightly that you rapidly grew concerned for him. You gripped his shoulders and shushed him down, but he barely acknowledged you, throwing his head back as he stared wide-eyed up at the sky with a disturbing expression. “That fucking highblood thinks he can walk all over me,” he seethed, before cutting himself off with a high-pitched giggle. “And he can! He fucking can! Because I’m just a lowly ruthless teal who he feels the need to protect you from, while thinking I would spread my strut sticks for him!"

You balked at the crude statement. “Tagora, no — “

He sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly stilled. Your momentary hope of him finally calming down promptly evaporated as his eyes darkened to an alarming shade of red, his pupils narrowed into thin slits. You flinched when he finally looked at you. “That piece of shit lowlife just couldn’t leave you alone, could he?” he muttered in an eerily quiet tone. “And right in front of me, too. And I couldn’t do anything about it.” He broke off into another round of freaky giggles, no longer looking at you, but looking through you. “I may be just a weak teal, but I can still show him how gogdamn ruthless I can be, because when I sic the drones at him, he’ll be nothing but a pile of fucking ash by then!"

You stepped back as Tagora doubled over in a fit of vicious laughter. Yep, he was absolutely incomprehensible now.

It was your time to shine.

You have prepared for this moment for quite a while, considered all angles of approach and optimal spots for papping. The traditional seated frond hinge shooshpap was standard protocol, considering how squeamish he got whenever you dared to touch his face, but you have kept a killer technique hidden up your sleeve.

You had his lusus to thank for the bout of inspiration. Tagora had overworked himself into a frenzy one evening and ended up borderline passed out on the couch at his lusus’ behest, laying obediently as the ferret meticulously groomed his hair and dug his little paws into tense muscles. You had watched with curiosity, seated off to the side so as to not disturb their bonding moment. Just as you had prepared to slink away, the lusus lightly chittered at you to sit back down, and with a knowing look cast to you, he scritched at the nape of Tagora’s neck.

He had melted into absolute putty for the rest of the early morning. And if his lusus had bequeathed Tagora’s weak spot to you for a purpose, then you were obligated to carry out his wishes.

So while Tagora continued to rant and rave into the night sky, you sneaked up behind him and snuck your way under his long hair to touch the nape of his neck. Tagora froze instantly, like a prey caught in a predator’s grasp. You gave him no time to react, gently raking your nails along the exposed skin in a meandering pattern as you quietly shooshed him and petted his upper arm with your other hand.

Within a split second, all the tension in his frame melted away. His arms dropped to his sides and his head fell forward as he let out a deep sigh, giving you better access as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and stroked it with your thumb. You peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face, and you were stunned to see how relaxed he looked, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, and a substantial blush coloring his cheeks.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” you softly asked.

“Yes,” he meekly whispered.

“Will I need to resort to more shooshpaps in the near future?”

“No."

You sighed and released your hold on him, coming around to stand in front of him with folded arms. “You’re an absolute nutcase sometimes, Gor Gor.”

Tagora blinked at you, eyes finally settled back to their normal yellow hue. He huffed and looked away, still lightly blushing. “Well. I might have a bit of a problem regulating my temper. If you know a better way to deal with a lifetime of pent-up anger and humiliation brought on by the complexities of Alternian society, let me know.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to smoke a blunt once in a while.”

Tagora glared at you. “It would kill me, and I will kill you if you bring that shit anywhere near me. Bad enough that you come to my hive smelling like that garbage.”

You giggled and smiled impishly. “Looks like I won’t need to.” You wiggled your fingers. “My shooshpaps are an effective tranquilizer, apparently.”

He bit his lip. “How did you think of that move?”

Should you out his lusus as your partner in crime? Better not — you might get some more insight from the ferret at a later date. “I guess I just know you that well. It took a while to figure out your preferences, since you’re so weird about being touched.”

“So you’ve put a lot of thought into it … ?”

“Sure have,” you cheerily admitted, and Tagora’s blush reappeared with a vengeance. “Wow, that’s quite a reaction.”

You expected him to lash out at you in denial, and yet he simply shuffled in place as he rubbed his shoulder, his bang obscuring half of his face from your view. You cocked your head in confusion at his sudden silence —

And you were promptly pulled into a tight hug. Your heart thumped as you stood frozen in shock as he briefly nuzzled the side of your face before pulling away with lightning speed and settling his arms behind his back.

Tagora briefly cleared his throat before saying, “That was … a thank you. F — for caring, and … and doing that for me.”

You thickly swallowed and nodded, slowly succumbing to the realization of what your shooshpap had meant for your friendship. A while ago, you had done the same for Polypa. You recalled how strange her reaction had been, reminding you that she needed to remain professional as she fought back her flustered blushing. And the way she had melted into your touch …

It looked eerily like an orgasm, quickly followed by post-coital relaxation.

