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gadriezmannsgirl · 1 year

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Hey, hey I hope you are absolutely fabulous. I would love to request some Antoine fluff if it could please be really fluff and maybe a bit long if that’s alright I’d really appreciate it much love and stay safe ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh, yes! Anto's requests keep 'em coming! Also, sorry for the delay! It took me long to find some good inspo for the fic (Give thanks to my little cousin, I had to take care of her for three days and it was basically based on it)

I combined these two request! Hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think of this! FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

HAPPY GRIEZMANN DAY!👑🇨🇵🤙🏻

Motherly Effects -Antoine Griezmann

Summary: You are left to take care of your ten months old niece for a weekend, leaving Antoine wanting for your future together.

You stopped your work in the kitchen to lean down and pay attention to the babygirl in front of you

"C'mon, Lottie! Let's dance it again: Una gatita que le gusta el mambo, con todos los malos sale a bellaquear" You sang in between laughter watching your 10 months-old niece, Charlotte, move herself up and down while grabbing onto her stroller and laughing "Oh my godness, you're the cutest little baby girl, ever" You giggled "Won't your dad want to give you away to me?" You asked picking up the baby in your arms as she hugged you

"I don't think Miguel would like that, chérie" You turned around watching your boyfriend of three years and fiancé of four months, Antoine look at you both with a smile on his face

"Nah! I can try something up, besides Lottie loves spending time with us, doesn't she?" You tickled her belly making her laugh out loud "See? She does"

"How long is she spending time with us?"

"For the weekend" You announced "You okay with it?" Antoine nodded with a smile on

"Of course, little baby Y/L/N has all of us wrapped around her little finger and she's nice" Anto grabbed her hand and did as if he was going to bite it

You gasp in surprise "Uncle Anto is going to eat your hand! Tell him: Uncle what are you doing?"

She tried to repeat your words with a lot of "tata's"

"Oh, she got angry" Both of you laughed a little "Amor, how was practice?" You ask leaning up a bit with intentions of kissing his lips

Antoine met you halfway, leaning down a bit

"It was good. I still win test races against Memphis" You smiled turning around to continue your work in the kitchen with the ten months old baby on your hip

Antoine smiled at your form, leaning back in the table and watched you do your thing. You looked natural, like you've already done this several times

"You are just on your best form" You complimented him watching a little blush form on his cheeks

"I still have a long way to go, tho" He replied leaning onto the kitchen counter lightly as you bounced the babygirl in your arms

"Still, Anto. You're-" Charlotte's cries interrupted you "What? What's wrong, baby?" You asked her in a soft voice "Hungry? My baby's hungry?" You put a bit of her compote in front of her and she looked away but kept on crying"Let's go and see how's that temperature, then" You walked to her bag that was laid on the table

"Is she sick?" You shook her head, passing her to Antoine

"Her teeth's are coming out. Miguel told me she may get a bit of temperature but nothing to worry about" You explained grabbing the digital termometer and pulling it in her ear "She's fine" You said after checking

"Water?" Anto asked as you looked at your niece in expectation

"Lottie" You said softly after a while "Do you need a change?" You ask with a joking tone making the little girl stop a bit her crying and hide her face into your fiancé's neck "You little sneaky monster!" You exclaimed, the two of you laughing a little as you saw Lottie cling into Antoine "C'mon, let's get that little ass clean! We're up for a shower!"

Antoine passed her to you as you made your way to your bathroom to clean her up, Lottie's crying subsiding a bit. Anto followed you silently watching you mesmerized.

Stood in the doorway, he saw how you pulled silly faces to the little girl who started crying after feeling the cold water hit her little frame when you showered her, how you started telling her "Auntie! Say auntie!" again and again seeing as she still hadn't said her first proper words besides 'Tata', he also watched you with a smile on his face and a loving look on his eyes be so motherly with the little Y/L/N girl, thinking how would you be with your kids one day.

You guys have been together for three years, and have gotten recently engaged, it's obvious that kids and marriage has been a subject you guys have talked about, both of you wanted it, even tho Antoine was a still reluctant about the kids, seeing as he already had two but you didn't mind it.

If he didn't wanted it, he didn't wanted it. It made you sad, yes. But you understood where was he coming from. Besides you loved his kids to death and meanwhile the little Mía knew you were like a second mother, Amaro still didn't understand much of it.

And you came to made peace with it.

But right now, watching how you act with a newborn baby, made him think of how your pregnancy belly would look, of the small moments of your little family... If you had a little boy, would he look exactly like him with but with your intelligence and way of being? Or if it's a babygirl, she could have his blonde hair but your eyes and your cheerful presence? His joking and your seriousness?

He was daydreaming of everything.

And he loved what he was thinking.

"In my little round face, I have eyes and a nose, as well as a little mouth to sing and laugh" You started singing making Charlotte be aware of all your movements with a face of concentration and surprise "With my eyes I see everything, with my nose I do... achish! With my mouth like coconut and popcorn" She smiled after you ended up the little song as Antoine stood there knowing exactly what he wanted.

You turned around with the baby in your arms and stood still watching how Antoine was looking at you

"What?"

"What what?" He asked

"What's with the face?"

"What face?"

"The one you've" You giggled

"That's the one that made you fall in love with me" You blushed nodding

"It's pretty" You said as matter of fact watching him smile "But what's up?"

"You're just... so pretty, chérie" You blushed walking over to him.

You leaned a bit and gave him a kiss on his lips

"You're supposed to say that. You're my fiancé"

"Being and not being your fiancé you know I find you absolutely gorgeous" You smiled feeling how Lottie waved her hand in front of you "You're going to steal Y/N away from me, young lady?" The baby laughed "I won't let you! I came here first!"

"Antoine!"

"She must know!" You giggled passing besides Anto to be once more in the living room, ready to prepare Charlotte to her bedtime "I'm going to change" You nodded smiling

You put some light music on the TV to help the baby fall asleep quicker so you could continue your work in the kitchen and be alone for a few minutes with your man.

When Antoine came down a few minutes later, he saw Charlotte asleep on your chest as you were scrolling down on your phone. He plopped next to you on the couch, pulling you into him without waking up the babygirl

"I want one" He said out of nowhere making you look up from your screen

"What?" You asked not really catching what he had said

You watched how Antoine took a deep breath and let it out slowly "I want a baby with you" He said looking at you

Your heart felt like doing somersaults when you heard him speak. "What? Why? How?" You were impressed, a good impressed.

You knew about your lover's past relationship but still wanted to form a family with him and his kids

"Seeing you with Lottie" He shook his head "...Made me realize I miss the baby experiences and that I would love to have you as mother of one of my kids, you just have this motherly effect, even tho you're not a mom, yet. I walked through that door and when I saw you with her I could only think of having a mini you or mini me running around this big house, Mía and Amaro taking care of them, us, together, being happy and having everything we ever dreamed of. Watching you in this "mom-state" forever is... Something I will never get tired of. I know I was a bit reluctant of having another one but I just changed my mind and if you still want us to have a-" You cut Antoine off with a kiss on his lips

"Of course I want to. I have been imagining a little boy with Y/H locks like his mom and blue bright eyes just like his dad's, ever since we moved in together" You admited shyly. Antoine smiled

"Baby Griezmann Y/L/N" He said as you smiled

"I would like to get married first, tho" You said after a few minutes of silence but the soft music playing as a background, Anto smiled "I can't wait to become Mrs. Y/L/N Griezmann" He kissed your cheek

"We can do whatever you want to do, Mrs. Y/L/N soon-to-be Griezmann" You smiled kissing his lips

"Will Mía and Amaro like the fact they could have another sibling?"

"They would" Antoine nodded "They're just like that, they would love that idea" Anto let a little laugh out "I can already imagine Amaro being an older brother"

"And taking into consideration how protective he is... Imagine if we have a little girl"

"He would so knock down all boys that come after them" He said making both of you laugh

And that's how you spent the rest of the night, laying in your couch, you with Charlotte on your chest, Antoine wrapping both of you in his arms as you guys talked about your awaited future together.

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ingravinoveritas · 1 year

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I'm sorry that you have to deal with anons like that abelist ass.... But l will tell you again that...

I love you and your blog ☺️🤩

I enjoy reading all your analysis (girl coz they're brilliant!) And also reading about your Thanksgiving dinner prep..... Haters are gonna hate sadly, but that doesn't mean you should stop your amazing work! For one stupid anon like that, you have hundreds of people who love and support you... Keep it up!

On a lighter note, the reason for which I was going to write an ask for you was this: I'm not going to ask you about staged 3 as l am eagerly waiting for your analysis of it buuuttt.... I couldn't help but think that if Georgia thinks that we like to see MS n DT bicker and she would do anything to make that happen (ep 4), so that means it is the duty of us audience to make her think that we would absolutely love to see MS n DT do utterly romantic things on screen, so she makes it happen XD XD

(on another side note, l would totally understand if you do not wish to interact with the asks sent in your way today, and that this goes unanswered, I wouldn't mind at all. That shitty anon is the reason I'm not asking this anonymously.... But again, it was brave on your part that you called their idiotic, harmful and downright toxic behaviour out, even when you had the option of ignoring em. Kudos to you, Amy)

Hey there! Aww, thank you so much. This is absolutely lovely and I truly do appreciate it. (I wanted to answer you separately since you made that excellent mention of Staged season 3, episode 4. Haha.)

As I’ve previously mentioned, my analysis is still forthcoming (and I apologize for the delay...just been a bit swamped the past week or so), but I did think that was an interesting moment, too.

As much as I wasn’t necessarily a fan of Georgia sabotaging the conference room or going through all that just to create tension between Michael and David (who already have mountains and mountains of tension and longing between them as it is), the underlying premise of the scene was intriguing to me. Mainly because it (like several other moments in Staged 3) seemed to come right out of the plot of an MS/DT Staged fanfic I read back during the second season: Georgia quite perceptively knowing what David wants/needs from Michael (in the case of the fic, being deliciously, roughly topped) and engineering it flawlessly.

The other thing about that scene was that all the dialogue was up against a backdrop of some serious throuple vibes between Michael/David/Georgia. Throughout the season and that especially that scene, the energy between them just had a certain edge to it, so when Georgia said “People just like to watch you tussle” it became even more interesting when I realized that another definition of the word “tussle” is “a physical contest.” Maybe, then, Georgia wasn’t just referring to Michael and David verbally sparring/fighting, but something else entirely.

(For me personally, all of the fighting Michael and David did in the show felt like the kind of fighting between two people that crescendos into/ends with a kiss, so I do wonder if that’s what Simon was subtly (or not-so-subtly) hinting at. Curiouser and curiouser...)

So yes, I would say that Georgia (Staged!Georgia, and/or actual Georgia) and probably Simon are aware of what the fans want to see Michael and David do, and found an interesting way to incorporate that into the show. And as I said, I think this was done in a couple of places, so I’m looking forward to discussing that further in my review/analysis of Staged 3. Thanks for writing in! x

#yami-no-kokoro #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #georgia tennant #staged #or 'Brokeback Mount Him' which is what I am referring to Staged as from here on out #staged 3 #subtext that is rapidly becoming a text #so many layers and little things to observe with each viewing #if you have Michael and David together you don't need all the bells and whistles #in my opinion anyway #throuples are totally cool now #or 'V style' as I now understand it #ineffable lovers #discourse

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pastelpasteru · 3 years

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Could I request a drabble of Tendō having a crush on a tsundere? Pretty please? Like reader tries to act tough and mean but gets easily flustered when called cute or something

➧ Hi hi! Yes of course, anon, here ya go~! Sorry for the delay, and the long wait, schoolworks gobbled up my schedule..

“Tsun~tsun~dere..~”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wherein Tendou Satori flusters and confesses to his mean, tough, yet easily flustered crush who is really a tsundere..

˚₊· Fluff • Tendou Satori × GN!Reader • Oneshot

˚₊· Warnings — Swearing included. BTW! Mistakes are present, much appreciated if you ignore them! (*´ω｀*)

˚₊· Requests? Sure, I accept those! Feel free to drop 'em! Though I am not sure that I'll do it.. ┐(´ー｀)┌

[🌸//💎] As the manager of S-BVC, you have to keep everything managed—I literally mean everything. From cleaning, taking notes, the players, fuck. Even Tendou who always causes chaos in the team, frequently misbehaving, just to catch your attention.

“TENDOU! Didn't I tell you to get your jersey already!?” You shouted, stomping towards the red head who shuddered as he read his manga.

“Do I even have to do this for you—you lazy-assed guy!?” You scolded, pinching Tendou's ears, making him wince. “Ow ow ow..! Y/n-chan...!!”

“I was gonna do it, but you already did it for me—ow!” He grumbled, placing his manga down and pointing at his jersey in your arms, which you slammed into his chest. “Oh the lies! Y'know what, just take your damn jersey, I have things to do!”

You growled, fuming away from Tendou who chuckled, “My dear manager, don't be so pissed, you look like you could explode any moment now..!!” He teased as you bit back at him. “sHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Ahahaha..~! Manager-chan's so cute when they're angry, right, Semi Semi?” Tendou babbled to the third year setter who had his shoulders slumped down after you had left the gym, fuming.

“..You call that explosive demon cute? ...There's surely something wrong with you—your taste, Tendou.” Semi muttered to Tendou who screeched, hitting the ash haired male half-playfully.

“Don't you call my dear Y/n-chan an explosive demon even though they really are!” Hissed the blocker, emphasizing his words to his friend.

“..And I may have an awful taste when it comes to an s/o, at least I don't have an awful fashion sense like you, Semi Semi!!” He gushed to Semi who got slightly angered. “Ow-OW! Shut it with my fashion sense, gee!”

“Hey you two, stop it.. And yeah, Tendou. I can't believe you're into our devilish manager.” Hayato snickered as Tendou whipped his head to him.

“You guys only see the bad things they do, and not the good things, so y'all won't understand how I fell for them..!” He defends, arms crossed on his chest as he daydreamed of you.

“..You know what, Tendou, since you like them so much.. Why don't you confess?” Reon proposed, walking towards his three other friends who froze—especially Tendou who paled.

“C-Confess..!? I-I don't even know if Y/n likes me back—and I'm pretty sure they hate me!” Tendou spurts out in a pretty nervous tone—quite unlike him.

“Stop overthinking, dumbass, and go find out if they really do like you back.” Giving Tendou a slap on his back, Semi muttered an encouragement to his friend who came back to his senses.

“..Ha! Right, thank you, Semi Semi for the advise! I'll go do it now!” Immediately dashing out of the gym, Tendou ran to where you're an, leaving his friends with a huge sweat dropping by their head.

“Y/n! Y/n-chan! Manager! Manager-chan! Manager Y/n-cha—!!” Calling out to you, the team's manager with a booming voice multiple times, your annoyed voice cut him off.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT, SATORI?? You're so loud, and you're ruining my peace!” You spat to Tendou who raised his hands in defeat. “Sorry, sorry, dear manager.. Anyways.... I'm here for you—..”

“To say that you're really... cUTE! Especially when you're angry, then you're so tough and mean. But still! You're so cute and hardworking, gahhh~!!” He admitted with a small screech, blabbering compliments towards you not knowing that...

You're basically evaporating from the compliments which you couldn't handle, being a tsundere. “I-I'm not cute, s-shut it, Satori!” you grumbled, denying his words with a heated up face, blushing like a huge mess.

“Ahahaha~! This is even more cute, the way you deny it is just precious! Ah, this is basically why I love you like crazy..~!!” He accidentally admitted with a slip of a tongue, immediately slapping a hand to his mouth to prevent more words to spill out.

“W-W-What......?” You stammered, the blush on your face spreading all over, same with the heat on your face. Exploding due to fluster, heary fluttering when you heard his words.

“O-Oh my! Manager-chan, are you okay!? You're not speaking anymore—ah! And you're blushing like crazy, oh myyy!!!” Panicking, Tendou took you by the shoulder and shook you, snapping you back to reality.

“Y-You heard what I said, correct—? It's okay if you don't like me back, I understand that you hate me—” Sighing, Tendou let you go but you snapped at him. “N-No! I-I like you too, dummy!!”

You confessed to Tendou who brightened up, a huge smile plastered on his face. “Ahh~! That's good to hear, man, I love you, tsun~dere-chan!” “I-I love you too—and I'm no tsundere!” “Yes you are, you're my tsundere..!!”

˚₊· Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs, and follows are highly appreciated. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

˚₊· Wanna send feedback, or messages? DM me here at Tumblr or at my Instagram and Facebook account, Pastel Pasteru. (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

˚₊· You may be a tsundere, but you are Tendou's lovely tsundere who he loves! ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

[🌸//💎] REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #fluff #fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #tendou drabble #tendou fluff #🌸💎—Pasteru #✍️🌸💎—Pasteru #❓by: anonymous

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jazzywrites · 2 years

Text

Back in Time part 5

Hey guys! Sorry for the long delay!

Pairing: Castiel x non-gender specific reader

——————————————————————————

No ones pov

The younger Winchester explained what they know to Bobby. The older versions staying quiet while shifting awkwardly from side to side.

This was weirder then they thought. Seeing their, supposed to be, dead surrogate father, alive. It was heart wrenching.

Bobby seemed to pick up on their strange behavior.

“Am I dead in your time? Why the sore faces?” Bobby probably meant it as a a joke, but his words made everyone from the future tense up.

“Shit.. for real?” Bobby asked with a more softer voice.

Dean rubbed the back of his head with a sour look plastered on his face.

“Well not technically,” he started looking over at his bother for assistance.

“It’s a long story that we probably shouldn’t tell you,” Sam jumped in with a sweet smile.

“Whatever you say,” Bobby continued to look throw his lore books on his desk.

That was way easier than they excepted.

“Y’all said she’s in Tulsa?” Bobby asked as he took a swig of his whiskey.

They all nodded their heads and waited for the old man to finish.

“Then what the hell are you doing sittin ‘round here. Take your asses to Tulsa, ya idjits!” Bobby proclaims as he dramatically sat in his chair.

“We were wondering if he can borrow a car?” Older Sam finally was the one to ask, his voice cracking just slightly.

“You know where to find em,” was the last thing Bobby said before he was nose deep in a time traveling lore book.

They all collectively walked to the junkyard, awkwardly.

———————————————————————————

Oldest Dean ended up finding a car and everyone from the future huddled in, as the present went back to Baby.

Dean was the first to break the silence, “this is freakin weird.”

“Tell me about it,” y/n said as they stretched in the back, “I’ve been here the entire time.”

“Did you get hurt?” Cas asked with a soft voice that was laced with worry.

“I had a small headache but that was about it,” y/n smiled at Cas in earnest.

The moment was cut with Dean fake vomiting, “you’re gross.”

They all laughed and started up the car and their trip to Tulsa.

———————————————————————————

Sorry for long wait. I completely forgot where I was going in this story that is also why it’s so short. Anyways hoped you guys had a very happy holidays.

-Jazzy

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nesonkin · 2 years

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HENLO :> i also feel like voltron did the coalition, rebel fighters and everyone in general dirty ;/ I WANNA HEAR YOUR REBEL FIGHTERS HEADCANONS SINCE CANON GAVE US NOTHING :D_ _

Emergency edit: So, my idiot ass accidentally posted this before I actually had the chance to finish the draft so think of it as part 1. So sorry about this...

[Second part]

WARNING: Long post

First of all, I am incredibly sorry about how long it took me to reply to you. The day I recieved this question I was very happy and excited that someone asked me about it and you truly made my day.

Although, I realized that my own headcanon lore wasn't exactly polished or properly thought out and I decided to delay with the answer to give you one that would be satisfying. In the process I lost my interest so the post would remain in my drafts for god knows how long.

But suddenly my interest came back to me so here I am.

It's going to be interesting answering this question given how little content we have of the rebels. So, when I try to think of headcanons it just becomes its own alternative universe exactly because I would have to fill the giant gaps in the Voltron Coalition lore.

Before I begin, I should probably clarify what my stances on canon and fanon are.

For one, while I see the appeal of Shiro x Matt it does not interest me as a romantic ship. I see and prefer them as shitty best friends, therefore if anyone expects romantic Shiro x Matt in this post they'd probably be dissappointed. (Same with Matt x Keith)

I also won't try to alter the canon events and only modify certain parts that were never elaborated on in canon. That's just how I prefer to handle these things.

This will incorporate the off-screen explanations and backstories for specific characters (Olia, N-7) both of which come from the Word of God.

Last but not the least, I am not particularly interested in the Voltron side of things (despite the series being literally named after it) so don't expect me talking about the paladins. But I will be talking about the impact that the Voltron has on the rebel fighters because it is pretty fucking huge.

More under the cut

I should clarify that this post is half me breaking down the canon lore and half me theorizing, headcanoning. I believe it helps provide context for some of my headcanons that I have.

Most of my headcanon lore relies on the timeline thing I made a year ago.

Unfortunately, it's still too vague to have any coherent story with this group. But on the bright sight, it just means that I can do whatever I want with the content that we do have!

First thing to consider is that Galra has been ruling over the galaxy for over 10,000 years. 10,000 years in human terms would be from the Middle of Stone age to the current era. And that is without the alien intervention. It is more likely that the Galra Empire would try to stop any kind of development of the species whose planets they've colonized. To prevent any chance of any of them becoming strong/smart enough to fight back.

One planet in particular could be Kythra. It's a planet inhabited by desert tribes from which Te-Osh supposedly originates from.

The point I want to make whilst talking about the Galra Empire is how much of a cultural and technological impact they have on the galaxy. While it's true that they also steal and appropriate creations of other species (Olkarion), it would be naive to think they wouldn't force their ways and culture onto every planet they colonize.

This is why Space Mall is kind of ridiculous... and just overall confusing. It doesn't seem to be properly owned by the Galra even though Varkon works as security. But it's no longer the Unilu owned place either. One of the unilu traders notes that his shop existed long before the empire was created meaning that the empire does have influence over the Space Mall. But it's just... a casual place where every species can just hang out and shop? What on Earth even is this place? Because it's not governed by the Galra Empire as evident by the fact that the paladins were able to freely show their presentation about Voltron with no one going after them. It's like a giant bubble where everyone forgets that the Galra fucking enslaved everyone. Such a weird place. Imagine a clearly popular hang out place in the Star Wars universe where everyone can just shop for whatever they want and there's never going to be any conflict and the Empire isn't going to attack it either. This is the Space Mall.

Well, enough with this nonsense and let's just move on.

The Space Mall episode did make me think of something interesting though. So, you'd think every race would have their own measurement system, right? Like how we have the Imperial measurement system and the normal one. Yet, they use the altean (or whatever it's called) one. It's likely that in the old days when the alliance still existed they had a universal measurement system. So, it only makes sense that the Galra Empire would impose the system on every planet they colonize. Which is why every species we see in the show uses it instead of something else.

