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itsapeterthing · 3 years

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The Ship || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: you and your best friend and teammate, peter parker, go to a costume party only to discover that everyone believes that you and peter’s alternate super-hero identities are dating.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: brief mention of near death experience, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter Parker was your best friend, teammate and that was it- or that was at least what you two told yourselves. The two of you met after you were sought out by the Avengers once you had discovered that you had powers. Since then, the two of you had fought alongside each other and when off from school, spent your time staying and training with one another at the Avengers Compound.

The two of you spent most of your time with the other but you both told yourselves it was because you both had crazy lives and hectic schedules that matched up- not because you particularly enjoyed hanging out with each other- especially alone.

Although you both spent your fair share of time alone together, tonight you and Peter had other plans. Putting aside vigilante justice for one night, you and your best friend had agreed to go to a costume party. Despite the fact that none other than Flash Thompson was hosting said party, you convinced Peter it would be good for both of you to get out and allow yourselves to be normal teenagers for just one night without the responsibilities of being young superheroes hanging over you.

“Wait- you’re being Han Solo?” You asked your best friend as you crossed the street to meet him where he was standing on the sidewalk in front of Flash’s house. “You didn’t tell me that! I dressed as Leia!”

When you reached Peter, you stopped and admired him dressed as Han Solo. He stood bathed in the light underneath the lamppost and as much as your brain hated for you to think it, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself that the costume looked... good. That he looked good. You never even thought about the idea of him dressing as Han but now that he was standing in front of you you couldn’t help yourself from staring a little bit longer than you were probably supposed to at the way the white shirt hung on his body underneath Han’s characteristic vest.

Peter did the same, admiring you in the famous white dress of Leia’s until Ned- who was dressed as Luke- nudged your shared best friend. “Dude.” He muttered to Peter.

“What? Oh!” He spoke finally shaking his head. “It- it’s fine, Y/n. People will just think we're dressed in a group costume.”

“They’ll think I’m your girlfriend. It’s whatever.” You told him nonchalantly before walking ahead of the two boys to enter the party. “It’s getting cold can we just go inside, please?”

As you continued to walk up the steps he was now the one stopped in his place, admittedly a little hurt by what you had said. He wondered why it would be such a bad thing if other people thought that the two of you were a couple... before he snapped himself out of it, reminding himself that you were his best friend. He didn’t like you like that and you definitely didn’t like him like that. What was he thinking?

Mindlessly, Peter and Ned followed you up the steps and into the party. Although Peter dressed up, he admittedly didn’t think that many others would, but to his surprise the house was packed with other kids from school dressed in costumes of their own.

“Penis Parker!” Peter and you heard an all too familiar voice shout. “Y//l/n! I’m surprised you guys actually came. Thought Parker said he was too busy for stuff like this?”

Just when you were about to answer in Peter’s place you heard a loud crash sound from the kitchen. As soon as the sound reached Flash’s ears he quickly raced to the kitchen without saying another word to either you. “Not the vase!” was the last thing you picked up before he left you, Ned and Peter’s point of view.

“Well.... that was easy.” Peter said. “I’m going to go get something to drink. Do you want anything, Y/n?”

“Just a water is fine.” You smiled.

While Peter and Ned left to go find something to drink, you stood in your place, taking in the room around you. Around you was a large crowd of students your own age dressed in all sorts of fun costumes from the generic angel to who you assumed was a Taylor Swift.

Although you saw many different costumes- noting a few to point out to Peter when he got back- one in particular caught your eye immediately. Still standing in the spot Peter had left you in, you watched a girl across the living room from you stand there with a drink in her hand dressed in what you were sure was an all too familiar ensemble.

She was wearing a black jumpsuit with a matching black cloak tied across her shoulders. Both the jumpsuit and the cloak were adorned in haphazard details made of what you assumed was golden glitter glue. Completing her look was a matching black mask, covering her eyes.

You could recognize that ensemble anywhere. Although it was most certainly cheaper and made of latex and glitter glue, you knew it was attempting to replicate the ensemble you wore as your superhero alias “Sorceress”.

Neither you nor Peter had shared your identities with the world or your powers with your classmates. As far as everyone at your school knew besides Ned- you and Peter were normal high school students and Spider-Man and Sorceress were Avengers who saved humanity from multiple world-ending threats- there was no connection between you two and your secret super-human identities.

Although you knew you probably shouldn’t have, you couldn’t help yourself. Before you even realized what you were doing, your feet were already carrying you across the room to meet the girl dressed as... well... you.

When you stopped in front of her and her eyes met yours, you knew you couldn’t back down now. “Hi, sorry. I have to ask-“ You spoke, gesturing to her costume. “Are you- are you dressed as Sorceress? Like the Avenger?”

Taking another sip of her drink, the girl smiled back at you, nodding her head, her blond ponytail bouncing with it. “Yeah!” She told you. “That’s so cool that you noticed. I’m wearing it because my boyfriend wanted to do a couples costume.”

Just when your heart was filling with pride in knowing someone wanted to dress as you, you were taken back by her comment. Your outfit... a part of... a couple’s costume? You were sure you heard her wrong. You- and therefore your superhero alias Sorceress- were most definitely not a part of a couple.

“What do you mean couple’s costume?” You asked, quirking your eyebrow.

Before the girl in front of you could could answer you, however, you heard the shout of the name “Amber” from across the living room. You watched as the girl, Amber- you now realized her name was- jolted her head, stepping on her tip toes to scan over the sea of heads surrounding you.

“That’s him calling now!” She informed you.

You followed her line of sight and watched as her boyfriend emerged from the crowd... unmistakably dressed as... Spider-Man. Confirming your suspicions even further, you watched as Peter trailed behind him.

When the couple finally met, you and your best friend’s widened eyes met each other, knowing without a word that Peter had just had the same conversation with Amber’s boyfriend in the other room.

“Wait... this is your couple’s costume?” You asked, making sure you were understanding the situation properly but also not entirely sure if you wanted the answer.

Just as you asked, her boyfriend wrapped his arm around her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder and laid her hand on his chest, giggling.

You knew your best friend, Peter, well enough to know that he was looking at the sight in front of him with the same horror in his eyes as you were.

“Yeah!” Her boyfriend, clad in the Spider-Man outfit assured you. “We’ve been getting compliments all night!”

You could barely believe the sight in front of you. You and Peter were best friends and nothing more and your superhero aliases abided by that same rule. The two of you never confirmed a relationship to anyone or- to your knowledge- ever give anyone a reason to believe that Spider-Man and Sorceress- or more importantly- you and Peter- were ever anything more than best friends.

“But...” You began, being careful to not expose yourself and Peter. “Spider-Man and Sorceress aren’t dating.”

At that the couple in front of you both laughed as the boy dressed as Spider-Man replied, “You’re joking right? Do you even keep up with the news or anything?”

You and Peter simultaneously turned to look at each other before your attention was grabbed by none other than the host of the party- Flash Thompson- butting himself into the conversation.

“Woah, Spider-Man! Nice!” He complimented, shaking the boyfriend’s shoulder, then noticing his girlfriend laid over him. “Wait wait wait- she’s Sorceress? Dude! Best. couple’s costume. ever.”

“They’re not a couple!” Peter shouted suddenly besides you.

All five of you went silent after Peter’s outburst before Flash spoke up again, chuckling.

“Parker, I wouldn’t expect you to keep up with someone as awesome as Spider-Man.” Flash told him. “But Spider-Man and Sorceress are one hundred percent dating.”

As if on cue you and Peter glanced at each other once again, communicating your horror, confusion and embarrassment without words.

“They’ve never said they’re dating.” You told Flash finally, crossing your arms.

“They don’t have to!”

“Yeah!” Amber agreed, still draped over her boyfriend. The image of someone dressed as you all over someone dressed as Peter despite the fact that you two were only best friends and nothing more made made you feel almost embarrassed standing next to Peter. You just wanted to shrink into yourself. It was almost as if someone had exposed one of your deepest, darkest secrets to Peter that you couldn’t bare to have him know.

“What- what makes you think they’re together?” Peter asked, finally finding his voice once again.

Peter hoped that the dim lights in the room would mask and make it impossible for you to catch the blush that was spreading quickly over his cheeks and ears.

What you didn’t know about your best friend standing beside you, fiddling with his wristwatch while this scene played out in front of him was that he felt the exact same way. He wanted nothing more than to escape this situation without looking suspicious considering his fantasy was playing out in front of his own eyes. As much as he hated to admit it to himself and he told himself he would never admit it to you- he had laid awake at night thinking about standing with you the same way the couple in front of you were.

“Do you ever watch clips of them online or anything?” The unnamed boyfriend asked. “Where do I even start?”

Before anybody could even begin to answer, he nudged his girlfriend off of his shoulder and began counting off on his fingers.

“For starters they’re always together. Have you ever seen them fight and not be next to each other? Didn’t think so. Also, she’s always getting swung around by Spider-Man. She can basically fly, can’t she? Seems weird, right?”

Now you could feel yourself becoming flustered. Was there a door nearby that you could escape through? Maybe they wouldn’t notice. Maybe Peter wasn’t paying attention to what this guy just said.

“Also remember that story about how Sorceress was patrolling that parade on some rooftop and that guy came up behind her with a gun and before she even noticed Spider-Man- like- webshot the gun out of his hand? They said he was supposed to be like two blocks away! I’m just saying, for you to notice something like that from two blocks away, you have to be looking- like really watching her-“

“Okay!” Peter shouted.

Everyone’s attention then turned to Peter with their eyes wide. Even some of the chatter had died down around you and you could see people quickly glance and glare towards Peter before resuming their own conversations and antics.

“Listen man,” The guy told him. “I’m just saying they’re definitely together.”

Fiddling with the long, white sleeve of your dress it was your turn to speak up. “Maybe they’re just friends?” You suggested, shrugging.

With that the guy in front of you as well as Flash adamantly shook their heads.

“No way.” The guy concluded.

“Yeah,” Flash said. “You’re trying to tell me that Spider-Man would friend zone a hot, sorceress who he’s with all the time? Okay, Y/n. I knew Parker was dumb, but I expected more from you.”

Now you were seriously flustered and from Peter’s outburst earlier you could tell- even without his “Peter tingle”- that he was too.

“What if she doesn't want him?” Peter asked.

As soon as you whipped around to face your best friend, your brain still attempting to comprehend what he had just implied by his sentence, you heard the blare of police sirens making their way down the street.

“Shit.” Flash muttered.

After that, everything happened so fast. You and Peter joined the exodus of partygoers scrambling out of Flash Thompson’s front door before taking a cab to the Avengers Compound where the two of you would be staying for the night due to you having training the following morning. The car ride was mostly silent as both of you- unbeknownst to the other- continuously replayed the conversation with the couple and Flash in each of your heads.

Did you two really make yourselves out to be a couple? Were you guys a little too close for best friends?

You ran through your head all the things that the guy had mentioned. You and Peter were essentially attached at the hip and he was your partner on most missions but you figured it was just because you were best friends. You remembered the night where you almost would have died if it weren’t for Peter looking out for you. He told you it was a coincidence, but what if he really was looking out for you the whole time?

Then you thought of all the times you had saved Peter. Did you catch everything because you were observant of everything going on around you or because you were hellbent on protecting your favorite person?

Before you could dig even deeper into your thoughts, you felt the cab stop outside the limits of the Avengers Compound. You and Peter climbed out of the cab and made your way towards the entrance of the building almost without a word. You could usually live with the silence between yourself and Peter- it was peaceful. But now you could just hear yourself screaming in your own head to make the awkwardness stop.

“So...” You cut through the silence.