Gods, did you just …

“I, um, I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wringing your hands nervously.

He furrowed his brows. “For what?”

“For … you know, not warning you in advance? I’m just now realizing that I should have asked for your consent to do that. I never really considered how intimate a shooshpap was … “

Tagora’s eyes widened, and he softened his expression. “I don’t. I don’t mind."

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Of course not. It’s not like it w — wasn’t, ah, unwanted.” Tagora held out a hand for you. You shyly complied, and this time, his hold on you was tender as the two of you resumed your walk. “Anyway, aren’t you afraid of me when I get like that?”

You tittered. “What the heck is there to be afraid of? I know you would never hurt me. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can lift you with one arm.”

”Hilarious."

“Oh, and by the way, I figured out how I’ll fund your expensive taste.” Tagora quirked a brow, and you grinned sneakily. “I’ll be pilfering your swear jar. You owe it a hefty fee after your meltdown.”

He chuckled. “It’s still my money.”

“Not when I tell your lusus about your uncouth, boorish behavior.”

“So you know what those words mean, but not ‘concupiscent’?”

“I can only listen to Galekh for so long before my mental thesaurus gets filled up for the day.”

“Ugh.” Tagora rolled his eyes fondly, and you squeezed his hand without thought, simply basking in how happy he made you.

#self indulgent fluff #marvus next chapter with more fluff #friendsim #homestuck #hiveswap #tagora gorjek #tagora x reader #tagora/reader #lynera skalbi #gods and monsters #zebruh codakk

[tenshibeth1]

Okay, I'm upset. I had this nice, big post I'd worked on for hours to show y'all...and it's gone. Tumblr ate it. I don't feel like remaking it all pretty and nice-like, so the jist of it is this: I've been working on a Severus Snape x OC fic because it has possessed me. The plot keeps coming up like bile and I can't stop writing. Which is really, really weird because I usually only get to do it in little bits, as per my strange muses. Anyway, my OC is named Cerys, pronounced Kehr-ees, and it's Welsh for 'love' or 'to love'. She has a peculiar ability that travels down the females of her line, and it's like Ligilimency (a spell to invade the mind), but with touch only. She can feel emotions and see memories and whatnot. Anyway, she got into it with a Death Eater and some minions, used the ability in battle and piqued interest, and they captured her and her brother and decided to use him as a reason to keep her with them. And Voldermort doesn't trust her, so what better way to control her than having her under a trusted Death Eater 24/7? She's arranged to marry Severus Snape. Interesting stuff ensues...especially since she had him as a professor at Hogwarts...

My Favorite Parts:

(I'll add them bit by bit so I don't lose this post. ><)

She used to think Severus' eyes were black...only recently had she realized that they were actually a very dark brown. Like the rare brown cat's eye scapolite... Beautiful.

&&&&&&

"Do you realize what this means?" Severus asked as he gazed down into his clear glass of caramel-colored fire whiskey. He doubted she really understood the underlying factors...she had been flippant and careless the entire time the intermediary had spoken with them. Of course, she could just be drunk. There's no telling how long she'd been here before him...and how many fire whiskeys she'd downed...

"Yeah," Cerys replied after a moment, marvelling at the different hues her fire whiskey turned when she held it up to the light. She'd been aware of the arrangements and stipulations and all long before tonight... She waited for Severus to take a drink after he hummed...his hum sounded skeptical. A sly grin unfurled across her face. "It means I'll be fucking my Professor." Almost immediately he began to choke on his swig...and she couldn't help but laugh, her head resting against the hand holding her glass up.

&&&&&&

"Knock, knock," Cerys called into the open door to the Potions classroom as she hefted in a mildly heavy crate full of jarred herbs. "Delivery from Professor Spout." She curiously peered around as she walked towards the front. Hm. Not much had changed since the last time she'd been there. Same shelves, same books, same student desks, same teacher's desk, same podium, same Snape at the podium writing who-knows-what on parchment... Some things were rearranged, though, and there were definitely two new faces at the front desks hunched over a multitude of lines they were being made to write. Detention. Her lips quirked. Ah, good times, good times...

She approached the podium and waited... He was really absorbed in what he was doing. After a long few minutes, Cerys toyed with the idea of putting the herbs up in his classroom closet, herself... But after misplacing three little herbs last time...he'd never let her in his closet again. He never let her live it down... Finally, finally, he looked up at her, down at her package, back at the closet, then cringed. Yup. He remembered.

"Just...put them on my desk," he motioned to the dark wood desk behind him. "I will arrange them later."

"Still as anally organized as you were years ago?" Cerys couldn't help but tease, a grin spreading wide across her face. She carefully set the crate on his desk and slid it back so it wouldn't tip and fall off. "Don't want me to mess anything up, do you?" She turned to find him quirking a brow at her, both boys peeking up at them from their work here and there.