The reason I'm bringing up the Galra influence at all is that I've developed this headcanon that is a sort of a workaround for the "All aliens speak English" trope. Because naturally you wouldn't understand another species due to the language barrier. I imagine Galra scientists would develop a translator chip for every prisoner, slave, citizen of a colonized planet etc. They'd implant those in others but make sure they configure it in a way that only translates Galra language. To make it impossible for prisoners/slaves of different species to communicate potentially leading to uprising.

To counter that I imagine rebel fighters repurpose it as international translators. With time they learn how to create some themselves. Which is how such a diverse group of people can understand each other. With N-7 being the exception because she's an AI and doesn't need one.

It's one idea I've come up with but admittedly it does contradict the canon lore. Because the trope of aliens speaking English is just there with no explanation. Still, I like my idea regardless.

Getting the actual timeline of the rebel fighters is difficult. There's no clear evidence to pinpoint the exact time the faction was created or even began to assemble. Rolo in S1 refers to them as the lucky few who haven't been enslaved yet. Signaling that they had a very minor presence in the galaxy. Or that Rolo was ignorant. Or lying. Hard to rely on his words. They've definitely existed before the Kerberos crew was captured. Moreover, Remdax and Vakala have been stationed on the Icy planet for 5 years and judging by the fact that their resources were soon to be depleted it wasn't their first year.

Rebels were likely formed after a long period of time starting out as small rebellion groups on planets conquered by the Galra Empire as it was expanding. With Galra officers taking prisoners across the galaxy an effort was made to communicate with other groups hence the diversity.

I like to imagine Unilu people would be exceptionally helpful for that considering they're one of the few races from the old days that still exist and thrive. They traversed the galaxy for many years and probably knew many languages. Which solves the problem of a language barrier. I'd say they're the second most populated race in this show.

One of them is actually a member of the rebel forces.

Remember this fella? Who never talked once in the series at all? Or ever been referred to? Well, I named them Gus. For no particular reason, I just look at them and go "Hmm, yes, this is Gus." VLD never named them so I have to do it myself. I HC them as agender and mute. They seem to make good use of the gestures, emotions and body language and considering we've never heard them speak this headcanon generated on its own. With 4 hands I imagine Unilu Sign Language to be very rich and extensive.

I like to think they were Matt's cellmate when he was a galra prisoner. In their spare time Gus was teaching Matt the unilu sign language so they could communicate somehow. And them being cellmated is partly why Matt was rescued by the rebels. Because Gus was already a rebel fighter and their goal was simply sabotaging the prisoner ship to set the stage for the rebels (Note: Matt was not with the rest of the prisoners from the Arena because he was sent to the working camps due to his injury).

Eventually Matt and Gus would become very good friends. Matt, being a fast learner, would learn Unilu Sign language and use the simplified version of it in case he ever needed to communicate with Gus without vocalizing anything.

As for less story important headcanons I like to imagine that Gus likes to draw with pastels and chalks. They're a little mischievous and generally optimistic which is why they it doesn't take a lot of time for them to get along with Matt. They have absolutely no regard for authority but loyal to those who prove themselves to be competent and fair. Which doesn't happen often. They are very expressive with facial expressions and body language.

For more references on Gus see this post.

That's as much as I've got on Gus so far. I like thinking of the kind of friendship that they would have with Matt. But let's move to another character important to Matt.

Te-Osh is a character that we see saving Matt from his prison cell and later get to meet her in Season 4 where she gives up her life to make sure she can deliver the medical supplies. It's implied that she was very close to Matt.

The term that was used to describe society on her home-planet is interesting. "Tribe" is an anthropological term that has long been assosiated with "savagery" and "primitiveness". There are a lot of harmful connotations related to this term which this article explains better than I could ever do. Besides all of that the term is simply confusing and barely represents what kind of society Kythra people have on their planet. I'm not sure if the writers were aware of all of this or if the "primitiveness" was the intended purpose. My best guess is that their society was still on the developing stage which the Galra Empire took advantage of and decided to interfere (just like certain countries did back in the days).

But let's move on.

Te-Osh gives me big mom vibes. I headcanon that she was a mother figure to Matt before he was transfered to a listening outpost. In my "lore" she's also a very competent fighter who's been training Matt and teaching him the survival tactics, and just taking care of him in general. Talking to him about complicated matters of war and making sure he's not going to do something stupid out of naivety and inexperience. She feels strongly about the rebellion which in combination with her somewhat short temper can result in lots of heated conversations with others. Especially with one sort of original character. But more on that later. She's an important memeber of her respective rebel cell being a local mom and all. I imagine her death took a big toll on many of her fellow officers and, of course, Matt. It's a little weird how they hinted her and Matt being close but we never see Matt's on screen reaction to learning of her passing. But oh well.

Wiki also mentions how she is a skilled pilot so there you have it.

And speaking of moms, it's about time I mention Captain Olia.

A member of the canine-like species and a competent rebel pilot. What is there not to love? She actually does have a backstory which you can read more about here.

Ha! Another confirmation that the rebellion didn't just start with the appearance of Voltron. Although, this still leaves some questions. Like, what were Olia and her husband doing exactly before starting a family? Humanitarian aid? Combat? Mechanic services? One of them has to be correct. My bets are on the mechanic services like fixing up ships and such. While Olia's duties could be transportation. Hence the flying skills.

Tbh this article did save me some mental energy. Because I don't have to think of everything myself. She was given a backstory via the Word of God and I'm more than thankful. But I'm still wondering if Omegaverse is considered a default for fictional works on her home planet.

Unfortunately, we haven't seen any proper interactions between her and Matt so it's harder to tell what kind of relationship they have but what we do know is that Matt does respect her authority. And that Olia cares about him enough to be present during his reunion with the family.

I believe it's safe to say their rebel party is a proper found family for Matt when he was separated from his biological one.

As a person Olia seems to be very laid-back and confident but not falling behind in profanity department lol

Her quick thinking during battle has saved the coalition more than once and it's a shame she had no speaking role in S8.

Being a mother she has an unique perspective on the rebellion. She understands more than anyone what it feels like having to leave your loved ones to fulfill your duty. And that understanding gives her sympathy towards those who do not want to join the fight against the Galra even if they can. Unlike Te-Osh, she is not concerned with ideals or bigger picture and prefers to stay focused on what she can do to contribute to the rebellion without losing touch with her family.

I think her and Matt met for the first time in S4 on Olkari after visiting the Castle of Lions. Making Matt a part of her crew and having Matt reunite with other rebels he knew from Kraydah Moon (but to be honest I doubt they've always been stationed there as it's more likely they've moved between different bases to remain hidden from the Galra Empire). Including his good buddy Gus, big man Ozar and N-7.

If you don't remember who Ozar is it's the big blue guy with a spiky hat. He also fucking died in S8 but the only part of S8 that exists is Hunk and Keith's carnival date so we're just gonna ignore that.

He seems to have the highest rank amongst the rebel fighters as evidenced by his commanding attitude. He is described to be the link between Voltron and the rebel fighters. He actually reminds me of the Miran race from DaiRugger/Vehicle Voltron (which we know are now canon to vld universe because of the epilogue) because of his blue skin and pointy ears. Now if only he lacked eyebrows...

There's not a lot of info on Ozar at all but because his VA also voiced Jake from Adventure Time my brain couldn't stop associating the two making them similar in personality. Except Ozar doesn't have ADHD.

I believe his age and experience gives him a lot of authority which most officers seem to respect. He would take the role of organizing important missions and managing diplomatic relations. Something Te-Osh usually stays away from because of the overall frustration that comes with it. Therefore, if you ever needed a permission to do something Ozar would be the guy to ask for it.

Ozar is pretty chill and likes to make jokes to brighten the mood during his off duty hours. And he wouldn't mind telling a story or two about his time with the rebellion. He keeps his chill even during the most extreme situations as he needs his cool head to command his squad in battle. Doesn't take risks he knows to be futile and would rather fail the mission than to lose more people to this war.

Of the relatives he has a granddaughter whom he keeps safe with the people he trusts because she lost her parents to the Galra Empire.

You can see him as the space grandpa.

He was asked to watch over N-7 by Mary Ann (the sort of OC I mentioned earlier).

Now, here's where I'm taking some liberty with the universe by creating a new race. Which are the descendants of the same race that Trigel was a member of. Because just like some Alteans managed to escape Zarkon's genocide it's not baseless to say that Trigel's people also managed to stay hidden from the Galra Empire and also further evolve into a race I'm about to introduce.

Caspians. They populated the planet Caspia. Over the years they've made some significant technological advancements which resulted in the destruction of the local environment. They've tried to take steps to reduce the effects before eventually leaving the planet. Still, many decided to stay and preserve what was left and continue their effort to restore the environment. Those who left eventually became who are now known as Olkarion people. Those who stayed focused on developing terraforming technologies and preserving their last bits of the lost culture.

One person in particular grew up to become a robot science genius. That being a woman named Mary Ann. She was originally a DotU II character which is why I wouldn't call her a fully original character. She appears in the episode "Take a Robot to Lunch" and gives the paladins a new perspective on war. She is a stubborn pacifist who has strong opinions about war and violence. Mary Ann used to contribute to the war effort by building robots until her creations began to be used as a weapon against innocent people. Which cemented her decision to leave and give up science for good. She scolds the paladins for how they just use more violence to solve problems but learns that combat is not all they do by the end of the episode. That's a quick summary of her character in DotU.

I decided to incorporate her into vld universe because she interested me. And because if someone created N-7 it had to be her.

In my lore Caspians had little to no interactions with the Galra Empire due to their beneficial location away from the Empire's grasp. Mary Ann, being a promising robot scientist, decided to leave the planet to pursue her curiosity about the galaxy and find resources which she can use to build even better machines. That way she ends up learning about the state of the galaxy and joining the rebel fighters providing them with technologies to help the war effort. It's how she eventually meets Te-Osh and Ozar. As a side project she begins the development of a software to help with automation of certain tedious tasks and data analysis. It's later being used to help analyze the radio chatter and collect all the necessary data. For convenience she would later develop a proper user interface which laid down roots for the development of an AI in the image of her people who was meant to develop their own identity. This is N-7 (get it? Ann seven?). It ended up being something personal to Mary Ann while she began to notice how her creations are being used to cause more harm than good. For example when the Galra troops steal devices of her design and repurpose it into weapons of destruction. And if that wasn't enough her own allies would use the same devices to cause destruction in the name of justice and goodness. Mary Ann would develop distaste for the methods her allies used to achieve their goals which put her at odds with Te-Osh. Because for Te-Osh not fighting back meant allowing the oppression to happen. So, when you put two headstrong individuals with opposing values against each other it rarely results in anything good. Mary Ann wouldn't put up with being used like that and decided to leave the rebellion. N-7, now learning more about the world around her, refused to come with because she "felt" the responsibility to stay and help as that was the whole reason she was created in the first place. Understanding of the decision Mary Ann parted ways with her "daughter".

I wanted Mary Ann and Te-Osh to develop a strong and close relationship (a romantic one maybe?) before Mary Ann's departure. To make things more frustrating for both of them when they eventually come to a point where their beliefs can no longer coexist without causing any more drama and conflicts (their beliefs CAN coexist but by this point they're too stubborn to realize it).

I also decided to use her character to explain Matt's behavior in S05E01 when he found something or someone in a prison cell which made him late AND extremely pissed off. So, imagine after leaving the rebellion she gets captured by the Galra and put into Lotor's prison for scientists (a plot from the DotU episode where Haggar tried to capture Marry Ann to make her build robots for their army). I don't see her willingly doing anything for the Galra so instead she would try to sabotage the research admittedly making it worse for every other prisoner because they have to receive punishment because of something she did. So, you can say no one likes her.

And here comes Matt. My poor son just trying to rescue his father. Opening up the last cell in the facility. His last hope. Only to find an unfriendly woman who not only refuses Matt's rescue attempts but scolds him when she recognizes the uniform he's wearing. Matt being late could be explained as him simply arguing with Mary Ann who refuses to go with him. And his unexplained uncharacteristic anger could be the result of the argument that took place where she openly expresses her distaste for his new found family and maybe even name-drops Matt's deceased mother figure (albeit unaware of her status). And here we go! It ties to Matt's own off-screen story and provides a possible explanation for what the hell did he see in that stupid cell.

So, Matt leaves her to fend for herself and they separate. And Matt is understandably pissed but refrains from talking about it because it’s of no one’s concern. But Mary Ann’s story doesn’t end here. Because I was planning to bring her back later after Voltron disappears and the timeline enters its 3 years time skip period. To have her apologize to Matt for what she said and realize she may have been wrong about the rebel fighters after all. And to have a proper reunion with N-7 who has developed beyond Mary Ann’s imaginations. She joins the coalition to help out her own way not with violence but with means of protection.

And that’s pretty much it for her.

And now we get to a character, whom I admittedly thought about more than others. Welp, not my fault I’m so into robot/AI characters.

It's a rebel fighter who was theorized to be Romelle, Keith’s mom, a druid and even Merla? All of which turned out to be wrong. Because she’s just an AI and not really as important as we thought she would be. As with Olia, this character has some off-screen explanation by the Word of God and can you see more in this article.

It's something, but it's merely a confirmation that she was an AI and that what we saw of Matt and her in S7 and S8 wasn’t just us hallucinating. The rest is for us to think of.

So, as mentioned above she's an AI developed by Mary Ann who over the course of the development started to consider N-7 her daughter. N-7 is constantly learning new things about the world as she's getting more hardware upgrades thanks to all new resources Mary Ann was able to get her hands on. To properly articulate her thoughts N-7 would also learn to use body language (often by mimicking Mary Ann, Te-Osh and Ozar to some extent, eventually developing her own system).

Her early work for the rebels mostly consists of data analysis and assisting comm specialists, but would later extend to supply/vehicle/inventory management and some occasional medical assistance whenever a doctor needed additional help. She would also pick up combat as having self-defense skills is important for any rebel officer. Most importantly, sometime after Mary Ann's departure N-7 would provide her assistance for the radio listening team. Because she was able to make the job easier there was no longer a need for a team of people on that job. It wasn't taken positively because all it meant was that those who were left without a job likely had to join the offensive forces which most couldn't do due to their physical or otherwise psychological limitations. This in turn would lead to the development of a system of listening outposts that N-7 could operate. Keeping track of every agent, their designated location and information recorded in their respective area. The more complicated the system was getting the more operators were required. Especially with how fast the coalition would grow in s4. So, eventually the system wouldn't need N-7 as the head operator anymore allowing her to join Olia's crew.

I still can't quite figure out what her role is in Olia's ship but I'm assuming it's something like keeping the ship in tact and making sure all systems are taken care of. I do like to think her contribution to the rebellion begins to take more proactive turn after joining Olia. Like taking part in ground missions and such. Which also opens her to new connections and perspectives.

As for determining her personality it's a little tricky. Because it always downs on me that I'm just creating another EDI (why must one fictional AI lady be so good) whenever I approach the subject of AI characters. But here I go.

She's cold and rational as you would expect. And can get into trouble with other people because of her acting out of logic and what makes sense while that isn't necessarily something that someone needs or wants. So you can get the occasional breaking of boundaries. But she also tries to understand human (or alien) psychology to make sense of the interactions happening around her (well I guess we do be entering the autistic thinking territory). It's how she understands that Matt openly freaking out the first time they meet is not a sign of a personal attack but simply his post traumatic brain acting up when he's faced with someone who reminds him of the Galra droids. Her speech patterns are descriptive and straight to the point and her body language is pretty nonchalant and distinguished. N-7 may be an AI, but she does "feel" things in her own way. Through a complicated system of priorities and signals meant to recreate chemicals in our brains. And while it's not something organics can truly relate to is it fair to deem her perceptions less "real" than that of organics? And it's that way she evaluates her viewpoint of the rebellion and decides that she has the responsibility to help people because she can and because her abilities can save lives in the long run. It simply makes sense for her to stay and help.

I will conclude the first part here, but I hope all of that wasn't a bit too much to deal with (;ŏ﹏ŏ) especially with how abrupt the ending is...

[Second part]

#vld #voltron #rebel fighter #freedom fighters #voltron coalition #te-osh #unilu rebel #olia voltron #n-7 #ozar voltron #fuckduckfuckficlctiock #matt holt #long post #mary ann dotu

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baeklination · 3 years

Text

Your Other Sun

Date: 210713

Warnings: cosy SMUT🔞, outdoors sex

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 1, 2k

Masterlist

¤¤

Lying in the grass-clad clearing, the occasional cool breeze coming in, you're happy to be out of the scorching heat.

"See, you don't even have to be in the sun to be warm. This is way nicer", you muse.

"I know...", Baekhyun replies at length, his slow summer's boy voice kicking in. "It's enough to lie next to it, isn't it?"

Your grunt makes him giggle through his nose as he finds your hand.

"Isn't it?"

You're never less in love, but some days you're more in love, so you humour him.

"Perfectly enough", you agree and roll to lay your head on his chest.

The laughs and yelps of people enjoying themselves over by the beach have long since become white noise in the background, giving way to birdsong from the trees up above and the crunchy jumps they make on the dry leaves looking for food on the ground.

You grab your towel and put it on him, covering his swim trunks.

"Hm..?"

"You look cold."

"What..?", he chuckles amused. "I'm not cold."

"Oh… So you're warm?", you play-act.

"Of course I'm warm, it's a gazillion degrees, what are you talking about..."

"Mhm… Then of course you don't want this on you", you say and remove the towel. "And maybe...you don't want these either..?", you ask, holding on to the waistband of his shorts.

Baekhyun's eyebrows twitch upward before he opens his eyes; he looks at your hand, then at you before smiling cautiously.

"No one's here, B."

"What if someone swims by..?"

"No one's coming all this way. And if they do - lucky for them, no?" You let go of the waistband and move your hand to his thigh. "But I get it", you sigh. "Relaxing is preferable to relaxing...with my hand around your cock, relaxing with your hands on my waist while I ride you…"B

He groans and strokes his stomach. He's done for. He pulls down his trunks, shoving them off with his feet the last bit, already breathing heavier. You're already breathing heavier; there is something especially freeing and arousing with having sex outdoors - full, totally naked, type sex. Even with no one around Baekhyun controls his volume as you put your hand around him. He's not completely hard yet, but you feel him growing stiffer with every pump. The tips of his fingers dance on your back, his lashes flutter on his closed eyes, his rosy lip is caught in his teeth as he carefully breathes.

You sit up and let the head of his cock squeeze in between your lips to land at the back of your throat, never stopping the movements with your hand. Baekhyun coos and brushes your hair out of your face so he can see you properly.

"Mm…", he moans, undoing the tied bow of your bikini and pulling it down as far as it will go. "Take 'em off…"

You quickly undo the other one and let him throw them to the side. He steers your body up close to his and spreads your cheeks before urging you to lift your leg.

You arch deep, giving him a good look at your slick pussy. He hums in appreciation and kneads your ass before enveloping your clit with his warm mouth. You reward his tender kisses and flicks with swallowing his cock as far as you can; he moans deeply, vibrating straight onto you.

"Fuck me", he whispers hoarsely.

Baekhyun makes it somewhat difficult to concentrate on what you're doing as he's sucking hard just above your entrance before letting his tongue play in and around it, so you willingly oblige, turning around to face him.

Painfully beautiful. The dimmed forest light makes him shine like a diamond among the emerald foliage. His face is painted with both sweetness and arousal. His eyes are focused yet filled with love. His stomach sinks into his spine when you sink down on him, his hands ever so lightly holding your waist. His mouth hangs slack as he - with bright eyes - looks at your pussy swallowing him with ease, feeling you tightly caress down his length each time. His cock stretches you out, filling up the space perfectly with each lowering of your body. His thighs push against your ass. You moan, bring your hand down, fully enjoying the slippery touch of your own fingers across your clit as a gust of cool wind blows in.

"Shh…", Baekhyun hushes, afraid you'll go too high.

He's not wrong - if anyone is walking on the trail nearby they might hear your heavy breathing, or your damp bodies clapping against each other in the otherwise still brush - but you dismiss his caution all the while noticing his firmer grip and lifts. There's something hard, uncomfortable, under your knee, but you put it out of your mind as you continue flicking your fingers, invoking waves and curls that eventually go through your whole pelvis.

"Fuck..!", you whine, just before going over the edge.

You slam down quickly and hard on him, pressing his cock to the hilt with every wave and held back wail, feeling your juices escaping through the edge, smearing around Baekhyun's cock.

You ride it out, grinding on him so his pleasure won't be delayed and slump down to his face, kissing him. Your fingers catch his hair, his travel further down, firmly holding on to your ass as he begins to thrust; slowly at first, humming, but he breaks the kiss with a moan and picks up his pace, rolling his hips as deep as his fingers squeeze into your cheeks. Now it's your turn to shush him - his turn to chuckle through his pleasure, grabbing you by the neck and kissing you.

"Shh...sorry", he giggles through the kisses, realising staying quiet isn't all that easy. "Mm, shit…"

You kiss him by the neck, letting your own moans freely hit his ear, making him sound all the more. You spread your legs as much as you can and clench around his cock. A hitched gurgling escapes his throat.

"I'm gonna come", he stutters, hugging your body tight to his. "Ahsh...shit…"

His wail rings out clear, smooth as honey in your ear when he gets his release, thrusting, pushing his cum even further in, letting a few hard thrusts seal his orgasm.

His arms relax with him, stroking your back as he breathes heavily. You laugh into his chest which in turn makes him laugh exhaustedly, running his hand through his hair.

"Shit..."

You slide off him and drape the towel across your bodies.

"Aow...", you frown, rubbing your knee.

"What?", he asks, still catching his breath.

"There was a stone or something under the blanket. Kept pressing on my knee."

"No pain, no-"

"Were you in pain?", you joke, raising your brows at him. "Hm..?"

"Yeah, a lot", he grins, bending his arm over his eyes. "So much pain."

"You're such a… Well, I guess we better not do that again then..?"

He peers at you from under his arm and and explains:

"Eh… No, I'm willing to go through it. For your sake, that is…"

"Ah…", you muse, as if now understanding things clearly. "For my sake."

"M-hm. In fact, I'm willing to go for a swim and then endure it again."

#baekhyun #baekhyun smut #cosy summer smut

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whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

Heyo! 👋 hope you're doing well! If you are taking requests right now, maybe some Ichi hurt/comfort? Like maybe he's having a depressive episode one day (me? Projecting? It's more likely than you think 😂) unlike any he's ever had before, and he just doesn't have the strength to do anything, even make snippy remarks at any of his brothers. One (or all, you can pick!) of them notices this odd behavior, and makes it their mission to help him feel a little more like his old self, even if that just means "riding out the storm" with him.

