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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

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Band of Brothers Greetings, Part 2

Cute/charming things thay say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you

Speirs:

Ok, first off- the moment he walks into a room, any room, he scans to see if you’re there, and if you are what you’re doing.

He’s always done it, but since things between the two of you have gotten a bit steamy you find yourself catching him doing it ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME.

Like Ronald, you’re vv handsome and smoldery but YOU AREN’T SUBTLE IN THE SLIGHTEST.

Boi’s head is literally on a swivel until he finds you, straight up ignoring the person trying to talk to him until he sees that you’re there before impatiently returning his attention to whatever NIxon is saying (you know, BC OH YEAH not only are we at work but our work is war whoopsies could you repeat that, Nix i was lost in my handsome deathwish prince’s eyes?)

He’s always careful to read your body language to see how you're feeling, and based on that and the context of where y’all are he decides how (and if) to approach you.

His own feelings overwhelm him so it’s easier for him to focus on how you’re feeling

(Weirdly enough, you can read his feelings better than he can read his feelings sometimes.)

You weirdos end up staring at each other for way too long, entire conversations flowing between you two with little more than a lift of an eyebrow and a tilt of the head.

Bill and Babe had a game where they would see who between them could hold their breath through more of yours and Speirs’s weird hive mind-meld, the loser getting two freebies from the other’s rations.

Soon, more people joined in, and one day Speirs walked in while Peacock and LIpton were discussing the formation they wanted the camp set up in and half of the guys simultaneously took a deep breath through their noses to get a lungful of air

When Lipton looked back out to the group of listening soldiers, he was disturbed to see several of his friends red or blue faced and looking between you and Speirs and each other like a tennis match

One look from Speirs put a stop to that game for a good month.

It only started up again because they saw Ron storm into the med bay and kiss you full on the mouth when you were alone after a soldier had punched you in that nose during Market Garden and left you horrifically blood-soaked and he’d thought you’d been shot.

Then the game turned into who could catch Ron showing human emotions towards you, with more points being given to the more softboy the action.

In an effort to keep THE BOYS™ focused during meetings, you and Ron eventually decided it’d be best to just stand by each other whenever you were in a room together, bc while you both are soft for each other you still get that you can’t be too distracted.

Well, you decided that.

If anything, Ron now has a new favorite game- seeing how long you could stay focused with his fingers running up and down your thigh while sitting together.

He may have slipped his hand beneath your waistband a few times and gotten you off during one of Nix’s intelligence briefings, whispering that you were being so good for him the entire time

and you may have retaliated once by getting him so worked up that he almost came in his pants like a teenager while surrounded by his sleeping men before giving him an overly sweet look before slipping away.

He makes you pay for it later, don’t worry :)

Martin:

MY ANGER BB

SO GLARE-Y, SO FROWN

That is...until he sees you

Then the furrow in his brow softens, and a knowing smile breaks across his face and he either comes to be by you or (a la Bull Randleman) he will raise him arm to show you that there is a you-sized space that needs filling (hurry plz it makes him feel better to touch you.)

He’s not going to show PDA when y’all’re busy- bc he’s good and what he does and you’re good at what you do but that doesn’t mean you can just not pay attention if important info is benign shared.

If he thinks you aren’t paying enough attention he’ll let you know right away.

Or just glare at the thing distracting you until it eventually relents or someone hits his arm and tells him to stop glaring at the pretty flowers y’n’s looking at they’ll burst into flame and then she’ll be sad

BUt homeboy is not afraid to have you lean against him, or sit in his lap as you both get ready to do whatever it is you have to do.

If the lot of you are just hanging out- he’s much more relaxed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek or temple before returning his attention to whatever he had been doing- arms wrapping around you as he catches you up on whatever you’d missed

BC HE WOULD WANT YOU TO BE INCLUDED IN EVERYTHING HE DOES (as long as it’s not too dangerous, obvi)

“But John, you’re going on the patrol—!” “Yeah, cause if you’re not going SOMEONE has to make sure these boys don’t get themselves killed. Think it’d be rude to leave them to fend for themselves...”

“But i could go-” “NO you can’t, shut up. Now listen to my plan and tell me what you think…”

He knows how good you are at your job, and it makes him want to be better at his job so he can make sure to be there for you.

I also feel like THE BOYS™ would sometimes be surprised to see Johnny “It may be a bitchface but I’m not resting” Martin being a lil soft with you, and would sometimes stare in shock at the sight of the two of you looking at each other with such open adoration and softness that they’d get a lil mesmerized.

Until either you or Johnny noticed

Then, get ready for the SNARKIEST “Can I FUCKING help you?” glare combo to ever exist ever.

This made me smile, idk

Luz:

GEOOOOOOOOOORGE Luz

My guy (much like Babe) is SO INTO YOU it can sometimes get the both of you in trouble (How either of you managed to keep from getting kicked out is a miracle).

Luz is also a dramatic little goober, so you know he’ll do something over the top to try and make you laugh (bc, unlike him, you can actually keep it together for more than five seconds whenever you see him)

I’m talking shooting to his feet and standing on his chair and pointing in your direction the moment he sees you (especially if it’s for the first time that day/in a while), putting on a deep voice and an overly serious expression.

“Good God boys, I think we’re in the presence of a GOD. DAMN. KNOCKOUT.”

“WOOH, look at that! Somebody get Roe, cause I’m pretty sure my is about to JUMP outta my CHEST!”

(“You sure you ain’t just hopped up on caffeine and no sleep—?” “Shut UP Perconte, can’t you see I’m trying to flirt with your mother?”)

When you smile sleepily and tell him he can’t talk to your son that way he’ll perk up like a goddamn puppy dog, hop down from his chair and grab the mug of burnt coffee he’d poured for you when he’d heard you greeting Nixon that morning.

He presses the cup into your hand and his smile would soften into the one he saved for you (the one he’d given you after the two of you had snuck out past curfew at Toccoa to put a can of peaches by the door of Sobel’s bunkhouse and nearly gotten caught because you couldn’t stop giggling)

Luz is so obviously a goof but he also would be so endearingly obvious in his adoration of you.

No one would dare tease him about it. George brought so much light and (much needed) distraction from the darkness around them that THE BOYS™ would literally go to the ends of the earth to ensure that the two of you had time together.

Don’t think about how, after being assigned a (gasp) room with a queen bed and a door(!) he would give you that smile again BUT this time there’d be a lil hint of Trouble in those bright eyes. Don’t think about him swallowing your sighs as the two of you keep each other warm between the sheets.

But if you do think about it, know that he’s going to whisper the sweetest, kindest things to you the whole time, and yall are gonna fall asleep like teens in a CW show (~in each others armzZz~)

Guarnere:

KING of the dirty wink

Oh my god.

Put that thing away before you get silly and hurt someone

You’ve heard of undressing someone with your eyes (see Liebgott and Nixon (and Ron if he’s feeling naughty shhh)), and you’ve heard of talking someone right out of their pants.

You had never known it was possible to WINK someone into a PUDDLE of feels.

Bill had a whole language of winks and head tilts, but you could be DAMN sure that he knows EXACTLY what he can do to you.

(Because you’re in a position where you’re under a bit more scrutiny than the other men, he also knows that you can’t necessarily reciprocate your feelings as openly as he can.)

DOn’t worry, he’s more than happy to flirt publicly for the both of you

“There she is, fuckin goddess of war herself. Come to see how the toughest, most handsome sonofabitch in the 506 is doin’ this morning?”

“Yeah, Bill. Something like that.”

It’s really cute.

When you guys are alone, you try to make up for the fact that you can’t openly admire him the same way that he admires you. But Bill won’t hear it- tells you that he’d still think the world of you, even if you called him “the most unhelpful, condescending little shit” you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting

(which you did, after two weeks of constantly being paired up for training in Georgia)

(He’d asked you to marry him the next day, and you’d laughed so loudly and unexpectedly that it startled the both of you. The only thing to shut you up was a bark from Lipton to focus on the combat training, and even then you hadn’t been able to stop your shoulders from shaking)

For all his insistence that you didn’t have to worry about him thinking you don’t share his feelings, he isn’t opposed whenever the mood to show him how much you care for him strikes you.

Take a lil initiative when the two of you are alone and he’s putty in your hands.