“So...”

“Crazy night, huh?” You chuckled awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Y- yeah...”

“You two are here-” You both looked up at the sound of none other than Tony Stark’s voice. He was standing in the doorway of the facility with a cup of coffee in his hand. He shifted his view from you and Peter to his watch. “Like... what? Twelve hours early? This isn’t a daycare.”

Peter was the first to speak.

“Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?”

“Scuffed up the suit a bit on our last little promo tour in Germany- figured I’d fix it up. I also- I don’t know- pay for the place.” He shrugged before using his free hand to gesture between the two of you and your Han Solo and Leia costumes. “What’s with the get up? Since when are you two together?”

“Why does every one think we’re dating?” You huffed in frustration.

Tony laughed.

“So you two know about the whole ‘Spider-Man and Sorceress’ thing I take it?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow and taking another sip of the coffee in his hand.

“Wait.” Peter said, piecing it together. “You knew about that?”

“Uhhhhh, yeah.” Tony said clearing his throat. “I created some of the highest performance equipment in the world... I think I can do a google search.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” You asked him, practically yelling.

“Because you guys are what? Eighteen? I thought you for sure would have googled yourselves by now. Besides, what are you going to do about it now that you know? Hmm?” He paused, testing the both of you. “Tell everyone you’re not dating? You two are literally wearing a couples costume right now.”

“That wasn't our plan!” Both you and Peter shout in unison.

“Look at you two- finishing each other’s sentences.” He teased the two of you, swinging the door open to make his way back inside. He looked over his shoulder at the two of you one last time, calling. “Don’t stay out too long! The last thing I need is for you two to catch a cold. Imagine those headlines!”

When you heard the door click into place behind Mr. Stark, instead of following him inside you sat yourself on the steps. When you looked up to catch Peter still standing in his spot, staring at you, you gave him a small smile and pat the spot on the step besides you. You watched as Peter shot you a closed smile in return, slipping off the vest that had previously been around his chest before plopping himself down in the sport beside you with a sigh.

Without Tony there to break the tension, an awkward silence hung in the air around you, knowing that the other was thinking of the conversation from the party you had just briefly attended.

Without thinking, you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder.

You thought over the events of the past night. Did you like Peter? You would have normally told yourself that this wasn’t true but you couldn’t deny the way your heart jumped in your chest when you saw him standing under the lamppost dressed in costume or the way your heart ached for Peter to hold you the way Amber’s boyfriend was at the party. As admittedly awkward as it was to watch people pick apart your relationship right in front of you, a part of you knew that they were right.

Much to your surprise it was Peter who broke the silence first.

“Do we... do we like each other?” He asked you.

You didn’t move, only focusing your attention on the stars above you while your head rested on Peter’s shoulder.

You didn’t exactly know how to answer that question. In what was almost a movie like montage, all the memories you had of Peter rushed through your brain from the first time the two of you met to nightly patrols to where you were now, picking them apart and analyzing each of them. You recalled the times where he nearly died and how terrified you felt, knowing a piece of you would die with him. Any time Peter was in danger, your first thought had always been regret- not because you couldn’t save him- but because of all the things that would be left unsaid. You never understood that gaping whole you felt in your chest any time he was hurt, but now you did- you liked Peter. You had always loved him, but you now realized you loved him in a way you were almost afraid to admit.

“I think so.” You laughed.

Peter quickly pulled away, causing you to lose your balance as his shoulder shifted to no longer cushion your head.

“A- are you sure? Are you just saying that because of... of you know Flash and everyone?” You gazed at his face, watching as his eyes searched yours for a hint of truth. You could see the worry coated over his face. “If you don’t, it’s okay. It’s totally okay. Just... be honest. O-o okay?”

You smiled at him once again. This time while your eyes still met his underneath the stars and the glow of the warm light escaping from the front door, you reached out for one of his hands.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you held hands, but this time it felt different as you gently wrapped your hand around his.

“I’m not just saying it, Pete.” You promised him. “I think I’ve always had a little bit of a crush on you. I just- I don’t know- I guess I never admitted it to myself because I was too afraid to tell you.”

“Why?”

You sighed, your eyes straying from his to your intertwined hands in his lap.

“You’re Peter Parker. You spend the whole day being the smartest guy in the room and at night you save people from bad guys. Even Flash worships the ground Spider-Man walks on. Plus, you’re my best friend, Peter. I didn’t want to admit it to myself and then have to deal with it and risk losing you. Even right now I’m realizing you never said that you necessarily liked me. Even if you don’t just don’t stop being my best friend, Pete. I couldn’t take it. Please-”

As you reached the end of your speech and looked up, you immediately felt the soft touch of Peter’s lips connecting with yours for a light peck. As soon as you comprehended what was going on, his lips left yours, but his face stayed close to yours. Your eyes met and before he could say anything else, you reached your free hand up to cup Peter’s cheek, pulling him in for another kiss.

Both of your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel his hand squeeze yours as the two of you melted into the kiss. You could barely believe that you were kissing Peter- you’re sweet best friend, Peter- but as his lips met yours all you could do was ask yourself how you had gone this long without doing it.

When you finally pulled away, all either of you could do was smile.

“So.. you like me?”

Peter chuckled and he was so close, you could feel his warm breath against your skin still. “Y- yeah.”

“Good.” You smiled, leaning in once again, but before you could meet his lips, Peter’s eyes went wide as he pulled away.

Worried yourself that you had done something wrong, you squeezed Peter’s hand. “What's wrong?”

“I just realized- we forgot Ned.”

“Oh shit.”

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nejibaby · 3 years

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Time

Pairing: Sanji x F!Reader

Summary: Time is such an essential variable for a pirate cook like you. But outside cooking, you try your best not pay attention to it, most especially when it comes to the past. And yet because of the unpredictability of the Grand Line, you’ve come across someone from your past who you desperately wanted to forget. This incident makes you realize that despite how much time passes, sometimes feelings don’t really change.

Song reference/inspiration: Don’t You by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done! I had this idea for quite some time now and I’m finally done with it. Imagine my relief. 😌 I liked how this turned out! But please let me know your thoughts about it… 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

There are a lot of oddities in the Grand Line. Among the concepts that are too complex to be explained are the drastic changes in the weather, the crazy magnetic fields of islands, and devil fruit powers.

What doesn’t change is the concept of time. In all technicality, time is what the clock reads. And regardless of your location inside or outside the Grand Line, it’s set on stone. There’s sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day, seven days in a week, and so on. It’s a fact that’s definitive, irrefutable, and beyond dispute.

And as a cook of the Kid Pirates, time is one of the essential variables, alongside temperature, in bringing dishes to life. That much you learned and mastered from the years you’ve been observing chefs in a certain restaurant in East Blue before you ran away to the South.

However, outside the kitchen — or to be more precise, outside cooking — you don’t pay too much attention to the time and dates, similar to your Captain, Kid.

You and your Captain would need Killer to inform you about preparing banquets and feasts for birthday celebrations for crew members, or to remind you of other important dates.

While you’re completely capable of keeping track of time, you didn’t want to and wouldn’t bother. What’s the point, really? It’s just that you didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you ran away from the chefs who took you under their wing. You didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you’ve last seen a certain curly-browed cook who you fell in love with but unfortunately got turned down from.

You’re entirely fine by saying it’s been a while since you’ve last seen those people. There isn’t any need to label a precise quantity of time since that moment in your life. It’s all in the past, and you have long learned to keep yourself busy so as not to be reminded of them in any way.

After all, remembering them always leads to pangs straight to your heart, and as a member of the Kid Pirates, it’s highly discouraged to wear your heart on your sleeve and show vulnerabilities like that.

Since leaving Baratie, you moved along with your life. You worked at a local restaurant in South Blue and somehow ended up meeting Kid and Killer. With Eustass Kid being impressed with your skills in the kitchen and the air of authority you exude while working, he demanded you join their crew. And in all honesty, it didn’t take too much convincing on their part as you too wanted to travel the world, and perhaps find All Blue, a dream you shared with the man you fell in love with.

Pledging loyalty to Eustass Kid is one of the decisions you could never regret. Ever since joining the crew, they have become masters of being subtle in their ways of showing they all care for you. And it’s only evident by the way they’re all overprotective of you (even if you’ve pretty much mastered self defense and the art of using a gun) simply because among the group of brutes, you looked like a lone flower — splendid, precious, and delicate. And due to that, traveling the seas with the Kid Pirates is particularly enjoyable for you; dangerous, sure, but enjoyable nonetheless.

On account of the unpredictability of the Grand Line; more precisely the New World, you have learned to always be ready to face anything. But maybe you aren’t as prepared as you thought you are.

Because somehow, in between gathering food supplies alone for the crew and fighting against a group of Marines who found you, you came face to face with the cook you desperately wanted to forget.

And to make matters much worse, when you quite literally bumped into him, you’ve already been shot twice by the Marines, leading you to lose your consciousness right in his arms.

For some reason, with how huge the Grand Line is, you have never taken into consideration the probability of meeting him once again. And this unpreparedness unsettles you right away. So when you wake up in the Straw Hats’ sailing ship, all bandaged up and weak from the loss of blood, you’re quick to show hostility as a defense mechanism.

But that facade doesn’t last long, your mask easily slipping after a day with the crew, showing your naturally gentle and sweet side to everyone except to a certain man named Sanji. Ultimately, it’s quite impossible for you to remain hostile and aggressive in the presence of such nice and hospitable characters, especially when they kindly offered to drop you off to the next island and allowed you to contact Kid to let him know about your predicament.

You do, however, isolate yourself from the Straw Hats as much as possible. The only time you allow yourself to be in everyone’s presence is during meal times. As a chef, you know well enough that food is at its best when served right away and eaten in the presence of company.

But you aren’t dumb. You know the dishes served by Sanji aren't purely coincidental. With just one look at the table, you could easily recognize all of your favorite meals — meals that reminded you of the days when you had fallen in love with him. It’s blatantly obvious that some of the foods on the table are made especially for you.

This is where your reservations come in. After all, the reason why your favorite foods were your favorites was because they’re what Sanji used to cook when you’re upset. And because of your feelings for him, the food would always make your heart full and happy. And to be honest, you didn’t want to remember that feeling.

Moreover, you didn’t want to give Sanji the impression that everything’s fine between the two of you. You also didn’t want him to think that you’ve forgiven him for turning you down, and proceeding to step on your heart by letting you watch him flirt with other girls.

If you were any other person, you probably wouldn’t even touch the meals he made to prove these points. But you’re a cook, and it’s against your morals to let food come to waste. The most you can do so as not to give Sanji the upper hand is to stop yourself from eating as much as you usually would, regardless of how delicious the food is.

You can tell it’s working from the way Sanji’s lips are slightly downturned as he watches you only take a nibble of your favorites while consuming the other meals that are meant for the other crew members. This goes unnoticed by the others though; they’re too enamored with the new variety of dishes on the table to even pay attention.

This goes on for a few meal times, but you have to admit that despite only taking a few bites of the dishes you used to love, they’re still capable of bringing back the memories of your past with Sanji, maybe not in full force, but it’s enough to disconcert you.

On your third day with the Straw Hats, after seeing him fawn over Nami and Robin, the tension between you and Sanji becomes a little too overwhelming for you to the point where you feel the need to hide in the crow’s nest to calm yourself down.

When you get there, you’re surprised yet relieved that Zoro isn’t there. You instantly take a seat facing the window. You relish the silence. But it’s only momentary, broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Rude as it may be, you don’t acknowledge the person. Whoever it is still enters the room anyway.

“Y/N-chan, can we talk?”