Oof this was really long, lol sorry 😂 but thanks for taking the time to read, I love your writing style! Take care! 👋

eyyy don't be sorry! God I REALLY enjoyed writing this... I love how it turned out

sometimes these guys can be jerks, for sure, even when one of their own is in pain

but... when it's serious... THIS BEAUTIFUL SHIT HAPPENS

please enjoy Ichi being spoiled and surrounded by love from all his brothers because HE DESERVES IT and I love how this turned out <3

Ichimatsu’s first (and maybe only) mistake is that he assumes his brothers don’t pay that much attention to him one way or the other unless he speaks up.

Or, maybe it’s that he often hopes they don’t.

Because he knows they care; there are little things they all do that remind him that no matter what, they love him. But they all have their own things to do, and most of the time he finds that best. They should be able to do whatever they like instead of wasting their lives making him feel better. He has a bad day or hates himself so much of the time, if they paid him attention whenever he wasn’t doing well, they’d never get to enjoy themselves with other things.

He cares about them, too. So usually he’d rather they occupy themselves with their own interests whenever he’s not feeling well. He can bury things deep inside and pretend those shitty feelings don’t exist and act almost normal. As normal as someone like him can act, anyway. For their sake. They don’t deserve to worry about him.

Today, he’s too tired for whatever reason. His scathing barbs and negative attitude on most days aren’t really fake… on the bad days, though, he can force his typical demeanor so nobody suspects he’s not fine. All they see is sour-faced, ill-tempered fourth brother Ichimatsu.

He can’t even do that much right now. It’s as if the weight of existence and his own mind is pulling him down, further and further, until he’s drowning in his thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Things telling him he’s worthless, a failure, a burden, good for nothing, should probably be dead… too many things to keep track of.

If he were trying not to get his brothers’ attention by being quiet and listless, it isn’t working. In fact, his current behavior has actually done the opposite.

While he’s lying in the corner of the room, curled around himself and wishing he could fall asleep to avoid dealing with these thoughts and feelings, the others are around their table muttering among themselves.

“You guys noticed he barely touched breakfast, right?” Osomatsu is the first to speak up, and he’s doing his best not to look at Ichimatsu too much, simply because he doesn’t want his younger brother to feel everyone’s eyes on him. He’s pretty sure that would just make matters worse.

Choromatsu hums in agreement. “Yeah, no, he just kind of stared into his tea… he might have taken a sip or two, but that’s about it. I don’t think he even ate any rice.”

“Did he even brush his teeth this morning?” Totty speaks up. “Or his hair? It looks messier than usual, and I was the last one in the bathroom before breakfast, and it didn’t look like his toothbrush had been used.”

“Also,” Karamatsu chimes in, “I believe that is the same outfit he wore yesterday. He didn’t sleep in it, but he put it back on when he got up even though it hasn’t been washed.”

Choromatsu frowns and steals a quick glance at the fourth eldest. “Like he… didn’t wanna think about picking something different out, huh? And… it’s kind of worrying that he didn’t brush his teeth or hair. I mean, that’s basic hygiene. It’s like he’s depressed or… some… thing…”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off, and the rest of the brothers exchange a concerned look with each other.

“Oh,” is all Osomatsu says for a moment. Then, “Fuck.”

Before anyone else can breathe a word, Jyushimatsu leans back away from the table and collapses with his head in Ichimatsu’s lap. “Aaaah, Ichimatsu-nii-chan! Baseball practice today? We can do it at the beach!”

Ichimatsu hardly flinches at the abrupt contact, but really it’s because he doesn’t even have the strength to be startled. He doesn’t move to push Jyushimatsu off or bounce his leg to dissuade the him from staying or anything. It’s a moment until he actually says anything, like a delayed reaction from a computer. “Uh. Not today, Jyushi. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

“Hmmmmmmm… oh, I know! I’ll nap with you! Maybe we’ll dream about baseball!”

All the others watch closely, waiting to see if he gives an average Ichimatsu reaction. Instead, he doesn’t even shrug. “Yeah, if you want.”

Obviously, that’s not what they would be expecting from any other day. They all look at each other again, minus Jyushimatsu who just curls up against his big brother’s side.

Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is so out of it in his own head that he doesn’t realize that he’s done anything to worry his brothers. They should all be paying attention to their own shit, right?

He just feels so exhausted despite that he knows he slept okay last night. All he did this morning was wake up and get out of bed and already he’s… drained.

You’re so lazy. You can’t even put together the energy it takes to read a fucking magazine or something? To do nothing like you usually do? What kind of loser doesn’t have enough energy to do something like watch TV?

What the hell is wrong with you?

He cringes at the sound of his own inner voice berating him, and ducks his head down between his knees. Shit. Everything hurts. Isn’t that right, though? He’s useless. It doesn’t take any effort to just sit somewhere watching TV or reading and yet he’s not even willing to do something like that.

Even though he expects that Jyushimatsu might want to hang out with him, because the two of them are close, he doesn’t anticipate it when Osomatsu comes over and sits himself down across from Ichimatsu. At least, he thinks it’s Osomatsu. He doesn’t really feel like lifting his head fully; it looks like a red hoodie, though.

“Uh, hey, Ichimacchan.” Osomatsu feels a little awkward at first, mainly due to the fact that he’s never sure what to do when Ichimatsu is in one of ‘these’ moods. What works on one day might not work the next time. Previous experience is all he has to draw on, though.

“I noticed you didn’t eat too much at breakfast… you in the mood for something sweet?” Tempting him with one of their favorite treats might put him in better spirits, at least for a minute. “There’s a box of imagawayaki on the counter… there’s three in there, so we can split ‘em. Mom said these ones have chocolate cream in them.”

Everyone else lets out a blissful sigh as they all think about how delicious that’s going to be. Bean paste or custard or even regular cream is always good, but chocolate cream? If they had to fight over those, someone might end up dead.

Ichimatsu offers a shrug in his brother’s direction. “Sure, if you guys want. I’m just not that hungry.”

Osomatsu frowns, and looks over toward Choromatsu who’s thankfully recovered from the imagawayaki imagine spot. None of the brothers would ever turn that down. Even if they weren’t necessarily hungry, they’d make room for something that good. Moreover, given that Ichimatsu didn’t eat anything at breakfast, he should be starving,especially for sweets.

Choromatsu makes his way over, setting a careful hand on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. He doesn’t have any more of a clue what to do than their eldest, so he’s flying by the seat of his pants just as much. Something has to be done… they can’t just let poor Ichimatsu suffer. “Ichimacchan? It’s pretty cold today. How about I turn on the kotatsu, and if you’re gonna nap, you can sleep with your legs under it? That might feel nice.”

Well. That does sound nice, Ichimatsu thinks, because curling up under the heat of the kotatsu is always nice in the winter. But… he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to even move from this spot. “Oh, yeah… I’ll probably just nap here, though. Don’t really feel like moving.”

“Aaah, but you are cold, aren’t you? I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here!” Karamatsu is up in an instant, tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders. Although it leaves him in nothing but a tank top ― and a horribly plain grey one, at that ― it’s a necessary sacrifice for his little brother’s comfort.

He hurries over to where everyone else is gathering and gently drapes the jacket over Ichimatsu’s shoulders. “Hmph… Karamatsu to the rescue as usual! You’re looking cozier already.”

Man,Ichimatsu’s mind comes up with, I try on Shittymatsu’s dumbass jacket one time and suddenly he’s coming up with any excuse to put the stupid thing over me. Do I really want him freezing instead of me? Why don’t I just move my ass over to the kotatsu? He’s gonna catch a cold and it’ll be all my fault because my stubborn ass didn’t move and he took pity on me.

God, I wanna die. They’re all falling all over themselves to do shit to cheer me up when they should be focusing on themselves. I’m fucking trash, making my brothers waste all their damn time on me. Why couldn’t I just do stuff and not make them worry?

“… Ichimatsu-nii-san?” Totty has plopped himself down in front of Ichimatsu, staring in concern at his big brother. Fuck. He’s using that eye voodoo of his, and if he says anything, if he asks Ichimatsu a question, he’s gonna get an honest answer despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t want to admit anything.

He can’t help it, though. Totty’s hand is soft as he reaches up toward Ichimatsu’s face, thumbing away tears that Ichimatsu didn’t even realize he’d started to cry. But his youngest brother is delicate in the way he brushes them, so caring and tender that any little bit of strength Ichimatsu had to keep things hidden away crumbles quickly.

“Hehe,” Totty chuckles, though there isn’t a genuine mirth behind it, “you’re not having a good day, Ichimatsu-nii-san… are you?”

He blinks, and more tears start to drip down his cheeks. This time Totty doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, instead staring at his brother with those big, sad doe eyes, glittering with sympathy.

Ichimatsu lets his head drop again, eyes pressing against his arm and tears soaking into his sleeve. “N-no,” he manages to say in a quiet, insecure, small voice. He hates it. He hates making this stupid confession, because he should be able to take care of himself. His brothers don’t need to be huddled around him, pissing their days down the drain. “I’m… I’m having a bad day.”

With that, it’s like all five of them attach themselves to him all at once. There’s a brief cacophony of worry and reassurances, and a hug Ichimatsu almost loses himself inside of.

“Alright, you hear that, guys?” Osomatsu announces, maybe a bit louder than he really needs to. “Ichimatsu’s having a bad day! Woohoo!”

Choromatsu scoffs. “Ah, ‘woohoo’?? Osomatsu, you idiot! This isn’t a good thing!”

Osomatsu pulls away to rub a finger under his nose with a grin. “Hey, sure it is! He said it, didn’t he? Good for you, Ichimacchan! You’re having a bad day and you said so! Remember what happened when Totty kept junk from us? We need to know this shit! I’m glad you said something!”

Karamatsu’s hand tousles Ichimatsu’s hair as he pulls his brother into a hug. “Yes, Osomatsu is right. You’re having a bad day, Ichimatsu, and that’s just fine. It takes a lot of bravery to admit it, so we’re proud of you.”

“Plus, we’re gonna make this the best bad day ever!” Totty hums. He’s whipped his phone out before anyone can so much as blink, typing away on it. “It’s just about lunch time, so I’m gonna order some takeout! Ichimatsu-nii-san, what sounds good? Curry? Sushi? Ooh… maybe fried chicken? We don’t do that too often… might be a nice treat! Oh, it’s your call, though.”

Osomatsu gives Ichimatsu a tiny bump on the shoulder with his fist. “You and Totty figure that out while I go cut that imagawayaki for us. Be right back, guys.”

… Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone or something? What the hell???

Ichimatsu lifts his head just a little, looking at all his brothers. Totty’s on his phone looking at delivery options, Osomatsu is headed to the kitchen, Jyushimatsu is nuzzled against his side…

None of them are leaving him by himself. They all still want to be here even when his mood sucks ass. Even when he can’t really do anything for himself. Even when he’s being a huge fucking pain and a thorn in their sides and doing literally nothing to contribute to the day.

What the hell are they all doing? Why are they all fine with wasting their day taking care of him?

When Karamatsu presses a couple of tissues into his hand, Ichimatsu somehow finds the energy to use them to wipe his face. Fuck, he hates crying, and he hates people seeing him cry. “Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking morons. You have better shit to do than…”

“No way!” Jyushimatsu aggressively snuggles against the side of Ichimatsu’s stomach, circling his arms around his brother’s waist. “What better shit could weeeee have to do? We’re shitty NEETs!”

Choromatsu chuckles. “Besides, there’s literally nothing more important than taking care of each other, especially when one of us is down and out. Ichimatsu, you… know none of us are shy when it comes to being honest. So, just… try to believe us when we say there’s nothing we’d rather be doing than being with you right now.”

He straightens up, then gingerly taps Jyushimatsu with his foot. “Hey, Jyushi, how about you scoot yourself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu? And Totty, are you really gonna make a delivery driver come out in this weather? It’s almost below freezing! Why don’t you go get it yourself?”

“Excuse you, but if they haven’t shut down the delivery option, why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I don’t wanna leave Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“Okay, okay… I guess that’s fair. What are you ordering, again?”

“Aaaah, I dunno! I was waiting for Ichimatsu-nii-san to say what he feels like.”

Meanwhile, Jyushimatsu has somehow gotten himself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu, and is currently shoving his big brother’s legs under it while Choromatsu moves to plug it in. “Home run, YEAH! Your tootsies will be toasty in no time, Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“O-oh… thanks, Jyushi…” That’s about all he can say, really. He’s slumped over the table in a matter of seconds, and although there’s no way it can support the weight of everything he feels like he’s being crushed under, feels a little more relaxing than holding himself in a tight ball in the corner.

He’s going to cry again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again. His brothers, his selfish, douche-a-holic, demon brothers… would rather be taking care of him on a bad day than out doing their own things, not touching him or his shitty mood with a ten-foot pole.

Jyushimatsu is cuddled up on one side, and he can feel Karamatsu settling in on the other with an arm around Ichimatsu’s shoulders. That’s it. He’s surrounded by brothers and their warm, selfless-for-once-in-their-lives affection. He has to surrender. He doesn’t stand a chance.

His mind drifts back to the others. “Oh… Totty…”

“Oh! Yeah, mhm?”

“Um… curry sounds good, I guess.”

The impossibly huge smile on his youngest brother’s face comes through even when he speaks. “Oh, great! Curry it is! Okaaaay, I’m gonna get it from that nice place in town. You want it with rice or udon? Or do you want curry bread?”

“Uhh… just with rice.”

“Rice, okay, sounds good! Beef, chicken, or pork?”

“Huh… you mentioned fried chicken, now that sounds good. Does that place do curry rice with tonkatsu on top?”

“Oooh… that does sound good. Yeah, I think there’s an option for that. Chicken tonkatsu with curry rice, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Is that what everybody wants?”

“Yeah, Totty,” Choromatsu injects, “just order the same thing for everybody. We’ll all eat that.”

“Okay, what about sides? Does anyone want fukujinzuke or rakkyō?”

“Geez, just… just get half of each and we can divide it up if anyone wants any.”

“Okaaay! I’m not ordering drinks from there, though… too expensive. We have tea here. Oh, I’ll get a few orders of pork curry bread, too, in case we want a snack later.”

“Well, make sure you get either three or six.”

“Yeahhhh, Cherrymatsu, I’m not stupid! I’ll just get three; I’m fine buying some, but I’m not trying to go broke! Does that sound okay, Ichimatsu-nii-san? The curry bread for later?”

It takes a moment, but finally Ichimatsu lets out a breathy, almost tearful laugh as he leans against Karamatsu’s shoulder. “Totty… you’re trying to fatten me up… you witch… you’re gonna cook me and eat me… that’s your plan, huh?…”

The whole room erupts into a small fit of laughter, even Totty who’s blushing at being teased. Ichimatsu feels Karamatsu press a kiss to his head, and he sighs. Usually he wouldn’t be able to take all of this… the attention, and Totty blabbering away, and Choromatsu trying to be responsible, and… everything.

At the moment, it feels right. Like things are supposed to be this way. Like he’s supposed to be having a bad day so his brothers can all gather around him and remind him that regardless of anything else, when one of them needs their brothers, everyone is going to be there.

Maybe he needed that reminder.

Maybe they all did.

#depression tw #suicidal thoughts tw #Osomatsu san #whump #Ichimatsu #Osomatsu #Karamatsu #Choromatsu #Jyushimatsu #Totty #hurt/comfort #emotional whump #depression #caretaking #LOOK AT MY BOYS!!!! BEING GOOD BOYS #TAKING CARE OF THEIR BROTHER!!!!#y'all PLEASE SCREAM WITH ME #I love this fam so much ;-;

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raviotherabbit · 3 years

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royal pain in the ass - chapter 1

Chapter 1: Era of the Wilds Queen Zelda rebuilds her palace.

[first] - [next] read it on ao3!

△ ▲△

Three months ago, Link started this time travelling journey. Before he left through that portal, with eight heroes waiting behind him expectantly, he held onto Zelda’s hand and promised he’d tell her everything.

They were a good bunch, by Zelda’s judgement. She was relieved knowing that the Hero of Twilight was looking out for her former knight. And the Hero of Time and Hero of Warriors seemed to have good heads on their shoulders, so she certainly shouldn’t be worried there. And Link was even friendly with the others, like the Hero of Hyrule and the Hero of Winds! She was glad there were at least some people there to indulge him, once in a while.

One of their visits landed on a beautiful day, right on the edge of summer. As a bit of a treat, Zelda let the Hero of the Four Sword and Hero of Legend loose on what remains of her library. She idly watched as her Link—Wild, the others called him—disappeared into Castle Town with Wind in tow, both of them giggling.

“We should probably follow them,” Twilight grimaced.

Zelda startled, caught off guard by Twilight’s suggestion. They were sitting against the wall below the castle’s observation room, comparing and contrasting their respective monarchies when he’d abruptly changed the topic.

“What for?” she questioned. “There’s not much trouble for them to get into. Let them have their fun.”

He sighed. “Wild’s idea of fun usually involves explosives.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. He can be very responsible.”

“You were there when he launched himself halfway across Hyrule, right?”

Zelda paused for a moment, glancing back to the palace gates Wild had disappeared past. Their last visit, he had wanted to show off to Hyrule just how far he could launch himself with his bombs, and, somehow, he’d made it all the way to Hateno.

“Perhaps I’m a bit lenient with him,” she relented. “I suppose I just like seeing him happy.”

Twilight said nothing, but he arched an eyebrow at her. Something about his scrutiny made her heart drop, and for a split second, she wondered how much he knew about her and Wild’s shared past. What happened to him, how she couldn't save him before-

“I mean, he deserves as much, doesn’t he?” she hastily explained. “He’s got a second chance, now.”

△ ▲△

Queen Zelda Sarya Hyrule awakens for the day, leaning her hands on the balcony as she looks over her kingdom’s sunrise. It’s a bright, fresh morning, the smell of last night’s rain still in the air. This morning marks three months, officially, since Link's last visit.

Zelda sighs. She supposes she ought to be used to this. She’s got a hundred years’ worth of experience waiting for Link, she can survive however long it takes him to finish this mission. She could spend her time worrying over her friend’s safety, but really, eight other heroes from eras past? He couldn’t be in safer hands.

It’s only a shame they had to halt their weapons training, for the time being. Zelda’s getting tired of sparring with dummies.

She steps away from the balcony, stretching her arms out. She’s been using the observation room as her temporary quarters. And it’s not that she wouldn’t rather stay in her old room, if it weren’t for the broken bridge and collapsed roof, it’s just…

Well, Link always referred to his life as a new beginning. Maybe this can be one for her, too.

First thing to do, get dressed. Yesterday was laundry day, so her clothes are nice and clean.

Second, get some breakfast. What she wouldn’t do for some coffee-

Splash!!

“Oh shit!”

“No! The pallets!”

Upon further analysis, it appears Zelda won’t have any time to get dressed before her day begins.

She shows up to the moat wearing an old, plain shirt and shorts, her pajamas since she’s woken up. Her hair is messy and tangled, and she’s still having trouble keeping her eyes open. But when Bolson and Karson notice Zelda, the latter bows to her as though she were the picture of beauty.

She has to resist rolling her eyes. What would her father think of this?

“What’s the issue?” she asks them as Karson rises. “I heard something about palettes?”

“Ah, well-” Karson stammers. “You see, your majesty-”

“Our horses,” Bolson explains, mercifully cutting Karson off. “They were carting pallets of material for our work today, when something spooked ‘em. Knocked the pallets into the water, ‘n Karson and me were trying to figure out how to fish ‘em up.”

Zelda raises an eyebrow, glancing at each side of the bridge. Aside from the rushing water and the slight breeze, all is still.

“What could have possibly scared your horses? There’s nothing up here, and-” She peeks down at the river. “The Zora aren’t supposed to arrive for a few more hours.”

Karson speaks. “I’m sorry, your majesty, I don’t know-”

She holds up a hand. “I’m not blaming you, Karson. I’m simply confused.” She sighs. “Don’t worry about your supplies. Do whatever else you can for now. When Prince Sidon and his guard report to the palace, I’m sure I can convince some of them to scavenge your belongings.”

“Thank you, Queen Zelda,” Bolson responds before Karson can make a fool of himself again. “Hudson went after the horses. Karson, we should see if he needs any help.”

Zelda watches as the two of them leave. Link had personally attested to the quality of work Bolson Construction could do, and truth be told, she’d hired them on his recommendation alone —though the fact that one of their members had built an entire town by hand had been particularly alluring. Her father would have thrown a fit at Bolson’s “manners”, or lack thereof, but that very trait was the reason she enjoyed working with him so much. He understood that she was in the same boat as the rest of them.

But that story about the horses had her worried. On such a calm morning, when most of the kingdom had yet to stir, she couldn’t help but fear that whatever had spooked them so bad had been malicious.

She looks back over the bridge, trying to peer down into the dark water. It wasn’t so long ago that the castle had been teeming with monsters, after all. Sure, they aren’t quiet, but is it possible some of them were missed?

Well, whatever it is, it could at least wait until she’s dressed.

△ ▲△

“I’m worried about excavating the Great Hall.”

Zelda is enjoying her breakfast (buttered bread, Hylia, how she misses Link’s cooking), when Yunobo approaches her. He, along with several other young Gorons, volunteered to help clear the debris from Hyrule Castle and its adjoining town.

At first, Zelda had been a bit concerned about having not only Vah Rudania’s new pilot, but Daruk’s direct descendant working so closely with her. Daruk had been a dear friend of hers, after all, and she wasn’t sure she could bear having a reminder of him walking around her home.

But right away it had become apparent that Yunobo is nothing like his grandfather. He’s innocent where Daruk had been optimistic, hesitant where Daruk had been a leader. It was easy enough for Zelda to pretend that there was no relation at all.

Wordlessly, she motions for Yunobo to sit beside her, which he does.

“Link got your slate to you, correct?” she asks, pulling out her own.

Zelda had been quite shocked when Purah had presented her with a brand new slate, a replacement for the one she’d given to Link. Apparently one hundred years of research and a now-peaceful world meant technological advancements could happen fast. And with the correct payment, she was willing to make a few more for the rest of the new Champions.

Yunobo nods, shyly taking his slate out. His is much larger than the ones provided to the rest of the Champions, on account of his larger hands.

“Perfect.” Zelda pulls up a file, a diagram of the castle’s interior, and taps their slates together. “Did that transfer work? You should have a copy of the castle’s blueprints now.”

“Oh wow!” Yunobo holds his slate to his face, marvelling at his screen. “This is amazing, your majesty!”

Zelda can’t help but smile along with him. “I thought the same thing when I first started playing with the first one,” she admits. “You can use this to show me what’s troubling you.”

“Right.” He points to the main entryway to the Great Hall. “See, we’re focusing on this part here, because it’s easier for us Gorons to move around. But I’ve been noticing a lot of rocks in the rubble from further up the castle.” He sighs. “It’s unstable. If we keep going as we are now there’s going to be a hole in the rock right up to the Sanctum.”