"No...I don't," Severus admitted, and a laugh bubbled up out of her chest. Same old Snape, alright. It made her want to mess with him again... So, her impish grin morphing into a smirk, Cerys backed up against his desk and hopped on, sliding her bum back and getting comfortable. A muscle in his brow and jaw twitched, irritation entering his gaze as hers sparkled with mischief. "I don't recall giving you permission to sit on my desk. If you need a seat, there are plenty of student desks to choose from." He motioned out at the mostly empty classroom, the boys watching more raptly now. Time to show them how it's done...

"You didn't give me permission to sit on your desk," Cerys agreed, her smirk becoming a shit eating grin. "But I'm not a student that can be ordered around. I graduated five years ago, Snapey. And I am still that smartass little shit you remember. Ball's in your court now. How are you going to make me move?"

"Make you move?" Snape repeated sharply, his dark eyes alight with a carefully tempered rage. He put his quill down and fully turned back to Cerys, and the boys behind him were looking at her with wide, horrified eyes. She just grinned and winked at them before returning her attention to the furious Potions teacher before her. Oh...if looks could kill... "Fifty points from Griffindor." His voice boomed through the charged silence, and Cerys' jaw slacked, the grin wiped right off of her face.

"Wait...what?" She started, the blond boy snickering while the other sighed. Slytherin and Griffindor houses, obviously.

"Did I stutter, Webb?" Severus snapped back at her acerbicly, the makings of a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. A frown etched deep into her face.

"That's not fair and you know it," Cerys came back at him. "I'm not in Griffindor anymore! You can't punish them for this!"

"Can and will," he replied with a certain amount of force, looking every bit like the smug, smarmy bastard she remembered he could be.

"Oh!" Cerys scowled as she slid off of his desk and marched right up to him. "Alright, I'm off. You can revoke it now." Severus' brow quirked again and heat burned from her cheeks all the way back to her ears. She took it back. His eyes weren't pretty at all! "Please...revoke it?" She bit out her request, staring down a very amused Snape.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" He asked, his tone less harsh now that he had the upper hand.

"Yes, I would, now please do it." She huffed out.

"Hmmm....no," He feigned considering her, a smirk unfurling across his face... Ohhh...Cerys felt the white hot lava rising in her chest. She opened her mouth, but Severus spoke first. "Whose classroom is this?"

"Yours, but--," Cerys began, but was cut off.

"Correct," he interjected before more could be said. "And who is the Professor of this class?"

"You are," she sighed out, irritation bubbling beneath her skin as her anger simmered back to a low boil.

"Correct," Severus repeated, voice as crisp and firm as when she was in his class before... The admonishing teacher voice... "Then doesn't it follow that you should abide by my rules while in my classroom?"

"Yeess...," Cerys droned, thoroughly exasperated now.

"Yes, what?" Severus asked expectantly.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Cerys scowled as she gave him what he was looking for. Only to restore the points. If not for that, ohhh...

"Good...I may consider restoring the points...," he responded, and she let out a relieved breath. It worked... "...or perhaps not." He shrugged as indifferently as she had the night before with the intermediary, something sparking in his gaze as a firestorm kicked up in her blazing blue eyes. "But you will abide by my rules while in this classroom to prevent further deductions. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Professor Snape," Cerys bit out, clucking her tongue with distaste as she stared him down. If looks could kill...the tables had turned again...

&&&&&&&

"Well…I'll take that as a challenge, then," Cerys grinned up at Severus, her spirits finally lifted. "I'm gonna keep teasing you until you like me." She elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"And I suppose I shall keep putting you in your place until you learn," Severus replied, his voice firm but not cutting as he took a bite of his ham.

"Learn what, exactly?" She asked, curiosity coloring her voice.

"That you cannot outwit me," he began, peering over at his bride-to-be as she grinned up at him, eyes alight with life and fire once more. At last... "And your place."

"My place, my place...you keep saying that, but what does that even mean?" Cerys asked, mildly frustrated. She knew her place before...when it was just her and Folkert. (Her brother.) She worked, and learned, worked and learned, to be able to make it. To be able to become a proficient witch, and also be able to afford their books and robes and such... "What is my place here and now?"

"If you are to be my wife, your place is at my side...," Severus answered, watching surprise seep into her features. Cerys honestly didn't expect him to say that... "...submissive to me." At that, her eyes widened, and a hint of pink dusted her cheeks. "Perhaps to none else, you are a willful little thing, but you will bend to me." His eyes were dark then, more like burnt new jade, with deep amber flecks near his pupils that almost seemed to glow. Cerys swallowed rather hard, cheeks burning hot, the sheer intensity of his gaze almost too much for her to bear... Her lungs began to burn and she sucked in breath...had she forgotten to breathe...?