You hate the way your heart starts wildly pounding again just by the mere sound of Sanji’s voice.

“I thought we’ve established the fact that I don’t want to talk to you,” you respond coldly.

This doesn’t discourage Sanji though. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But will you please listen to me?”

You frown, but you remain silent. Sometimes, most especially at times like this, you wish you could hate him. But that’s just something you can’t do no matter how hard you try.

He takes your silence as a good sign, so he sits himself beside you.

You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. This lasts for a few minutes, Sanji just gazing at you without uttering a word.

You didn’t mean to count, but by the second minute of silence, you snap. “What? I thought you wanted to tell me something? Why aren’t you talking?”

He looks away and clears his throat. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… it’s been five years since I last saw you.”

His statement takes you by surprise. Has it already been five years since you left Baratie? And more importantly, was Sanji keeping count?

For whatever reason, Sanji chuckles. He faces you once again and smiles, “It’s been five years but you still look as gorgeous and radiant as ever.”

As always, Sanji has a way with his words. The compliment makes your heart beat impossibly faster. But you know you shouldn’t fall for his words. “Sanji, don’t. Let’s not go there,” you say with a sigh.

He visibly deflates at your response. And it makes you want to take back what you’ve just said. “What have you been up to?” He tries asking, his voice low enough you almost don’t hear him, as if this conversation hurts him just as much as it pains you.

You didn’t really plan on responding. The agreement was to let Sanji do the talking and you do the listening, but you can see his sad expression in the corner of your eye and it tugs your heartstrings a little bit so you reply, “I’m a pirate now.”

“You are?” He perks up upon hearing you responding. “Who’s your captain?”

You finally face him, wanting to see his reaction. “Eustass Kid.”

His face instantly contorts into displeasure. “Kid?” He asks once again. When you nod your head, there’s a different look on his face, almost like he’s angry or he’s annoyed. “Why Kid? Don’t tell me he forced you to do it?! That bas—”

But before he could even finish his sentence, you pull out your gun and point it at his head.

He’s taken aback by your speed and the look of determination in your eyes.

“Watch your words, Sanji.” You cock your gun. “Just because we’re on speaking terms doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you. You can call me bad names if you want, break my heart like you did, but if you say one more bad thing about my captain, I won’t hesitate on putting a bullet through your head,” you threaten.

Sanji gulps, raises his hands in surrender, and nods his head.

Yet you pull the trigger anyway. Sanji could only close his eyes once he sees your finger move.

But there’s no impact at all. When he tentatively opens his eyes, he sees you putting away your gun in its previous location.

You’re well aware that you have no ammunition left, having used them all up when you fought the Marines, but sometimes even an unloaded gun is enough to intimidate and scare someone into submission, and to get your point across.

Silence envelopes the crow’s nest after that incident. Sanji isn’t afraid of you per se, he’s just a little bit surprised with the change in your attitude.

For a moment the thought of you having feelings for Kid passes through his mind, and he internally gets upset with the thought. In fact, he hates it but he doesn’t let it dissuade him from trying to make amends with you.

He allows you to have a couple more minutes of silence. But when he has decided that it’s time for him to talk, the first thing he blurts out is, “I missed you a lot when you left.”

His confession breaks something in you. You didn’t like the way you equally liked and hated hearing this from him. “Sanji, don’t…” your voice cracks and your vision blurs. “Don’t smile at me. Don’t ask me how I’ve been. Don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me. Don’t get my hopes up, because you don’t know how much I love you still. Just don’t…”

“Y/N-chan…” he calls out to you, his hand hesitantly reaching out to you. And when you don’t protest, he pulls you into a hug, rubbing his hands gently on your back.

Sanji hates seeing you like this — so defeated and broken, all because of him. He didn’t like seeing you cry. But right now he knows he needs to explain himself. “I liked you too back then…”

You pull away in shock after hearing his words, wiping the tears in your eyes. Just as you’re about to ask why he turned you down, he continues, “But the old geezer was against it. He says if I couldn’t stay loyal to you, then I’d only hurt you more and make matters worse.”

What Sanji was saying makes a lot of sense. Zeff highly respects women, which was why he couldn’t turn you away when you had nowhere else to stay. And knowing Sanji, you can tell just how much he looks up to him, despite him always talking back to the older chef. It’s only natural for him to heed Zeff’s words.

“I was young and I didn’t think I was ready yet, so I turned you down as gently as I could… and when you said it was fine, I was so relieved. But then you left without a word and I… I just… I really did miss you all these years.”

“What about now?”

“Huh?”

“Do you still… like me?” You ask meekly.

Sanji smiles, which makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. “I do, but…”

You sigh sadly, “But?”

He looks over the window, and you follow his gaze. The sight of Luffy being chased around by Usopp on the deck welcomes you. “My loyalty still lies elsewhere.”

You immediately understand what he’s trying to say, and for the first time since you arrived in the Thousand Sunny, you genuinely smile. “Someday, then?”

Sanji faces you once again, and reciprocates your smile. “Yeah. Someday.”

135 notes · View notes

roman-writing · 3 years

Text

no great revelation (7/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,244

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VII.

—

Jamie swiped up on the tablet to throw the video to the feed at the centre of the table.

"Rebecca, this is everyone," Jamie said. "Everyone, this is Rebecca."

"I thought that maybe you'd been making up your Jedi friends this whole time. Nice to see I was wrong about that." Rebecca gave a little wave. "Hi, Dani. How's the ghost?"

Dani sank down a little in her seat, and her answering smile was more of a grimace. "Hi. Sorry," she mumbled.

"Yeah, about that," said Jamie. “Back on Quint’s ship, you said you knew what was happening at House Thul.”

“Oh? Finally ready to listen to me, are you?”

“Don’t push me,” Jamie growled, jabbing the tip of her finger at Rebecca’s face on the screen. “Remember. Galaxy’s Biggest Favour.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. She had taken the call with her back to a wall, so it was impossible to glean her surroundings. "The Empire wants a foothold on Alderaan. It's a strategic location in the Core Worlds. They have been working over Lord Wingrave after the death of his brother and sister-in-law, helping him fabricate claims to the House, claims to his niece and nephew, claims to a position in the Republic Senate. You know the drill. Traditional blackmail."

"What else?" Jamie pressed.

For a moment Rebecca glanced over the top of the camera as if looking at something else out of frame, but then her attention returned back to the screen. "The children are Force Sensitives. The Sith have been helping Lord Wingrave keep that under wraps, so that The Order wouldn't take them away to the Temple for training. My sources tell me that the plan was for a Sith Lord to create sleeper agents out of the children through the use of some ancient Sith device containing a ghost."

"Which Sith?" Hannah asked.

"I'm not in the business of keeping tabs on Sith Lords. By the way," Rebecca pointed through the screen at Hannah. "How have you found shaving your head? Because I've been thinking of cutting my hair back, but I’m not sure about going all the way."

Running a hand along her shaved scalp, Hannah said, "There's nothing quite so freeing."

"Good to know. Thanks.”

"Oi," Jamie snapped her fingers. "Focus. The Sith Lord."

"What else is there to say?" Rebecca replied dryly. "They're a Sith Lord. They're scary. They're dangerous. They're not to be fucked with. Your Jedi friends probably know the drill better than me."

"I hope not," Owen said under his breath as he took a sip of tea.

Hannah sat up a little straighter, hands clasped neatly on the table before her. "Do we know where they are? Where they're going, perhaps? Any information you give us may be vital."

Leaning her back against the wall behind her, Rebecca pursed her lips in thought before answering with a shake of her head. "I know they want the children, and I know they want the holocron. So - Alderaan."

"But the holocron isn't on Alderaan," Dani pointed out.

"They don't know that," said Rebecca. "Peter lied to buy himself time, and told them it was still in the estate of House Thul."

"But -" Dani frowned. "House Thul has its own militia of guardsmen. I know Sith are powerful but the Empire would need to send troops if they wanted to break in and hold ground."

"Then I guess the Sith Lord will be invading with troops as well."

Sighing deeply, Jamie lowered her face to her hands, letting her fingers scrub through her hair. Then she looked up again, hands hooked behind her neck. "Right. Guess we're off to Alderaan, then."

Rebecca laughed. When nobody else joined in, she stopped. "Wait. You're serious? Did you not just hear me say 'Most likely a Sith Lord is going to invade House Thul?' As in — with a shock legion. As in over a thousand soldiers led by a malevolent Force User, who can and would probably kill a room with a snap of their fingers?”

Lowering her hands, Jamie said, "Yeah, you - uh - you mentioned that. Good thing you'll be right there with us."

"You have got to be joking."

Jamie said nothing. Just gave Rebecca a long look.

"Jamie," said Rebecca, her expression horrified, "You can't be serious. When I said 'favour' I didn't mean 'suicide.'"

"We can’t let them have those kids. Trying to mobilise Republic troops or The Order without enough evidence is a fuckin’ waste of time. We need to get into the estate of House Thul," Jamie gestured around to everyone at the table. "You're a smuggler. So, smuggle us in."

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alderaan is Republic territory. Why do you need me to smuggle you onto the planet, when you can just fly and land there yourself?"

"Because of her." Jamie gestured towards Dani, who looked both startled at being mentioned and guilty. "I don't want Pasha and his Troopers linking Dani to this in any way. They can't know she returned to House Thul. She has to come out of this squeaky clean."

Groaning, Rebecca said, "Fine. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as possible," said Owen.

"I'm -" Rebecca looked over the top of the camera again, craning her neck slightly. "Thirty two hours from Alderaan through hyperspace. Meet me in orbit around the planet. How's the ship I gave you?"

"Rude," Jamie said blandly. "It keeps insulting me."

A smile tugged at the corner of Rebecca's mouth and she began tapping at the buttons below her screen. "That sounds like Jane."

Jamie's face screwed up. "Jane? It has a name?"

"It's a JN class droid uploaded into the ship’s mainframe. It likes being called Jane. Didn't you ask it?"

"No?"

"Well, no wonder it's rude to you. By the way, I’ve just dropped you those pictures of my godson that you asked for last time. They should be appearing on your device now.” Rebecca waved with a little flutter of her fingers. “See you in thirty two hours.”

The video feed winked out.

"I rather like that young woman," Hannah said.

“Get in line,” Jamie grumbled.

The video had been replaced by a file icon. Jamie clicked it and brought up the first photo of Rebecca carrying a blue-skinned Twi’lek child on her back, both wearing big beaming smiles.

“Oh, they’re adorable,” Owen sighed.

Fuming, Jamie flicked to the next photo, which was equally adorable. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. They are.”

—

After cleaning up in the dining room and kitchen, Hannah gently nudged Jamie's arm and indicated she should follow her. Jamie glanced over at Dani, but she was engaged in a lively conversation with Owen while they dried dishes together. Dani's smile had lost its tentative edge the longer Owen spoke to her, but there was still a tenseness to the way she held her shoulders, the same tenseness that had been present back in Ho'kyn's bar on Telos IV, as though she were afraid someone would batter down the door at any moment.

Jamie followed Hannah, who led her up a set of stairs to a mezzanine floor where the walls were floor to ceiling scrolls and books and objects of cultural curiosity.

"Find anything new?" Jamie asked. She leaned back against the railing of the mezzanine which overlooked the lounge below.

Hannah plucked a tome from its shelf, dusted it off, and opened it to a page that had already been marked with a length of ribbon. "Yes and no. Nothing helpful, anyway."

She came to stand beside Jamie so that she might also look at the book. Jamie peered at it from the corner of her eye, not recognising the script around the drawing of a grey-skinned woman in dark red robes with a deep cowl.