Zelda frowns, eyes fixed on the blueprints. So far, they haven’t had any issues like this. Most of the ruins have been from the stone lining the hallways, not the mountain itself. And, despite being a researcher, she’s not exactly an engineer. Can something like this even be fixed?

“Well, first of all, we’re stopping construction on that area immediately,” she instructs. “Make sure the rest of the Gorons know that. Then, go to Bolson with your concerns. His work has been temporarily delayed, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you figure out this problem.” She tucks her slate at her side. “Does that work for you?”

“Thank you!” Yunobo beams, and isn’t that a sight? Link told her he used to be very anxious a while ago. “I’ll get on that right away, your majesty.”

What she wants to say is ‘No need for that. Call me Zelda.’ But something about it gets caught in her throat.

“If there are any other issues, let me know,” Queen Zelda says.

△ ▲△

There have been talks, lately, of turning Castle Town into a trading hub for the rest of Hyrule, and Zelda thought it was a wonderful idea. It was, after all, how the capital had been established many years ago, and returning to its roots would be a good way to build it back up again. She’s already gotten the word from several villages that they’d be willing to send merchants. The only thing left to do is to strike up a deal with the Gerudo.

Lady Riju is wise beyond her years, and Zelda can’t help but see herself in the girl. Forced into a role of importance at such a young age, carrying the burdens of loss and leadership on her shoulders…

“Using Castle Town as an in-between for your trades with the Gorons would make for shorter journeys in the long run.” Zelda and Riju are seated at a table in the dining hall, which the Queen has converted into an office of sorts. Both are flanked by several guards, yet their attention is focused on the slates in their hands, displaying a map of the kingdom.

“We would get our gemstones faster,” Riju reasons.

“Exactly,” Zelda says. “Not to mention, this would also open up opportunities for you with Zora’s Domain. I’m not sure whether you would appreciate their fish, but one of their other major exports is Luminous Stones.”

Hearing this, Riju raises her eyebrows. “Now that is interesting.”

The Gerudo are lucky to have Riju, Zelda decides. She knows there’s only one jeweler in Gerudo Town—aside from a few hobbyists—and yet, the chieftain was clearly interested on her behalf. Now that the Calamity is gone, the Gerudo may as well expand their horizons a bit.

Urbosa would be proud.

Zelda immediately shakes that thought off like a dog out of the water. “Of course, you’ll have to work the details out with the Zora themselves, I’m just offering the venue. But Prince Sidon is supposed to come by later today.”

Riju hums to herself. “Buliara,” she says, turning to the guard by her side. “Make sure we get a meeting with him before either of us leave.”

“Yes, Lady Riju.”

With that assurance, Riju faces Zelda once again, standing. “Well, Queen Zelda, it looks like we have a deal, then.” She offers Zelda a hand.

“Thank you, Lady Riju.” Zelda takes her hand, and the two shake. And that’s where Zelda assumed it would end.

“Actually,” Riju clears her throat, and suddenly it isn’t Riju, Chieftain of the Gerudo standing in front of her. It’s Riju, the thirteen year-old child, eyes wide and pleading, awkwardly holding onto one of her arms. “I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything for a while…”

Zelda winces, and in that instant she sees Riju avert her gaze. “Oh, Riju,” she says. “I’d love to, but…”

Riju holds up her hand. “It’s no matter, your highness,” she claims, displaying strength as if Zelda didn’t just see her put a wall up. “I should discuss the changes to our trade routes with the Gorons, anyway.”

Some other time, Zelda promises herself. She’ll make time for Riju soon. But as Riju beckons her guards and leaves, she can’t find it within herself to say it out loud.

△ ▲△

Zelda really thought she could do it this time.

Ever since she’d gone through the process of selecting new Champions, new pilots for the Divine Beasts, Zelda has spent quite a bit of time with them. Training, maintenance, everything to help them move along as smoothly as possible. And it’s been fine with all of them!

Well, with the exception of one.

Riju and Yunobo are both generations removed from their ancestors, and if Zelda doesn’t remind herself, she can almost pretend there’s no connection at all. And Teba isn’t even related to any of the former champions. But Sidon…

Zelda storms into the makeshift infirmary, a large tent just outside the castle, to find Sidon having a wound wrapped by a nurse. Noticing her arrival, the nurse offers a bow before sliding out of the tent past the Queen.

“Prince Sidon,” she fights to keep her tone diplomatic. “Please tell me Captain Bazz lied to me.”

Sidon is so Mipha.

“Queen Zelda-”

“Stop,” she commands, and some part of her mind recognizes it as one her father took often. “You-” She points a finger at him. “-the crown prince of the Zora, a race known for their weakness to electricity, decided to take on a Lynel, of all things. Is that correct?”

Somehow, in all her five-foot four-inches worth of glory, Zelda has successfully gotten Prince Sidon, a fish towering over ten feet, to cower under her glare.

“Yes, Queen Zelda.”

Of course, Mipha wouldn’t have been nearly as brash as her brother. She knew her limits, knew the risks of facing a Lynel head on, especially a Silver one. She knew she wasn’t the one to take on that task.

Sidon, for some reason, didn’t.

“Okay,” Zelda sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why?”

“Why?” Sidon echoes back at her. He finally meets her eyes, matching her own harsh gaze. “Your highness, that Lynel was too close to Helmhead Bridge! If I hadn’t stopped it, it could have gone on a rampage throughout Castle Town!”

But he had her passion, that’s for sure. Where Mipha had been drawn to healing the injured, Sidon found himself drawn to battle away every danger that could befall the innocent. In that sense, the two of them were the same.

Sidon, like his sister, is a protector.

“You were under orders to clear out the Military Training Grounds! That’s it!” Zelda counters. “That Lynel was not your responsibility!”

“Hyrule is my responsibility! You made it my responsibility when you gave me Vah Ruta!”

Sidon is Mipha in every way that Mipha wasn’t. And how dare he come to her castle, acting the brasher, braver Mipha?

How dare he, Mipha’s most precious brother, risk himself for her?

“I’ve already led one set of Champions to their deaths, Sidon!” Zelda shouts, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going to let you die as well!”

Sidon reels back, looking at Zelda with wide eyes.

Zelda covers her mouth, and her spine goes rigid, like ice. She turns on her heel, making a beeline out of the tent.

“Your highness!” Sidon calls after her. “Zelda! Wait!”

But Zelda ignores him. She pushes the flap out of the way, and once she’s finally outside the tent, she runs.

△ ▲△

Of course it’s her old room. Zelda hadn’t even realized it was her destination until she arrived there, eyes blurry with tears. She slams her door shut behind her and sinks to the floor, finally letting herself cry. Sobs rake through her body, and she’s reminded of the times a hundred years ago, when she would lock herself in this same room after yet another day of failing to unlock her powers.

It’s been a century since then, and she’s right back where she started.

The Champions, all of them, deserve this future much more than Zelda does. She failed them all.

She’s not sure how long she sits there, curled in on herself, crying like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Seriously, what’s wrong with her?

Suddenly, there’s the sound of wings flapping from the literal hole in the room, rattling Zelda out of her sorrow enough to look up.

It’s Teba, because of course it is. Who else would fly all the way up here? His expression is difficult to read, but he’s focused on her.

“There you are,” he says, landing on the ruins of her wall. He hops down. “You scared Sidon, back there.”

Zelda looks back to the floor, head turned away from Teba. Her face and chest burn with shame.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

There’s warmth next to her, Teba sitting by her side. “Now, why are you saying that?” He drapes one of his wings over her shoulders.

It’s disgustingly casual, certainly not the image a distinguished queen should be projecting. But Teba is concerned for her, and Zelda can’t remember the last time she let someone do that. Even Link, her closest friend, she’s kept at a distance. He’s been struggling so much, how was she supposed to burden him with her own issues?

“I keep ruining everything,” she admits, choking back a sob. “His sister is gone because of me. I let Hyrule fall.”

“Zelda-” and how great it is to hear her name. Not your majesty, your highness, the great and wonderful queen who could do no wrong. Just Zelda, the person. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

If only it were that easy.

“I should have,” she retorts. “How stupid were we to believe that pig would fall for the same trick twice?”

“You’re a kid.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh at that, though it isn’t particularly funny. Some of her loose hairs fly away from her face as she does so.

Teba, unamused, sighs. “What are you doing here?”

She rolls her eyes. “I came to my room to cry, obviously.”

“No, I mean-” Teba tries again. “Why are you at the castle?”

“To rebuild Hyrule,” Zelda answers automatically. “To lead my people.”

“Who told you to do that?”

Zelda blinks, and she realizes she doesn’t have an answer for that. Rarely does she ever find herself in this situation.

“Well, no one, but…” she struggles. “It’s what my father would want.”

Teba points at her. “There’s your issue,” he says. “You’re putting yourself in this box, trying to be the person you think everyone wants you to be. And in the process, you’re ignoring yourself.”

“Teba-”

“The reconstruction effort doesn’t necessarily need you, Zelda,” he tells her. “We’re glad to have you, but if you need to go off somewhere on your own, we’d get along just fine.”

Zelda scoffs. “Where would I even go?”

“I don’t know.” Teba shrugs. “Maybe you could check out what Link’s been up to?”

△ ▲△

Teba’s suggestion rings in Zelda’s mind. She tries to sleep, truly, she does. But she ends up kicking her way out of her bedroll in frustration.

So, just as her day began, Zelda finds herself standing on her balcony, staring out at Hyrule. The night is cloudless, the vast sky full of twinkling stars. Hyrule Field is still, save for the breeze that passes through it. It catches her hair, long and golden, bringing it to sway.

Maybe she should cut it.

Hyrule is large. She’s heard from Link of his journey and saw much of it herself. Their initial tour had been half a year ago, when the Calamity had finally been defeated. Sadly, they’d been limited to the main settlements, focusing on making peace with their leaders and spreading the news that, yes, it was over. They hadn’t had much time to divert from the path, to see the little wonders Link spoke so fondly of.

Zelda knows Link would want to show her these wonders himself, but perhaps she could find some of her own to show him? Do something nice for him, for once.

If he ever comes back, that is.

Once upon a time, Zelda told the Hero of Twilight that she was happy for Link, happy for his second chance. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a second chance of her own.

Behind her, she hears it. The sound of reality tearing, ripping at its seams. It’s a sound she’s heard before, everytime Link and the other heroes dropped in unexpectedly. She turns around, and there it is, the oval portal glowing a soft, golden light.

She leans against her balcony and waits, patiently, for Link. It’s rude of them to show up so late, especially when she’s so underdressed, but she can make an exception for the heroes.

But nothing happens. Instead, Zelda feels a tug in her own chest, an instinctual pull that says ‘Hop in’. And she’s reminded of what Link told her about how the group finds their portals:

They’re drawn to them.

△ ▲△

When Zelda doesn’t show her face the next morning, they go looking for her. They find the observation room scarce of most of Zelda’s belongings, her bedroll and clothes all missing. The queen herself is also gone, and in her place is a note.

Dear all,

I went to go see Link. Keep up the work without me. I will return sometime soon.

Your friend, Zelda

#linked universe #lu flora #fanfic #rpita #rav's writing

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore

Rating: Teen Relationship: Werewolf x M!Human Warning: Monster POV, angst, Misguided views of masculinity, soft boy we don’t deserve, fluff

Word Count: 3918

A Werewolf finds her mate during school, it’s not what she expected in a mate.

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It starts in the commons room. The smell of autumn, just near Halloween. Crisp, clean air- though it's a little more than that. Like a pumpkin pie baking in the oven while the October breeze blows through the open windows. It's comforting, the aroma bringing nothing but contentment. Makes me wanna find the source and snuggle up under a blanket near it. I have never had such a smell rest in my lungs like this. Every part of my body feels alive with ever inhale.

It fades during first period but comes back around during lunch. I try to ignore it, conversing with friends as a distraction, but it's very persuasive in it's lingering. I begin to grow anxious as the day continues, bouncing my leg during class while biting my fingers. All of me wants to jump up and run about till I find it. I nearly do just that before the bell rings.

Final period is when it’s the strongest. It's almost suffocating in a mouth-watering way. I take in greedy breaths as I lounge against my chair in civics class. I lazily look around the room, feeling like a basking cat in the warm rays of the sun. my eyes stutter over some gent resting in the front row. Lanky, black hair, average style, completely unremarkable. Though his plainness does nothing to deter me.

I study him, picking apart every detail as he demands my attention. I look at his black curly hair, visions of running my fingers through it rush my head. I can almost feel the strands slipping over my knuckles. Feel the tug of minuscule tangles on my digits. The thought is jarring.

My body feels excited looking at him, practically giddy looking at this lad. I want to walk over and talk to him, what I wouldn't give to hear him speak. I bet he has a deep voice, a rich bass. I get my chance when he is called on by the teacher, answering their question with that satisfying octave. I almost purr at its all-encompassing embrace.

I don’t know what this man is doing to me but it seems I could care less. His presence- though not near enough- is all too comforting. I try to think about it but my brain rolls in oxytocin, ladling cups full over itself every time he talks.

The bell ringing is a startling sound. I jump, hitting my knee against my table with a loud thud. People barely pay mind as they gather their things to leave. A friend eyes me with a knowing grin. Still trying to catch up with how class felt only ten minutes long I just regard them confused.

"So you found them," they ask.

"What?"

They scoff," Your mate, you found them? Or perhaps you have some of the good stuff and your holding out on me."

I scoff along with them, utterly confused," What are you going on about, Patrick?"

"Are you joshing me right now," he gawks," You are sitting there high as a kite on the smell of your mate. I've seen that exact look on my brother when he found his at a wedding we went to for another friend." my mind flows with thoughts, trying to delay the inevitable. It all fit together once he said it. Mate. That plain Jane sitting in front of the class is supposed to be my mate. A nerdy, lanky, pasty teen that could never keep up with the likes of me. Hell, he is just some human! How could some weak boy be paired with someone like me? I was meant to have a big powerful man. A body that oozes power, a stature that demands attention. I deserve a man, not a boy.

Patrick rattles on about heaven know what while I deny everything my body is telling me. I come up with every excuse in the book till I label every reaction to something ridiculous. With too much ire is shoot out of my seat and storm off to my car. I need to clear my head for a while.

The week fills with intoxicating scents and denial. It's extremely frustrating talking in circles with myself about something I feel is already dealt with. He is nothing to me, simple as that. He could never be on my level and clearly a handicap in any relationship we may have. As clear a stop my decision is it has a tendency to come full circle when I catch a whiff or see him in the halls. God, that smell will always make my heart swell and my mind melt.

One day that poor lad talks to me, asking a simple enough question about an assignment. The words that spilled from my mouth tasted bitter before they left the tip of my tongue. In some sort of crude about way I answer him defensively, projecting my inner turmoil into hateful words. From strangers to more in just a few words. Someone I deemed nothing to me became a victim to my ire. I began bulling the lanky teen.

I hated myself every time I spat hateful slurs or punishing quips at him. Not even in a heartfelt way but in a way that I disrespected someone on any level. I was harsh in my everyday life, it tends to come with the territory, but I was never mean for the sake of being mean. That exactly what I'm doing, spewing my anger of the situation to someone that despite everything didn't deserve it.

I find out through the week that his name is Lance, a straight-A, gym hating, bug fearing, nerdy teen. He is nice to everyone he meets and has taken to socializing himself up the high school popularity ladder. No one took advantage of him and treated him well enough. Despite his deep love for all thing fantasy he was never ridiculed for it, he was just too sweet to tease. With that, I become to school bitch. Oh, the irony.

"Alright, I can’t take it. Why are you so closed off lately," Patrick asks. I stop glaring out at the tree line and turn towards him. I see my reflection in his sunglasses, hating to see how casually I look lounging back against the picnic table.

"What," I feign ignorance. Patrick huffs, turning away to also lounge against the picnic table.

"For someone who found their soulmate you are being an emotionally unavailable bitch. Hell, you are teasing that poor Lance dude from algebra. Like, what in god's name did he do to you?"

I stiff at the mention of Lance, balling my fist and biting my cheek. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

"For what? I'm tired of this, what happened? Did your mate reject you? Is this why you are being a class A bitch? If so, I'm here to listen. It can be painful to know your mate doesn't want you. If you like I can go kick their ass, show em what's what," Patrick rambles. In his wrong assumption, he does strike a chord with me. I finally acknowledge this from Lance's view.

Startled in my new line of thought I rise from my seat and walk back inside. Patrick sits up, watching me go, but does nothing else.

I walk all the way to the library, resting in some off corner to stew in my developing views. I never realized how Lance may be feeling, well besides how it feels to be bullied. I already felt like trash but its way worse now. Lance may not be able to tell like I can what we mean to each other but humans tend to have a sense about these things. How he must feel to have this strange pull to me that results in constant berating. It's easier for me to cast him aside not knowing what his feelings may be. I feel even worse now.

I startle when I feel a tear roll down my face, the weeks worth of frustration finally wrenching free from my chest. Where one tear rolls, another follows. Soon I'm balling into my forearms while I scrunch up in the corner. It hurts knowing I'm hurting my mate. It hurts thinking about how he must feel, viewing me as this monster I surely am. It hurts knowing how superficial I've been.

Lance, he proved himself to be quiet adept at being a social butterfly, showing great compassion and worth in his daily actions. Not being a typical man, showing off his strength and wealth, but being a real man. He is caring and opens with his fellow students, not leaving anyone behind. Hell, I've even seen him tutor some of the tennis players during lunch. He is just a good guy.

My ear ringing from my realization of ideocracy that I don't hear the quiet taps of shoes on tile. I jump when I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. I bolt upright staring up at the beautiful brown eyes of Lance.

Stubbornly I wipe my tears away," What do you want?" he seems to struggle with his answer, perhaps debating on high tailing it out of here. He settles on squatting down and sitting in front of me.

"I heard sniffling, I got curious," he answers as he rests his arms on his knees. I admire him for a moment. He is so adorable. I always imagined my mate to be drop-dead sexy and droll worthy but Lance isn't that. He is just…cute.

"Well, sorry for being too loud then," I begin to stand," I'll just be on my way then."

Lance raises a hand, stopping me, "No! please, what's wrong?" I glare at his extended hand, viewing all my options for the moment. My body screams to stay, keep close to my mate, but my brain shouts run.

I settle back down.

"What's wrong? Why were you crying," he asks with his well known sympathetic eyes.

I scoff, turning away," Why should it matter? I can't imagine you are too eager to have a heart to heart with your bully."

"Actually, I feel that would be the number one person I'd love to have a heart to heart with," he tries to catch my eyes. I side glance him but hold firm.

"Well, don't expect that here. I was just having a bad day," I brush him off though the truth rests firmly on the tip of my tongue.

"Well then, tell me about it," he gives a quick smile. My heart flutters, my eyes trail over his lips. I find myself in a bit of a trance.

"I realized something I did wrong," I answer vaguely.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I hurt someone I should care about."

"that happens sometimes. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not sure, I feel I fucked up big time," as I answer I can feel the skin on my spine tighten.

"Well, I know the best place to start is with 'I'm sorry' then go from there. Who did you hurt, if you don't mind sharing?"

I open my mouth to answer, the words 'you' almost slipping from my lips. As I sit across from him I can feel the telltale signs of morphing. My nails prick at my palms and I feel my ears part my hair as they stretch. My clothes feel tight as I enlarge. I hardly notice it over the view of him lounging casually across from me. Looking at him feels like a lock is being opened. Almost in a snap, a whimper leaves my throat and tears run down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I hiccup. I quickly fold in half over my legs, clenching at my chest as my back feels like it's tearing. I whimper some more as my clothes tear. I faintly hear Lance gasp over my rushing feelings.

Soon I find myself clawing at the tiled floor on all fours. I snap my eyes up to a surprisingly kept together Lance. Meeting his eyes I let lose another whimper, digging my nails into the tiles. Lance tilts his head, looking sympathetically at me before opening his arms. Quickly I flop down onto his lap, my head pressed against his stomach, claws scratching at his back. He rests his arms over my shoulders, petting along my spine as I whimper and whine.

"It's ok," he coos," I'm not mad." I cry out, clutching at his clothes knowing I'm probably ripping his jacket. It's a relief to hear those words but god it feels like I don't deserve them. He comforts and coos, letting me tire myself out.

I soon settle enough to revert to human -well, mostly human. I still keep the long teeth and pointed ears, even some sprouts of hair. I turn in his lap, rest my back to the floor to look up at him. Lance removes his jacket, draping it over my modesty. Covering the shredded clothes and revealed skin. He then meets my eyes with a cocked brow, asking without words.

I don't answer, instead of raising a hand to cup his cheek. I feel the heat and slight stubble on my palm.

"You seem pretty relaxed for someone who had a werewolf in their lap," I try to joke. It's enough for him to huff in amusement.

"It's not the first time," he answers. I read too far into, growling at the idea of another person in his lap. He pokes at my side," Not what I meant. My best friend is a werewolf. Having seen him howl at the moon like an idiot will make you less afraid of big dogs."

I scoff," Big dogs, shut up."

"I hope you are aware you are a big dog. A big dog that cried in my lap, would you be so kind as to explain that one," he asks. I stiffen, remembering why I was acting a fool to begin with. My teeth pinch at my lip as the stress overwhelms me.

"Hey," he snaps," relax. I'm just trying to figure out something that been bothering me since we met. My friend tried to explain it but I rather hear it from you."

I glare up at him," What do you know?" I begin to sit up, clenching his jacket to me, but he keeps me down.

"Well, I think I can answer with a question," he starts cryptically," am I your mate?"

I choke on my breath. It seems he knows enough.

"Yes," I hold my breath.

"Oh."

"oh?"

"Yes, oh," he teases," as in that answers a lot of things then."

"Like what?"

"Like how even when you call me four-eyed Steve Buscemi, I still pop a boner," he laughs. I find myself covering my mouth while chuckling.

"What," I nearly shout.

"Every time you are around my body lights up, it's insane. Like, I'm a teenager but I feel as an 18 y/o that I would be mostly past instant erections. Though even when you insult my interest and hobbies I still want nothing more than kiss you," he beams down at me. His smile is illuminating.

"Is that right," I find myself teasing.

"Yes, and it was startling to want you so bad though you were being…rude-"

"You can say bitch, I'm aware of what I was being."

He sighs," Yea, you were a bitch. That being said, my main question is why? If I was to be your mate, why were you so mean to me?"

"Cause I'm stupid," I wince," lots of bullshit."

"Like what," he pushes," I really gotta know what's wrong here. My buddy tried to explain this to me and I can't really wrap my head around it. Like if we are meant to be complementary to each other then why are you so mean? I didn't do anything to you so I can't even begin to fathom why you would bully your mate." his tone breaks the comforting air he brought, switching the setting to confrontational. It seems I may have been right, he has some feelings about this. It sets the ache in my chest to high gear, grinding my lungs up as my heart squeezes.