Something warm brushed over her hand before she could think more of it, and they all rushed in like a tidal wave... A deep, abyssal darkness whose tendrils rose like fingers, wrapping around her throat and cutting into her chest... Burning! Everything was burning! White hot flames burned in her chest and trickled southward along her spine, filling her hips and that very sensitive place between her thighs...she...she needed...something... Cerys felt...empty. And then came the crash that completely overwhelmed her. A strange emotion she couldn't place... It made her feel diminutive, naked, and weak. Like all of her defenses had been stripped away and left her bare before this...feeling. Had she been standing, her knees would have buckled and she would've hit the ground. Hard. But...strange as it was...it was...sort of liberating. Like all control had been given away, and she didn't have to worry about anything anymore. She didn't have to be strong, or sneaky, or...anything. The burden had been lifted from her  shoulders...and she was free...

Severus wondered if he should have touched her, flesh to flesh, at all. It was an intentional touch...just a taste of what lied within... Her eyes fluttered, rolling back in her head here and again, her breaths coming unevenly. Even after he'd released her. It was almost...like it lingered... "Are you alright?" He asked gently, touching the clothed part of her arm. She inhaled deeply and shut her eyes, the blues hazy when she reopened them.

"Merlin I'm dizzy...," Cerys whispered, swaying in her seat.

[walkin-mouth]

our wills and fates do so contrary run (Javid 1/2)

Pairing: Javid, mentions of Sprace and Newsbians Rating: M Words: 2k+ Tags: AU!Soulmate/Modern, adults, little sickfic Summary:  Davey Jacobs hated the idea of soulmates and hated the name on his arm. That's why he knows he's going to shove it to fate and find love on his own terms. Naturally, it can never be that simple.

You can read Part 2 here

Davey Jacobs never put much thought into the whole idea of soulmates. Sure, it was helpful for some people, he found the idea just a nuisance.

It was sometime between the time he turned 12 or 13, right at the beginnings of puberty, that he noticed faint lettering forming on his upper arm at the crook of his elbow.

By the time he was nearly 15 the name was clear in a messy scrawl.

Francis

While his friends proudly showed off the names on their own bodies...

Sean. Katherine. Louis. Josephina.

He opted for long shirts and avoiding the topic at all costs. He was pretty sure soulmates were a sham. A vestigial trait from times gone by. Like wisdom teeth or the appendix. It was a pointless, useless, dumb thing that was on their body by no control of their own.

His sister, Sarah, was the only person he openly confided his anxiety over the name on his arm. He was in the middle of his junior year when he finally showed her the name on his arm.

“Francis?” She scrunched up her nose, “Oh my god, your soulmate is in a little old lady!” She gasped in mock horror.

Davey rolled his eyes and pulled his sleeve back down.

“It’s Francis, with an I. Frances with an E is a woman’s name. It’s a guy,” Davey defends, rubbing his arm.

“Okay, well I’m sure you’ll fit right in at the retirement home with him,” she teases playfully.

“And that’s why this whole soulmate thing is just ridiculous,” he grumbles, flopping back on his bed.

“What do you think he’s like, providing he isn’t a 90-year-old man in his twilight years?”

Davey shrugs rolling over to look at her.

“With a name like Francis all I can think about is an awkward, nerdy guy who has like a pocket protector and bad personal hygiene,” he groans out burying his face in his hands.

Sarah lets out a belly laugh, “With a gelled middle part and Coke bottle glasses too?”

“Yes!” Davey cries out before letting out a pitiful moan.

Sarah can’t help but lay next to him and rest her head on his shoulder.

“He might not be that bad. You never know,” she softly offers.

Davey huffs and leans his head against her own.

“Well, I don’t plan on ever meeting him so I don’t have to worry. I’m going to find my own partner on my own terms. And I plan on avoiding all Francises at all costs.”

He finds in the next few years that Francis isn’t a very popular name and so his life mission of avoiding all Francises goes pretty well, through not much effort put on his own part.

In his senior year of high school, he has a teacher who’s first name is Francis. In his freshman year of college, he has a classmate named Francis. When he’s 22 and starts a job at a local bookstore, his manager is named Francis. All perfectly ignorant of Davey, their paths never crossing much, and he feels like he has truly dodged the soulmate bullet.

Davey had been working at the bookstore for a little over a year, happily going into his senior year of his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism. Still no Francis. Still...no one really. Hell, he had even found his sister’s soulmate in one of his classes. Yet, he remained happily single, feeling smugly that he was able to beat fate to some degree.

It was during morning rush hour that everything changed.

He was walking to work, headphones in, easily weaving in and out of the people crowding the sidewalks. Mid-song he gets the alert sound of a text, causing him to pull out his phone and look at the text. It was from Katherine, his roommate and his Sarah’s girlfriend/soulmate.