"That a Sith?" Jamie asked.

Hannah hummed a curious note. "A Witch of Dathomir. Dark-aligned, for the most part, but not Imperial. They're the only practitioners of possession I've been able to find record of at all. I believe The Lady might have been an early precursor. Or perhaps they developed similar techniques independently."

Jamie stood straighter, hands tightening around the railing. "Wait, so - you can reverse it?"

Hannah snapped the book shut. "No. Though a visit to Dathomir might be in order, should we survive. However, if you chose to go, I won't be accompanying you. They dislike Jedi as much as they dislike Sith."

"Good thing I'm not a Jedi."

"I doubt they'll see the difference," Hannah said, and she tucked the book beneath one arm. "Failing that, the only other people who might know anything about this ghost are the Sith themselves."

Jamie scoffed, smiling. "Right. I'll just sail into their capital on Dromund Kaas and ask for help, then. Great advice."

A flick of the Force against Jamie's ear made her wince.

"Don't be cheeky," said Hannah.

Rubbing at her ear, Jamie opened her mouth to retort but stopped. Beneath them Dani and Owen walked into the lounge, still talking. Dani moved her hands when she spoke, and Owen watched her with a fond if guarded smile.

"I am afraid for her," Hannah murmured so that they would not be overheard.

Jamie nodded. "Yeah."

"For someone like our lovely Miss Clayton, the Dark Side is not a lure so much as it is a glue trap," Hannah mused aloud. "It has a gravity of its own, the darkness. And once there, it becomes more and more difficult to claw your way free. Even if you want to. Even if you know you should, but can’t bring yourself to try. Fear is her failing. And fear is the relinquishment of logic."

Jamie glanced at Hannah. "Can you teach her when this is all over? You're the best of the best in The Order when it comes to balance in the Force."

Without looking at Jamie, Hannah lightly smacked her arm, just a dismissive tap with the back of one hand. "Don't try your flattery on me. I've known you too long for that nonsense."

"That nonsense," said Jamie, "has gotten me out of more sticky situations than you know."

"But it won't get Miss Clayton out of this one."

Muttering a curse under her breath, Jamie sank down a bit, gripping the railing as she did so until she stood bent over and leaning against it. "Don't you start, too. I had Owen in my ear last night about it."

"Good man," Hannah murmured appreciatively.

"Bloody hypocrites. The both of you."

"You can't solve everything with your curmudgeonly charm," said Hannah.

"I fuckin' can."

"Sometimes," Hannah turned, leaning her back against the railing, arms crossed over the book gripped loosely to her chest, "a helping hand can only do so much. A person needs to want to help themself."

Jamie scowled. "So, what? If we can't help her we just ship her off to the Empire? 'Here, have a new Sith apprentice?' You haven't even given her a chance, and you two are already lecturing me on how I need to let go." She shook her head with a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."

And of course Hannah remained infuriatingly unflappable, her voice calm when she replied, "I will do everything I can, as I know Owen will, too. But — even should we survive this ordeal — our time with her will be limited. She will not be safe on Tython, where some overzealous Knight will surely sense her presence and jump to conclusions."

Jamie's mouth went dry. She swallowed. "Then where am I supposed to take her for training?"

Hannah smiled and placed a warm hand on Jamie's forearm. "Wherever you want, dear. So long as you're there."

Face screwing up in confusion, Jamie straightened. "But you just - You were just telling me how I needed to keep my distance and all that shite."

"Was I?" Hannah murmured, and she let go of Jamie's arm to instead toy at a gold earring. "I don't recall saying that at all."

And with that she crossed back over to place the book on its shelf.

"What do you mean? Hannah?" said Jamie, turning around.

Humming to herself as if she hadn't heard, Hannah drifted off down the stairs.

"Hannah," Jamie repeated, louder this time.

"We really must pack, Owen," said Hannah, ignoring Jamie completely.

Hitting her fist against the railing, Jamie turned back around to glower down at Hannah, who appeared on the floor below. Hannah urged Owen down a hallway with instructions to pack for the trip, leaving Dani standing in the middle of the lounge, alone. Dani looked up, and Jamie's fist loosened.

The last time Jamie had seen her from this angle, Dani had been in the full thrall of The Lady back on the luxury cruiser, her red-gold gaze piercing through a camera in the ceiling. Now, Dani blinked up at her with none of that cold malice to be found. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Hannah's voice called down the hallway.

"Miss Clayton, what's the weather like at House Thul?"

Dani turned and began walking towards the sound, already answering Hannah's question, and leaving Jamie staring after her from the mezzanine floor, lost.

—

The gangway automatically lowered to the ground when Jamie got within a certain distance from the luxury cruiser still docked where they had left it.

"Good afternoon, Bollocks," said the cultured male baritone of the ship's computer. "You've brought guests."

Beside her, Owen mouthed the word 'bollocks?' at Hannah, who looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Jamie rolled her eyes and shooed the two of them up the gangway, trailed by Dani. "I have, yeah. Anything interesting happen while we were away, Jane?"

There followed a pause that was slightly too long for a droid of this calibre, and then the ship's computer replied, "Nothing of note. I did not tell you to call me that."

"Oh? Don't like it? Should I call you bawbag instead?"

Another pause, this one affronted. "Jane," said the ship's computer, "is perfectly serviceable."

"Glad to hear it, mate," Jamie drawled and stepped into the ship proper.

As Dani stepped up behind her, the ship's computer said, "And a good day to you, too, Miss Clayton. You're looking very alive today."

"Uh -" said Dani, and she ducked her head sheepishly. "Thanks."

The gangway lifted and sealed behind them once everyone had entered the main atrium, where the ship’s computer had already sent out a small service droid on trundlers bearing glasses of some kind of pale carbonated alcohol.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Owen murmured, picking up a glass and taking a sip. He made an appreciative noise.

“Where would we like to go?” the ship’s computer asked.

Jamie waved the service droid away when it tried to press an insistent drink into her hand. “No, thanks. Jane, calculate a route to Alderaan. We need to meet someone in orbit around the planet in thirty two hours.”

“Route calculated,” the ship’s computer replied almost immediately. “The journey is only expected to take twenty one hours through hyperspace. I will chart a circuitous route so that we arrive on time. If it would please you, you may make your way to the dining lounge. I have prepared a light lunch before we depart.”

Frowning, Jamie looked up at the ceiling. “How the hell did you even know we were coming?”

“I have access to the station’s security cameras and systems.”

That gave everyone pause. Owen froze in the act of draining his glass, while Hannah and Dani shared looks.

“You hacked the station’s security system?” Jamie said.

“Negative, Bollocks,” said the ship’s computer. “I asked the mainframe for access very nicely.”

“Are you lying?” Jamie turned to Hannah and Dani. “Can droids lie?”

The ship’s computer did not answer. Which wasn’t concerning. Not at all. Owen suddenly looked a bit queasy, and he gingerly lowered his near empty glass back onto the tray held out by the service droid.

“You need not fear for the condition of food and drink aboard this vessel,” said the ship’s computer. “I am programmed to care for and protect any legitimate member of this crew as designated by the Captain and owner.”

Jamie pointed jokingly at Owen and said, “Better watch yourself, then.”

Placing a hand over his chest, Owen pretended to look insulted, then followed Jamie further into the ship towards the dining lounge.

“May I ask,” started the ship’s computer, “what are we going to be doing on Alderaan?’

Jamie dragged her hand along one of the polished white walls as she walked. “Getting in over our heads.”

“Please clarify.”

“We’re going to have a fight. Why?” Jamie asked dryly. “Do you also happen to have ion cannons strapped to your shiny exterior?”

“Negative. But I do come equipped with some accessories the crew might find useful in the event of a boarding attempt.”

One of the panels beneath Jamie’s hand pressed inwards, and a whole section of the wall peeled back to reveal racks upon racks of blaster pistols, blaster rifles, grenades, vibroweapons with wickedly curved blades some small enough to strap to the leg, others long enough to be wielded with two hands. Everything that would make a Republic Trooper get all hot and bothered.

All four of them stopped in their tracks and stared.

“Definitely an ex-Czerka ship,” Hannah muttered under her breath.

Hand on the hilt of the lightsabre at her hip, Dani said, “I think I’ll stick with this. I’d be more likely to shoot my own foot.”

“Likewise,” said Owen.

Meanwhile Jamie reached out and hefted a blaster pistol. She turned it over in her hands for closer inspection, careful not to graze anyone with the barrel, but all defining marks or serial numbers had been either scrubbed off or hadn’t made it far enough in manufacturing to be stamped in the first place. With a shrug, she took one of the holsters and belted it around her waist.

Owen gave her a look. “Really?”

“What?” Jamie holstered the blaster pistol and waved at the other three. “You all have lightsabres, and we’re going up against who only knows what. Am I supposed to just hide behind a pillar while you lot do all the fun stuff?”

Before they could answer, the ship’s computer chimed and said from its hidden speakers in the ceiling. “Not to interrupt,” said Jane, “but the tea is getting cold.”

Immediately Owen’s eyes brightened. “Oh, tea?”

It was in fact high tea. Three tiered platters. Fine bone china. Petit fours. The whole lot. They amused themselves in the various lounges and quarters of the ship for hours before departure, at which point the ship’s computer insisted upon harnesses being secured. The jump to hyperspace left Jamie feeling on edge, as though she had left her stomach behind on Tython. And she couldn’t have been the only one. Their talk had been too forced, their laughter too loud, Owen and Jamie swapping stories to the delight of Dani and Hannah, who would chime in every now and then. And when Jane rolled out a more formal dinner, it felt like some kind of last meal before execution at dawn by firing squad.

Jamie couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy the meal. Every bite tasted like ash. The ship’s computer on the other hand seemed thrilled that its crew was finally taking part in its carefully scheduled meals and activities. More than once Jamie thought she heard a low-pitched contented hum from the belly of the ship. Or perhaps that was simply the engine room.

Eventually, Jamie made her excuses and left the others to their own devices. Jamie walked into the same bedroom she had taken during the initial trip on this vessel. First one on the left from the main lounge. There were at least four other rooms of generally equal size and accommodation on the ship; Jamie had simply picked this one because it was closest to the helm, easy to access and nothing more.

Jamie sighed and stopped in the middle of the room. She unslung the holster and pistol, dropping it to the ground, then began to unbutton the crisp white shirt she had stolen from the medbay. Back on Tython, Hannah had offered her a spare set of robes, which she’d declined. Jamie hadn’t worn robes since she was a padawan, and after years of boilersuits and undershirts, she wasn’t about to start again any time soon, thanks. Even if it meant dumb slacks and collared shirts made of some anti-wrinkle fabric that cost more than her apartment back on Telos IV.

She just needed to make it one more day. Just one more day. The last few weeks had shaved off a good few years from her life. Probably. And by this time tomorrow this whole ordeal would be over, alive or dead. Probably.

There was a knock at the door. With a frown, Jamie turned, hands paused in the act of unbuttoning the shirt halfway down her stomach. “Yeah?”

The door hissed open and shut again behind Dani as she stepped into the room. “Hi.”

Jamie blinked. “Hey.”

For a long moment Dani did and said nothing. Her mismatched gaze flicked down to the narrow v of skin and the dogtags revealed by the open shirt, only to dart quickly away again, studying the bedside table with a fixed intensity it did not deserve.

“Sorry,” said Dani. “I just - It's been a few days since we’d really spoken, and I wanted to check in.”

Jamie nodded. “Ah - yeah. I’m good. Are you -?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Another lengthy pause.

Dani gestured to the door behind her. “Hannah and Owen are very nice.”