"I'm sorry," I sit up, pressing his jacket close to my chest. I want to bring the fabric to my nose and breath in his warming scent. Now isn't the time. I rest on my knees, not being able to hold eye contact for longer than mere seconds.

"Was I not good enough," he asks timidly," Did you not like what you saw?"

I swallow hard," at the time."

Lance sighs," so you don't want me?"

I shoot forward, holding out a hand," No! well… I didn't, before. Now it's different."

"Now it's different," he scowls," You can just decide these things like that? One opinion one minute then another later? I'm not someone to be toyed with, I have feelings."

"I know! It wasn't going to be like that, I was just being an idiot to begin with," I answer quickly. The stress piles on, falling heavily on my back. I wince when my nails dig through his jacket into my chest. I faintly notice the hairs on my hand thickening. "I'm so sorry, Lance. I was being ridiculous and completely unfair. Please don't be mad," I whimper. My chest aches, my skin burns, my eyes feel heavy. It seems only fitting to wallow in this for the time being.

"Hey," Lance leans forward," Let's calm down, ok? It's easier to explain a half-naked woman over a large werewolf."

I take a few breaths, shaking as each exhale. "I don't think I can."

"Come on, babe, take deep breaths," he pets on my back. I collapse at the affection, whimpering in his lap again like a beaten dog.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't fair to you," I cry against his chest," I was hateful and mean about something I couldn't control. You are enough, you are worthy. I'm the one who shouldn't get a chance, shouldn't be enough for you. God, you were so nice to everyone and caring. I judged you at face value, I'm so shallow. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Lance sat quietly while I whined and wailed against him. I have never felt more undeserving of such an intimacy, a luxury to be held and cared for. He should leave, turn, and never look back at the sad-sack wailing over him. It would be fitting, to be left behind like how I wanted to leave him. I can't comprehend why he would still be here now. Fuck, I don't deserve him.

Lance held me close, letting me fill out another pity fest. He kept quiet, just stroking over my head.

"You know, as mad as I should be I'm not that angry," he chuckles," I know I should be after hearing my mate thought I wasn't good enough but I can't bring myself to care. Hearing and seeing you beat yourself up about it feels like enough. Though I hate seeing you so distraught, even if you did say Warhammer was dumb." I huff, not believing he could find humor at a time like this. His words still settle me, bringing a sense of calm to the storm.

I sit out of his hold, looking over him. He gives a friendly smile, testing the waters a bit as I try to read him. He shouldn't be so forgiving. I surely haven't earned it. Wailing into his chest and taking all the comfort he gives me is definitely not the path to redemption. I am being selfish in taking what he gives me with his open and kind heart.

"Don't," I say.

"Don't?"

"Don't forgive me, not so easily at least," I clench his jacket," I haven't earned it. I have to earn that."

He scoffs," No you don't. it's ok, really."

"No, it's not," I nearly shout," I literally didn't believe you were enough. I thought you were some boy compared to the man I wanted. I wanted some stereotypical macho man with big muscles and a beard. Instead, I got paired with a lanky lad who can't even catch a basketball. I saw you as weak, some human who would weigh me down."

"But, you don't believe that now," he asks hopefully. The guarding wince of his shoulders makes mine fall.

"Of course not. I think you're charming and sweet. You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met, taking care of nearly everyone in our grade and then some. You tutor anyone who needs help, you lend an ear to anyone struggling, you let me cry on you though I was nothing but mean to you," I blink back tears," I don't deserve you. You are too sweet and smart for someone like me who thought you weren't enough. I'm the one who isn't enough. Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how confusing it must have been to be drawn to me and rejected by me. Lance, i-"

I startle at the hands cradling my face then the lips pressing against mine. I stare ahead wide-eyed, confused above all else. Lance doesn't part just yet, carding his fingers through my hair as gentle as possible. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth I react. Reaching up and finally feeling his soft strands gliding over my knuckles while sucking on his lip.

Lance pulls back first, leaving me to awkwardly trail after him. He chuckles as I lean back, shifting his jacket up to my neck.

"I never got to shut someone up with a kiss before, I'd have to say it makes me feel a little powerful to see you so flustered," he teases.

I hide my face in his jacket," Shut up."

"Not yet," he grabs my hands. He lowers the jacket to my neck then cups my cheeks," I think it's my turn to talk?"

I nod.

"Ever since I first saw you I have been nothing but confused. I don't care for being so conflicted over some girl, you made my world tilt a bit. Now that I have all the pieces I can confidently say that I still like you and want to give this a try. What you did hurt, but I get it. Your world tilted a bit too, I can understand how that can make someone a bit angry or scared. I mean I was a mess for a while till my buddy explained it. So I say I forgive you because now I know what it all means and I know you will make it up to me. Like going out this weekend with my buddy and me to a movie. Though I'm sure you will definitely learn your lesson after my friend gives you a talking. I can't stop him and neither can you so it's best we get it out of the way," he smiles," sound like a plan?"

I stare at lance for a moment. I felt I had a plan somewhere in the middle of this conversation. Everything was out in the open and I planned to win him over, dealing with the reprimands of my transgressions before really seeing where this will go. Now everything is sitting at an angle, confusing and wrong. I truly do not deserve him.

But I can work on that.

"Friday then," I ask.

"Friday is perfect."

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Starts off as a story on how woman can also be the problem with how toxic masculinity works. which is true, we shouldn’t pressure or make men feel bad because they aren’t “manly” enough. sometimes men are scared of bugs and that’s ok. towards the end it just became some fluff cause im a sap.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#werewolf girlfriend #werewolf #Monster #monster girlfriend #Enigma-IM #exophilia #fluff #angst #Lance the werewolf fucker

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 6 | …We Lie Low?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

This Chapter: Emma and Tom have to deal with the consequences of their dalliance and they cope in different ways. And a bombshell is dropped, will they survive?

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthy relationships

Emma made the unpleasant phone call to her publicist. In the course of fifteen minutes, Howard used the words “career destroying move” and “how stupid are you” at least ten times. Emma took the verbal battering in relative silence, interjecting only to clarify some statements.

“We didn’t plan for this to happen.” Emma pleaded.

“Don’t tell me, he slipped and fell.” Howard’s voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Not fair Howard. It’s not like that.”

“Tell me what it is like, Emma. Because according to the papers, it looks like you are sleeping with a guy, the world famous actor and infamous bachelor, Tom Hiddleston. Who is one, not your long term, live-in boyfriend, two, you new co-star in your feature film debut in a romantic comedy, and three, did I say NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND?!”

Emma held the phone away from her ear to avoid any hearing loss at Howard’s booming voice. She screwed up her courage to respond to the man, blinking back tears.

“Ex-boyfriend.” she whispered, not trusting herself not to burst into tears.

“Before or after you fucked Tom HIDDLESTON?”

Howard’s cutting and crude remark snapped Emma back into reality.

“Watch your tone, Howard,” she snipped back, tears dried up in her anger. “The last I checked you worked for me.”

“Last time I checked, you didn’t do stupid things. What is going on with you, Emma?” Howard’s tone softened as he questioned her.

She stood in silence as she contemplated the ultimate question laid before. What was she doing? Where were things going with Tom? Was it a fling or something more? Emma wanted something more over the weekend but now in the harsh light of reality and the paparazzi flashbulbs, she questioned everything. She opened her mouth to respond when her phone beeped; she pulled away and Tom’s face flashed back at her.

“Howard, I have to let you go. I will call you later.”

“Emma, don’t—” Howard protested as she ended the call.

“Hey,” she cooed.

“Hey,” the warm baritone voice replied. Emma could imagine his smile. She needed to hear a friendly voice right now. “How are you faring?” Emma let out a sigh. “That good?”

Emma let loose a strangled laugh. “My publicist is not pleased. You?”

“Oh, about the same. Luke is threatening to castrate me over this, so I hope you didn’t want children.”

Emma blushed at the notion. “I will keep it in mind.”

“Luke wants to meet you.” Tom spat out, the verbal equivalent of ripping off the Band-Aid.

“What? Why? When?” Emma sputtered, unprepared for the bomb Tom dropped in her lap.

“Um… he wants, rather demands to meet you. Darling, the ‘why’ is splashed across the front page of all gossip papers and ‘when’ is most likely in the morning because he is flying in tonight.”

Emma gulped, everything, her well-crafted life seemed to be spiraling out of control. Her only anchor point was Tom, who seemed to be weathering the whole affair far better than her. She pondered on the word “affair” that is what it is. She had an affair. Emma let the whole sink in.

“Em,” Tom prodded over the phone, “It will be fine, darling. We will get through this. I promise.” In that moment, he wished to be with her in person, reassuring her.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked, her voice cracking, “I mean, is it worth it?”

“I have waited years to be with you. I will not let a few stories stop me. I have weathered worse for less. You are worth it.”

“Okay.” her voice still sad but not as much. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, I graduated from Cambridge.” That earned a full laugh from her. “Now we need to take your mind off things until Luke arrives. I’m sure about your publicist but Luke gave me explicit instructions to lie low.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Within the hour, Emma found out what “lie low” meant to Tom. The entire affair involved Tom wearing a baseball hat that did nothing to cover his untameable hair and a pair of Ray-bans.

“You look ridiculous,” Emma sighed as she picked him up in a car she borrowed from Mary.

“Nonsense! I am going incognito.” Tom grinned as he slid into the passenger seat. Emma scrunched her nose up. “What, you don’t like it?”

“If this is you going incognito, you might as well wear fluorescent clothing and shout into a megaphone ‘I AM TOM HIDDLESTON’.”

Tom continued to grin as he input an address into the navigation system.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere sinful.”

“Sounds tawdry.”

Tom wiggled his eyebrows. “You know me. Just a sex-crazed actor, destroying relationships.”

Emma groaned. “You are supposed to take my mind off of this fiasco.”

“In due time, love.” He leaned over and kissed her lips as the car came to a halt at a red light.

Emma spent the rest of the trip focused on the road. She couldn’t tell where Tom was taking them and any attempts to extract information were fruitless, met only with silly grins and pecks on the cheek. After about twenty minutes and far fewer miles, the car pulled into a parking lot next to a gleaming white building.

“In ‘n’ Out Burger?!? This is your idea to take my mind off things?”

“Can you give me a better way than drowning your sorrows in cheeseburgers and milkshakes?”

Emma pondered it as she pulled into the driveway. “No.”

Tom put his finger behind his ear and pushed it towards her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear that. Can you repeat yourself?”

Emma punched his arm. “Nope. Now tell me what you want.”

They ordered an obscene amount of food. Tom insisted on paying, leaning over Emma to hand over some cash. His forearm brushing against Emma’s chest and her breath hitched. Tom pulled his sunglasses down to stare at Emma and mouthed the word “later” at her. A warmth ran through her.

The trip back to Tom’s hotel seemed to fly by. Emma spent a fair amount of time, smacking Tom’s hand out of the bag as he attempted to grab one of the burgers.

“Don’t you dare!” Emma teased as she swatted his hand for the twentieth time.

“But…” Tom whined, smiling the entire time.

“No buts, you will spill. I have seen you eat cake.” Emma giggled. “And besides, weren’t you the one who taught Cookie Monster about delayed gratification.”

“I’m a brilliant actor,” he deadpanned.

“Well, act like a considerate boyfriend.” Emma let slip before she realized what she said.

“I don’t suppose we have discussed the exact nature of this relationship, Em. But I am not opposed to the title.” he chuckled as they pulled up to a side entrance of the hotel.

Tom made a quick call and a valet attendant walked through the entrance and opened Tom’s door, letting him out before hustling to the driver’s side to let Emma out. Emma met Tom at the door and he whisked her inside to a service elevator.

“Is this how you always get about?”

“Only when I’m naughty.” Tom leaned in to cage Emma against the elevator wall.

His nose nudged against hers and Emma jumped forward to close any distance between their two bodies. Tom nipped at her lips and she moaned, the opportunity Tom needed to slip his tongue past Emma’s lips, exploring with need and lust. Emma’s hands raked through Tom’s hair, while Tom’s hands cupped Emma’s ass. They only parted at the ding of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Tom pulled her down the hallway before opening his door.

“Welcome to my home.” Tom gestured into the well appointed set of rooms.

It more of a small apartment complete with a kitchen area, dining table, and living room. Behind French doors, the bedroom and the bathroom. Tom dropped the bag onto the counter and she dug through the bag, but Tom pushed the bag away.

“I thought you were hungry.” She turned to see his darkened eyes staring right into her soul.

“Oh, I am,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Well, then… dig in.”

Tom swept Emma off her feet and carried her through the double doors and dropped her onto the middle of the bed. Emma yelped as Tom climbed on top of her, pressing her back into the mattress.

“The burgers are in the kitchen,” Emma muttered as Tom’s lips sucked behind her ear, ghosting his lips down her neck to her collarbone.

“I am aware, but right now I am hungry for something more delicate and sweet.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the implications of Tom’s statement. They soon darkened with lust as Tom snaked his body down hers, teasing kisses along the waist of her jeans. With deft fingers, he unbuttoned and unzipped the fly. A quick hook of the thumbs in the belt loops and one tug he took Emma’s jeans down to her knees. Tom teased them down to her ankles before taking them off and dropping them onto the carpet without ceremony. Tom gripped her ankles and pulled Emma towards the end of the bed.

“Ohh!” she yelped at sliding against the comforter. Emma’s yelps of protest gave way to heavy breaths as Tom pulled her legs apart and nipped up one leg, stopping on her inner thigh right before her core.

“Mmmm,” Emma groaned in delight as she felt herself growing wetter by the second.

“Someone seems impatient.” Tom muttered as he gripped her hips tightly, preventing any movement of Emma’s part. “Wasn’t someone talking about delayed gratification earlier?” He smirked up at her.

Tom teased a finger across Emma’s folds through her underwear. Emma groaned and attempted to buck against his finger, desperate for any friction. Tom pressed her into the mattress, holding her with a vise-like grip, certain to leave bruises by the day’s end. Tom climbed back up from the end of the bed, placing himself between Emma’s legs, pressing his hips into hers. He tugged at Emma’s tank top, and she lifted her torso to allow Tom to peel the shirt off, dropping it to join her jeans on the floor.

As she lowered herself back down, Emma grabbed Tom’s shoulders with both hands and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Her hands first went to his hair, tugging at his long locks as she nipped at his lips. Tom groaned and Emma slipped her tongue inside his mouth as she slid her hands down to his waist. Tom ground his hips against hers and Emma bucked up against him. She tugged his shirt over and off, tossing it into the air. Tom attacked her lips again before trailing down to the pulse point on her neck. Tom sucked hard, nipping with his teeth.

“God, Tom!” Emma moaned in pleasure as she tugged at his jeans, impatient for the main event.

Tom separated himself from her neck and spotted a purple mark already forming on Emma’s pulse point. Tom winced. “I may have been overzealous, darling.”

“It’s fine.” Emma breathed, only half listening as she undid his fly with precision.

Emma pushed both his jeans and underwear down past his hips. Tom stood to finish Emma’s work, taking his tight jeans all the way to the floor. As Tom stood naked, Emma shimmied out of her bra and panties. Tom licked her lips at the sight of her on his bed. He never imagined this trip to L.A. would end like this. If some paparazzi photos and a couple of garbage stories in some gossip rags were the price, he would pay it.

“Now this is what I call a meal.” Tom climbed back on top of Emma.

The tip of his cock teased at Emma’s folds and she squirmed beneath his weight. He gave her a quick wink before pushing into her.

“Ahhh!” she moaned at the fullness of Tom inside her. “Fuck! I will never get used to that.”

Tom chuckled in his throat as he began to thrust into Emma. “Same for me, love.”

Emma gripped his hip, pulling him into deeper with each thrust, his tip grazing her g-spot deep inside. She already felt her release building inside of her. She wouldn’t last long at Tom’s pace.

“Oh Tom, I’m going…” Emma panted. Tom responded by shifting his angle just enough to allow his pubic bone to graze against her clit. A few more thrusts later, Emma came undone.

“Fuck me!” she screamed as she dug her nails into Tom’s shoulders and clenched around his cock.

“God Emma,” Tom groaned as he chased his own release, finding it only moments later. He spilled inside her and then rolled off of her only to collapse flat on his back.

Tom struggled to slow his breathing, he rolled onto his side and pulled Emma close against his chest.

“You know, a guy could get used to star treatment like this.”

Emma snuggled against Tom, wiggling her ass against him in a teasing gesture. “Don’t get too comfortable, Hiddleston. You still owe me burgers and milkshakes. And I have worked up an appetite.”

Tom sat up and got out of bed. “I completely forgot, Em.”

He got up from the bed and headed through the French doors, giving Emma an impressive view of his bare ass. Tom returned moments later, carrying a greasy paper bag.

“Your food, Milady,” Tom gave an exaggerated bow, made ridiculous by his state of undress.

Emma giggled as she dug through the bag with Tom, pulling a burger from the bag. The two of them spent the rest of the day eating the burgers and indulging in other extracurricular activities. Some time around 9 p.m., they fell asleep on the couch watching TV.

Early the next morning, Tom groaned as he heard an insistent knock on his door. He attempted to move but found something heavy but soft on his chest. Tom opened his eyes to find Emma lying across his body, and he nudged her awake.

“Em, get up and get dressed. Someone’s at the door.” Tom whispered as he rocked Emma.

“Huh?” Emma muttered as her eyes creaked open. “What!? It’s morning? SHIT!”

Emma bolted from the couch and shot looks around the room. In her haste, she grabbed her underwear and a shirt of Tom’s before bolting to the bedroom. Tom pulled on a pair of pants and ran his hand through his hair in a failed attempt to smooth his unruly curls. He glanced through the peephole and saw a pissed off Luke. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Luke!” Tom cooed as Luke pushed past him into the room. “I wasn’t expecting you until later. Sorry about the mess.”

Luke turned to face Tom and narrowed his eyes as Tom gave a closed lip smile.

“Don’t try the charm thing with me. You realize it doesn’t work. You are in deep shit, mate.”

Tom dropped the smile and switched tactics.

“It isn’t all that bad, Luke. We have weathered worse.”

“Define the term ‘we’, Thomas. I remember it more like, you acted like an utter twat and I picked up the pieces.”

Tom chuckled. “You say to-mate-toe, I say tow-mat-to. What do you say we meet downstairs in about 30 minutes? I’ll take a show…”

As Tom guided Luke towards the door, Luke noticed Emma’s lacy bra peeking out from underneath a chair. Luke ducked out of Tom’s grip and snatched the bra up.

“You can come out!” Luke yelled into the room.

Tom shifted his stance. “Luke I don’t understand wha…”

“It’s okay, Tom,” Emma responded in a small voice, “Better to deal with this face on.”

Luke gave a smile for a moment as he shook Emma’s hand. “Finally, a voice of reason. Luke Windsor.”

“Emma Masters.”

Luke went to the kitchen table and sat down at the head and gestured for the two of them to sit. As Emma sat down, she ran her hands over her neck in a nervous gesture. Luke only then noticed the dark purple mark left by Tom the day before. His face reddened and the vein on his forehead pulsed.

“A FUCKING HICKEY, THOMAS?!?” he bellowed. Tom averted his eyes from his publicist. “Real classy, Tom. What are you, a sex-crazed, horny teenager making out in your parents’ basement?”

Tom snapped his gaze back to Luke. “Watch it, Luke.”

Emma placed her hand on Tom’s knee and his shoulders softened. “Tom. Let it go. Now Luke, I recognize this is bad but…”

“‘Bad’ is a massive understatement. ‘Career-ending catastrophe’ is more like it! This bastard appears the modern day Casanova.” Tom smiled. “And not in a good way, prat. And you…” he pointed to Emma, “are a common harlot who sleeps with any male that crosses your path.”

Emma blushed. Luke took a deep breath and continued. “And with this new story…”

“What new story?” Tom interrupted.

Luke smirked as he pulled up a site on his phone. “This new story. You two ready to come clean with me yet?”

Tom and Emma huddled around Luke’s phone. The newest story alleged that Tom and Emma’s relationship spanned years, starting in New York and then detailed times over the past five years when the two of them hooked up, whether in L.A., New York, or London.

“Who did you tell?” Tom hissed at Emma.

Luke leaned back in the chair. “Ah, the truth comes out.”

“It is not what you think, Luke. Yes, Emma and I met once before.” Tom looked at Emma for confirmation and she nodded. “Five years ago in New York. Yes, we slept together, but nothing more.”

Emma continued. “We lost touch until I ran into Tom here. The casting happened to be a coincidence.”

Tom turned to address Luke again when Emma realized where the story came from. “Corrinne!”

Luke looked confused while Tom furrowed your brow. “Your friend from the restaurant?”

“Ex-friend at this point. I told her about us the other day. I never expected…” tears welled up in her eyes. “… she would betray my trust.”

Tom gave Emma’s hand a squeeze. “It will be okay.” He kissed her temple.

Luke stood from the table and headed for the door. “I will leave the two of you.” He opened the door. “Don’t do anything stupid, Tom.”

“Of course not.”

Luke rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. Tom turned to hug Emma. “It’s okay, darling.”

Emma wiped tears from her cheeks. “I just can’t accept she would do that to me.”

“Why don’t you call her and find out.”

Emma nodded and dug her phone out of her purse. After several moments, she tossed her phone down. “Voicemail.”

“Let’s go over to her house.”

Emma frowned. “Didn’t Luke say not to do anything stupid?”

Tom grinned at her. “How is a simple face-to-face conversation stupid?”

She was about to find out.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston series #should

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Choices - Dean - Wait Outside

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader.. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: Injury, blood, pain, series levels violence, demon death

Choice: [You chose to wait outside]

Y/N = Your Name | Y/L/N = Your Last Name | Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

---

Your blade was clenched in your shaking fist as you watched Dean walk through the door. Knuckles whitening as you fought the bitter taste of helplessness in the back of your throat. Stopped and anchored to the spot by a simple wave of his hand.

Damn it. You had no choice but to wait for him to signal the all clear. It could be dangerous to go against orders. Plans could fall apart when not followed. Dean could get hurt… Lifting your free hand you pinched the bridge of your nose and swallowed a frustrated groan.

You had to wait. No matter how much you wanted to follow him in. Even if you just wanted to say to hell with the wordless command and make sure you were there to have his back. After all, you were a hunter, a fellow soldier. Not some Disney princess to be coddled and protected.

Clenching your jaw shut, you filed and stored the many angry words away for later. Your eyes burning into the warped front door as you waited for your signal. It wasn’t the first time you’d played the waiting game. The uncomfortable buzz of adrenaline and strained nerves left with nowhere to go but sit heavy in your stomach as you waited for the oldest Winchester to deem it safe enough for you to enter.

Your hand clenching and relaxing around your blade in a futile attempt to release some of the energy coursing through your body. You were a loaded bullet in a chamber, left unfired and without direction. Shit!