BC while he finds your restraint admirable, he’d be a fucking liar to say you dropping the stoicism to get a lil dirty makes him weak.

Everyone else is used to Bill being an open flirt, and they are pretty sure if you had a problem with it you’d make him stop, but that doesn’t stop them from being surprised when Bill had dipped you into an over-the-top romantic kiss when it was announced the war was over (BC LET’S PRETEND HE WAS ALL GOOD AND HEALED UP AND WAS WITH BUCK AT THE BASEBALL GAME OKAY?!).

Speirs had simply held his hand out, palm up while all the guys who’d bet against him paid up

He’d shipped it from day one, but you’ll never be able to prove it!

(YIKES A DOODLE HERE’S PART TWO! Thank you to everyone who responded and liked the first half (major shout out to @mrsalwayswrite for writing my new favorite Liebgott story!) Again, love yall, and may your personal letters never be considered contraband)

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #john martin x reader #johnny martin x reader #george luz x reader #luz x reader #bill guarnere x reader #guarnere x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography

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you-can-call-me-wanda · 4 years

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Sharing the Night

Pairing: Joe Strummer x Reader (Requested)

Author’s Note: Whoever keeps requesting these Joe imagines is after my heart I swear...

“Alright you guys, I need to go back to the venue and talk business. Here are the room keys. I was only able to snag two rooms, one with two queens and one with a single queen bed.”

You, Joe, Topper, Paul, and Mick all just blinked tiredly at Bernie, the Clash’s manager. Bernie sighed at the lack of response, handed you the keys, and left the five of you standing outside of the hotel.

“Okay,” you said after Bernie had left, “how are we splitting up?”

Topper and Paul surprised you greatly by practically jumping on you for the keys.

“Dibs on sharing with Paul!” Topper practically screamed as he snatched one of the sets of keys.

“I’m sharing with Topper!” Paul chorused.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. You turned to Mick and Joe.

“That just leaves the three-”

“I’m rooming with Paul and Topper this time!” Mick said, interrupting you completely, and went to stand next to Paul and Topper.

You squinted your eyes at Mick. Mick had been bickering with Paul all day long. It was odd for him to want to room with him.

“What are you three scheming?” you asked. They all stood in a row looking like the picture of innocence. Something was definitely up. You could tell by the way they were smiling at you and Joe.

“Nothing,” Paul said. “We just want to, uh, work on a song.”

“Without Joe?” you questioned. You turned to cast a glance at Joe who was glaring daggers at the other three members of his band.

“It’s a secret song,” Topper said. Mick and Paul just nodded along, agreeing with Topper’s obvious lie.

You ran a hand down your face, too tired to try and get to the bottom of whatever was happening.

“Whatever,” you commented. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“We won’t!” Topper called over his shoulder, already skipping into the hotel with Paul and Mick in tow. You watched them go bemusedly.

“Well,” you said, “that was weird. I guess your stuck with me tonight,” you told Joe.

“Yeah, weird,” Joe echoed, refusing to meet your eye.

The truth was Joe knew exactly what his friends were up to. They had been trying to set the two of you up ever since he had drunkenly revealed to them that he fancied you a couple nights ago. He hadn’t the slightest clue how you hadn’t figured it out yet either. Paul, Topper, and Mick were the most obvious people he had ever met. Mick said you were probably oblivious, but Joe was nervous that you simply didn’t reciprocate his feelings and were just too kind to reject him.

Today his friends had been particularly keen on getting you close to Joe. When you all had piled into the van in the morning, Paul had practically pushed Joe into the seat next to you. And again, at lunch, Mick had made you switch seats with him, so that you were stuck sitting next to Joe. Mick had made up the excuse about the sun getting into his eyes from where he was seated. You had switched with him with no complaint. You hadn’t even bothered to point out the fact that it was raining and cloudy outside. All the constant subtle teasing from his friends and being forced to be so close to you had left Joe on edge. He had been a nervous wreck around you for the past few days, scared that you would figure out how he felt about you.

“Earth to Joe,” you said, waving a hand in front of his face and snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” was his eloquent response.

You huffed out a small laugh. “You ready to head in?” you asked, gesturing towards the hotel. “I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s go.”

The walk to the room was silent. You were too tired from the day’s travels and show to make conversation and Joe was too busy internally panicking over the fact that he had to share a bed with you. How on earth was he expected to get any sleep with a literal angel lying next to him?

“Here we are,” you announced needlessly once you reached the room. You swiftly unlocked the door and entered.

It was a small little place, with not much in the room besides the bed. A small lamp sat on a tiny table in the corner. That was about all of the furniture and decoration there was.

You set your bag down and took a seat at the foot of the bed and began to unlace your boots. After a couple moments, you looked up to see Joe, still standing in the doorway of the room, staring at you.

“Um, you gonna come in?” you asked, brow arched.

“Yeah, uh, I just, um, yeah,” Joe stuttered out. He tentatively walked forward and sat at the other side of the bed.

You decided to brush off his odd behavior. All of the guys had been acting strangely lately. You wondered if the tour was taking a toll on them. Perhaps you should bring it up to Bernie tomorrow.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you said, rising to your feet.

You began to shimmy out of your leather jacket and jeans but paused when you heard Joe’s sharp intake of breath. You glanced over at him and once again caught him staring at you. His cheeks were stained a bright red and his eyes were opened wide.

“Uh, sorry,” he mumbled, looking away from your half-dressed form to gaze at the wall instead. “You just, um, uh.”

Joe didn’t even finish his statement. He simply let his stutters trail off as he fidgeted and stared uncomfortably at the wall.

“No, it’s, I’m sorry,” you said. Now you were stammering too. When rooming with Mick or Paul, changing in and out of clothes had never been an issue. You all felt comfortable getting dressed and undressed in front of each other. Maybe it was wrong of you to assume Joe would feel the same way. “Uh, do you want me to go change in the bathroom?” you asked. Joe certainly looked like he would prefer for you to leave and you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No,” Joe squeaked. He cleared his throat. “No, uh, it’s fine, I just- I’m going to go to sleep now.”

Joe then hurriedly stood up, kicked off his shoes and dove under the covers. He didn’t even bother taking his jacket or trousers off. You felt a little bad, seeing how uncomfortable he felt rooming with you.

“Okay,” you said, going over to switch off the lights. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight,” Joe mumbled back to you as you climbed under the covers as well.

For the second time that night, the two of you were blanketed in silence. The only sounds in the small hotel room were the far-off wailing of sirens and the hushed breathing of you and Joe.

“Joe?” you said after laying in the quiet dark for some time.

A pause.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?” you asked. You remained laying on your back, choosing to stare up at the cracking plaster ceiling than over at Joe.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a sigh. “It’s just lately you’ve seemed so off. I thought maybe you were upset with me.”

“Upset with you?” Joe asked, seeming somewhat surprised at the idea. “No, I’m not upset with you.”

“Oh,” you said. You were relieved to hear those words. “Well, that’s good but, if you’re not upset with me, why are you acting so strange?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before Joe answered.

“I, it’s hard to explain,” he eventually said. You didn’t have to look over at him to picture his face. You could tell from his stammering and his tone that he was most likely blushing and biting his lip, a nervous habit of his.

“Try,” you pressed.

“I can’t tell you,” he said, his tone now more sad than nervous.

“Why not?”

Once again, there was a long pause before Joe answered you.

“I’m scared you won’t feel the same,” he said, voice dropping down to a whisper.

“Oh,” you said. A million thoughts were racing through your head but, at the same time, everything felt like it was falling into place. Everything was suddenly making sense. Paul, Topper, and Mick’s secretiveness, Joe’s lingering stares, all of it made sense now. “Joe?”

“Yeah?” he said. He sounded defeated.

“What if I did feel the same?” you asked the darkness.

“What?”

You heard him roll onto his side, so you did the same and faced him.

“What if I had feelings for you, Joe?” You asked again. “Romantic feelings?”

Joe’s eyes searched yours for any hint that you might not be telling him the truth. He found none.

“I would, that would be, well that would mean everything to me,” he said. Joe could hear his heart hammering in his chest and for a moment, vaguely wondered if you could hear it as well. “I think I’m in love with you, (Y/N),” he said.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face at Joe’s words.

“Yeah?” you asked.

Joe returned your smile.

“Yeah.”