“They are, yeah. Good people. Trust ‘em with my life, and I don’t say that lightly.” Jamie tried to smile, to make light, but Dani had turned that wide-eyed fixed intensity upon her now. It was difficult not to squirm in place when Dani looked at her like that.

Dani took an abortive step forward, only to stop herself before she could venture too close. “Are we okay? It’s just - on Tython you seemed to want your own space, and I thought -” She paused to clear her throat, glancing briefly down at her feet. “Did I mess this up or -? I mean - I know I’m not the best option for anyone, and you deserve someone nice, someone who’s not completely messed up or possessed by an ancient Sith ghost or something. But I -” she paused to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath. “I really like you. And if you don’t want anything to do with me after this is all over, I would completely understand, but I -”

Jamie tried. She really did. But the next thing she knew, she had taken a step forward and pulled Dani in for a kiss. Dani made a small noise of surprise in the back of her throat that Jamie chased after, feeling her respond in kind, feeling the Force welling up beneath Dani’s skin like a hand reaching out in offering.

“Do you think -” Jamie said, pulling away just enough to speak, “- that I did all this because I don’t like you?”

Dani gave a breathless little laugh, her hands cupping Jamie’s jaw then sliding to cradle the back of her head. “I thought you did it because you’re good and noble and you’re drawn to a lost cause.”

“Can be lots of things, can’t I?”

They were close enough that Jamie could feel the pull of Dani’s smile against her own lips, their noses brushing.

“I know you like your life to be boring. So, I was thinking," said Dani, "how nice Corsin must be at this time of year. Just a getaway planet in the middle of nowhere. No Sith. No Jedi. That could be boring, couldn't it?"

Jamie swayed forward, eyes half lidded, and murmured, "Could be awfully boring."

Hannah and Owen be damned. The little voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea be damned. Dani was kissing her again and every thought flew right out of her head until there was nothing but this. Nothing but today, this moment, the call of blood in her veins, life as it was and nothing else.

There was not push towards the bed, no drive to action beyond this. Still Jamie paused, one hand remaining anchored at Dani’s waist.

“You can still go alone,” Jamie said, “if you want. Doesn’t have to be with me.”

Even as she said it, Jamie dreaded the answer. Knowing Dani’s predilection towards shrinking away from things that were too difficult to face alone. Knowing her own history of always being the odd one out, passed from place to place, from Corps to Corps, unfettered, unwanted.

Dani’s hand tightened in her hair, holding her close. “Want it to be with you.”

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani kissed her again. Want this, too.

Removing Dani’s cloak and tossing it onto the floor beside the blaster pistol had never felt so easy. Kissing her, unhooking the lightsabre and setting it onto the table had never felt so easy. Unzipping Dani’s vest while Dani finished unbuttoning what Jamie had started had never felt so easy. Being with someone else had never felt so easy.

Jamie’s shirt was discarded onto the ground beside the bed just as Jamie sank to her knees there. Dani’s hair was mussed, her mouth parted, her eyes fixed and unblinking as Jamie began to slowly drag down the zipper of her trousers. She toyed with the chain of Jamie’s dogtags, winding it around her fingers at the back of Jamie’s neck.

When Jamie began to tug down the material, Dani sat on the edge of the mattress so her pants could be peeled off and placed aside. Jamie leaned forward and stroked her tongue along the soft skin of Dani’s inner thigh, feeling a hand grip her hair when she bit down gently, and making a low dark sound in the back of her throat.

Already Dani was moving her hips in small motions and Jamie hadn’t even started yet. Jamie laughed softly.

“What?” Dani breathed.

Jamie shook her head, but the movement was restricted somewhat by the tight grip Dani had on her hair. “Nothing,” she murmured and bowed forward to place her open mouth against slick wet and wanting heat.

Wanting nothing but this. The spread of Dani’s legs on either side of Jamie’s head. The taste of her when Jamie swiped her tongue in long slow strokes. The sound of her name gasped in Dani’s voice. The ache between her own legs as Dani rocked her hips to the rhythm Jamie set with a barely restrained urgency.

Where last time had been fast and hard, Jamie did the opposite now. She traced Dani with the tip of her tongue as if trying to map her to memory, finding the best reactions and storing them away for later, for a time again with her that may never come. One of Dani’s heels came up to press into the small of Jamie’s back, and Jamie could feel the way the muscle of Dani’s inner thigh trembled against the side of her face. The same way her fingers trembled as they combed back Jamie’s hair.

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani’s groan ended on a broken noise, as Dani’s hips arched up to press more firmly against her mouth while Jamie offered only a gentle suction. Want her. Want us.

Dani hauled Jamie up by the chain around her neck to kiss her deeply. The kiss was slick and messy and tasted of her, and when they parted Dani was panting.

“Did I mention,” Dani said breathlessly, “that I really like you?”

Jamie laughed and allowed herself to be pulled up onto the bed. Smiling broadly, Dani kissed her and rolled her over to start unbuttoning Jamie’s dark-washed slacks. Before she could do more than flick open the first of two buttons, Jamie placed her hands and Dani’s hips and encouraged her to rock against her thigh.

“That’s -” Dani swallowed back a reckless sound, her eyes squeezing shut. “I’m going to ruin your nice slacks.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Dani’s answering laugh was breathless. “Do you mean that literally, or -?”

The question died on her tongue when Jamie pressed her knee up and wedged a hand between them just enough that she could brush her thumb just so. She watched as Dani’s face screwed up, as her mouth dropped open and her hips bucked out of time until she came again — smaller this time, but no less gratifying.

Dani slowed to a halt, trying to catch her breath. “All right,” she said. “It’s definitely your turn.”

When they’d finished, Jamie sank bonelessly back onto the mattress. Their clothes were strewn all about the room, and the ship’s computer had set the lights to dim automatically to match a normalised sleep cycle, so that the ceiling was a map of constellations. Dani was stark naked and wiping her hands clean on a shirt with a self-satisfied expression before she crawled back up the bed and snuggled into Jamie’s side.

Jamie rolled onto her side and draped an arm across Dani’s waist to hold her loosely there. She needed to take a shower, but couldn’t find the energy within herself to get up. Not when recent sex had turned her bones to jelly, and not when Dani started to trace the curving lines of Jamie’s monochromatic tattoo.

Exhaling slowly, Jamie sank further into the mattress. Her eyes slipped shut and she allowed herself this moment of brief respite.

“Do you ever think,” Dani asked softly, “this was supposed to happen?”

Blearily, Jamie opened her eyes, lulled half asleep by the way Dani was touching her. “What d’you mean?”

Dani shook her head, admiring the way her fingertips drifted across the pattern of ink on Jamie’s bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I just - When I chose the ship to Telos IV, it wasn’t the fastest or the cheapest or even the one leaving the soonest. I was still in shock, I think. From what had happened on Vurdon Ka. There was another transport leaving three hours earlier, heading towards the Outer Rim, but when the droid asked me what ticket I wanted I bought the one to Telos instead.” Her words slowed to a mumble, and her caress stopped. Dani stared at the flowers on Jamie’s skin as if in wonder. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Coincidence?” Jamie offered, watching the flicker of Dani’s brow in response.

Dani seemed to be trying to remember something intently. “Maybe, but it was so strange. I had this - this feeling. And when I landed on Telos, you know, I -” She broke off with a small incredulous laugh. “I walked straight to that bar. Just - straight there. Didn’t even ask for directions.”

Jamie blinked, more awake now. That hum of energy had returned, threading between them like an arc. Dani’s presence was stalwart, nothing wavering or questioning about it.

“I don’t know anything about the Force,” Dani continued, “but I’m glad to have met you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jamie’s mouth. It was brief but the warmth pooling in her chest was verdant and budding. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

Rebecca’s ship dropped out of hyperspace only three kilometers from the luxury cruiser, so that the two vessels drifted in orbit around Alderaan side by side. The planet below was a vast curved horizon of blues and greens, struck through with white cloud. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Jamie noticed how Dani’s gaze kept drifting towards the broad windows of the left wing, staring out at the planet below with her shoulders tense and her hands clasped behind her back.

The moment Rebecca’s ship came into view, Owen leaned over Jamie’s shoulder and hit the comm button, requesting a transmission, which was immediately picked up.

“Hello again,” Owen greeted jovially down the line. “We see you’ve just arrived in orbit. And might I say - your ship is exactly what I expected from a smuggler.”

“Aww, thanks,” said Rebecca, her video feed flickering into view. “I worked hard to get it just right.”

Rebecca’s ship was a single bladed shape of stark grey material, like a shark’s fin parting the surface of water. Jamie knew from experience that its small size could mislead larger ships into underestimating its speed and firepower. She also knew from experience that the sleeping cots were cramped and uncomfortable, and that more often than not Rebecca slept in a hammock strung up in the cockpit itself.

Jamie elbowed Owen in the gut so she could have more room. “Status report?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What are you? Fleet Commander Taylor?”

“Just tell me how we’re getting down to the surface without being noticed,” Jamie said.

“Funny you should ask that,” Rebecca replied, trailing off.

Owen made a face. “Oh, no. Is it bad?”

“Well…”

“Get it over with,” groaned Jamie. She could hear Hannah and Dani walking closer to join the conversation. “Put me out of my misery.”

Rebecca hit a few buttons to switch over the feed, and the screen suddenly displayed a scene much nearer to the surface. She must have hacked into a few security cameras, because the view turned slowly alongside her tapping away in the background. A towering estate in slate greys with parapets like speartips jutting into the sky dominated the screen, flanked by snowy mountains. A broad bridge led to the front entrance, and a hundred or so guardsmen had set up allacrete bollards behind which they were taking cover to avoid incoming fire, peeking over to return volleys before crouching down again.

“That’s,” Dani said slowly, pointing towards a crest-emblazoned purple and red banner hanging from the manor walls on the screen, “House Thul.”

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t tell me.”

“They’re being besieged by the Sith Lord,” said Rebecca.

“I said don’t tell me.”

Hannah peered over Jamie’s shoulder to get a look at the screen. “Can you get us to the surface?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “But after that, I’m all out of ideas. I told you: I’m not a Core World girl. I don’t know Alderaan from a bottle of spotchka.”

“I do.”

Jamie opened her eyes and lowered her head. Beside her Dani had lifted her hand slightly as though waiting to be called on in class. “There’s a side entrance used primarily by servants and staff.”

“What? A side entrance dug all the way through the mountains?” Owen pointed to the snowy peaks pressed in tight on either side of the estate.

“No, it’s here.” Dani tapped her finger against the screen just off to the side of where the camera was currently showing. “It’s where the guards sleep. You go through a security checkpoint and then down a tunnel which leads into a room off the great hall.”

“Don’t think the security checkpoint won’t be a problem this time,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca slowly as a guardsman on screen was shot dead and slumped to the ground, only to be pulled back over the bollard by one of his comrades. “They look a little occupied right now.”

Chatter fizzed from another speaker on the dashboard. Frowning, Rebecca sat in the pilot’s seat and turned a dial until the frequency better matched. They could hear a staticky voice shouting frantic orders over the comm.

“That’s a Pub frequency,” Rebecca said.

“The Empire has revealed its hand,” Owen said. “The Republic will be arriving with reinforcements soon.”

“Yeah, but not soon enough,” Jamie muttered darkly.

Hannah hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, yes. A fully fledged Sith Lord? They can tear this estate apart and be out with what they want before Republic troops make it into orbit.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully we can do the same.”

From the sidelines, Dani suddenly spoke, “Can we talk about the children for a sec?” When she had everyone’s attention, she took a deep breath and continued, “What’s going to happen to them now that we know they’re Force Sensitive?”