Can you pick up milk when you get off work? I used the last of it this morning and I need it to make dinner. :) <3

He chuckles softly to himself, still walking as he looks down answering the text.

Sure thi

Suddenly, there is the squealing of tires and he feels himself being pulled back by his arm and into the frame of a solid body. The earbuds falling out as he clutches his phone to his chest.

“Watch where you’re going!” An angry driver yells out before speeding off.

He had walked right into traffic. Well, almost walked right into traffic.

Davey can only hear his heart beat thrumming in his ear as he stands frozen in place, the realization that he was almost someone’s hood ornament washing over him.

“Hey, kid. Hey, y’okay? Talk to me, kid,” a voice breaks through his rapid heartbeat and he finds himself being pushed to a bench.

He finally focuses on the concerned face of another man who crouches to meet his eyes. Davey manages to nod shakily, pulling the headphones out with equally tremoring hands.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Oh my God, I almost-”

The guy softly laughs, but it comes out as a breath of relief.

“Yeah, almost pulverized into a Jackson Pollock on that guy’s car. It’s a bit early for a death wish, innit?” He smiles a little teasingly.

Davey scrubs his face and lets out his own breathy laugh.

“I can’t believe...were you the one…?” Davey feels breathless.

“You knight in shining armor, at ya service,” He tips the top of his cap with a smirk. “Ah, please just don’t go around trying to off y’self.”

Davey feels his cheeks redden and he can’t believe how much of a complete moron he’s made in front of this guy. This incredibly handsome and charming and a little bit smarmy guy.

“I promise, I won’t. I was reading a text from my roommate and I just didn’t...holy shit you saved my life...I could have died,” his hands are back shaking at the thought.

“Hey, y’would’ve most certainly died. But ya didn’t, and you’re okay. Just breathe, what’s y’name kid?” The man tries to placate him, sitting on the bench with him.

“Davey,” he says softly looking at him.

“Wish we could have met on better terms, Davey,” he chuckles holding out his hand, “I’m Jack.”

Davey takes his hand and gently shakes it, still feeling like a wet noodle.

He calls into work, knowing he’ll be useless for the day. The man, Jack, still hanging around after he gets off the phone with his shift manager.

“I’m sorry, you probably had something to do and I just took up your morning. I’m fine now, I’m just going to head back home,” Davey cringes at how pathetic he sounds to his own ears.

Jack laughs and shakes his head.

“I was just on my way to get coffee and I certainly don’t trust ya to walk unassisted today. Wouldja like to join me?” Jack offers an air of vulnerability coming off his final words.

Davey grins and agrees. Fate and soulmates could suck it.

It doesn’t take too long for sparks to fly between him and Jack. He gets up an extra hour early every day, meeting up with Jack to walk to get coffee and then go to work.

He learns that Jack is an artist, an only child, and grew up in the foster care system. He works for a local theatre in set production but does his fair share of freelancing and personal projects. He also learns that Jack is a romantic at heart, a bit of a dreamer, and an expert in the history of the Wild West.

Jack is so perfectly imperfect, Davey almost can’t stand how head over heels he is for the guy.

Jack also never talks about soulmates with him and he couldn’t be more thankful. Two months after Jack’s heroic rescue, they unofficially decide they’re together.

No grand gestures were ever made. Davey just found himself staying over more at Jack’s place. Cuddles turn to kisses. Next thing he knows, Jack clears out two drawers in his dresser for Davey so he can keep some of his clothes over at his place.

Davey is also thankful that Jack gets along great with his sister and Katherine. Soon, Jack’s friends become his friends and his friends become Jack’s. He isn’t surprised when his friend Race and Jack’s friend Spot both indulge in their soulmate’s names after a few weeks on a drunken night out.

“You’re not my soulmate, Conlon,” Race slurs out despite being held in the arms of the other man.

Race and Spot had become a bit inseparable despite constant teasing and insults thrown at each other. They were both loud sources of near brutish energy that somehow complimented and brought out the softer sides of both men.

“You don’t know that, if you just told me the name-” Spot reasons, his lips against his neck.

“Well, it sure ain’t Spot,” Race giggles out.

Davey rolls his eyes, Jack’s arm wrapped around his thin waist. He takes a sip of his drink as Spot scoffs.

“Well, good thing my name ain’t Spot, sweetheart.” he hums as he lifts his head up with a pleased grin.

Race narrows his eyes and turns so he’s straddling Spot’s lap facing toward him.

“Whatsit then? Spotty? Are ya secretly Scott?” Race playfully slurs then mock gasps, slapping his chest, “Don’t tell me ya Maurice or something!”

Spot lets out a pleased laugh which seems almost foreign against his usually hard demeanor.

“It’s Sean. Sean Conlon.”

Davey freezes and Jack feels him stiffen, right about the same time, Race jumps off Spot’s lap.