Your hand fumbled underneath the sheet trying to find his. When you did, you intertwined your fingers with Joe’s.

“So,” you said. “What do we do now?”

Joe grinned mischievously and you were glad to see his previous insecurity had seemingly worn away.

“I can think of a few ideas.”

#joe strummer imagine #joe strummer x reader #the clash x reader #the clash imagine #the clash #Joe Strummer #wanda writes

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quickspinner · 4 years

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Spontaneity

I don’t even know what this is, my brain is too fried to work on the big stuff and I just needed to relieve my soul this week, so have some Lukanette fluff.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was over Adrien Agreste.

She’d resolved to make it happen, had put in the necessary effort, she’d done everything she was supposed to do (as informed by both her mother and grandmother, who were both very wise women) and yet had never expected to succeed. Somewhere in her romantic teenaged heart she’d believed that she would die sad and alone, sighing over pictures of Adrien with his children and grandchildren and great grandchildren until she finally withered away like her poor broken heart.

Yet, despite all of her expectations, Marinette was okay. Well. Relatively speaking. There were an awful lot of things besides boy trouble dragging her down, but it was a relief to cross at least that one stressor off the list, and it made her less vulnerable to several of the other troubles.

Marinette was less relieved to find that new feelings could grow in her cracked heart as easily as weeds in a cracked sidewalk. She didn’t want to feel any of those things for someone else, not yet.

But, since when did what Marinette wanted count for anything? After a few fleeting crushes that thankfully didn’t get very far, and which certainly didn’t have anything to do with her trying to distract herself from scarier feelings that she wasn’t ready to face, there was still only one boy who had the kind of effect on her that Adrien did. Except, not, because while she was still nervous and occasionally flustered, she never felt the crushing doubt and anxiety she’d felt when she talked to Adrien.

Possibly because Luka had made sure she had no doubts about his feelings for her. It was easier to face rejection when you knew it was pretty damn unlikely.

Easier, but still not easy.

But if she wanted anything to happen, she was going to have to meet him halfway. Luka knew she had feelings for someone else, and while that didn't seem to stop him from caring about her, it was absolutely enough to stop him from making any kind of move on her. His usual repertoire of touches continued—a light touch on her waist to steady her or let her know he was moving past, a hand to pull her up, and of course the patented Luka Couffaine Shoulder Grab of Comfort™—but he never moved a single step beyond those boundaries unless she did so first. But when she did, he always reciprocated. If she took his hand, he closed his fingers around hers. If she leaned into him, he put his arm around her. If she buried her face in his chest, he held her, lightly if she did nothing else, tightly if she pressed close.

Marinette had never imagined that kind of love until Luka showed it to her. The kind that was unselfish and unassuming, quietly honest, tenderly respectful, and only as present as you wanted it to be, as long as you didn’t look in his eyes. Because when his eyes met hers, she felt it down to her bones, whether he intended it or not.

Surely if she kissed him, he would kiss her. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about finding the right words. She just had to find the right moment.

Unfortunately Marinette sucked at finding the right moment. She had come up with plan after complicated plan to create the right moment with Adrien, and had failed spectacularly every time. And while Adrien might have appreciated the effort and the drama, Luka was much more low key, and she wasn’t even sure what the right ingredients were for the right moment with him, let alone how to put them together. She knew that it included him and her and probably his guitar, but what else?

She couldn’t ask the girls. Weirdness aside, Luka would want it to be personal, not something to share with so many people. Wouldn’t he? She wondered if he had ever thought about The Moment and what it looked like to him.

Spontaneous. Natural. Easy.

All things Marinette was kind of horrible at—except when she was with Luka.

A quiet, in-between moment, the unplanned atmosphere of studio lights, and words from the heart not intended for a reply. An affirmation more than a confession. Gentle, but not passionless.

Ugh, she had so much to live up to.

“You’re thinking awfully hard tonight.”

Marinette jumped.

“Sorry,” Luka smiled at her. “Just wondering what’s on your mind, if you feel like sharing.” He didn’t bother saying it was okay if she didn’t. He’d said it enough times to know she knew.

Marinette stared at the rapidly darkening sky through the glass of the Liberty’s sunroom and contemplated how to sum it up for him without giving herself entirely away. Luka was perceptive and insightful and would know the truth if she gave him even the slightest hint.

Which might solve her problem, actually, but he deserved better. “Being spontaneous,” she said at last, and pouted at the immediate quiet laughter that shook him.

“That’s not really how being spontaneous works, you know,” he teased.

Marinette pouted harder.

“Aw, Marinette,” he sighed with a smile, setting his guitar aside—a silent invitation for her to come closer if she wanted.

She very much wanted, so she slid over next to him. He lifted his arm and she dipped under it, snuggling against his side and drawing her feet up onto the couch beside her.

“You seem happier today,” Luka observed. “I’m glad.”

Marinette hummed in agreement without really answering, still preoccupied.

“Can I ask what you’re planning to be spontaneous about?” he added, and she wanted to smack him for the obvious amusement in his voice.

“No,” she said shortly.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “Sorry.”

Marinette pushed herself up and moved to face him. Luka’s arm moved from her shoulder to her waist as she turned, and he looked back at her with a mixture of curiosity and patience, probably thinking she was about to confess all her troubles.

He was wrong though. Marinette might suck at romance but she was really good at vengeance and she was about to get him back for teasing her. She could too be spontaneous.

Marinette leaned up, caught his collar with one hand to pull him the little distance she needed to reach, and kissed him. Quickly, and a little too hard, and she hadn’t held his face or looked in his eyes or even moved her lips or any of that, but she made the move, right, and that was what mattered, even if she was so...so Marinette about it.

Oh God, what had she been thinking?

Luka looked surprised, and the high points of his cheeks tinted red, just enough to be noticeable. “Thank you,” he said with a faint smile.

Marinette felt her own face flood with color, and she promptly buried her face in his shoulder with a small squeak. She felt stupid and incompetent and young—

She felt Luka’s chest move as he took in one slow, deep breath, and then another. Crap, he was deciding what to do. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look up.

Slowly his arm tightened around her waist, and he took another breath. The hand on her back moved, and she felt his long fingers slip into her hair and comb gently through. It felt good, and she relaxed a little. Then he stopped, and touched the back of her neck lightly, not applying pressure in any way but still somehow conveying that he wanted her to look up at him.

“Marinette?” he said quietly. It came out rough, and he cleared his throat. Marinette took a deep breath of her own and pushed back to look at him, determined to see this through even if the embarrassment killed her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “It's just, I don’t want to be wrong about this or—or read more than you meant to, I—“ Oh, Luka, she thought, and she took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. Whatever he was saying trailed off, turning into a small needy sound as Marinette kissed him again, firmly but not so hard, though just as quick because she still wasn’t that brave. They shared a quick gasping breath and then he was kissing her and she nearly forgot to breathe at all as her hands fell back to his chest, her fingers curling in the fabric of his hoodie, trying to respond as Luka kissed her again and again. It was soft and gentle and Luka, but there was still something in the way he clutched at her waist, the quick, shallow breaths moving his chest under her hands, and the way his eyes stayed closed for a moment afterwards that made her feel all shivery inside.

Luka rested his forehead against hers and if there was a bit of finally in his sigh, it wasn’t the finally of you’ve come to your senses, it was I’ve wanted to do that for forever, and it made joy instead of guilt well up in Marinette’s chest. She snuggled back against him, dropping her head back down to his shoulder, and felt him enfold her, squeezing her tight without any of his usual caution. Luka curled around her, resting his chin on top of her head, and somehow even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew he was happy.

She made him happy. Marinette smiled, huge and bright, and though he couldn’t see her face either, she felt him chuckle and knew that he knew too.