She looked towards Jamie, who raised both hands and shook her head, pointing towards Owen and Hannah. Hannah was looking at Owen, who shrugged and made a gesture, which Hannah reacted to with an emphatic tilt of her head, the two of them engaged in the kind of silent conversation only two people who had been together for so long knew.

“Are you going to share with the class?” Jamie drawled. “Or are you two lovebirds just going to keep having your weird psychic talk that nobody else can hear?”

Hannah gave Jamie an arch, brook-no-nonsense glare, while Owen stuck out his tongue at her.

“I think it best if we take them back to Tython,” said Hannah to Dani. “There they can be trained in the Force properly.”

Some of the tension held in Dani’s jaw slackened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“Anything else we need to discuss before we leap into the fray?” Rebecca asked from the pilot’s seat.

Silence.

“Right,” said Jamie, hand on the holster of her blaster pistol. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #damie #dani clayton/jamie #no great revelation #roman writes

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oswildin · 4 years

Text

Bonded {Part Nine} ~ Dhawan!Master x Reader

~ The story is nearly complete... ~

Summary: You try to reason with the Doctor, trying to be there for her, but she isn’t having any of it. You and the Master find comfort in each other.

Warnings: Angst, more fluff as you asked, bit steamy

You headed down the corridors of the TARDIS. You felt better after showering and changing your clothes, finally feeling fresh. Of course, your mind was still full of thoughts and emotions, but you knew you had to try and be there for the Doctor. You dreaded to think what state she was in.

The TARDIS seemed to understand your intentions as she guided you to where the Doctor was hiding. You stopped in front of a door, the TARDIS humming as you understood what she was telling you. You hesitantly reached out, twisting the handle, as the door slowly opened. You furrowed your brows, seeing the library. You swear it had moved position... Perhaps the Doctor had asked the TARDIS to keep it hidden... You stepped in, seeing the Doctor sat by herself in the darkness, surrounded by pages of books.

“I always rip out the last page.” She told you as you watched her, biting your lip. “That way the story never ends.” She explained as she looked around at all the pages sprawled about the place.

“Oh I don’t know... sometimes stories need to end.” You offered as you approached her. “I’m guessing the Master didn’t find you.” She shook her head. “But you let me.”

“No, the TARDIS did.” She almost frowned at her ship as you laughed lightly.

“Maybe she’s just worried about you.” You told her as you went to sit beside her. “I am.” She didn’t look at you.

“Don’t be.” She gave you a sharp smile, not reaching her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem it.” You sighed. “Doctor, I don’t want you going back... You’ve come so far... Please don’t shut me out again.” You almost begged as she felt guilt pang in her chest at your words. “Remember when you lost Clara.” You said, as you saw her flinch at the name. You looked at her sadly. “Remember what she told you?”

“This is different.” She argued.

“Is it?” You raised a brow. “You again lost something dear to you. But remember how much good there still is in the universe. You’ve got Yaz, Ryan, Graham... Me...” You trailed off, seeing her face soften. “Even the Master seems concerned. Although, you didn’t hear that from me.” You teased as she turned to face you. “Actually he’s helped me... a lot...” You realised. “Perhaps he could do the same for you. Maybe you could help each other...” She shook her head.

“I don’t need help. I’m fine. See!” She jumped up, putting her jacket back on. “Let’s go for an adventure! I can pick up the others and we can go somewhere new.” She exclaimed as you sighed, standing too.

“Doctor, you can’t keep ignoring this.” You told her truthfully.

“Yes I can.” She argued. “I’ve ignored things half my life, and I’m fine.” She told you before walking away, leaving you alone as you felt defeated. You didn’t know what else to do. Perhaps you needed to be harsher? More brutal? No... you couldn’t do that to her. You sighed, sitting back down as you felt a presence appear in the room.

“Didn’t go to plan then?”

You shook your head, turning to see the Master stood in the doorway.

“She’s impossible to deal with when she’s in this mood.” You said exasperatedly.

“Perhaps she needs to do this alone.” He offered, walking into the room as you watched him. “And when she wants help, you’ll be there to give it to her.”

“I guess.” You said, defeat evident in your tone. “Why does she have to be so stubborn?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” He joked as you gave him a small smile. “King of Stubborn here.” He sat beside you as you shook your head at him.

“Funny, I could see you in a crown and a big robe.” You joked.

“So that’s what you’re into.” He teased, smirking as you rolled your eyes.

“I’m scared.” You suddenly admitted, causing him to narrow his eyes. “I’m scared what this all means... How this changes everything...” You drifted off, gaze ahead.

“You were the one giving the speech yesterday.” He offered. “Maybe you should take your own advice.” He shrugged as you scoffed.

“It’s easy to dish out the advice, but to take it yourself is another thing.” You retorted as he nodded slowly.

“That’s a very human statement.” He commented.

“Na...” You shook your head. “It’s a very universal one.” You gave him a small smile.

“Hmm, along with a leopard never changes its spots.” He added as you pursed your lips.

“I don’t know about that one...” You gazed at him. “You’ve changed.” It was his turn to scoff.

“I’ll never change.” He said defiantly. “It’s in my nature. I love the chaos too much.”

“Or is that just what you keep telling yourself?” You raised a brow. “Cause if you keep feeding yourself that narrative, you’re going to continue to execute it.”

“Maybe, I enjoy that narrative.” He argued, as you saw his walls begin to build back up.

“Will you stop?” You shook your head. “For one second, let your walls down. Not everyone is out to get you.”

“Don’t lecture me.” He snapped, eyes turning dark as he pushed himself up. “You know nothing.”

“I think I’ve seen enough in my time.” You told him. “Or have you forgotten what I’ve been through already?” You stood too, staring up at him. “You’re not the only one with issues, so stop acting like it.” You told him sternly as he growled under his breath.

“Humans, always sticking their nose into other people’s business.” He spat. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps there are just bad people in the universe? Born sick and twisted?”

“No.” You furrowed your brows. “Things in their life have made them that way. There’s always hope.” He groaned.

“You’ve been with the Doctor too long.” He rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I have! Or maybe she’s actually right?” You argued, stepping towards him. “You aren’t the only one with issues. Accept it. Embrace it. It may even help.” He looked down at you, the rage in his eyes lessening as you looked at him. You relaxed him. It was an emotion he’d never really truly felt before. It was... nice. But also scary. “You can always start again.” You said in a softer voice as he tightened his jaw.

“Can I?” He raised his brows.

“Yes!” You laughed lightly. “Of course you can. If you allow the change.” He stared into your golden eyes as he stepped closer to you, his face close to your own. You could feel your heart beating in your chest.

“What if I don’t want to change?” His voice was low.

“Then... You’ll live a lonely life.” His eyes flickered down to your lips as you felt warm under his stare.

“I don’t think I can ever be alone now.” He said quietly. Before you knew it, his lips had crashed to your own, as your bodies melded together. He had grabbed either side of your face, holding you gently as he kissed you. You were surprised at first, but as soon as the electricity flowed through your veins, you gave in to the feeling, clutching his jacket with your hands. You felt complete with him. You’d never felt like you belonged, but in this moment, you felt what you had been longing for. Acceptance.

You hadn’t realised he had backed you against a book shelf, drinking you in as he pulled you as close to himself as possible. You gasped for breath as you hadn’t broken away. You saw images of golden energy in your mind at the touch. It was electric. He finally pulled away, resting his forehead on your own. Both of you were breathing heavily as you stared into his eyes, searching for anything.

“That was...” You breathed out as he couldn’t help but smirk.

“I know.” He whispered. “We could just leave.” He spoke lowly. “Run away. Take a leaf from the Doctor’s book.” He raised his brows. “What do you say?” You felt your breath hitch, unsure on what to say. You couldn’t leave the Doctor... could you? Was it time? Your life had been consumed by the Doctor and your adventures, was it finally time to move on?

You didn’t answer, but pulled him back close, moulding your lips to his own once more, feeling the rush once again. His hand moved to your waist as he gripped you tighter than before, almost urgent, desperate.

Taglist: @drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @a--1--1--3 @blamerogertaylor @koschei-taylor @koschei-studies @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92 @startrekkingaroundasgard @sometimes-i-feel-like-falling @hellothedoctorisreal @tragic-and-tried @kind-sober-fullydressed @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chiswicknoble

#dhawan!master x reader #fanfic #the master x reader #doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #dr who #doctor who imagine #doctor who #master x reader #dhawan master x reader #dhawan master #dhawan!master #sacha dhawan #reader insert

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borealis-strange · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: Don't lose your head

Summary:

Brian did not touch the subject again. The reason why there was nothing but vegetation was very intriguing, perhaps some disease had killed the fauna but that does not mean that it had also killed the new inhabitants. Or even, for a very cold climate, it could be an explanation of the lack of fauna, but Rhye was not so cold but the first inhabitants would have had very hard winters. It was certainly a mystery.

The queen kept talking about the little it was rescued from the reign of the first king. All the things he did to build Rhye's foundations. According to the ancient books, the king could do everything, resolved all conflicts and his reign was of pure harmony; quite the opposite of the current Rhye that was full of social conflicts. He seems to be the perfect king and in fact that's how he was known; Atlas the first or Atlas the perfect king.

Tag-list: @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen @likesomekindofcheese

- Nobody cares what happened before in Rhye - The queen began her first history class - Besides that nobody really knows what happened before -

Rhye's history was quite short, only three hundred years since Rhye had been founded.

- In 1671, Atlas Black arrived on this island in search of new lands to conquer. He was with a crew of no more than two hundred men and women, who decided to accompany him on his journey; and these were the first inhabitants of Rhye. -

On this occasion the queen had brought a map of Sakuravera * to show the boys the trajectory of the first king's ship.

- He was traveling for a month - He indicated with a cane the route of the Sweet Sister ship - Until he found virgin lands ready to conquer -

- Virgin lands? - Brian questioned the queen. - Excuse me for interrupting you but there shouldn't be any kind of animal or even people here. -

- Brian please don't interrupt my class - The queen was upset - Not much is known about the reign of the first king. Very little is known since all his writings, diaries and all the information about him and Rhye's first fifty years were lost in a strong earthquake that collapsed the castle. It is believed that it was there that the king died. As you can see, there is no record that there was anything outside the flora -

Brian wasn't very convinced with the queen's explanation, especially when in Rhye earthquakes didn't happen because of his geographical position. Brian remembered the previous day's book.

- By chance in Rhye, weren't there any magical creatures? - It was Brian's last attempt to get more information.

The queen looked at him as she would have said a forbidden word.

- It is stupid to think that there is something like that in Rhye - The queen said as if thinking about magical creatures was repulsive - There is magic but no magic creatures. Now if you allow me to continue with my class I would appreciate it -

- Why do we have to see the story of a dead king? Nobody cares! - Roger exclaimed.

Unlike the others, who found the story very interesting, Roger was getting bored even though they only had two hours of class. Since the session had begun he had done the same as the previous one; sing, ask absurd questions and all kinds of things to distract the queen.

The queen was already fed up with Roger's behavior and was not going to be tolerating that for the rest of the year.

- Mr. Taylor - She spoke calmly but behind her was the fury of dealing with someone like him - You are no longer a child, so PLEASE let me give my class - That would be the last warning before she had to take others measurements.

- What is all this rubbish for? - He said looking at the queen with a challenging look - They are just stupid things that do not help us - Roger rose from his place without taking his eyes off the queen.

The others were terrified of what could happen to Roger. No one spoke like that to the queen without suffering the consequences. Inside and outside the country, it was rumored that the queen would take people who went against her as she thought, the people said that she imprisoned and even tortured those who thought differently. It was not known if it was true and the queen had said nothing about it.