You should have guessed he’d leave you waiting outside if he got the chance. He always did. Always play acting as if he was your shield. Not your hunting partner, or a fellow fighter. No. Dean saw himself as a human fortress, built to take the hits, to weather the storms. So you could wait; safe and sheltered behind his walls.

It hurt that you had to play along with it. To watch as he threw himself in harm's way, while you were left just a few steps too far away to watch his back. Hell, he was going in blind and without the needed firepower.

As always, the hunter had given you the angel blade and Sam the colt, with the demon blade as backup, since the youngest Winchester was going in solo. Dean himself venturing into the horror movie farmhouse with nothing but iron, holy water and a target on his back to battle demons. Not even letting you cover him as he went to war with items that could only incapacitate, not kill, any of the five demons in the house.

If they all jumped him, he wouldn’t be able to get the exorcism out fast enough to avoid getting hurt. But what could you do? It wasn’t as if you could start a fucking shouting match with the stubborn sacrificial man. Not if you wanted any shot at catching the demons unprepared.

So, you could only watch as he opened the door that could be a demonic ambush waiting behind the rotting and warped wooden door. Standing still, and helpless, just watching as Dean slipped into the shadows of the not-so-abandoned farmhouse and out of your direct line of sight.

Your eyes didn’t leave the wooden door even after Dean had slipped fully into the darkness waiting inside. Just left holding your breath, tense and waiting. Waiting for the finger on the trigger that would let you shoot ahead like the bullet of tense frustration and tightly wound energy you were. To finally wreck some havoc.

---

You didn’t have to wait long.

Though instead of an all clear signal from Dean, it was the sound of breaking wood and shattering glass that acted like the trigger and propelled you into action. The jig was up, and someone just went crashing into something. Really fucking hard. Dean’s gun hadn’t even had the time to fire…

Damn it. Holding your breath, you took the steps up to the farmhouse door two at a time. Your angel blade raised as you kicked open the door fully and rushed into the damp, dark building.

A few steps away, Dean was crumbled in a pile on top of what probably used to be a small side table. The grimace on his face easily faded as his eyes went to yours and twisted in dark worry. But you had no time to get annoyed at the hunter’s protective streak. Not while, as you watched, the demon picked Dean up as if he was as light as a feather and tossed him against another wall. The black-eyed bitch too focused on the fact that she had a Winchester in her grasp to even notice that the cavalry had arrived.

Twirling the angel blade in your hand you pushed the air out of your lungs through pursed lips and jumped towards her. Raising the blade just enough to aim for her jugular and take her out in one fell swoop before she could pick up Dean again. Your own protective rage easily cutting her down before she could even make a single sound.

Nobody put their hands on Dean on your watch.

Pulling the blade back out you wiped it on your jeans while your eyes went to Dean. Assessing the damage to the hunter as your heart squeezed painfully around the possibility of him being seriously injured. Yet, in front of you, the hard as steel soldier was already getting back up on his feet. Your quick attack had bought him enough time to get his feet back under him just as the demon dropped to the floor between the two of you with a dull thud.

“What were you thinking (Y/N)?” Dean’s voice was rough and raw as he struggled to take a few deep breaths after his two separate up close and personal introductions to the peeling paisley wallpaper on either side of the hall. Though his words were angry, his green eyes were soft and focused on your bare arms as he looked for any little scrape he could add on top of his endless pile of guilt.

“I was thinking I just saved your ass Winchester,” You snapped back, though your voice came out more tired and trembling than you’d wanted it to. Worry colouring your own (Y/E/C) eyes as Dean struggled to calm his breathing.

“And I think I did a damned good job of it too,”

“But! I mean…” You cut off his words with a pointed stare at the dead demon by your feet, angel blade twirling lazily in your hand. Pushing out a hip and giving him your best tried and tested exasperated eye roll for good measure. The same look you’d plagiarised from your Sam and perfected over the year and a half you’d known the boys.

“Yeah… Alright. I’m sorry, and thanks,” Dean sighed, giving up on the fight as his eyes finished cataloguing any possible little scrapes on your bare flesh. The instinctive protective worry in his eyes giving way to a boyish sparkle as he grinned at you.

“You did look pretty awesome,” The way his eyes crinkled as he smiled and the twinkle of pride in his words easily teased a small smile out of you. The damned charming bastard knew exactly which buttons to push to smooth out the furrow in your brow and save himself from a tongue lashing. Add to that how that same bright smile paired with warm eyes always did dirty things to your mind, and he easily won most of your disagreements through charm alone. Though you’d never let him know that.

“Hell yes I did,” You chuckled as your eyes glanced down at the defeated demon. Your nose scrunching now that you had the chance to take her in, in all her Good Housekeeping glory.

She was dressed like she was from the 1950s, all hairspray and underskirts. And though you didn’t mind the retro look, hell… You kind of even secretly liked it, though you’d never let the boys know that. In this case it probably meant she wasn’t fresh meat, considering the clothes looked truly vintage. These demons had been around for a while; going undetected and staying out of touch with the changing fashions of the human world.

Meaning there were probably a lot more deaths than you first thought, all under the radar and away from prying eyes. Since a group of 1950s stereotypes wandering the streets would have drawn at least a little attention in the middle of Podunk, USA. But you couldn’t let yourself think about the lives you were too late to save, not now, that had to wait until you were back in the bunker with a bottle in your hand.

“She’s baking pies in hell now,” You said instead, pushing away all the dark thoughts of the many unnoticed deaths with even darker humour. The hunter’s way to deal with bad news and crushing guilt. The darker the case, the darker the joke. Bury the pain under it, and never let ‘em see you hurt.

“Hey! Don’t you bring pies into this (Y/L/N). Pies are innocent,” The joking words had barely left Dean before one of the doors further down exploded open in a cloud of dust, mould and plaster. Alright, so the hunter’s way would have to wait. This wasn’t the time for jokes either apparently. You still had demons to deal with.

The quick first victory paired with the delayed release of your adrenaline and nervous energy had you grinning at Dean before you spun to face the next one up to bat. Your angel blade spinning between deft fingers as you rolled your shoulders. That little reckless devil on your shoulder was itching for action, and the not-so-Good-Wife at your feet hadn’t really given you one at all.

Show time.

Next to you, the hunter rewarded you with another charming boyish grin as he stepped forward, gun raised. The way his shoulders tensed telling the full story of his plan before he even aimed and fired at the demon’s knees.

Dean’s little movements, the glint of steel in green eyes or even the way his shoulders would tense before jumping into the fray were ingrained into you. You’d been standing side by side with the hunter, watching over him, since you’d first started hunting with the Winchesters. You knew what every little silent move meant.

Of course, it was a lesson learned after watching the hunter silently for a long time. But even before that accidental fall into feelings, you’d always just clicked. Since that first fight against fledgling fangs that was your slightly grotesque introduction to the Winchester brothers. Where a slight movement from the green-eyed stranger was enough for you to know exactly when to move out of the way, so he could swing his blade around to swat another overgrown mosquito.

Which was why you could easily take a small, lazy step to the right just as the shot rang out and sent the demon stumbling as the iron bullet lodged in his kneecap. Sliding across dusty floors from the speed of his frontal attack and coming to a full stop right next to your boot covered feet. Exactly where Dean had planned for him to land.

Unfortunately, you weren’t as well versed in demon body language as you were in Dean Winchester. Which was why, as the demon grabbed for your ankle, you didn’t have the time to even fully realise what the black-eyed bastard was doing before he oh so aggressively, and literally, swept you off your feet. Sending you crashing to the dusty floorboards back first, as the demon half crawled, half jumped for you.

Fuck.

Your angel blade was sent flying from your damned slippery fingers by the fall, just as the demon pinned you to the floor. His vicious grin of victory would be a short lived one, however. As you spotted Dean over his shoulder, holding onto your dropped blade and looking absolutely furious. Curling your legs up under you as best you could, you kicked upward and into the cardigan clad stomach just as Dean aimed the blade down, effectively impaling the demon on the angelic weapon without getting as much as a scratch yourself.

“That was a close call,” It was your turn to force the words out through your lack of oxygen as the straight backward fall had left you winded. The dusty air wrestling with your gasps for oxygen and teasing a broken cough out of you. But, as you kicked the now deceased demon off you, your breath stuck in your throat for a completely different reason.

Dean’s eyes were swimming in worry and pain as he reached a shaky hand out to help you off the floor. Shadows of what ifs and former failed rescues falling over green eyes to paint them a darker shade, like a forest at dusk.

“Too close. (Y/N), maybe…”

“No way in hell Dean. I’m not sitting this one out,” You sighed as you grabbed his hand, letting the hunter help you back up. Your early easy banter was completely lost. The close call with one demonic bastard was all it took. Throwing him a small grateful smile to soften the blow of the sharp words you’d used to cut him off you held out your hand for the angel blade that was hanging limp and bloody from the hunter’s other hand.

“You got my back. I’m fine,” You added as Dean hesitated. His fingers tightening around the blade hard enough for knuckles to whiten as he glanced at the demon who nearly got the best of you.

“And you’ve got mine,” He finally sighed, though his eyes were still filled with anxious worry as they laser focused in on the few small scrapes your fall had left you with. Nothing more than a scuffed elbow, really. Still, as he surrendered the blade to you after wiping it off on his jeans, you knew he’d already catalogued every single scrape.

You’d won the round for now though, so you’d just have to brush the blame off his shoulders with a beer later. Hell, even if you hadn’t won, there was no way you were leaving. Not until every last damned demon was dead and the farmhouse was officially considered abandoned again.

Just as Dean opened his mouth to pack on whatever conditions or new plans he had, the sound of a single gunshot interrupted the reconciliatory mood in the damp and dark hallway. Sending both of you spinning in the direction of the loud explosive sound before barrelling down the hallway with no more than a glance in each other's direction.

That had to be Sam.

You held your breath as you followed Dean’s hurried steps down the hallway. Dodging the broken door and loose floorboards on the way. It was a gunshot. Demons didn’t use guns and Sam had the Colt. The big guy was going to be alright. Yet, you couldn’t stop your still strangled gasps for dusty air from sticking in your throat as you rushed towards the sound. Small what ifs making the dim light seem even dimmer.

---

Sliding around the corner just a split second after Dean, you could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Sam was fine. Your best friend was standing unharmed over another 1950s themed dead demon, the Colt in his hands aimed in your direction obscuring hard eyes and a set jaw before finally lowering when he saw it was the two of you.

As the painfully tense hold of his jaw relaxed, the big guy echoed your relieved smile. Rolling his shoulders to shake away the last of the tension, he stepped around the body on the floor to make it over the grimy floorboards to where Dean and you were standing.

“Three down, two to go,” Dean grinned as he gave his younger brother an affectionate pat on the shoulder and smiled over his own at you. The final tense tendrils of worry leaving him now that he was sure you had the upper hand. His words acted as both an early victory celebration and a quick way to catch the younger Winchester up on what had been happening on your side of the battle. Without falling back into guilty worry by explaining the excruciating details.

“That one kept looking towards the left wing of the house, I’d bet a whole week of dishwashing duty on the last two hiding down there,” Sam said with a nod towards the dead demon and his cheap grey suit. This one looked like he’d stepped right out of an I Love Lucy episode, suit one size too big and slicked back hair looking greasy enough to soak in the dust on the floor under his skull. Your best friend gave the dead black-eyed bastard one last look of revulsion, before easily falling into step next to you behind Dean.

The older Winchester’s two sentinel soldiers – watching his back.

“Right, no point in splitting up to look for them then. We’ll head down that way, clean up, then find a place to have a beer and discuss some of the awful things (Y/N) said about pie,” Dean teased. Your Dean was back. The man with the easy jokes and quick smiles. Though you knew they were just a cloak to hide his worries.

It was still a part of him, and you loved every part of him.

Letting Dean take the lead, you kept your blade clenched tightly in your hand. There was no way another one of those demonic bastards would get the drop on you. Though, as the weak light filtering in from the outside dulled once broken windows were replaced with boarded up frames, it became harder to be 100% sure about that fact.

Of course, the bastards were hiding like little rats in the darkest corners of the farmhouse. Demons like these were vermin. Scavengers, just out to cause some mayhem and run away the minute someone remotely stronger than them came out to play. Their cowardice was probably what had kept them alive for so long, and kept their strange fashion choices from standing out too much.

Though it wouldn’t be for much longer.

As the first two of what seemed like it could be endless hallways of endless doors came into view you watched as Dean gripped his gun tighter. His eyes going to Sam’s and nodding towards the first door. Before he lifted his chin in your direction, silently telling you to follow him down to the second door.

As he nodded towards the door, you shifted your grip on the blade in your hands. Needing no further urging as you slid around his side. Your arm barely brushing against the hunter’s toned bicep while you moved yourself around him in the tight hallway. Careful of creaking floorboards as you pushed your shoulders against the wall and covered the rest of the hallway while he aimed his gun towards the wooden door.

Holding your breath, you squinted into the never-ending darkness. Only allowing yourself a quick glance at the door when grey paint peeled off the rotting boards and fell like polluted snow once Dean carefully twisted the doorknob. His gun aimed and at the ready as he gently pushed the door open, only to be met with an empty room.

Looking from the small shake of his head and over to Sam’s matching one you sighed internally. Of course it wasn’t just gonna be the first two doors. That would’ve been too easy. It wasn’t like you deserved a fucking break or anything. Yet, you kept your sarcastic wit to yourself while you moved further along down the hallway. Taking the lead now that your positions were reversed in the narrow hallway.

Door number three it is then...

… Or not.

The thought barely had time to register as you rounded the corner in the narrow hallway and came face to face with a scrawny, balding man in a pinstriped suit. Demon number four you presumed. And, right behind him, there was demon number five. All leather and big biker beard that really didn’t fit in with the typical 50s theme the rest of them had going on.

Clearly he hadn’t gotten the memo.

Throwing yourself back around the corner, your eyes met with the Winchester brothers. Neither needing any further explanation as the three of you jumped into immediate action. Working like the well-oiled killing machine you were.

Dean, as always, threw himself into the direct line of fire first. Peppering the small hallway with iron bullets to slow down the demons and give you an edge. As he fired you crouched down on the balls of your feet next to him, waiting for the click that signalled an empty chamber while you focused on the Sons of Anarchy extra in the back. Leaving Dean and Sam to deal with Mr. Clean’s bald head in the front while you handled big and hairy further down the hall.

Ok, so maybe you also had a bit of a microscopic habit of throwing yourself into the fray. But you were smaller, and faster than the boys. Tactically, it made sense for you to take on the demon further down the narrow hallway.

Jumping up as soon as the last bullet left Dean’s gun, you easily bypassed the injured and cursing balding demon to aim for his friend in the back. Charging on quick feet towards the demon that you’d decided to not-so-affectionately refer to as Tiny. Both because thinking of them as demon number four and demon number five just took too much time away from fighting, and also because it was freaking comedic gold.

Tiny was quick, for a big burly man. Easily dodging the worst of your straight cut as you barely nicked him. His body swinging back to face you and charging at you with anger shining somewhere under bushy eyebrows. Taking a step back you easily parried the worst of the forceful punch, though you were still pushed up against the wall behind you.

Getting your feet under you again, you allowed a quick glance over at the Winchester brothers, where they were wiping the floor with Mr. Clean, before taking a step towards your own demon. As you slid away from the wall your forehead scrunched at the sharp twinge of fire and pain in your side. But you didn’t have time to look down and assess the damage. Not when not-so-small Mr. Tiny was busy aiming for your throat.

Using his size to your advantage; you ignored the growing agonising pain in your side to easily throw him over your crouched back and, twisting, brought down the angel blade right between his ribs. The light signalling his death shining out of his eyes just as his big muscular frame hit the floor with a loud thud and an accompanying rumble through the creaky floorboards.

Hell yes, you were just that good.

Grinning towards where the Winchester brothers had finished up with Mr. Clean, you jumped back up onto your feet. Your earlier injury momentarily forgotten in the rush of victory. You’d finished off all five demons and you were ready to celebrate. Preferably with beers, deep conversations about pie and clean clothes. Since yours were filthy, both from the farmhouse and the crazy amount of demon ass you’d just finished kicking.

Turning fully to face the boys you wiped the angel blade off before letting it dangle limply from your hand as you started your slow walk back to them. Through the dim light in the hallway, Dean was smiling back at you. His eyes bright at the victory and swimming in untapped reserves of adrenaline.

Yet, between one small step and the next, everything changed.

Where you’d just been basking in the warmth of Dean’s smile, the air around you turned cold as his face twisted. Bright eyes darkening and features fallen and grief stricken as he ran towards you. You hadn’t even fully realised what was happening until you tried speaking. His name was just a whisper on your lips as you tried to move towards him, making it just a few more steps before crumpling.

The momentarily forgotten pain was back tenfold as your hands shot to your side just as Dean ran to catch you and keep you from collapsing. Your heavy and numb body forced him to his knees as his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t have the energy to even stand all of a sudden, though you’d been fine just a moment earlier.

What was happening?

As your thoughts reeled, only interrupted by new shots of searing hot pain, you looked down on your hand clutching your side. Lifting a shaky palm up, you couldn’t keep in the sob that slipped breathlessly from your shivering lips. Your hand was covered in your own blood. Shifting your eyes to look around the room you easily found the culprit. The jagged piece of wood sticking out of the wall was just the right angle to practically impale you when you were thrown against it. Just your luck. You’d just finished off five demons, yet it was the damned building that would be the end of you.

“Dean…” You pushed his name out, the only word worth spending any of your limited breaths on. The stabbing pain in your stomach wrestled any other chances of speaking from you as you flinched at the latest wave of excruciating agony. You couldn’t breathe right. Every strangled gasp was a hard-won battle against the dark oblivion of unconsciousness and the sharp reality of pure pain.

“Hey hey hey… Look at me (Y/N)…” Dean’s fingers were shaking and shockingly hot against your quickly cooling skin as he brushed (Y/H/C) strands out of your eyes. His big palms gently cupping your face in his hands as he kept your eyes on his.

“You’re fine. You’re gonna be ok.”

The words were all empty promises. You were anything but fine. You didn’t even need to feel the red-hot pain that was currently burning through your nerves or see the blood coating your hands to know that.

One look into those dark green eyes that were overflowing with worried anguish told you the full story. Broken down through fractals of shattered light as the hunter’s tears threatened to spill. You did this to him. He was hurting because of you, and that just piled on top of the current hellish amounts of torment you were going through as a strangled cough left you wincing in pain.

“Don’t close your eyes okay? Stay with me. You’ll be fine (Y/N). You gotta be fine,” Big calloused fingers wiped at tears you didn’t even notice you were crying as he kept his voice down. You were in so much pain, and oblivion seemed like a tempting option. But you’d listen to Dean. He was your big strong leader, and you’d follow his lead. Both silent palms telling you to wait outside and his current shaking words telling you to keep fighting.

You couldn’t rest. Not yet. You knew your chances weren’t good, but you had to do something. For him, for Dean. And for the heart you’d silently slipped into his hands oh so long ago.

But what?

Could you confess your feelings and free your heart when he would just end up carrying that pain and guilt for the rest of his life if you didn’t make it? Jagged pieces of your broken heart lodged in his chest to make every breath the hunter took from now until the end of time a pained gasp. Or maybe you should just be a soldier. Try to tough it out, to be strong for him. One last time.

---

Make your choice below to move the story along:

What do you choose to do?

[Try to confess] or [Try to tough it out]

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Confused or New to Choices? Start Here Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where you pick your Winchester brother and go on a hunt for one of 8 different endings in total. Four for Sam and four for Dean (2 happy and 2 bad endings per brother). Go to the intro to start your story!

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125 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 10 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: omg HIIIIII hihihihihi i’m SO SORRY for the update gap fam, i started back at work and have been crAzy busy ever since! however i tried to make this chapter one that was worth the wait…….insert one thousand eye emojis if ya know what i mean. hope u enjoy!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

20th November 2020

Vanessa is giggling as Akeria sits with an enormous plastic bag of snacks in front of her on the hard plastic train table. She’s looking at them with the long-suffering eyes of a wearied mother, casting her hands over them as if she doesn’t quite know where to start. She finally picks up a bag of chocolate buttons, stands up in her seat and yells out into the train carriage.

“Okay, whose are the buttons?”

“Oh! Those are ours. Thanks, Kiki,” Jan stands up from the two-seater she’s got beside Jackie and behind Vanessa and Brooke, leaning forward over them to grab the snacks.

“Strawberry laces?”

“Mine!” Crystal cries happily, leaning over Gigi from the table seat they’re sharing with Jaida and Yvie opposite them. She snatches the sweets out of Akeria’s hand and follows it up with a thank you.

“Barbecue Pringles- wait, that’s Yvie’s,” Akeria immediately cuts herself off, leaning over the aisle of the carriage and handing Yvie the tube.

“I’m nothing if not predictable,” she shrugs, ripping off the plastic covering and the paper on top to grab a crisp and then offer one to her dance partner.

“Tangfastics?” Akeria yells out. There’s a pause where nobody claims them. Akeria gives a long-suffering roll of her eyes and yells a little louder. “Tangfastics?!”

Vanessa watches Monique give a jolt in the two-seater she’s sharing with Monet. “Shit, sorry Keeks, that’s ours!”

(Vanessa suspects that Monique’s delay in hearing her snack might be because of the way Monet’s got her hand resting on her thigh and had been whispering something to her moments before, but she’ll park that for now, use it to make fun of her at a later date.)

“God damn, stop gazin’ in Monet’s eyes for two whole seconds,” Akeria teases her, to a hoot of laughter from the other girls and a glare from Monique herself.

“Can’t help it that they’re so dark and intoxicating,” Monet pipes up with a dramatic gesture. Asia yells at her to shut up from over her headrest. A little further down the carriage, Vanessa can see a businessman shaking his head in despair.

“Gigi, that’s your fruit platter,” Akeria hands the tub across the aisle, already able to tell the model’s choice of snack. Vanessa silently takes the bags of Starbursts and chilli heatwave Doritos that she’d asked Akeria to pick up for her and Brooke respectively. “Whose are the Haribos?”

There’s another silence. Vanessa has to hold in her laughter at Akeria’s growing frustration. “Girls, I swear to Jesus, y’all cannot send me to the shop to grab all your motherfuckin’ snacks and then not claim ‘em! Who ordered the goddamn Haribos?!”

Asia blinks suddenly, looks up from her phone and tugs Akeria’s sleeve. “Bitch! Those are ours, we got them! Sit your dumb ass down!”