#quickspins #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #first kiss #all that remains

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

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Unconventional Wayfinders - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this one yet. I like the idea, but I’m wary of my execution. Oh well!

~~~~~

Fingers work their magic, gliding through ebony hair. The pampered would absolutely melt into oblivion if he could; instead, he just soaks in the sunlight streaming in through the window and indulges in the feeling of someone playing with his hair. So relaxed is the young man that he begins to drift away—that is, until the magic stops and a digit taps against his nose.

“Eraqus, aren’t you supposed to be reading?” Book aside, silver eyes—sparkling from that afternoon light—peer down at the lap in which the slacker rests his head.

The response is an unashamed grin. “Maybe.” A brow arches at him. “Come on Xehanort. I’m not bothering your studies.”

“So,” the studious replies sharply. “If you don’t study, when the test comes around, you’ll try to get me to cheat for you again and we’ll both get caught and get detention…again.”

Chuckling, Eraqus reaches up to swat silver bangs from the other boy’s face. “Maybe next time you should double check before throwing the most obvious cheat sheet right in front of the Master’s face.”

“Or—” The book snaps shut. “—you could study and do your test without getting me in trouble…again.”

“I thought you liked risk.”

“Sure, but I’m not a fool—you should know; you’re king of that field.” Fingers pinch at a cheek.

The boy in white pushes the fingers from his face, still smiling like the royal fool he is. Then something that’s been dancing through his thoughts for a long time slips past his lips. “Hey, get a piercing with me.”

Understandable is the look of shock on his partner’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Granted, it is a very odd request, but there is certainly a motivation behind his suggestion; he can display his affection all he wants in smooches, snuggles, and sneaky spots, but those are things that can fade in the fleeting moments following said acts. That’s not to say Eraqus will ever forget his beloved’s greedy kisses or the embraces that make him feel like he’s more than just another face in a bloodline of world defenders, but those affections, filled with so much adoration, always leave him anxious that his happiness will one day vanish—all he wants is some physical proof that these moments happened. Having thought long and hard about the decision, this is the solution that emerged.

“Let’s go get our ears pierced,” he repeats, sitting up. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m sure it’ll be painful…”

“Only for a while—Urd says it’s not that bad. Even Bragi got one.”

“Okay, first off, Bragi would jump into a hole for a bag of candy. Second, Urd is probably the one who threw the bag down there.”

An attempt to defend his friends is made, “That only happened once!”

“But it happened.”

“Just—come on! Please!”

There’s an initial resistance, but Xehanort cannot withstand his boyfriend’s puppy-eyes for long—Era knows; Era checked. The “simple request” has to be considered a bit longer than an average request but he does inevitably give. “Fine.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Grabbing his hand, the excited boy drags the other out of the library.

“Now?!”

Yes, he wants to go now.

By the time they arrive at the tattoo parlor that’s been scouted out for a few weeks, Eraqus is sure his companion is only seconds away from reconsidering his life choices. Various art pieces adorn the ruby walls and black furniture is set to accommodate guests. There are tables and chairs behind the show-case counter with a variety of bottles and tools looking ready to torment someone at disposal.

“What can I do for you boys?” the man behind the glass counter.

“Hi.” A wave is added to the greeting. “We’re here to get our ears pierced.”

He’s far more relaxed than expected. “Cool. What do you have in mind?”

And thus they have approached the first obstacle. “Er, actually we haven’t decided yet.”

So the man goes over the variation of ear piercings, shows some example pictures, and explains how to care for new piercings. When there’s still no decision on the type of piercing, there’s a gesture to case, offering a look at the myriad of jewelry they have.

The second his eyes lay on the black bands, Eraqus knows which ones he wants to share with his boyfriend—it seemed like fate to him. His finger points into the glass. “These ones.”

They clink as they fall onto the counter for the two to inspect, but the instigator is already sold. “You sure you want these ones? Cuffs usually go in the cartilage which is a bit more painful than your usual earlobe piercings.”

Xehanort eyes the shorter boy who grins and declares, “Yep. I want these ones—one for each of us.”

“Alright. Who’s going in the chair first?”

Now in the face of imminent pain, Era starts to get cold feet. While he is a key bearer and is no stranger to pain, he’s not exactly a fan of it and prefers to shy away. He’s fully aware his reaction is a little silly, but good ol’ Xe heaves a sigh and announces, “I’ll go first.”

Stone eyes watch on as the first boy speaks with the piercer about placement of the ear décor as casually as talking about the weather on Scala. True to his persona, he shows no apprehensions.

“You wanna hold his hand?” the artist offers the onlooker.

This immediately brings up an objection from the first victim. “Pfft. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand. Let’s just do it.”

A sheepish grin via Era is given; the artist shrugs and turns back on the boy in the chair. The faintest hint of concern finally flashes in those silver eyes, detectable only by the boy who knows him best. Nevertheless, with a simple blink and only the slightest of twinges, the job gets done. Once he’s free, Xehanort looks to Eraqus—ear just starting to react to the piercing.

“How does it look?”

The gleaming metal brings about a strange happiness within the shorter male. In Eraqus’s mind, it’s a mark—a claim—and it makes him absolutely overjoyed. “It looks great…I guess that means it’s my turn?”

The boys swap out and the boy with black hair feels the nerves coil in his gut again. A marker taps against his ear and the placement is confirmed. As the needle is being prepped, his heart beats louder in his chest. His gaze turns on the other boy.

“Guess I’m not quite as brave,” he admits, hand upturned in requisition.

There’s a mock of annoyance but fingers interlock and hold firmly. “It’s not that bad, you wuss.” Nervously, the second victim just smiles.

There’s a warning and the muscles in his body tense, his fist curling tighter around his partner’s. A sharp bite takes hold in his ear but he knows better than to flinch away. Instead, focus goes to the reciprocated squeeze in his hand. It feels like forever but eventually the pain dies down, blood rushing around the spot which is unlikely to die down soon.

Elated and relieved, he hops up. “Phew! I’m glad that’s over!”

“Glad? You’re the one who planned this whole thing,” his boyfriend scolds.

“That doesn’t mean I go around poking needles through my ears in my spare time.”

The good-natured artist chuckles. “Alright.” A mirror is propped up for their viewing. “Wha’chu boys think?”

Once again, Eraqus is very pleased at seeing his shiny, new adornment, but that euphoria is nowhere near the hit he gets from each glance at the matching piece worn by Xehanort. Bleeding through his brain is the thought of how beautiful the mark he’s chosen looks on his dearest.

“It’s perfect. Thanks.”

Xe bounces his shoulders. Several more words of gratitude are given before the couple pays and heads home. The boy in white is more chipper than usual on their trek and his companion’s admiration of the light-heartedness is not missed.

Back at the castle, the pair ambles along the student dorms.

“So we’re supposed to spray this on our ears twice a day?” questions the boy in black, holding up a mini spray bottle.

“That’s what he said.”

A hand riffles through silver hair, only to quickly retract with a grimace; his ear is now notably upset at having been impaled. “Why did you have to pick a helix piercing?”

Despite his beloved’s griping, Era eyes the band with a little smile. “I thought it looked cooler. What? You don’t like the cuffs I picked?”

“Why cuffs?”

This is where the shorter boy feels a bit sheepish in admitting his cheesy reasoning—but if anyone would understand, it would be Xehanort. “Because they have stars in them.”

What Eraqus is referring to is the star-shaped holes in the black metal. Years ago, shortly following the arrival of the non-native boy, he told his classmates about a fruit from his home world that is rumored to bind two people’s destinies should they share one—it grows in the shape of a star. Now Eraqus had no way of finding Xehanort’s home world, let alone this magical fruit; so in hopes the symbolism will be enough—even if it’s just to remind these boys to take control of their own destinies—he chose the jewelry based on a fantasy.

“You’re such a sap.” This is no doubt Xehenort’s attempt to lighten the heavy implications. It’s worth noting the tint of pink bleeding across his nose.

With a childish huff, Era folds his arms and storms ahead into his room. “Fine. Don’t wear it. See what I care. You just had a needle in your ear for nothing.”

Just as he’s shirking off his haori, a pair of arms slips around his waist. “I said you were a sap; I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear it,” the taller hums, chin falling on a shoulder. “It’s cute that you believe in such fairy tales.”