- All this is necessary to be the best king Rhye needs. Zander chose you for some reason but I fail to decipher why he chose an INSOLENT like you - The queen did not move from her place but in her face you could see all the fury that radiated.

- He chose me because he had no other choice- Roger did not plan to stop with this confrontation - I do not even want to be king -

To say that the queen was horrified at Roger's statement fell short. The queen's face of confusion and anger kept looking at Roger who was now smiling victoriously.

The queen didn't think it was really what Roger had just said. Zander might not be the best king but he knew the importance of choosing the best one to be his student.

The queen did not speak for a moment. The tension in the air was so thick that it could not be cut even with a knife. Finally the queen spoke calmly.

- Look, if you don't want to be king there is no problem. There is the door. You can go out and come back from the damn hole you went out to rot! Return to being a useless man who does not know how to do anything and will end up in the street hindering others - The queen's voice brought poison.

Roger stuck his nails in the palms of his hand. The queen had touched a very sensitive subject for Roger; hes past

Roger was breathing heavily; he wanted to answer or do something, but he didn't want to leave. He could not return from where he had come; he would not go back there.

- You won't leave? - Said the queen to see that Roger did not move - Sit down and do not talk. And we will continue as if none of this had happened -

Brian saw with the corner of his eye how Roger was enduring the urge to cry but still sat down again.

The queen showed no trace of regret for what she had just said. And, as she had said, she continued with the class as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the class, they really didn't see much. Only the beginnings of Rhye. As the oldest constructions; like the Autonomous University of Rhye or the great theater. Some beginnings of the festivities. The first Rhye railway line. And even the construction of the Black Queen's castle, which was the oldest in Rhye.

Incredibly, Roger didn't say anything again, but he still looked quite upset at what the queen had said. Throughout the class he had endured the urge to cry, that was something he could not afford; he couldn't show weakness before the queen.

Finally, the class was over. Everyone was ready to leave until the queen called Roger.

- Mr. Taylor - Roger grumbled when the queen said his name - I need to talk to you. The others can retire - The others left the library not without whispering "good luck" to their friend.

Roger reluctantly approached the queen to see what he had to say.

- I ... I'm really sorry for what I said before - Roger didn't believe a word of what she said - But ... you have to understand how important this is. Not only for me, but for everyone. I don't know what your relationship with Zander is like, - “Very bad,” Roger thought - he chose you for some reason, you may not be able to see why, but one day I hope you see it -

The queen was silent waiting for Roger to say something. He did not.

The queen had already seen that kind of behavior many years ago. In a way, it reminded him of Zander.

- You can retire if you prefer - It was the last thing the queen said before Roger went to eat.

In the dining room, Brian saw that Roger was still very angry. Everyone tried to cheer him up a bit, but nothing worked.

When Roger finished eating, he left the dining room badly, impressing others. Brian was immediately behind him.

He called him while they both ran in the halls.

Roger ended up slowing down and went out to the greenhouse, and Brian behind him.

The greenhouse was relatively small compared to the other rooms in the castle.

The greenhouse had a curved glass roof and the walls were covered with vines. In the center there was a small marble fountain and on the sides were all the plants that the queen harvested. They were mostly wild berries, but some were used to make potions.

Roger was sitting on the edge of the fountain with his back to the entrance. Brian approached carefully and sat beside Roger.

Roger still had tears on his cheeks.

- I don't want to talk about it - It was the only thing Roger mentioned to Brian.

- I wasn't going to say anything. My past hurts me too. It is still very difficult for me to overcome it -

Roger laid his head on Brian's shoulder. Brian got a little scared, although he didn't say anything. He let Roger just be comfortable.

They lasted a few moments like that. In the small greenhouse. Brian slowly relaxed. They said nothing; They didn't need it. They just needed each other's company.

- Hey! - Freddie had entered the greenhouse along with John - You left us behind -

Freddie happily approached the other two boys with John behind him. He saw the trail of tears on Roger's face and his face changed from one of happiness to one of concern.

- Was it because of what the queen told you? - Freddie asked as he sat on the floor in front of Roger.

Roger nodded slightly.

- She had no intention of hurting you - Freddie spoke softly.

- I do not think so. She is evil - Roger replied. Freddie sighed.

Freddie believed the same since he had arrived at Rhye, but for a year he realized who the queen was. He was not as bad a person as everyone said. Usually the council pressed her a lot and that could lead her to make bad decisions. Besides that the council did not share the same ideologies of her and forced her to do things that stained her image when she was young. Her fame was born with her father, the previous king, and all the abuses he came to commit and the people assumed that she would simply be the same.

- She's not as bad as she looks - Freddie spoke again sweetly. Roger rolled his eyes tired of listening to Freddie - I've lived a year in this castle. When I arrived I was not at my best but she supported me a lot for me to be better -

Roger did not speak, none of them did.

- Just give it a try and you'll see that he cares about you too - Freddie tried one last time.

Roger considered it a moment. He kept thinking how evil the queen could be, besides being very rude, but he had behaved very badly with her anyway. Maybe, and just maybe, she wasn't like that and he had behaved badly with her.

He nodded slightly to let Freddie understand that he would give it another chance. Freddie smiled broadly showing his teeth and hugged Roger. He really appreciated that his new friend will not judge such an important person for him.

- You'll see how everything will be fine. And if it's any consolation ... my plan was not to be the student of the black queen - Freddie said when he pulled away.

None of them planned to be king; life could be strange sometimes.

#my fic #my writing #The March of the Black Queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

Text

The Apples (Penntin)

Author (as known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow - writing/art Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Penny Adiyodi/Quentin Coldwater (Penntin)

Length: 3.3k

Warnings/tags: Fluff, Getting Together, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Confusion, Marriage Proposal, Accidental Marriage, accidental Marriage Proposal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Penny is pretty soft here, Banter

Summary: It was all in the apple. If only he hadn't been holding it... but, was marriage really that bad? Penny was surprisingly calm for someone who had just proposed to a nerd he had hated four months ago. Maybe everything would be alright.

Author’s Notes: Taking a break from my other Penntin fic to write this one -- it was one of those amazing daydreams us writers have that rarely get written down, but I thought this was worth getting out of bed and typing up. I should note that I decided to really diverge from canon because it just makes sense for this to be happening under different circumstances than what actually did. So, Julia managed to kill Reynard and the Beast, Penny's hands never got fucked up, the wellspring was replenished, and both Alice and Kady are more or less out of the picture, romantically. Enjoy!

AO3 link right here!

----------

Quentin sighed and warmed his hands on the fire in front of him. He looked up at the night sky in between the tree tops and grinned, wondering how he managed to land himself such a great life in Fillory of all places. It was so unbelievable, and yet he had never been more awake. Maybe it was the opium air.

He snorted and took a bite of the apple in his hand, gazing around the fire at the four other men with him. Penny was busy roasting some pheasants he had caught, an orange glow reflecting his concentrated, furrowed eyebrows. The other three were servants of the castle - his servants, technically - that had come along to help with their quest.

“We should reach the edge of the woods by noon,” one of them said. Quentin was pretty sure his name was Malke.

Penny grunted and shook his head. “If you’d just let me travel us there…”

“You know we can’t. There’s old magic ruins there, the wards are still up and we’ll bounce off. Have to go back to the beginning.”

Penny and Quentin eyed each other for a minute before the other man grumbled and conceded, going back to the birds he was slowly turning with magic over the fire. Quentin sat back and took another bite of his apple, then accepted a sip of wine from Malke’s flask. The stars twinkled and the trees rustled softly; he let the night’s atmosphere enveloped him.

He jerked and looked up when his knee was tapped. Penny had finished with the pheasants, apparently, and had a bit of the meat speared on the dagger he had been using to pare them. Quentin eyed it suspiciously but Penny just chuckled and shook his head, urging the food closer to his face.

“Trust me, white boy, it’s not gonna kill you. The yellow is turmeric powder. Try it.”

Quentin sighed and did as was prompted. He leaned forward and took a bite, moaning a little as flavor exploded on his tongue.

“Wow, that’s good,” Quentin mumbled, mouth still full.

Penny grinned and nodded, picking off a piece for himself to try. He groaned his own approval and gave another bite to Quentin, snorting and brushing his thumb over his cheek when a bit of food got on it.

Quentin blushed and looked away, a warm feeling running through his veins. He knew that Penny was just messing with him - he flirted with everyone, and especially loved to make himself squirm - but that didn’t stop the pleasantness of the action. But it didn’t matter; they were finally becoming friends, and he wasn’t going to ruin that.

“Full moon tonight. Think we’ll run into any werewolves?” Penny asked, tilting his head up to look at the sky where a brightly glowing moon shone in between the trees.

“Hope not, I don’t really want to hear anymore complaints to bring back to court.”

Penny laughed. Everyone they ran into seemed to notice Quentin’s crown right away and asked him to do something -- about their crops, their children’s education, the mice in hats invading their house. There had been some weird problems. But Quentin had heard it all graciously, and dutifully wrote them down in a notebook to deal with when they got back to Whitespire castle.

He was trying his hardest to be a good king and do the right things, but he was also tired. They’d been on this quest for a specific type of berry bush for several days now, and he already had four pages full of requests and complaints. Everyone seemed to have a million problems to fix and no directions to the berries. Quentin couldn’t say he blamed them; Fillory had been fucked over by The Beast for a long time, and there was a lot that needed to be fixed. Plus, the berries only had one specific, uncommon use, so he supposed that most people ignored them.

“Lighten up, man. We’ll find the fucking berries,” Penny sighed, quickly tugging a strand of Quentin’s hair like he did when he was getting tired of listening to moping. “Come on, you need to get your mind off of everything. Drink.”

Penny handed him his own flask - full of smuggled in Earth scotch - and Quentin took it, getting a good mouthful. He watched as Penny started the motions for a fireworks spell and joined in, that warm feeling growing inside of him again. They really were becoming good friends; Penny would never have tried to cheer him up a couple months, or maybe even weeks, ago. But now they were sitting side by side, eating pheasant off each other’s knives, sharing alcohol, and watching the mini fireworks display above the fire.

He rolled the apple in his hand and took another swallow, trying to reconcile the uncomfortableness in his gut with the delicious taste. It didn’t add up; the bird was good, he was happy, and Penny was actively being friendly with him. There was nothing wrong, except -- this was the feeling of being watched.

He worriedly gazed around for spying eyes in the trees and realized that everything was very still. The servants had stopped talking and moving quite a while ago and were staring at them strangely. Quentin tried to subtly nudge Penny with his mind, gaining a glare for the detested Taylor Swift song then a worried look as the man also realized.

“Uh, guys? Is everything good?”

Malke coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s just that- well, I mean… are you certain, Sire?”

Quentin could only guess that he was nervous about the quest and he relaxed. No one in Fillory had been on anything like an adventure for a long time; afraid of the beast, kept to their small homes and villages by a desperate lack of resources as magic unknowingly withered away. He smiled, big, and tried to reassure them.

“Yes! I’ve never been more sure about anything. It will go great, and life will be much better once this happens.”

“He’s a good king, he knows what’s best,” Penny added on. Quentin figured he had caught the thought of what was happening from his still open mind. “Sometimes things can be uncomfortable if they’re unfamiliar, but we do what we have to for the good of the kingdom.”

Penny sat back after his turn at inspiring the men and gnawed at a wing. He shot Quentin a look, understanding (or so they thought) passing through both of them. He held out a pheasant thigh and Quentin gladly took it, nudging him for real this time with his shoulder.