The girls all roar with laughter as Akeria sheepishly sinks back into her seat. Vanessa can’t help but give a little bounce in her seat from excitement because they’ve made it; she’s off to Blackpool with a girl that likes her back, her two best friends, and the rest of the dorks they’re sharing the competition with. They’ve got a Cha Cha Cha this week which they’ve practised, polished and perfected, and Vanessa can feel a little bite of excitement to the cold air which makes her think maybe…maybe this week it’s their time to get a few more tens and perhaps be top of the leaderboard this week. She’s confident, and she knows Brooke is too. They chatted through their thoughts about the week ahead when Vanessa walked Brooke to the tube station the night before, and her heart still gives a little excitable thud when Vanessa remembers the way they’d stolen a kiss in the dark just beside the entrance.

Whatever it is they are feels like one of the fairytales Vanessa used to watch when she was little on VHS tape, the ones she used to rewind the moment they were done to go all the way back to the start. She and Brooke are still focused on the competition obviously, so for now they’re still content with stealing kisses behind the scenes of It Takes Two, going for dates that aren’t really dates and are more mid-rehearsal lunches, long and lingering goodbye cuddles where Vanessa rests her head against Brooke’s chest and wishes she was going home with her instead of to her own empty flat. It’s nameless and exciting and a bit of a foray into the unknown, only Vanessa knows it’s not really so much of an unknown because she trusts Brooke, she knows she likes her back and how much she’s devoted to her. It’s the way Brooke nuzzles against Vanessa’s hair and mutters a compliment about how talented she is, or the way she’ll stop mid-kiss to just murmur about how beautiful Vanessa is against her lips, or the way she links their pinkies together midway through a rehearsal break and shyly comment on how lucky she is. It all makes Vanessa’s heart feel huge and light and fast in her chest, a helium balloon filled with butterflies.

“Guys! Train selfie!” Crystal cries suddenly, jolting Vanessa out of her daydream. Vanessa leans onto the middle of the table to squeeze herself into shot and yelps when Brooke tugs her back.

“You just totally Mike Wazowski’d me!”

“Oh like anyone could miss you in any photo, fuckin’ lil miss beanstalk bitch!” Vanessa teases her, the girls all laughing in response.

“So funny that half your fans think you’re datin’. You two fight like cat an�� dog on the daily,” Asia rolls her eyes and snorts. Vanessa feels her body spark with electricity as Brooke takes her hand under the table and squeezes it a couple of times in secret.

She feels guilty as she looks to Akeria who’s raising her eyebrows at her, still very aware of her crush. It’s not that Vanessa has kept things secret from her and Monique intentionally. It’s just that she and Brooke have been so wrapped up in each other and their rehearsals, not to mention the fact that they haven’t had a girls’ night in forever. Vanessa resolves to tell them this weekend, having to bite back a smile as she thinks about their potential reactions.

“Guys, get in the fucking selfie already! My arm is hurting!”

Vanessa leans back into Brooke’s chest and feels something in her ribcage blossom as Brooke puts her arms around her in a hug for the photo.

The train starts moving and all the girls give an excited squeal of delight which makes two old ladies a few seats down look at them all suspiciously. There’s a flash of recognition in their eyes after a second and their attitude changes, judgemental eyes becoming kind. Vanessa wonders if it will ever fully sink in that she’s ‘famous’, a public figure. Right now it just feels as if she’s going on some big mad girls’ weekend away with her second family and a girl she really fucking likes.

The evening is mostly taken up by the train ride, all the girls having rehearsed during the day and trundled their suitcases to the train when they were done. Yvie vlogs, Crystal and Gigi chatter excitedly, and Akeria and Asia bicker about who’s eaten the most buttons. Vanessa and Brooke for their part hold hands underneath the table, share little smiles that speak both volumes and a thousand words, and flirt just enough to make Vanessa’s heart beat out her chest but not enough to arouse suspicion. All the while they speed past towns that she’s never heard of and will never visit, blurs of green and grey shrouded in the dark of the Autumn night sky.

The train doesn’t go all the way to Blackpool so they have to change at Preston, which Vanessa knows nothing about other than the fact it’s got a train station. The girls find the platform for their connecting train and mill about, stopping once to take photos with an adorable little Strictly fan who can’t be more than eight years old. Vanessa chats away with her way more than the other girls do because the little girl’s dark hair, nut brown skin and huge brown eyes make her miss her own little cousins back in Puerto Rico. She asks her about school, and if she dances, and what she wants to be when she grows up.

When the girl replies, “a dancer like you”, Vanessa almost tears up.

She tells her not to give up on her dreams- because it’s what eight year old her would’ve needed to hear- and then waves her and her Mum goodbye. By the time she’s finished chatting and she turns back around, Brooke is waiting for her with a little smile on her face.

“What? What’s that look for?” Vanessa laughs a little. She wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around Brooke’s waist in a hug but the platform is busy and the other girls could see them.

“Nothing. Just you’re really cute with kids.”

Vanessa smiles bashfully, looks to the ground. When she looks up again Brooke has come a little closer to her. Vanessa pouts as she very gently threads the tips of their fingers together, the closest they can come to holding hands in public.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

“Let’s do it,” Brooke giggles quietly, a little sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s just start making out and watch how the girls react. Yvie would put it in one of her fucking vlogs.”

“Storytime- my Strictly co-stars just kissed?” Vanessa jokes, and Brooke wheezes a laugh which in turn makes the other girls turn round. Vanessa immediately drops their hands as Asia eyes them both with suspicion.

Brooke looks back at her and Vanessa can feel her pulse speed up at the adoration that’s in her eyes. “You look so good today, let me take a candid that’s not really a candid.”

“A plandid,” Vanessa shrugs back, then screws up her face. “I look like shit though. I sweated all my makeup off in rehearsal, my skin’s all dry from that train heater an’ I’m wearing sweatpants I’ve owned for six years.”

“Still cute though,” Brooke winks, and Vanessa tries to suppress a smile as she relents, shakes her hair out and looks down the platform. She’s surprised to find the train making its way up the tracks and after a second she leaps back, grabbing her suitcase and Brooke’s arm and yelling to the other girls.

It’s only when they’re on the train again when she gets an Instagram tag and realises that Brooke managed to take the photo, and she has to admit she doesn’t look too bad. She’s confused, though, when she sees what Brooke has captioned it.

bhytes: sls 🧡

Vanessa looks quickly at Brooke before tapping out a message to her.

V: what’s sls mean??? x

She watches Brooke’s reaction in real time as she receives the message. Her eyes widen a little and a pink blush appears on her cheeks, almost as if she’s been caught at something. Vanessa watches her fingers hover over the screen, typing against the air as she tries to figure out how to reply. Eventually, Vanessa’s phone buzzes again.

B: Oh I meant to type sis!!!! Silly typo x

Vanessa narrows her eyes- she’s not buying that for a second. Sure enough as she goes back to Brooke’s Instagram page there’s a small “Edited” beside her caption, and it now reads what Brooke had just told her she’d allegedly meant to type. Feeling a little guilty for snooping, Vanessa scrolls through the comments- there’s one from Yvie already, and another from Jackie, and some from Brooke’s friends and colleagues of course, but eventually she reaches the fans.

branjie2020: SHE EDITED IT IM-

strictlybranjie: Brooke we see u girl

brookelynnbites: not little mix secret love song…………

Intrigued, Vanessa looks up the lyrics and instantly she knows why Brooke had been shy with her. Now blushing herself, Vanessa puts her phone face down on the table and loses herself in thought. She thinks about the lyrics. Why can’t I say that I’m in love…it’s just a song, Brooke probably just meant the sentiment generally, but still. Vanessa can’t help but wonder if maybe they could make something of whatever it is that they are, a fling between two members of a TV show. Maybe they’ll be together when this is all over, and maybe…well. Vanessa hasn’t told anyone that she loves them like that since Kameron, and it would be a big deal if she said it to somebody else again. She’s not falling for Brooke yet; that would be ridiculous, especially given that they’ve not even so much as seen each other naked, but all Vanessa knows is that she really likes her, cares for her so much that it almost scares her, and whenever she’s around Vanessa feels as if she’s levitating.

Vanessa puts her jacket over her lap and wordlessly takes Brooke’s hand underneath it. She doesn’t miss the smile on Brooke’s face when she squeezes it reassuringly.

They all eventually reach Blackpool, the windy seaside weather and the sound of the seagulls greeting them as soon as they’re out of the train station. Their hotel isn’t far from the Tower Ballroom and Vanessa’s glad that they’re not staying at some run down B&B although the BBC, always eager to cut costs wherever they can, has booked them all in with each other in twin rooms. Vanessa isn’t mad about that. Admittedly after that moment they had in Brooke’s dressing room last Saturday she’s been thinking ever since about how she could engineer some form of sequel. She’s narrowed it down to finding an excuse to crawl into Brooke’s bed at night, bullshitting something about it being too cold in her own and how it would be so much warmer if they just slept together. That’s if she needs to be subtle, of course. Knowing how Brooke had practically slammed her against her dressing room door last week there’s probably not going to be much need for subtleties.

“I hope you don’t snore,” Brooke laughs, rolling her suitcase out of the lift and onto the carpet of the hotel corridors. Vanessa lets out an incredulous snort.

“Bitch! Do I seem like the kinda girl who snores? I’m insulted.”

“No, that’s true. I need to worry about you talking in your sleep instead. The loudest girl in the fucking cast,” Brooke laughs, Vanessa kicking a leg forward to knock Brooke’s suitcase off-balance as revenge. Even though it wobbles on its wheels, Brooke is undeterred. “I’m going to be trying to get to sleep and just as I think I’m drifting off all I’ll here is…AN’ FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!”

“Shut up,” Vanessa giggles, giving Brooke a push as they both arrive in front of the hotel room door. Brooke presses the key card to the pad and walks in first, and Vanessa is too busy struggling with her case to gauge her reaction at first. That is until Brooke turns around from the spot she’s rooted to in the middle of the room.

“Oh.”

Vanessa frowns. She doesn’t really know why Brooke’s grown so awkward and quiet all of a sudden until she takes three steps forward and can see their room properly.

‘Oh’ is right. Because there, in the middle of their room, is a double bed. No, not double. King-sized, a king-sized fucking bed that’s probably the size of a small country village and is just for the two of them. All Vanessa’s plans go out the window because this is…new, and unknown territory. A quick makeout session in Brooke’s dressing room is one thing but the two of them haven’t even stayed over at either of their flats yet, they’ve never shared a bed in any context before. Vanessa bites her lip.

“Well…” Brooke says finally, trails off. Vanessa realises that she’s not going to finish her sentence.

“Um. I can go down and get ‘em to change it?” she offers, regretting it as soon as she’s said it because despite it all being new territory she’s not exactly opposed to it.

“No! No, it’s fine,” Brooke says- a little too quickly, Vanessa thinks, which causes her to suppress a smirk and try not to let her thoughts get carried away. “I mean, we’re both adults, it’s fine. Plus it’ll probably be comfier, right?”

“Yeah. Sure, right,” Vanessa nods and agrees, trying not to seem too eager.

It’s late by that point, so the pair of them unpack, trying to chat easily but the elephant in the room shaped like a king-sized bed is still very much present. Vanessa showers before bed and changes into her pyjamas, a little embarrassed at how scruffy her small black cami top and mid-length bottoms are. When Brooke comes back from her own shower, though, already changed into her pyjama set, Vanessa’s mouth dries up. She’s dressed in a matching set made up of a little pink satin shirt and shorts, the black cording at the hem of which is only drawing Vanessa’s eyes to Brooke’s thighs and not at all helping the bed situation.

Brooke clearly sees her looking and raises an eyebrow. “Cute, right?”

Vanessa snaps out of her daze. “What?”

“The pyjamas. They’re from like…Asos or Missguided or something? One of them,” she replies, hopping into bed and under the covers on the other side. Vanessa inches away from her a little, careful not to make their bodies touch because this is different to dancing and it’s not as simple as just being able to wrap her body around Brooke’s or make some stupid move because there’s no performance high or adrenaline or alcohol, it’s just…them. The pair of them in the same bed with the silence of the room surrounding them and the dark of the night outside hidden from view by the blinds Vanessa pulled down. As Brooke gives her a quick kiss and leans over to her side of the bed to turn the light off, she gives a quick look back to Vanessa.

“Night, babe.”

Vanessa gives a small, nervous smile back as she says goodnight. They shuffle under the covers to get comfortable and the silence falls again. Vanessa should say something, do something, reach out and take Brooke’s hand or lean in again. But everything is new and different and the time just isn’t right and she has no idea if Brooke even wants to go there with her yet, so instead she closes her eyes and attempts to sleep.

But in the morning, things are different. The moment Vanessa stirs she can tell there’s something in the air. She blinks open her eyes, the sun peeking through the slats of the blinds already too bright. That’s not it, though. That’s not what’s different.

And then as she gains a little bit more consciousness it hits her like a ton of bricks.

Brooke’s leg is thrown over her thigh, her arm around her waist, and her body is pressed up against hers. Vanessa feels a little tingle flash between her legs. For one thing, it’s cute that Brooke’s sought Vanessa out to cuddle during the night- whether she was asleep or awake for that decision Vanessa doesn’t know, but it’s nice either way. But on the other hand, Brooke’s little satin shorts have risen up to expose most of her thigh, and it’s not helping Vanessa think rationally right now.

Slowly, Vanessa starts tracing soft patterns on Brooke’s arm in a bid to wake her up: little figures of eight, then her name, then love hearts because if Brooke’s asleep she can’t work out that that’s what they are. Brooke’s leg shifts against her, and Vanessa can feel a heat against her thigh which she can’t decide whether or not helps or worsens the situation she’s in. Just then, she feels Brooke’s thumb give a little movement, a small stroke against the skin of Vanessa’s stomach where her cami top has risen up during the night. When her thumb moves again, Vanessa knows she’s woken up.

Neither of them have spoken yet and Brooke’s still stroking at her stomach, so Vanessa shuffles back in her arms just in case she’s still half asleep. She hears Brooke give a stifled yawn on the pillow behind her, hears her breathing shallow out. She’s awake, so Vanessa can take things up a gear. She moves her fingers from her arm to Brooke’s thigh, keeping her touch light and gentle as she traces a little patch of skin just at the outside. She feels Brooke shift against her in response, tries not to think too much about her thighs or what’s in between them because she knows she’ll overwhelm herself, flip round to straddle her and end up begging her to make her come apart. This moment is good. It’s gentle and tense all at once, the pair of them just touching and teasing each other, a mutual understanding even though nothing’s been said. This is different to last night- there’s no awkwardness, there’s no tentativeness, there’s just Brooke’s body wrapped around Vanessa’s and there’s only so many places that situation can lead.

Vanessa feels Brooke press a small kiss to her shoulder blade and it makes her heart flutter, a hummingbird caged in her ribs. Brooke’s fingers trail a little higher to stroke under the material of her top and Vanessa feels herself melt. She wiggles in Brooke’s lap, knowing how it’ll drive her crazy given the amount of comments the girl’s made about how much she loves her ass and how completely obvious she’s made it. In response, Vanessa feels Brooke sigh against her neck, kissing it once, twice, three times.

Vanessa feels her resolve cracking so she traces a little higher on Brooke’s leg, decides to break the silence. She tries to keep the smirk out of her voice but it’s hard when Brooke bucks against her thigh again. “Good morning.”

Brooke gives a little whine against her neck which makes Vanessa press her thighs together, raising her own hips in an attempt to gain some sort of friction. “Morning.”

Vanessa presses her lips together in a suppressed smile, her next move falling into place in her head. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna get up an’ start gettin’ ready.”

“No,” Brooke whines, the arm around her waist pulling her closer, and Vanessa can hear the pout in her voice. She feels Brooke rub against her thigh again and it’s almost impeding her ability to think straight at this point.

She’s having fun winding her up though and she knows she’ll be able to have Brooke begging for her if she keeps it up, so she attempts to turn around a little to face her. She can’t really manage it, but she doesn’t mind too much. She just wants to see Brooke’s face when she delivers her next line, keeps her tone light and ever-so-slightly mocking. “Why not, boo?”

Vanessa decides to shuffle round, can hear Brooke whine in frustration now that she no longer has something to grind against. When she sees Brooke blushing, biting her lip with her hand now pressed between her thighs, it’s the hottest thing Vanessa has seen in probably years.

Brooke’s still not answered- instead she’s trying to shuffle close to Vanessa, presumably to kiss her, but Vanessa’s enjoying her moment of being in charge, so she lays her hand against Brooke’s chest to stop her and narrows her eyes. “Uh-uh. You gotta tell me why I shouldn’t leave this bed.”

Brooke only blushes harder, and Vanessa’s knocked for six. Brooke is actually shy. This confident, stone-cold goddess is getting embarrassed at the prospect of talking dirty to Vanessa in bed.

Vanessa’s brain is hotwiring.

“Don’t go quiet on me, princess,” Vanessa murmurs, bringing her other hand down to stroke at Brooke’s exposed skin again, this time against the visible strip of her inner thigh. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Please…kiss me, fuck-”

Brooke’s barely got the words out when Vanessa bridges the gap between them, meets Brooke’s lips with her own and kisses her softly and gently. She knows Brooke wants more, knows she’s getting herself worked up beside her but Vanessa’s enjoying having the power for now because knowing Brooke it won’t be long before she tries to take it back. When Vanessa pulls away Brooke is pouting, all disappointed that Vanessa’s lips are no longer on hers. Vanessa hears Brooke give a little gasp and then a whine as she takes her hand, the one Brooke’s grinding against, brings it out from between her thighs and places it by her side. There’s an unspoken rule between them that Brooke’s not allowed to replace it.

“Please, ‘Ness,” she pouts, and Vanessa would find it cute if her hands weren’t trailing up and down her waist. Brooke paws at her, needy and desperate, stops to rest her hands on her ass.

“You’re so polite. Such a good girl for me,” Vanessa praises her, kissing her pouty lips and delighting in the way Brooke moans against her. Vanessa strokes her hair with the hand she’s not propping herself up with and she can tell Brooke wants it somewhere else.

“Please,” Brooke says again, her eyelids heavy and her pupils blown. Vanessa feels herself give a small laugh.

“I don’t know what you want, baby.”

“You know what I want, fuck,” Brooke whines, her eyes fluttering closed. She thuds her head against the pillow in frustration, grabs at Vanessa’s ass in an attempt to pull her closer.

“You want me to touch you?” Vanessa murmurs, and Brooke nods her head frantically in response. She trails her hand down Brooke’s neck and down her chest, stops when she sees Brooke’s nipples poking through the satin fabric of her pyjama top. Vanessa bites her lip as she flicks her thumb against one, squeezes her thighs together for the hundredth time when she hears Brooke let out a moan. She teases her slowly and gently, can feel her own breathing deepening as Brooke writhes against the sheets. Brooke’s hand drifts from Vanessa’s ass to the waistband of her own shorts and Vanessa stops touching her, moving her hand to her wrist instead.

“You want me to just sit and watch you touch yourself? Sit here on the bed with you fuckin’ yourself with your fingers instead of letting me fuck you instead?” Vanessa asks her, making sure to keep a warning tone to her voice as she draws away. Brooke whines, instantly ripping her hand out from between her legs and pulling Vanessa close with it instead.

“No, baby, I’ll be good.”

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Vanessa feels sorry for her at this point so she lies on her side against the mattress, tucks herself in beside Brooke and traces the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. Brooke is letting out a litany of whines as Vanessa inches her hand under the material, stops and presses a gentle finger against Brooke’s slit. Vanessa feels herself gasp as she feels how wet she is already, slick against her finger and dripping on the inside of her thighs.

“Fuck,” Vanessa whispers, leans in to kiss Brooke’s neck. She’s managed to find herself an actual Aphrodite and she’s never felt more religious in her life. She tilts her head as she slides a finger up to brush against Brooke’s clit, eliciting a gasp from Brooke who bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. “What would people say if they knew that Brooke Lynn Hytes, confident, boss-ass, sex-on-legs bitch, turns into a lil’ whiny, bratty, needy princess when she wants to come so badly?”

“Vanessa, please,” Brooke practically sobs in response. Her hips lift high off the mattress as Vanessa rubs little circles against her. Vanessa desperately wants to feel how wet she is again but she’s wondering if she can wind her up even more, so she moves her lips up to whisper in Brooke’s ear.

“Remember when I sent you that message by accident?” Vanessa asks, her voice a low murmur. Brooke hisses in response and Vanessa sees her grab a fistful of the duvet.

“Shit, you know I got myself off to the thought of you lying in bed all wet and needy after you had that dream,” Brooke gasps out, and Vanessa’s eyes fly open in shock. If Brooke didn’t have her knees bent and propped up then she would probably straddle her thigh and try to ride it until she came because God, the idea that Brooke touched herself thinking about her in the morning and then came into the studios and acted as if it had never happened with her afterwards is just too much. Almost as a reward for the information Brooke’s just given her, Vanessa slides a finger inside her and hears Brooke moan in response.

“Y’know you were the girl from the dream,” Vanessa drops her lips down to Brooke’s neck, kissing it hot and slow as she slides a second finger into Brooke and presses the rest of her hand gently against her clit. Brooke gives a gasp that’s almost sacrilegious.

Brooke is writhing beside her, frantic and desperate and frustrated and Jesus fucking Christ if Vanessa couldn’t just come from the sight of that alone. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

So Vanessa whispers in Brooke’s ear about how she’d kissed her, how Brooke had told her how much she’d wanted her, how Vanessa had begged her to touch her and how Brooke had got her off through her underwear, and she hears Brooke gasp and moan and whine in response to each new revelation. Vanessa fucks her gently with her fingers and Brooke is so wet around her that it’s sending her into a frenzy herself. Suddenly, Vanessa has an idea.

“And you told me you thought I would taste good,” Vanessa tells her, tipping her head up a little to gauge Brooke’s reaction.

“Fuck…want to taste you so bad,” Brooke pleads.

All her shyness seems to be gone now that she’s riding Vanessa’s fingers desperately, and even though Vanessa thought shy Brooke was cute, this version of Brooke- the Brooke that knows what she wants, the Brooke that’s loud and vocal and messy- is her favourite. Vanessa gently removes her hand from between Brooke’s legs, ignoring the nearly apocalyptic whine Brooke lets out in response to the lack of contact, and takes Brooke’s hand from where it’s still digging into the duvet. Vanessa shifts a little, spreads her own legs as she guides Brooke’s hand between them, and her heart is almost beating out of her chest as Brooke eagerly brushes two fingers over her, hears her gasp as her fingers slide up her slit easily from how wet she is.

Brooke’s fingers feel like heaven as they push softly inside her, pumping gently, and Vanessa’s moan is cut off by Brooke’s lips against hers. Brooke’s kisses are slow and wet and she teases Vanessa’s tongue with her own as Vanessa bucks her hips underneath her. For a moment, her plan to make Brooke come is thrown into disarray as she thinks maybe she could just lie here and let Brooke tease her and finger her until she does instead.

“Oh my fuckin’ God you feel so good,” Vanessa whispers out in one breath, the way she sounds so broken already making her blush and bite her lip. Brooke’s gaze is dark- she’s watching the way Vanessa bucks her hips up to meet her fingers as they slide out of her, greedy and desperate just like Brooke had been.