Stony eyes roll. “You’re rude.”

He can’t resist the nuzzle against his neck. “You’re adorable.”

There’s little resistance to being pulled around, but Eraqus is in for a surprise when the hands against his shoulders push him down onto the bed. He has just enough time to sit up before the other straddles his lap. It feels like a balloon swelling in his chest as his face is captured and drawn close. However, the normally hunter-like gaze is surprisingly soft and warm.

“Silly, symbolic jewelry or not, no matter where our paths may take us, I’ll always find you in the end.” Even his voice holds that sincere emotion.

Xehanort is not one to blatantly lay himself out for anyone—even his partner sometimes struggles to reach through the indifference. But the moments where he does let his guard down tend to be most cherished by the shorter boy as he knows they are the most important. No matter what happens, he knows Xe will hold true to his words and maybe that’s all Era needed to keep his peace of mind. It’s still going to fill him with happiness to see his little tag on his boyfriend’s ear though.

The sweet instant is short lived, transitioning easily back to the wolfish nature more suitable for the boy in black. With a dangerous gleam, he leans closer. All tension melts in submissive boy’s anticipation.

“On the other hand, if you wanted some sort of proof of your claim, there are certainly other ways you could’ve left a mark,” the instigator whispers against pink lips, putting every strand of black hair on end.

“Wanna demonstrate?” His mind is already lost to the desire for affection.

With slow, deliberate draw of his tongue along the bottom lip, Xehanort lowly replies, “Oh you know I’m going to.”

He pushes his partner down onto the bed and indulges Eraqus in his greed.

#xehanort #eraqus #xehaqus #xehanort x eraqus #young master eraqus #young master xehanort #ymx #yme

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mysweetserpent · 5 years

Text

Slithering His Way Out Pt 6

A/N: debating on just leaving this as the last chapter and working on all my other requests... let me know what you guys want me to do..

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Starting a new school for anyone was hard enough, but what made it worse for Y/N was that whether people were going to like her or not was already decided just by her association with a certain group of people. She was already feeling the stares from everyone as she walked down the hall to where Archie told her he would be.

Approaching the table where Archie stood with a brunette next to him who was organizing papers Y/N called out the boy’s name. “Archie.” The redhead picked his head up along with the girl standing next to him. “Hey Y/N.” A light smile spread on the girl’s lips.

“Veronica Lodge.” The brunette said to Y/N sticking her hand out. Y/N accepted the hand shake. “Oo finally I meet the infamous girl who stopped a fight filled with who’s is bigger than who’s.” Glancing at Archie, Y/N could see the nervous smile on his face as he watched the girls interaction.

“Relax Archie.” Was all Y/N managed to say before a bell rang meaning school was about to start. And just like that, the serpents walked in.

Jughead followed by Sweet Pea walked through the doors looking around spotting Y/N. Sweet Pea nudged Jughead before pointing at his ex-girlfriend. The beanie boy nodded before leading the group over to Y/N.

Y/N watched as Sweet Pea let his cold stone facade fall for a second allowing relief to wash over it. She knew it was because no one had heard from her since she left Pop’s. She rolled her eyes before turning her back to the serpents that now stood behind her. Making eye contact with Archie, he raised his eyebrows as a way to ask if she was okay. Y/N nodded.

A familiar sent of cigarettes, leather and a very light hint of cologne filled her nose and she knew Sweet Pea was standing behind her. Y/n took a deep breath to calm herself down and zoned out as the brunette she now knew as Veronica went through a whole speech about drinking from the cup that is “fair Riverdale”.

What zoned her back in was a hand being placed on her shoulder and Jughead saying, “There’s the school spirit I so roundly remember.”

Y/N quickly shrugged the hand placed on her shoulder off as chills spread all over her body. Turning her eyes away from the redhead girl and the bulldog douche making their way down the stairs, she turned to Sweet Pea making eye contact with him. “Don’t.” She said sternly.

Sweet Pea crossed his arms as Y/N took a steps away from him now standing in between Jughead and Toni. Veronica was the first to speak. “Cheryl, no one invited fascist Barbie.” Cheryl was quick to snap back. “Wrong no one invited Southside scum to our school.”

All the deep breathing had gone to waste as Y/N heard insults being thrown at them. “The same scum your brother came to for a way out.” Y/N said just above her breath. Cheryl’s face faltered hearing Y/N’s words, but she quickly recovered. “Listen up here Ragamuffins.”

“I will not let Riverdale High’s above average GPA to suffer because of classrooms are overcrowded with underachievers.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes as her hands turned in to fists. Cheryl continued on, “So please do us all a favor and find some other school to debase with your hardscrabble ways.”

Y/N took a step forward to go after Cheryl, but Toni beat her to it. “Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face?” Toni stepped around the table making her way to Cheryl. Y/N quickly followed in step with Toni ready to defend her friends.

Cheryl took a few steps to meet Toni’s approach. “Happily, Queen of the Buskers.” Y/N jumped in front of Toni making her almost face to face with Cheryl. “Think what you want Cheryl.” Y/N spat out. “But we are a family you shouldn’t mess with.”

Cheryl laughed sarcastically. “Oh please Orphan Girl.” Y/N’s face immediately went stone hard. She began to raise a hand to Cheryl, but it was caught by Archie who now stood in between the two girls. “Okay stop.” He said pulling Y/N’s hand down to their side still keeping hold of it.

“Can we all just put our Northside-Southside differences apart and start over? A new slate?” Archie pleaded/offered. The Bulldog Douche finally decided to speak up after hearing Archie’s plead. “You don’t speak for the Bulldogs, Andrews. And need I remind you these greaser snakes showed up at your place trying to kick your ass all over a tag and a stupid girl.” He spat out girl as he glared at Y/N.

Sweet Pea had enough of the insults being thrown at Y/N. He pushed his way out from behind Toni and Jughead. “Happy to finish what was started.” Y/N turned around pulling her hand out from Archie’s and placed it on Sweet Pea’s chest pushing him back. Jughead and Fangs also grabbed Sweet Pea making sure he didn’t start a fight.

Prinicpal Weatherbee finally made his appearance. “Alright everyone that’s enough pomp and circumstance. Everyone let’s get to class. Now.”

Jughead looked at all the serpents before nodding telling everyone to follow directions. Y/N gave Sweet Pea’s chest one last push as they made eye contact. “Go.” She said with no emotion. Dropping her hand off his chest, she also dropped their gaze.

The serpents dispersed and Y/N remained still. All of that talk of not wanting to be classified with the serpents now out that window because she couldn’t keep her temper in check. She watched as Archie came back after a short chat with Cheryl. “You alright?”

Y/N’s eyes were shut trying to keep her tears at bay. She wouldn’t and couldn’t allow herself to cry. Not here. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and an expensive perfume smell filled her nose. “I’ll take care of this one Archiekins.”

Veronica pulled Y/N in to the closest bathroom. Y/n leaned up against the sink wrapping her arms around herself. As she took a few deep breaths, the Lodge girl studied her. Veronica couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of Y/N and Archie together but she knew it was a life time ago.

While Veronica was stuck in her thoughts, Y/N noticed the girl’s stares. “Hey you don’t have to comfort me. I can take care of myself.” Turning around she looked at herself in the mirror making sure she didn’t look anything but calm and collected. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have even the slightest feelings for Archie. It was just a short thing before I found Sweet Pea.”

Veronica looked at Y/N through the mirror nodding her head. “I know. But I also know that you were the first real girl he liked. And everyone always remembers their first who actually reciprocates.”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s water under the bridge Veronica. We are no more than a last resort for each other. But you two,” She turned around to actually face Veronica while pointing at her. “You two are nothing but endgame.”

An immediate smile spread on Veronica’s lips. “You should have heard him last night running his mouth about you. I was almost tempted to smother him with a pillow but then he told me that you were the one who stopped that stupid street fight.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders as she continued, “I felt like I owed you one so the redhead is still alive and breathing.”

Chuckles could be heard from both girls in the bathroom. But once the chuckles died down, Veronica’s face filled with nothing but curiosity. Y/N sighed loudly. “Which answer do you want to know first? Why I’m not in a serpent jacket or why I’m treating Sweet Pea like the plague?”

Veronica’s face fell slightly. “I don’t mean to pry.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders again. “Both are very complicated.”

————