“You fuckin’ saw it and you’re fuckin’ with me, you don’t have to be a dick, Conlon!” Race cries out shoving his shoulders.

Davey and Jack both shoot up and rush to their respective friends who are now at each other’s throats, curses flying wildly.

“Race, stop you’re going to get us thrown out!” Davey growls out pushing him away from Jack and Spot. Race now fighting futilely against the larger Davey.

Poor Spot in drunken confusion, wanting to fight back, but genuinely baffled by the outburst. Pulling up his own shirt trying to show the name on his chest to Jack.

“You need to calm the hell down, Higgins,” Davey pushes against him, his voice deepening in authority.

“He’s fuckin’ with me! Brooklyn bastard thinks this is a game!” Race drunkenly yells over Davey’s larger frame.

Davey grips his chin making him focus on him. Race’s eyes glazed and wild, blinking a few times at Davey in silence.

“Or maybe, just maybe, his name is Sean? Think Race, you’re talking with tequila, not your brain!” Davey his voice rises in exasperation as he cuffs Race on the back of the head.

Race’s shoulders drop a little, a moment of clarity coming over him as Jack hesitantly approaches.

“Race, buddy, I’ve known Spot for years. He’s Sean, his ma named him and all. He wants to know if you’re Antonio,” he asks carefully, partially hiding behind Davey in case of Race exploding again.

Davey finds himself pushed to the side as Race dramatically pulls Spot into his arms. The two now a mess of tears and kisses, undoubtedly fueled by the copious amounts of liquor shared between the two.

Davey sighs and rubs his forehead as, Jack blinks looking around at the now very drunken make-up between the two.

“There ain’t enough alcohol in the whole world for me to deal with these two,” Jack shakes his head.

Davey snorts out a laugh.

“I think we deserve another beer, then we can take these assholes home,” Davey offers, as Jack leans over kissing him.

“I think we’s deserve anotha beer, and maybe a shot of whiskey or two,” He playfully mumbles against Davey’s lips.

Even after the Spot and Race almost-fiasco, Jack never brings up soulmates or the names tattooed on each other’s bodies.

They date for nearly a year, no mentions of names or soulmates ever crosses their lips. Jack never pushes when Davey makes an excuse for wearing longer sleeves, even in the heat of summer.

He doesn’t want to know the name on Jack’s body. He tells himself that constantly.

When he does accidentally see the name it’s embarrassingly during a quickie before work.

He has exactly fifteen minutes before he needs to be out the door when a morning makeout turns into more. Before he knows it he’s on his knees taking Jack into his mouth. Jack’s hand is gripped into his hair as he works his mouth over his cock.

It isn’t until he’s pulling himself off Jack when he sees the dark writing, written in perfect script, hidden on Jack’s hip.

David

He feels himself shaking as he hurriedly gets up and rushes to the bathroom, avoiding Jack’s worried looks.

“Dave, y’okay?”

“Yeah, just gotta get ready. Only have five minutes,” he hollers out as he tries to calm his breathing as he clutches the bathroom sink.

He knows he doesn’t put much stock in soulmates and their marks, but it kills him that Jack must think Davey is his soulmate.

But Jack’s name is nowhere on his body and it crushes him harder than he ever anticipated.

Somewhere was Jack’s real David and he suddenly felt like an imposter.

He does his best to push the feelings of inferiority aside, telling himself that he controls his life, not some dumb mark on his body. People have plenty of genetic disorders. Maybe his was he had the wrong name on his body?

He can’t begin to imagine for a moment that he wasn’t meant to be with Jack.

They soon share their first Christmas and Hanukkah together, buying each other small presents with their meager amounts of spare money. Jack buying Davey a new flannel and a couple of books he had mentioned wanting. Davey buying Jack a restock of some of his paints and a book on Albert Bierstadt, one of Jack’s favorite Western landscape artists.

The holiday cheer is a bit short lived when only a few days after Christmas, Davey is hit with the cold from hell that had been making its course around the city. Davey not having been too surprised after having several coworkers go down for days with the bug.

Davey doesn’t remember nearly passing out on Jack after he unsuccessfully tries to get up for work one morning. A cough wracks his body and within the hour he has himself bundled up in bed, quivering with a chill despite his body sweating profusely.

He goes in and out of consciousness in the height of his fever, Jack usually at his side. He knows Jack leaves for a bit before he comes into the room and carefully pulls the warmth of the blanket away and starts to undress him.

Davey furrows his brow in confusion as he blearily looks at Jack, the room feeling like it’s spinning.

“Dave, babe, you’re burning up. Let me change you outta this hoodie,” Jack insists as Davey weakly whines trying to pull away.

“M’fine, Jackie,” He mumbles as his body gives up and he lets Jack pull off the hoodie and help him into one of his own worn, yet soft shirts, stained with various paints.