“So wet and I never even touched you,” Brooke whispers, the little bit of awe in her voice sending Vanessa into the stratosphere. “You got this worked up over me?”

“You should see how good you look when you wanna come so bad,” Vanessa murmurs back, turning to watch as Brooke takes her fingers and wraps her lips around them, slides them into her mouth and sucks on them.

Every single time Brooke does something new Vanessa thinks it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen, so the fact that Brooke’s no longer touching her isn’t helping at all. Brooke’s a goddess though and she wants to worship her properly so Vanessa leans over her, doesn’t even bother trying to manoeuvre around the waistband of Brooke’s shorts this time and instead just trails her fingers up Brooke’s inner thigh, moves the material to one side and teases her again with her fingers. She rubs gently against Brooke’s clit and can hear her breathing coming in short gasps, knows she’s close so Vanessa kisses her, deep and fiery and hot, then murmurs against her lips as Brooke’s hisses and whines get increasingly louder.

“You know once you come I’m gonna let you do whatever you want to me.”

Brooke gasps and Vanessa watches her eyes roll back into their sockets. “Fuck, I’m gonna get you back for teasing me so fucking bad you won’t be able to sit right for a week never mind fucking dance- ah!”

Brooke’s reacted to Vanessa pulling her hand away. Vanessa’s making sure her eyes are dark, giving Brooke a warning. “Is that trash talk, or are you gonna be good for me?”

“Please, Vanessa!” Brooke nearly yells into the room, and Vanessa thinks that perhaps she’s put the poor girl through enough so she replaces her fingers, works Brooke’s clit until she’s gasping beside her, little shudders racking her body.

“‘Ness, I’m gonna- ah!”

As Brooke comes, Vanessa crashes their lips together, and the sound of Brooke’s muffled whines gives her a better high than any drug ever could. When she’s sure Brooke’s finished Vanessa leans back against the mattress, exhausted. Her left side is practically numb from propping herself up, her neck is tense and her right hand is aching but fuck if that hadn’t been the best sex of Vanessa’s life and she hasn’t even come yet.

“You good?” Vanessa asks Brooke once she’s got her breath back. Brooke is on her back, her eyes wide and staring up to the ceiling, her hair plastered all over her face and her chest shiny with sweat. Vanessa watches as she moves her mouth once, twice, trying to come up with something to say and failing.

“I don’t have any words,” she finally says, and Vanessa bursts out laughing beside her. Brooke giggles, then suddenly scowls, reaches behind her head for her pillow and thumps Vanessa with it.

“Hey! What the fuck was that for?”

“You were so mean!” Brooke half-pouts, half-laughs and she leans over Vanessa, cages her in with her arms. Even after sex she still looks incredible in her pyjamas, and Vanessa finds herself rubbing her thighs together, trying and failing to find something to rut against. Brooke obviously notices this and Vanessa watches the little flash in her eyes as she grabs Vanessa’s wrists, pins them above her head in one swift motion.

Vanessa almost dissolves.

“You know I’m used to being in charge, right? That was very out of character for me,” Brooke cocks an eyebrow at her. Vanessa smirks back at her, anticipation building low in her stomach at the thought of Brooke bossing her around and roughing her up a little.

“Well then maybe you need to put me in my place.”

When Brooke straddles her, leans down and meets her lips in a kiss, Vanessa feels as if she’s made entirely of embers and flames. She pulls away and Vanessa realises that she’s tugging her pyjama bottoms off so Vanessa brings her knees up to her chest to help make things easier. Once they’re off Vanessa’s heart crashes against her ribcage as Brooke takes her legs and spreads them apart quickly, her palms holding Vanessa��s thighs down. As Brooke leans between her thighs Vanessa tangles one hand in her hair, her heart rate rising in anticipation as she feels herself throb. She waits for the contact of Brooke’s tongue, tipping her head back against the pillow.

It doesn’t come. Instead, she hears Brooke’s voice.

“You know, maybe I’m tired now after you played with me so much earlier. Maybe I just need to go back to sleep.”

Vanessa brings her head back up in shock and looks at Brooke’s face. She’s got a glint in her eye and a smug smile on her lips and Vanessa has never wanted to kiss the smirk off her face more. As much as she thinks the girl is a goddess, there’s no way she’s giving her what she wants that easily. “Uh-uh. I ain’t beggin’ you, Brooke.”

Brooke raises her eyebrows lazily, lightly scratches her nails down the insides of Vanessa’s thighs and in turn making her rapidly regret her last comment because she knows she’s going to be yelling Brooke’s name in probably a matter of minutes once she puts her mouth on her. “That’s some awfully big talk from someone who moments ago was trying to grind against air.”

“But I know you wanna feel how wet I am an’ hear what I sound like when I’m about to come,” Vanessa whispers, bucking her hips up because Brooke’s touching every little bit of her except the place she needs the contact most and it’s starting to kill her very slowly. “You want me ridin’ your face.”

Vanessa sees Brooke blink slowly, the composure and power she’s just built up wavering just a little. Then she makes eye contact again, presses kisses up Vanessa’s inner thigh that make her feel as if she’s burning up.

“Yeah,” Brooke murmurs against Vanessa’s skin, punctuating her sentence with kisses. “But I also know that I want to hear you beg me for it, and you’re not going to come until you ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa whines, letting her head thud against the pillow. She regrets teasing Brooke so badly. Actually she doesn’t at all, but her behaviour is coming back to bite her and it’s not fun. She’s shocked into a gasp as Brooke licks up her slit, the contact gone almost as soon as it’s there. “Brooke, baby, c’mon, this ain’t fair.”

“Is it not? I think it’s perfectly fair,” Brooke laughs softly and traces patterns into her inner thighs that make Vanessa want to scream. “I had to be a good girl for you, now you have to be one for me.”

“Honestly you could be doing whatever you want to me right now an’ all you want is for me to say fuckin’ please?” Vanessa hisses, frustrated and incredulous and ready to fucking explode.

“I want you to be good for me. Good girls use their manners.”

As if to drive her point home Brooke kisses up her thigh and then licks against her again, too much and not enough all at once. Vanessa needs Brooke’s mouth and her tongue and her lips and so her resolve cracks all too quickly like a sheet of ice.

“Okay, okay, okay, God fucking damn it…please, Brooke.”

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is,” Brooke replies instantly. The bitch is using Vanessa’s own words against her for her own gain and it’s infuriating Vanessa as she bucks her hips in the air, writhes against the mattress.

“Want you to use your mouth, fuck, please.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

All at once Vanessa feels as if she’s been shot out of a cannon because when Brooke’s tongue finally licks at her clit slowly and gently Vanessa thinks she’s ascending to heaven at about a million miles per hour. When Vanessa brings her hand back to tangle in Brooke’s hair, Brooke takes her wrist and holds it down with one hand, putting her even more in control. Vanessa can still use her hips though and she does exactly what she said she was going to do- rides Brooke’s face as her tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge and makes her even more wet than she’d been in the first place. Vanessa would probably feel embarrassed at how much she’s writhing and whining and moaning underneath Brooke if her mouth didn’t feel so fucking perfect, and with every flick and swirl of her tongue Vanessa feels more and more like a raging fire that needs to be put out.

“Brooke Lynn, fuck, you’re gonna make me fuckin’-”

Brooke’s nails dig into her thighs as Vanessa comes with a loud cry, the blaze burning her up finally extinguished. Vanessa sinks back into the pillows and Brooke simply relaxes with her head against Vanessa’s stomach. It makes her wish that they could just spend all day in their hotel room and learn each other’s bodies, figure out everything the other likes in the space of a single day.

“Wish we didn’t have to get up,” Brooke sighs against her skin, presses a kiss to her stomach which makes it flutter. Vanessa smiles lazily, laces their fingers together which makes Brooke smile in turn. Brooke’s voice is soft as she keeps talking. “So was that, um…good? For you?”

Vanessa starts giggling, gives Brooke a gentle kick with her foot. “Jesus, dare you to sound any more like a 19 year old boy who just lost his virginity.”

Brooke gives an offended cry, plants her lips to Vanessa’s stomach and blows a giant raspberry against her skin that makes her howl with laughter and curl in on herself like a woodlouse.

Vanessa fights through her laughter. “Oh my God okay, okay! I’m sorry. Of course it was good, fuckin’ amazing. The whole fuckin’ buildin’ prolly knows how good it was, think I damn near yelled the place down.”

“Not entirely great for the whole keeping-us-on-the-down-low thing, though.”

“I guess you’d know, havin’ just spent a decent amount of time on the down low,” Vanessa wiggles her eyebrows and causes Brooke to yelp a laugh.

Charmed by the other woman’s reaction, Vanessa gently slides herself out from underneath her and steals the duvet to wrap around herself as she crosses the short distance to the window and pulls the string on the blinds to open them up. She smiles as she’s greeted by the seafront view: the sea icy but blue under the sunny November sky, the golden sand of the beach, the little rattle of the tram that’s making its way along the waterfront. The smile is still on Vanessa’s face as she turns to take in the sight of Brooke still splayed out on the mattress. She’s got that post-sex glow with the light hitting her toned skin and her hair all messed up around her face like a scribble of a halo.

Vanessa feels a tug on her heart, a longing even though she knows Brooke is hers.

“Welcome to Blackpool, baby. Let’s get those tens.”

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #smut #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #akeria davenport #asia o'hara

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ceaderblocks · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s in the Details, Chapter 8

the final chapter

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // chapter 6 // chapter 7 //

find on a03 here

Scar was in the End. He had never seen the End like this, an empty stretch of End Stone that went on in every direction with nothing else in sight.

“We had a deal.” Oscar snarled, and Scar turned around to face them. They stood a few meters away, a gleaming diamond sword in their hand.

“You were going to build those damn towers, and I’d give your Vex power back.”

“You said you weren’t going to hurt my friends. I was building the towers, and you hurt them anyways.” Scar said. He reached into his inventory to look for a weapon. There was nothing.

“You were taking too long. People kept interfering.”

“You were never going to leave us alone, were you?” Scar said, coming to a realization. Oscar snarled, their eyes glowing in the dark of the End. “You were just using me as a cover.”

“Congratulations,” Oscar spat, gripping the sword tighter. “You figured it out. Unfortunately for you, there’s no prize.”

“Are you even part of the Void?” Scar asked, trying to delay the inevitable fight. He had no armor or weapon; he would be killed in an instant. He needed a plan.

“I’m worse than the Void,” Oscar stalked forwards, and Scar tripped on his feet walking backwards to avoid them getting closer. “I’m the pure magic of the Vex and the End. I’m the worst of both in one form. I’m going to rule them both, and I am going to rule you and your stupid, bullshit overworld too. I don’t serve anyone but myself, unlike you weak players, who are subject to the whim of magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Scar said, still backing up. “Why didn’t you just take over?”

“I needed that Void Walker and ConVex to disperse of their human vessels. You were the perfect opportunity when Void and Vex met to interact with the over-world.”

Scar tripped on a rock, falling onto his back. Hitting the ground hard, Scar found himself straddled and a sword to his throat within moments. Breathing heavily, Scar turned his head away, trying to avoid its sharp point.

“Xisuma will be here soon,” Scar said. “My friends will help me, even if you kill me.”

“They won’t be coming,” Oscar hissed. “There’s no magic here. They can’t find us.”

Scar’s eyes widened. Oscar was a being of magic. If there was none here, that meant that Oscar was as tangible and vulnerable as Scar was!

Scar took in Oscar’s being for a quick moment. There was sweat on their brow, and they were breathing heavily. Scar noted that Oscar was shaking ever-so-slightly as well. Scar quickly made his move, elbowing Oscar in the face as hard as he could and then shoving them off his body. Oscar cried out, clutching their nose and crumpling to the side, leaving Scar to escape. Stumbling to his feet, Scar snatched the sword from the ground, spinning around to face Oscar. His doppelgänger was still on the ground, their lungs heaving with pain and anger. Wiping the blood from their face, Oscar stood, scowling. They drew a secondary sword from their inventory, just as sharp as the first. Oscar readied himself, shifting his balance to be sturdier. Blood streamed from their nose, and Scar was sure he had broken it.

With no warning taunt, Oscar flung themselves towards Scar. The flat edge of the sword

hit Scar’s ribs, knocking the breath from him. Still standing, Scar swung his own weapon, cutting across Oscar’s chest.

“Shit!” They gasped. The wound was shallow but long. Scar winced. He hadn’t seen that much blood in a long time.

Despite this thought, Scar didn’t pause for long. Lunging forwards, metal sung against metal as the swords met. The weapons locked in an cross shape, Scar could see the fear in Oscar’s eyes.

He’s never been vulnerable before. Scar realized. Remembering his promise to Cub, Scar grit his teeth. He hated to admit it, but he’d rather see Oscar bleeding then see Cub injured.

Oscar broke the crossed lock and thrust forwards, making a wild stab at Scar. Scar easily sidestepped the attack, bringing his sword down and lunging forwards, this time slicing Oscar’s right arm.

Crying out in pain, Oscar made another unhinged swipe, missing completely. They stepped forwards, lunging again, and Scar parried his attack.

“Fuck you!” Oscar said, panting heavily. The two wounds they had sustained were bleeding heavily. Scar suspected they wouldn’t stop bleeding without medical attention.

“I can get you medical help, but you have to promise to leave us alone.” Scar said. “You’re really injured.”

“I don’t want your help,” Oscar scowled. They were pale. “I want you dead.”

Scar inhaled sharply. He didn’t want to kill anyone, especially when there was no resurrection out here. He didn’t have much of a choice.

Oscar swung his weapon desperately, missing Scar again. Scar stepped behind Oscar, shifting his stance to ground himself. Oscar turned and laughed.

Scar took a steadying breath, inhaling deeply.

“You really think you can stop me?” Oscar screamed. “I am everything! I am the Void! I am the Vex! I am everything you pathetic hermits want to be! I am the sun, I am the stars-“

Scar exhaled.

“-I am the source of all magic! I am in your dreams; I am your future! I am the End! I am- “

Oscar choked as Scar’s sword ran through him.

“Sorry.” Scar whispered.

The sword in Oscar’s chest made a disgusting noise as it was pushed further. Oscar didn’t make a noise when they fell to the ground, the sickening thump ringing through Scar’s head. Scar had been expecting some dramatic speech, or a curse. He had expected screaming or sobbing or <em> something </em> when Oscar was defeated, not a quiet, dead body. The lack of retorts and breath made the silence of the End much more unnerving then it used to be. Scar decided he hated it, and the bloodied sword slipped from his hand.

< BadTimesWithScar was slain by GoodTimesWithScar >

< XisumaVoid teleported to GoodTimesWithScar >

“Scar!” Xisuma cried out, racing towards his friend.

“You know,” Scar didn’t take his eyes off Oscar’s body. “I kinda expected them to respawn. It’d be just my luck, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you hurt?”

Scar shook his head. Xisuma noticed he was pale.

“Are you alright?”

Scar shook his head again, ripping his eyes off the lifeless form. Stumbling a few steps backwards, the gravity of what he had done finally settled in Scar’s mind. He vomited onto the ground, tears rolling down his face.

“Oh my God,” Scar dropped to his knees. “I killed them.”

“Scar, it’s okay.” Xisuma dropped to his side, wrapping his arms around Scar and gently turning him away.

“I killed them! I killed-“ Scar took a heavy, shuddering gasp.

“Scar, you had to. There was no other way.” Xisuma said, pulling Scar in close. “It was self-defence.”

“Please don’t ban me!” Scar begged. “I didn’t mean to kill them!”

“I won’t.” Xisuma said, “You’ve done nothing wrong. They were going to kill you.”

“I killed them.” Scar said, his breath heaving, and Xisuma began to realize that Scar wasn’t really listening to him. “I killed them.”

Xisuma turned his gaze to the corpse lying on the ground a few feet away, blood staining the EndStone.

“I killed them.” Scar said again, as if repeating the words would make them hurt any less.

“Yeah,” Xisuma agreed. “You did.”

Scar leaned into Xisuma, falling quiet. Xisuma wanted to get out of the End as soon as possible, but allowed his friend a moment to collect himself. A loud crash made Xisuma and Scar jump.

“They’re back?” Scar said, scrambling to his feet.

“No,” Xisuma said, inhaling sharply and pointing to a spot a few meters away. “The End is falling apart!”

Where there had once been endless endstone there were now gaping holes in the land. The void could be seen through it, as unforgiving as ever. Loud crashes and bangs filled the air as the ground beneath them began to crumble away.

“Scar, we need to go! This section hasn’t loaded, and now it’s falling apart!” Xisuma shouted, running to his left to avoid falling with the ground.

“Xisuma-“ Scar reached out, and the Admin watched in horror as the ground beneath Scar fell out. The builder didn’t scream as he plummeted, to sheep shocked to do anything.

“Scar!” Xisuma shouted, and whipped out his administration screens, quickly typing in a command. He then jumped into the Void, praying he’d catch Scar. His armor was heavier than Scar’s clothing, and it allowed him to sink faster.

“Scar!” He shouted again, reaching out. “Grab my hand!”

Scar shouted something back, tears flying from his eyes. The builder reached forwards, and their fingertips brushed. The cold of the Void was starting to sink into Xisuma’s skin, and he knew Scar was hurting worse than we was. A few more moments and they’d both be dead.

“Dammit!” Xisuma cried, reaching out as far as he could. Scar tried to reach out as well, ice creeping over his fingers. Xisuma fired a rocket from his belt and—

< XisumaVoid and GoodTimeWithScar teleported to Cubfab135 >

---

Cub, by some miracle, was not dead.

Sure, he had died, but he wasn’t dead, which was surprising. With Oscar’s weird-ass abilities and the fact that he had bled Cub thought he perma-died. But he hadn’t. And now Cub didn’t really know what to do.

“I even had cool last words,” Cub huffed, not really annoyed he was alive.

“Cub?” A voice yelled from outside. “Yo, are you alive?”

“Ex?” Cub called out, sitting up. He winced, phantom pain throbbing where he had been stabbed.

Not dead, Cub noted. but also not unscathed.

“Holy shit! You’re alive!” Ex threw open the front door, racing in and grabbing Cub roughly by his arms. “Wow! Thank God! I don’t know how to plan a funeral.”

“I believe we have bigger problems than a funeral.” Cub said, wiggling his way out of Ex’s grip. “We need to find Scar and help him.”

“Yeah, so small problem,” Ex said. “Dickface took Scar to some remote corner of the End, and then cut out all magic… which includes any Admin abilities.”

“Xisuma can’t get to him,” Cub said, inhaling sharply and throwing his feet over the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, Scar is on his own.” Ex frowned. “Where is Xisuma? He was right behind me.”

A loud ping from the communicators on their hips drew their attention.

< BadTimesWithScar was slain by GoodTimesWithScar >

< XisumaVoid teleported to GoodTimesWithScar >

“He survived?” Ex said, sounding impressed.

“He killed Oscar,” Cub said, breathless.

Cub’s eyes widened, horrified. Was he bleeding out? Almost dead? Trapped in some weird, End induced coma that he would never be able to leave?

< XisumaVoid and GoodTimesWithScar teleported to Cubfab135 >

The train of thought was Interrupted with Scar and Xisuma crashing from a portal into the room.

Xisuma was carrying most of Scar’s weight, the builder awake but unresponsive. The were both shivering, and Cub could see the ice from the Void melting on Scar. Cub inhaled sharply, seeing that Scar was covered in blood. Cub stumbled from his bed and opened his bedside chest, pulling out potions of healing and bandages.

“Put him on the bed Xisuma, I need to bandage his wounds!”

“I’m not hurt.” Scar said quietly, refusing to look at anyone while speaking. He rubbed his hands along his arms, trying to warm himself up.

“There’s blood on you,” Cub said frantically, “Are you sure-”

“It’s not mine.” Scar mumbled, and the room froze. Even Ex was at a loss for words, looking uncomfortable with the idea that Scar had actually killed Oscar. Blood wasn’t present unless it was permanent.

“We should sit you down anyways,” Xisuma said gently, breaking the silence. Scar nodded, seemingly off in another world.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Cub quietly put the bandages and potions away while Ex and Xisuma had a hushed conversation, something about restoring the balance and a deal they made. Cub didn’t really care, his friend being the main concern.

“Scar,” Cub said, sitting on the bed. Scar blinked a few times, and turned his attention to Cub. “Thank you.”

Scar’s eyes welled with tears, and a few slipped down his face. Cub pulled his friend into a tight hug, letting his friend cry. There wasn’t much else he could do.

---

Settling back into routine took a long time. Explaining to the other Hermits what had happened was an ordeal in itself, filled with questions and many, many concerns.

(Doc had asked Xisuma to bring Oscar back so he could kill him again. Xisuma had declined.)

The mood of Hermits had changed as well. The idea of someone being permanently offed made them all more cautious to death. Inventories were always stacked with potions, and rarely was anyone alone.

Scar, however, was never alone. After sleeping for an entire week, he began building again. Xisuma and Ex had cleared the dark buildings that Oscar had made, doing their best to avoid leaving gaping holes where they had once been.

Cherry was still non-existent, and Scar had been finishing fixing his portal when Cub had dragged him to the shopping district.

“Cub, why are we here? Do you need help building a new shop?” Scar asked, walking alongside his friend.

“No, I just want to show you a new one.”

“Oh, whose it is?” Scar asked, confused. “You don’t usually show me new shops.”

“Actually,” A new voice said, and Scar frowned in confusion as Grian came up from behind and threw an arm around his shoulders. “It’s yours!”

“Tada!” Grian said, spinning Scar around to face the newly built Cherry.

“Oh my gosh.” Scar said, covering his mouth as Iskall and Mumbo lit a concerning amount of fireworks.

Before him stood Cherry, identical to how it had been before it had been destroyed. Scar walked up to the entrance, running a hand along the wood.

“We even restocked it for you!” Iskall said, patting Scar on the back and then walking past to open a chest. Peaking into it, Scar saw that it was filled with redstone.

“This is amazing,” Scar said, breathless. “Thank you.”

“And the best part,” Grian said cheerfully, “is that the only payment is that you have to shop at Sahara for the rest of your life!”

“Grian!” Mumbo scolded. “We talked about this!”

“Dude, you were the only one who said we should do it for free! You were outvoted.” Iskall said.

Scar burst out into laughter.

“Hey! I’m not joking.” Grian chided, failing to keep a large smile off his face. Mumbo looked horrified.

“He’s joking,” Mumbo said, turning to Scar with a worried look on his face. “You’re joking, right?”

Scar smiled as Cub laughed as well.

Despite everything that had happened, Scar was going to be okay.

#ditd #my writing #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #xisumavoid #grian #mumbojumbo #hermitcraft #the devil's in the details

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