After a few too long classes, the lunch bell rang. Y/N stepped out of her history class and began walking down the hall. She didn’t know exactly where she was going to go or who she would even find to sit with, but all that changed when a hand grabbed her arm and that expensive perfume filled her nose again.

“I believe you and I are heading to the student lounge so you can introduce me to your friends.” Veronica too happily claimed. Y/N scoffed. “Didn’t we talk about how complicated things are this morning?”

Veronica lopped their arms and continued walking to the student lounge, Y/N assumed. “The way you defended them against the almighty Cheryl Blossom this morning shows one thing Y/N. And that is you still love and care about them. They might have hurt you but they are still there for you.”

Before Y/N could respond they turned in to the doorway of the student lounge. Y/N looked around spotting her four serpents friends. Veronica and Y/N stood in between the chairs Toni and Jughead were sitting at. Veronica turned to Toni. “I don’t think we’ve properly met. Veronica Lodge.” She stuck her hand out to Toni.

“Of the Park Avenue Lodges.” Jughead said sarcastically while sticking his pinky up. Y/N saw this and smacked the back of his head. “Be nice.”

She could hear Fangs and Sweet Pea snicker at Jughead getting put in his place. Toni ignored her friends and shook Veronica’s hand. “Toni Topaz.” Veronica made another comment about a purple colored gem stone and then another girl Josie introduced herself.

But Y/N’s eyes were stuck on watching Fangs and the sheriff’s son interact. Her eyebrows were raised and a slight smirk was on her face. Looking at her other serpent friends, they all shared the same expressions she did.

“You guys!” The interruption from Principal Weatherbee confused the group of kids as they turned to face him. “Yes you, come with me! Now!”

Veronica, Y/N, Kevin Keller and the four serpents all followed Principal Weatherbee in to the hallway that lead to the main entrance. The bulldog douche stood at the other end of the hallway with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Principal Weatherbee stepped over the Riverdale seal that was now tagged with a horribly drawn serpent.

“Which one of you defaced our school seal with this graffiti?” Before anyone got the chance to defend the serpents, Reggie spoke first. “This is what they do. They tag their turf.” Y/N couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Their tags never look like a two-year old did it.”

“My god Reggie. Could you be anymore transparent?” Veronica said once again trying to stick up for the serpents.

“Effective immediately, no gang behavior of any kind will be tolerated in my school. As of this moment, no more serpent jackets.” Principal Weatherbee began dictating causing a loud response from the serpents behind Y/N. Weatherbee repeated himself. “No more serpent jackets! All tattoos are to be covered. Possession of any gang paraphernalia whatsoever will lead to immediate suspension.”

After Weatherbee’s new rules were spoken, Reggie stood making a smug look while staring each one of the serpents down. When his eyes met Y/N’s, he smirked. “I guess you shouldn’t have a problem with the new rules.” He spat trying to get a reaction out of her. And he almost did until Y/N realized just how right he was. She smirked back at him. “I guess I shouldn’t.” She said realizing just how that backfired on the boy standing in front of her and the group standing behind her.

taglist: @deanilostmyshoe @Abbigail-583 @janepetersonxxx@lalalindsay25631888@jolomez @love-is-the-fear-of-loss @lynnskata @nadderlover@sweetpeassouthside@Lucywishstories @chipster-21 @sweetpeaiscomingforu@jojokoko0717 @Itsmikayblr @castingtheshadow @book-reader-diaries @sarcasm-n-insomnia @cookies186 @strawvberrymilktae @baileyboo22 @cantlivewithoutwifi18

#riverdale imagine #sweet pea imagine #masterlist #sweet pea #riverdale #riverdaleimagines #sweetpea #riverdale serpents

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whatusernamex3000 · 5 years

Text

Kacxa Week Day 5: Aggressive Negotiations

Apologies that this is late. Travelling today.

While Allura and Lotor bicker endlessly trying to broker peace between the Galra Empire and Voltron, Acxa needs to make peace with one specific person.

Her feet took her to where she figured he'd be, the training room. He was always there. But to her surprise, he wasn't. Instead she was face to face with the former black paladin, Takashi Shirogane. "Oh… sorry. Umm is… is Keith around?" She shyly asked. Her interactions with the former Paladin were limited at best, and never without Keith. But she knew that he was a good man who had a big heart and doesn't hold onto a grudge.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Or so she thought. "Keith has always had walls up, and for some reason he allowed you through them and you just ended up hurting and leaving… just like everyone else in his life," he said, arms crossed as his glare cut her like daggers.

And she knew why. It was her fault.

It all started when Lotor asked her to meet with the leader of Voltron to discuss peace negotiations. She was more than uninterested, her and the now black paladin had a complicated history. Every time they met in combat, they always ended up paired off. But it was more than that, there was something there between them. And it scared her. She shouldn't be feeling like this when they were at war.

But it was an order, and she had to go. She met him on planet Plux, at a small mining town. The planet itself was filled with refugees and people of all walks of life, so a Galra and a human didn't turn any heads. The bar was dimly lit and pretty filthy, a perfect place to discuss peace. When she entered she took into the exits and how many people were in the bar, roughly eighty. She always made a note to find the exits, you never know when you need to make a quick getaway. And while she surveyed the bar, she felt eyes on her… Keith's

Keith wasn't in his paladin armour, or this blade uniform she had grown accustomed to seeing him wear. Instead, he donned a red jacket and black pants to help remain inconspicuous. But she could find him in a crowd of thousands. And she hated that she could. This boy just…

"Good you're here," he said with a neutral expression. It sort of hurt her feelings that he wasn't happy that they sent her and not Zethrid. "Let's get started."

The two of them had spent at least two vargas trying to come up with the best plan of action to have peace. At first, they started to make progress and peace seemed feasible. But when it came to Glara military leaving the occupied planets, that's when things got heated.

"I'm not saying to disband your military. I'm saying that planets are less likely to resist when they aren't under constant threat of a military takeover," Keith argued. And while Acxa actually agreed with him, she knew that the Galra would never give up control over their conquered planets.

"I can't do that. Lotor would never to for it. It would make him appear weak, allowing the planets to rule themselves is one thing, but to remove our military is another entirely," she tried to explain, but she knew it would get them nowhere. She could see the fire in his eyes, he was ready to erupt.

"Just typical, you don't care about people. Only power!" He shouted, causing a few people in the bar to turn their heads briefly before turning back to whatever they were doing.

"You're wrong. I want peace just as much as you. You couldn't possibly think that we would figure it out all tonight?"

Seething, Keith stood up and slammed his fists down on the table they were at. "That's bullshit. You're just like the rest of them."

Looking back, Acxa considered this the turning point in their relationship. She had always prided herself in that she was different than any other Galra. But hearing it from Keith enraged her. It was then that she swung her fist and made contact with his chin, sending him flying backwards into another table. She had a nasty uppercut.

Instead of staying down like any other person who just how powerful her uppercut was, he stood up and smiled at her. This was going to be fun. He sprinted at her with a crazed smile on his face, and as much as Acxa hated to admit it, it was incredibly hot. Keith leaped over the table they had been seated in and tackled her to the ground.

The punch had already drawn a lot of unwanted eyes, but now with them sprawling on the ground, everyone was looking. Most seemed content to see how the fight ended without interfering, until them rolling around on the ground trading jabs ended up with spilt beer.

"Ya goddamn filthy Galra scum." The man said. He was roughly a full head taller than Keith, and about equal to Acxa if you included her horns. The two pulled themselves up to their feet. "Ya stupid bitch, you spilled my beer!" He accused her, even though it was technically just as much Keith's fault as it was hers.

Acxa was about to say something nasty back at him when a fist made contact and the man dropped to the ground unconscious. Keith had knocked him out. "You don't disrespect her like that. She's incredible and you treat her with respect," he shouted at the passed out man.

She was frozen staring at the man lying on the ground until she heard Keith's voice. "Are you okay?" Acxa finally turned her gaze from the man to Keith. He had a shy smile that melted her heart. She smiled back and was about to thank him when three of the man's friend's tackled Keith and started to beat him.

She grabbed one of the men and threw them across the bar where he crashed into another group of roughnecks. One of the men shouted at the guy she threw before taking a swing at him. But the guy she threw ducked and the punch thrower ended up hitting a their party.