Davey is splayed out on the bed, coughing softly when Jack notices the black writing on the younger man’s arm.

#newsies #javid #sprace #newsbians #fanfic #can be 92 or live #up to you #sideblog

[nadiineross]

requested by @kalydnos

17. “Bite me”

French countryside, near quarter past nine at night. 

Across the street from Alexander Bernard’s vacation home, Nadine ties her hair right to the base of her head and narrows her eyes at the muted orange windows, pulling her legs off the dashboard of the rental. 

There’s a spare clip in the cup holder, next to Chloe’s half empty can of Sprite, and she reloads her empty pistol. 

It’s been five minutes past Chloe’s agreed upon check-in call time. 

She empties the gun and starts over, perched on the edge of her seat. 

Finally (finally), the walkie in her lap crackles. “How you doing, love?” 

Nadine breathes a sigh of relief and grasps the walkie closer to her face, sliding her reloaded gun into the holster hanging from the rearview mirror. 

“Took you long enough,” Nadine huffs. 

“Kept you waiting again, did I?” 

Really, she’s much too teasing for someone who’s snooping around the home of a black market arms dealer in search of what is essentially an ancient fork. 

Nadine rolls her eyes. “At least it’s not 2 hours this time.” 

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” Chloe replies, voice staticky. 

“Well, I guess I’m not fucking virtuous.” 

“Hey now, that’s not entirely true—“

Nadine snorts, climbing out the passenger seat and grabbing the holster to strap around her leg. “Where are you, Frazer?” she asks, fondness almost palpable. 

“Oh, I’m powdering my nose in a fancy bathroom. Couldn’t exactly whip out a walkie from my bra in front of Bernard.” Nadine bends to grab the walkie so she can clip it to her belt and reply, but: “And yes, I did get that smarmy bastard to tell me where he keeps his collection.” 

Nadine grins, locking the car behind her, and flexes her gloved fingers in anticipation. 

“Try the third-floor study, northwest corner. I’ll draw Bernard away from that floor, but there are guards at the door. Be safe.”

“So says the woman who willingly jumped onto a train strapped with a bomb.” 

“Touché. Be fierce, then,” Chloe amends. 

Nadine grins. “Always.”

Usually, Chloe covers the stealing part and Nadine runs interference, but this job requires a little more stealth and less playing Spider-man. Besides, Bernard’s an old contact from her Shoreline days and has made his unfavorable opinion of her clear after her fall from grace, so Chloe’s dressed to the nines and wooing him. 

One day, she’ll return the favor and put a hole through his shoulder. Eye for an eye, after all. 

There’s a guard snuffing out a cigarette butt on the curb. She gives him no time to react and pistol whips him. She slips on his vest and relieves him of his weapons. Then, she heaves him into a bush and blows out a breath. 

The metal railings around the perimeter of the house are spiked at the top, so she’s careful when she twists around, dropping to her feet as quietly as she can.

It’s smooth sailing after that. There’s a knife in her vest pocket and she has a silencer, making her journey to the study through the backdoor quiet and efficient. 

She hauls the bodies of the last two guards into the study with her and locks the door behind her. 

The fork is in a locked glass case mounted behind the desk, smack in the middle between two windows. 

Chloe’s been teaching her how to pick locks and the one at the bottom of the case looks relatively easy to unlock, but there’s no reason to waste time trying. She takes the butt of her gun to the lock and slides the fork into the empty loop on her belt. 

This time, she leaves through the windows, tossing the vest over her shoulder, and leaves the fork in the backseat of the car, under Chloe’s worn leather jacket. 

She honks the car horn—the signal for Chloe to get the hell out of there—and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

It’s been too long and Nadine throws caution to the wind, picking the walkie up. 

“Frazer, come in,” she says into the walkie, nervous now. “Chloe.” 

No response. 

“Christ,” she mutters, and in one smooth movement, she slides into the driver’s seat and starts the car. Her foot stomps on the accelerator. 

The gate comes crashing down. 

If Chloe’s been compromised, there’s no need for subtlety and, quite frankly, Nadine prefers it this way. 

She climbs out the car, puts a hole in the door, and strolls in, glamorous fork in its spot on her belt and gun blazing. 

Nadine takes out the herd of guards coming down the stairs, and ducks behind a pillar, hissing when a bullet cuts through her shirt, grazing the skin on her bicep. 

Nadine sets her mouth into a grim line and continues down the maze of hallways, blasting through rooms. 

God help anyone placed in her path. 

She knows she’s getting warmer when she finds a group of antsy guards gripping at their guns in front of a nondescript door. 

Really, they never stood a chance against her even if she weren’t completely, utterly livid at the moment. 

No one is left alive. 

Nadine leaves her gun on the floor, trading it in for two Glocks. 