In a matter of five ticks the bar turned into an all out brawl. (A/N Que "Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting))

Acxa and Keith stood back to back, smiles like neither of them have seen on each other like ever plastered on their face. Acxa grabbed a chair and slammed it across the back of a guy in her way. Keith grabbed an unclaimed drink, downed it, and threw right in the face of someone about to hit Acxa. He proceeded to jump on top of the bar kicking people in the face as they tried to climb up. Acxa was sprinting towards him as she threw a few people around.

She finally got to the counter and he leaped onto her, tackling her onto the floor. Both laughing in pure joy. Then Acxa saw this look in his eye… hunger, hungry for her. And she fed him, pulling his lips to meet hers.

And that was the first night they started to use these "peace summits" as hookups. Eventually a deca-phoeb went by and in truth there wasn't much peace was made. Bed peace, perhaps but nothing more. Eventually Keith decided that they should come clean. Sleeping with each other behind everyone's back was bothering him, and hurting their chances for peace. They could be the first step of peace. Two important figures on either side falling in love… and that's when Keith froze. He had just admitting to loving Acxa, a feeling that she reciprocated but didn't have the courage to tell him.

Instead of telling him, she broke his heart. "You're right. This is only hurting our chances at peace."

Keith misunderstood, so when she didn't show up the next time they tried for peace, he was devastated. Ezor understood, Acxa told her it was complicated between them, and seeing Keith's face when he saw her instead was all she needed to know what was going on between them.

It was Ezor who drew first blood. Acxa was shocked when she came in yelling about "breaking that poor flippity haired boy's heart". Ezor was team Keith.

Ezor and Zethrid in turn, started to push her to either stop pitying herself up or step up and tell him. So when Lotor told them they would all be going to rendezvous at the castle of lions to discuss peace with Voltron, she knew her choice. Her mind was made up.

"Please… I just… I have to tell him," she begged.

"Tell me what?"

She turned to see Keith standing there in his blade uniform. "What's so important that you have to tell me?" There was a bit of venom in his voice, but she thought she detected just the slightest hint of… hope. "Are you just gonna stand there or-"

Acxa didn't give him a chance to finish. She reduced the distance between them and in two quick steps her lips were on his. Her arms around his neck, her hands weaving their way through his hair.

"I love you."

Keith finally gave her that smile that she had missed more than anything. He reached down and grabbed her hands. "So… ready to show Lotor and Allura that peace is possible."

This time, she didn't hesitate.

#kacxa week 2019 #vld kacxa #kacxa #keith x acxa

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poisonousfey · 7 years

Note

46, characters of your choice

“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”

Going with Thrall/Garrosh so I can complete this daisy chain of wasted potential and idiocy

---

He first notices it when Thrall walks in on him whilechanging.

It’s early morning still, but Thrall apparently wakes up atthe ass crack of dawn, because he’s already dressed and ready by the time hecomes to Garrosh’s quarters in the hold, and Garrosh has only just barelyrolled out of bed. It’s not as if he’s a late sleeper, either- oh, no. It’sjust that he wakes up at normalpeople hours and Thrall apparently can only sleep in four hour incrementsbefore he pops out of bed, fully energized. The point is, Thrall forgetssometimes that not everyone is like him where they don’t actually wake up atfour or five in the fucking morning, and as such, is expecting Garrosh to beawake and fully dressed an hour ago when he walks in.

He is not.

So Thrall walks in, hardly waiting even a second afterknocking and without really seeing what’s in front of him, and asks, “Garrosh,have you seen this yet?” Only he doesn’t actually get to the word ‘yet.’ Infact, he barely gets to the word ‘this,’ because upon looking up from whateverhe’s holding, probably some kind of territory dispute since they’ve beendealing with Ashenvale more and more as of late, he finally seems to noticeGarrosh’s lack of pants, or any clothing overall, actually. It’s in the middleof summer in Durotar, a heat wave no less, and Thrall is somehow stillsurprised by this.

Now, Garrosh is annoyed more than anything else, and heknows he can overreact, but he thinks it’s still a bit much that Thrall stoppeddead in his tracks, eyes wide, and turned right the fuck around, mumbling ahurried apology as he goes. In fact, Thrall can’t quite look him in the eye forthe rest of the day, and Garrosh honestly doesn’t think it’s that big a deal.He got over it within minutes, and Thrall did apologize (profusely) forentering without knocking. However, as time goes on, Garrosh comes to realizethat they had entirely different understandings of what had just happened.

See, Garrosh was upset because Thrall infringed on hisprivacy, and that much seems to be relatively clear, but he was upset only because of that, and Thrall’s gotit in his head that he’s upset that he saw him naked, and was embarrassed.Which is baffling, to say the least. He’s not ashamed of his body- he’s gotnothing to be ashamed of. And nudity, obviously, isn’t inherently shameful.That’s just stupid.

But as the days go on, he finds that this isn’t so obviousto Thrall, and honestly this is a bit of an eye-opener for Garrosh, who knows,yeah, that Thrall was raised by humans and he’s a little weird because of itand so on and so forth, but it was always the sort of weird that the Hordeneeded, and it has never been obtrusive or harmful. He didn’t quite realizethat this affected him in such a way that it had actually harmed Thrall,himself.

Thrall eventually seems to understand that Garrosh is nolonger mad at him and had completely forgotten about it before lunch had evenpassed the same day, but it was so strange that someone as sure of themselvesas Thrall could suddenly be so meek over something so natural. But he watcheshim, in ways that no one sees or expects (because no one expects Hellscream of all people to be shrewd orobservant, and he’s going to keep them in the dark as long as he can to hisfull advantage), and he notices a few things.

Thrall will rarely if ever initiate physical contact. Ifsomeone else initiates, he’ll reciprocate in kind, but he will hardly everinitiate himself. Garrosh could probably count the number of people he’ll startwith on one hand, and he’s not quite sure how he should feel about himselfbeing counted among them. It’s probably why he didn’t notice it at first.

In that same vein, Thrall will not typically refuse contact,but he hardly ever enjoys it. He mostly seems to endure it, flinching minutelyif someone comes up behind him and claps him on the back, hesitating thesmallest of seconds before shaking hands with someone, and he seems to haveperfected maintaining a certain amount of space between others and himself atall times without it being readily noticeable. But despite all of this, henever shows even the slightest hint of discomfort. He never says a single wordabout it, not even to stand up for himself. It seems to put him on edge in theway that animals get when faced with capture, face carefully neutral andplacid, compliant out of fear and resignation. It angers him, honestly, to seehis friend let his own boundaries go unenforced, but he’s angrier at the peoplewho don’t care to pay attention to all the warning signs he’s throwing out morethan anything else. Once Garrosh sees it, it’s almost painfully obvious, andit’s infuriating that no one else seems to notice it.

(Garrosh may in fact get vocal about this but not directly;if Thrall’s not going to address it then that’s his business but the Chieftainof the Fireblade has no business trying to get chummy with him like that.Thrall becomes annoyed with him for becoming belligerent with them forseemingly no reason but Garrosh doesn’t miss the streak of relief that passesover his face when his instigating gets the most-likely-a-warlock to stopshaking Thrall’s hand and start fighting with him, instead. Garrosh feels noguilt whatsoever for it.)

Noticing these things seems to set up some kind of chainreaction, in that once he starts noticing these things, he can’t stop himselffrom seeing more and more.

The quickest way to get Thrall to recoil is to actuallytouch bare skin. Once, one of his guards had accidentally brushed against him,elbow to elbow, and Thrall had managed to only flinch slightly, but he might aswell have jumped out of his seat for how obvious he was restraining himself, atleast to Garrosh. And he notices, that even in the height of the summer heat,where even their most stalwart of warriors have swapped out their heavy, thickplate for lighter, cooler armor, Thrall still bears the black armor ofDoomhammer, and not only that, still seems to be covering up as much skin as heis able, the only thing showing below the neck being his elbows. It’s not as ifhe’s immune to the heat, either- he’s suffering just as much as the rest ofthem, if not more so, because of that armor. But he’s so adamant about not takingit off, it seems, that Garrosh begins to wonder if it’s really about being a“symbol of strength the Horde can rely on” or if he’s just that averse to beingtouched.