The door leads to a kitchen which leads into the dining room where Bernard stands behind a battered Chloe, gun to her head and walkie poised at his mouth. 

There are three guards left, all with their guns trained on her. Bernard keeps the barrel of his gun pressed to the back of Chloe’s head. 

“Ms. Ross,” he says, teeth glinting with his sneer. “I was just looking for the woman who’s come knocking on my door.” 

Nadine smiles blandly and says: “I wouldn’t call it knocking.”

Then, in quick succession, she puts a bullet in the heads of the two guards aiming at her from either side of Bernard. 

She jerks back into the kitchen as the last guard, standing a bit off to the side, fires at her. The door frame splinters and chips off. 

Bernard barks commands in rapid-fire French, but before the guard can follow his instructions, Nadine shoots back, blowing the guard’s fingers off in her haste. 

He howls and staggers clumsily before he lunges forward in a blind rage. Nadine catches his head between her fists, still gripping tightly to her guns. The cold metal digs into his skin. She uses the momentum to launch him into a wall and he crumples like a sack of bricks.

Bernard snarls and shoots at her. She’s too far from the kitchen to duck for cover, so she uses the guard as a shield, losing one of her guns in the process of wrenching his body over her’s. 

“Little Nadine Ross,” Bernard spits. She clenches her jaw and tightens her hold on her remaining gun.  “Running daddy’s pride and joy into the ground, losing millions. You never listen, do you? I—“ 

He cuts off with a grunt. 

Nadine jerks an arm over the guard’s shoulder and aims her gun at the head of the table, finger itching to pull the trigger. 

Chloe. 

The leg of her chair is fractured. She must’ve kicked out from beneath her, into Bernard’s shins. 

“Save the monologuing for people who give half a shit, arsehole,” she hisses, voice low and gravelly. 

Chloe twists the gun out of Bernard’s slackened hold and swings the back of her fist into his face, the unshackled handcuff hanging from her wrist catching his cheek. 

Nadine collects herself just as Chloe hurls Bernard onto the long table. He spits blood onto the lacquered surface and grunts out a laugh. 

“Quite a pair, you two.” 

Chloe collapses into a chair and scowls at him. 

She almost looks like a queen at her throne, Bernard a fool at her feet. 

He pushes himself onto his back with a groan and his head lols to the side, in Nadine’s general direction. “Well?” 

Nadine cocks her gun and the resounding bang of her gun is followed closely by his shriek. His hand flies to his shoulder, red seeping through the cracks between his fingers, and he rolls off the table. 

Nadine doesn’t care. She approaches Chloe and helps her to her feet. Chloe ends up closer than Nadine had intended, and they wobble together for a second, hands clasped over the other’s forearm. 

There’s blood running down Chloe’s face and a bruise is purpling on her cheek. Frowning, Nadine carefully sweeps hair away from Chloe’s open wound and tsks. 

“You were fierce, at least,” Nadine says, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Chloe laughs. 

Using Nadine as a crutch, Chloe limps her way through the house, farther and farther away from Bernard’s whimpering.

She raises her eyebrows at the guards littering the front hall. “Well, looks like fierce would be an understatement.” 

“You were late again, Frazer,” Nadine says with a shrug, helping Chloe into the passenger seat. 

“Bite me.” Chloe grins. 

Nadine rolls her eyes and rounds the car. “Maybe later.”

She tosses the fork into Chloe’s lap, starts the car, and backs out of the front yard. They drive in relative silence for a couple of minutes, whizzing past the traffic lights in their beat-up rental, shining green. 

Chloe twists in her seat and drapes her leather jacket around herself, rolling her cracked window down and sighing in content. 

The car creaks to a stop at a red light. 

Nadine takes a soggy napkin from the cup holder and wipes the blood away from Chloe’s cheek, ignoring her grumbling. The streets are mostly deserted now, so Nadine doesn’t worry too much about keeping her eyes on the road. 

“Hey, hey,” Chloe says, gently prying Nadine’s hands away from her face. “I’m—I’ll be fine. Just...” She stops and grabs the back of Nadine’s neck. 

They’re kissing now. Nadine’s soft and pliant against Chloe’s lips, but after a moment, she pushes in deeper. 

Chloe slants her mouth and her hum transitions into a chuckle after Nadine sinks her teeth into her lower lip. They pull apart, bumpily. 

Nadine turns back to the road and edges the car forward, sputtering and rumbling as it goes. 

The light’s green now, shining off the whites of Chloe’s eyes.

They’re both grinning as they speed off into the night. 

#chlodine #chloe frazer #nadine ross #listen LISTEN i have no fucks to give left skjdhfsd this is honestly the Worst thing ive written #because i am too gosh darn tirerd to proofread this so u guys are seeing this directly from my fingertips #no brain used #goodbye validate me still thanks