He decides to test this theory, a little while after supper,long after the sun has gone down and it’s just the two of them. It’s stillsmotheringly hot out, just not as bad as it had been earlier in the day.They’re sitting quietly in a little alcove in the upper part of the hold, andwhile the window may be open, the breeze that passes through is feeble at best,and only pushes around the hot air rather than cool them off. They’d come to anatural lull in the conversation; Thrall was worried if the heat wave was goingto turn into a drought, worried if the Southfury river would reach dangerouslylow levels if the rainy season didn’t come soon, worried, worried, worried, andGarrosh just listened. There wasn’t really much he could do to put his mind atease, and sometimes it was better just let him vent it out uninterrupted thantry and fix something that wasn’t within his power to fix.

Garrosh had long since switched into more comfortableclothing, light leather armor during the day and light cotton at night when hisduties have been completed and there was no need to be “presentable.” Thrall,predictably, is still wearing his armor. He suspects that it will not beremoved until he has to go to sleep.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that, you know,” he tellshim, breaking the silence. “It is way too hot out to keep torturing yourselflike that.”

“It’s not that bad,” Thrall says reflexively. Garrosh raiseshis eyebrows at him. “It’s not,” he persists. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“You wouldn’t have to get used to it if it wasn’t that bad,”he points out. Thrall gives him a warning look, which he masterfully ignores.“No one here is going to give you shit for not wearing the armor when it’s thishot. You look like you’re going to give yourself heat stroke.” Thrall huffs.

“I’m fine,” he insists irritably. They fall silent again,Thrall radiating annoyance and anxiety, and Garrosh just muscles on through it.

“You don’t have to be presentable when it’s just us,” hetells him. He’s not exactly gentle about it but it’s not really his nature tobe. “You can relax. It’s alright.”

“I really can’t or shouldn’t, but thank you,” Thrall snaps. He pointedly stares out the window intothe starry sky above, deliberately not looking at him. Garrosh rolls his eyesbut still moves his hand towards Thrall’s, making his movements obvious so thatThrall can see him coming and stop him any time. He does not. Garrosh takes hisgloved hand in his and squeezes tight.

“No, I mean it,” he insists. “It’s alright to relax whenit’s just us.” Thrall huffs again, still irritated, but he does relax thetiniest bit.

“I appreciate the thought,” he admits grudgingly. He doesn’tquite sound like he believes him but Garrosh already knows it’s going to takelots of baby steps with this jackass to make any sort of viable progress, sohe’ll let him be for now.

The next morning is the hottest in a long string of hotdays. True to form, Thrall still leaves his chambers fully armored and remainsas such for the rest of the day, but to Garrosh’s surprise, he actuallyswitches out of it later that evening. He’s wearing much more comfortablecotton clothing when Garrosh catches him after supper- with short sleeves,even. He wasn’t expecting him to make so much progress so quickly. It’sastonishing. Though privately, he suspects the ever-mounting heat might havehad something to do with it. That being said, it does precisely nothing to stophim from grinning smugly at him when he catches Thrall’s eye.

“Not another word,” Thrall warns.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Garrosh replies helpfully.

“Shut up,” he grumps, shoving at Garrosh’s bare shoulder withungloved hands and no real force behind it. He just grins wider at him andThrall groans annoyedly. He follows him back up to the little alcove, and thebreeze is still no better than it was before. Thrall rants at him about thevarious councilors and ambassadors that have been getting on every last nerve,and Garrosh mostly just makes agreeable noises back at him and nasty littlequips that make Thrall snicker at their expense. Thrall doesn’t hold his hand,but it does hang around slightly too close for it not to be deliberate, andtwitches if Garrosh moves his even slightly. After a while of this, Garroshtires of the pretense and takes it, linking their fingers together. Thrall’spulse jumps in in his hand but he acts like he didn’t notice, continuing torant.

The next day is no less and no more hot than the previous,but it’s been going on long enough that it’s starting to make people antsy;multiple pointless arguments break out during the day in the hold, and he was thecause of only one or two of them. How Thrall manages not to lose his temper isstill a mystery to him (not that this is a bad thing, because Thrall losing histemper is usually immediately followed by a cataclysmic event caused by saidtemper), but he suspects, like most of Thrall’s weird personality quirks, itlinks directly back to his being raised by humans. He tries not to think aboutit too hard or it just pisses him off.

The day ends like it did the previous, with Thrall findinghim after dinner and the two of them finding the little alcove and talking whileThrall never quite finds the courage to hold his hand but waits around for Garroshto hold it anyway. And he does, because he’s not about to leave him hanginglike that when he’s only just starting to confront that part of himself.Especially not when he’s done the same for him before, hundreds of times over.

The rest of the week continues like this, too, steadilygrowing hotter and hotter until finally, the rainy season hits, and the skythat had been completely clear of clouds is suddenly covered with a dark veilof storms. Thrall does not take off his armor during the day even once, but hedoes consistently take it off once dinner has passed, which is better thanGarrosh expected. At the end of the week when they go back to the littlealcove, there’s no longer a breeze, but it doesn’t really matter, because it’sraining hard enough that cool air seeps through the open window and under theclosed door anyway. They should probably close the window but it feels so niceafter the weeks of heat that they can’t help but leave it open.

“I don’t know how much more of that I could take,” Thralladmits. Garrosh turns and looks at him, but before he can say anything, Thrallsays, “Don’t,” and Garrosh just snorts at him.

“I don’t know about you,” Garrosh starts. “But I’m going toenjoy this while I still can.” He proceeds to shuck off his shirt and shoes, muchto Thrall’s chagrin.

“Um,” Thrall says, laughing a little nervously, eyes wide. “Whatare you doing?”

Garrosh, in lieu of an actual response, turns to stare himdead in the eye and opens the door. They’re both blasted with cool, damp airand a little spray of mist.

“Oh spirits, no,” Thrall pleads, playing along. He’s tryingto stop himself from smiling but it isn’t working that well. “Don’t.” A momentlater: “Why did you take off your shoes.”

“Wet shoes are disgusting,” Garrosh says matter-of-factly,stepping barefoot out onto the balcony and directly into a still-forming puddle.“Obviously.” Another moment later, when the chill of the rain has actually sunkin: “Holy fuck.”

“What?” Thrall asks. He’s riding that line of ‘still jokingunless you’re not, in which case I’m actually concerned’ like a champ.

“This feels great,” Garrosh tells him earnestly. “It’s thenext best thing to taking a dip in the Southfury.”

“Please don’t do that right now, it’s full of crocolisks,” Thrallsays, ever the worrywart. Garrosh side-eyes him as he starts taking his shoesoff.

“Have you ever had fun even once in your entire goddamnlife?” Garrosh asks, mostly joking. Thrall rolls his eyes at him.

“Not even once,” he tells him gravely. “It is not a Warchief’splace to have fun.” Garrosh snorts,but he can’t really tell if he’s being serious or not. Thrall doesn’t appear toknow, either. He takes off his shirt and hesitates in the doorway for a minute.

“Are you coming or not,” Garrosh asks flatly. Thrall huffsbut this seems to be the thing that pushes him outside, taking slow, grudgingsteps.

“Fuck,” he says,surprised somehow that he was drenched in seconds. “It’s fucking cold.”

“Sure is,” Garrosh replies cheerily. “You’re standing in arain storm without a shirt or shoes. What were you expecting?” Thrall shivers violently.

“You’re an asshole,”he tells him. Garrosh smirks at him. “Fuck. Why is it so cold? How are you notaffected by this?”

“I never get cold,” Garrosh brags. “Unlike some people. Aren’tyou supposed to be a Frostwolf?”

“Listen,” Thrallstarts, shaking, pointing a finger in Garrosh’s face. “Fuck off.” Garroshchuckles, moving Thrall’s hand away.

“What the hell, you’re like a furnace,” Thrall marvelsenviously at the heat radiating from Garrosh’s hand around his wrist. “How didthe heat wave not kill you?”

“I actually know how to dress appropriately for the weather,”Garrosh says pointedly. Thrall rolls his eyes again and sighs grumpily, but hemakes no attempt to remove Garrosh’s hand. And. He knows this is a littlerisky, but he tugs Thrall towards him, slowly enough that he’s broadcastingwhat he’s doing and Thrall can stop him at any time. He doesn’t. He doesn’tstop him from pulling him closer, doesn’t stop him from pressing him againsthis chest, and doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around his waist. Thrallinches over Garrosh just barely, but Garrosh is so much bigger, has such abigger presence, that it’s much easier to engulf Thrall in his embrace than he initiallyexpected. Thrall doesn’t appear to mind, arms wrapping around him in kind andwater sluicing off of the both of them. He lets his head fall forward ontoGarrosh’s shoulder, and Garrosh finds he doesn’t mind. He stops shivering somuch.

“There,” he teases, because if he doesn’t, Thrall won’t playalong with him. “Was that so bad?”

“Shut up,” Thrall says.

#warcraft #thrall #garrosh hellscream #thrall x garrosh #Anonymous

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