“You could be a good king, too. I feel inspired by that. I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Yeah, well,” Penny laughed, “You’ve always followed me around, even when I didn’t want you to. Like a little lost puppy, Coldwater, sulking right behind me and complaining when I told you to fuck off.”

“Hey, look where it lead us!”

“True,” Penny conceded with another nod. He tossed his bone on to the fire and watched the remaining string of fat sizzle. A waft of smoke blew into their faces and they both turned their heads.

Quentin looked down at the forgotten apple in his hand and brought it to his mouth, taking a large bite. He never would have thought that magically grown purple apples and tumeric pheasant would make a good meal, but a lot of things weren’t as he was expecting anymore. All of Fillory, for example.

“You know, I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore,” he said quietly, turning to look at the man sitting next to him.

Penny met his eyes, an almost sorry look in his own. “I never hated you. Hearing you singing all the damn time, sure, and you get on my nerves, but… you’re not bad. All things considered, I like where we are now. I’m glad this is happening,” he said, referring to their growing friendship and the list of epic quests they were slowly collecting under their belts.

“Me too.”

Quentin realized that Malke and the other two servants were staring at them, still, but it looked to be more out of respect and some odd, growing happiness than uncertainty. Weird, but good. How long had that been happening? Since he’d been king, or just starting now?

He kept getting so distracted by Penny that everything else seemed to fade into the background; it was never a feeling he had gotten with just a friend before, but it wasn’t bad. Maybe dangerous, in high-risk situations, but he could probably turn it off. Besides, Penny was observant enough for the both of them.

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t have to try, Q,” he whispered.

Quentin grinned and looked back up at the stars.

----------

“Uh, hey, can we talk?” Quentin asked, poking his head around the corner into the Armory.

Penny looked up from his book and sighed. He marked his page with a strip of ribbon and set it onto a stack of more leather-bounds he had obviously been perusing. The Armory was slowly and surely being built up again after its contents had been ransacked by The Beast; citizens who had taken a book or two for safe keeping returned them, Brakebills gave up a few extra copies, and new volumes of knowledge were even being written. It was a place the whole group ended up in quite often, for its resources and relative solitude.

Quentin walked inside and cautiously sat down on one of the wooden chairs they had moved in there. He gazed at the materials Penny had spread around him -- a modern notebook and pen, yellow sticky notes, the royal symbol on a sash that let him access the Armory, and five books on Fillorian customs.

“So you know, then,” he sighed.

Penny nodded his head, containing the grimace his face wanted to make to just a slight scowl.

Quentin didn’t mind; it was a huge improvement to how they used to interact. Their first few months of knowing each other had been rough in many ways, particularly involving Penny’s anger and Quentin’s cowering personality. They had clashed on a near daily basis in a volatile way that just left them both more resentful.

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had changed when, but the fights had become less frequent and less extreme recently. It seemed they had both realized the size of their problems with each other was much, much smaller than the size of the problems with the worlds at large. Their quests together had certainly helped too, as had getting drunk and stumbling through the halls hanging off of each other’s shoulders on an almost weekly basis.

Too bad it might not last.

“Did you know that’s what it was?” Penny asked him. There was a slightly accusing look in his eyes, like Quentin had just let him (possibly) fuck up their lives without sayng anything.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! It wasn’t in the books, I had no clue that was a thing.”

Penny sighed and nodded, silently passing his notebook to Quentin so he could see his research.

At the top of the page, it read “Fillorian Marriage Customs” in big letters. Underneath, there were outline-style notes on various concepts that would hopefully help them figure out the whole mess they had accidentally gotten into.

Quentin looked over the most important section -- Marriage Proposals. He brushed his hands over the smooth paper and read aloud from Penny’s surprisingly nice handwriting.

“Four common ways of proposing: classical arranged marriage through parents, asking for political marriage, bargaining, or proposal ceremony.”

“That’s what we did,” Penny interjected quietly.

Quentin looked up to find the man closer to him than he expected. His breath caught in his throat as he watched dust and sunlight glint on Penny’s long lashes, his whole face awash from the window so he looked like glowing caramel.

Penny took the notebook back and explained, not seeming to notice Quentin’s staring -- or maybe just being used to him “spazzing out”, as he often said.

“A proposal ceremony is this complicated, really fucking odd ritual that is traditionally done between two high-ranking magicians, apparently. During a full moon they have to share food, then share wine, and then perform magic together in front of three witnesses, all while the recipient of the marriage proposal holds an apple. Which we did.”

“In fucking order. God,” Quentin sighed, slumping back into the chair.

He wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, he wanted to immediately call it off because obviously they weren’t romantically involved and it wouldn’t be a good idea. On the other hand, the servants had gossiped and now practically the entire kingdom knew. Calling it off could be really bad press. Quentin could still hear Margo’s voice in his head as she pulled him aside to chastise him about something he didn’t understand in the moment; “The apple , Q, the fucking apple. You idiot. Make a decision, and make it fast.” Then she strutted away with her long, pink dress swishing around her legs. It had left him in a daze of confusion until he’d heard some guards chatting as they made their rounds -- and then everything had started to make horrifying sense.

Penny snapped him out of his thoughts, like he always seemed to do. “So, we need to talk about this. Dinner?”

A level conversation from Penny was not what he had been expecting, but Quentin took it. He also took the offered hand to pull himself up, helping Penny clean up the space before they pulled the heavy doors shut behind themselves and parted ways, agreeing to meet back up at the castle gates. From there, Penny traveled them to a tavern that had become one of their favorites.

They ordered food and beer, settling down against the rough bark of a large tree right outside. The sun was just setting and the air was still warm, so they sat in silence and watched the sky darken; both thinking.

A bar wench brought their food and Quentin took a drought out of his cup, trying to ignore the eyes she was making at Penny.

“Alright. So, uh…” He trailed off, uncertain of what to actually say. What were they supposed to do about the situation? There were so many variables, and yet so few options and even less time. Margo had warned him about the deadline for cancelling before it became absolutely politically devastating; Fillorians did not take divorces (or ended engagements) lightly.

Penny cracked a wry smile like he knew what Quentin was thinking - he probably did - and chugged his beer, setting down the empty stein on the grass. He wiped his mouth and trained his eyes on the emerging stars.

“We have two options: be married for the rest of our lives, or not.”

Quentin snorted. “Well, when you put it that way. I mean, why not?”

“Yeah. Seriously.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

He turned to look at Penny -- that was supposed to be sarcastic. The other man was staring straight up at the rising moon, eyes stealy but voice soft. He didn’t sound like he was kidding.

“Really?” Quentin tried again, matching his voice to the one Penny had used. “You see marriage as an option? You know that it’s lifelong and monogamous, right?”

“I know. And yes, it is technically an option. You don’t wanna marry me, Coldwater?”

He faltered. “Well, I mean- okay, yes it is an option. And yes, I kind of don’t want to marry you. We have about a day to call it off.”

Penny looked at him strangely, and it was all Quentin could do to look at the sky and eat his stew. What was he thinking? It was times like these where he wished he had the psychic powers Penny did.

“Trust me, you don’t.” And his wards hadn’t been up, great. “But why don’t you want to marry me? We’ve been getting along.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Penny sounded almost offended. Not mockingly indignant - he knew he was hot - but actually a little upset, like he had been considering the marriage.

“I have. It’s a viable option.”

“Stop reading my fucking mind!”

“Then close it!” Penny snapped right back, crowding Quentin against the tree so suddenly he couldn’t breath.

They were both breathing hard, worked up with worry and lust and thoughts of the future. Quentin stared at Penny, trying to read the look in his eyes; what was he thinking? About all of this? A sudden kiss was pressed to his lips and then Penny’s face was back in front of him like it had never left, staring intently.

Quentin sighed and tipped his head back. He could still smell the beer on both of them, and feel the brush of Penny’s beard -- it was more pleasant than he would have thought. Penny’s eyes slowly closed as their foreheads were pressed together. He understood a little bit more now.

“Say we did get married. Are you really willing to be celibate, or only have sex with me, for the rest of your life? And what about Kady?”

He thought that Penny might get angry - bringing up his ex-girlfriend usually did the trick - but he only shook his head. “Kady isn’t coming back. Or, if she is, I’m moving on. Too much happened. Besides,” he said, opening his eyes and smiling until Quentin felt his knees shake, “I’d have you. I don’t know what it is, but something is telling me that I actually wouldn’t mind it that much. You’re not bad looking, Q.”

He knew he was blushing, but Penny also looked like he wasn’t sure why he said what he had, so it was fine. This whole marriage and friendship business with Penny was odd and confusing but it was also really, honestly fine.

“I don’t think I wouldn’t mind either. I mean, we’re actually pretty similar.”

“What?” Penny scoffed, “How? Have you taken another walk in the flying forest, Q?”

The Penny he usually knew was still in there; that was good. Quentin shrugged his shoulders in the small space he had between the tree and his fiance (and that was crazy). “Well, we’re both magicians, and we more or less discovered Fillory together. We both like beer and food, and traveling, and our friends, and I know that you like some nerdy shit underneath all of that tough guy-ness. And, we’re both getting over stone-cold girlfriends, so.”

So, we should get married, he thought with a quirk of his eyebrows. Penny’s eyelids lowered in agreement and he leaned in again, asking for another kiss.

Quentin granted the request, slotting their lips together. It was nice -- warm, stew-flavoured, slow and gentle in a way he enjoyed more than he could have guessed. Penny was constantly surprising him, his soft kisses being even the least of the things Quentin was discovering about him.

“Husband,” he whispered, pulling back.

“Not quite yet,” Penny rejoined, giving him one more peck before standing tall like the tree they had been resting on.

He smiled and stood up, helping Penny gather their bowls and cups to bring back inside. It wasn’t going to be smooth going, falling into a romantic relationship and then marrying so soon after being almost enemies. But he was willing to try, for the good of his country (they liked monarchs in stable marriages) and for the good of his personal life. Penny could make him happy, he thought, and he would try, too.

“Hey, Q, we need to have apple pie at the wedding,” Penny whispered in his ear, leaning down to give him a smooch on the cheek before striding away. Quentin grinned without restraint and followed after him like the puppy he was.

#penntin #penny x quentin #penny adiyodi #quentin coldwater #the magicians #fanfiction #penntin fic #fanfic #my writing #fluff #alternate history #alternate universe #marriage #marriage proposal #first kiss #friends to lovers #soft bios

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regular-nessian-trash · 4 years

Text

It’s Vegas, Baby - Chapter III

Summary: We learn a bit more about Nesta and Cassians backstory’s, and we see a friendship begin to bloom between Nessian.

TW: Assault, Drugs, Drinking, Rape

A/N: yaaay i finally finished this chapter lmao hope yall enjoy

Nesta was humming along to the tune of Bad Reputation by Joan Jett while getting ready for work. Even though her coworkers were a pain in her ass, she loved her job. She could still remember the day she met Rhys, not knowing that his family would become her own. She thought he wouldn’t know much about hiring employees -considering when she applied for the job, the actual title was “Classy Go-Go Girl”- so she was going to try and smooth talk her way to a bigger salary. He saw right through her, though, and offered her the job for the original salary. She scoffed at first, but because money was tight for her and Feyre she took the job. Not that she would ever say it out loud, but being hired by Rhys was the best thing to happen to her and Feyre. They had moved to the city after she had escaped Tomas and by the time he had found her she was already doing so well in the city and they didn’t need his money to survive. She was free. But of course, all good things must come to an end. Tomas started saying she owed him for all the years of protection and street cred she got from dating him. That was when he had started coming to her place of work and harassing her. She couldn’t do anything about it, though. He had made a name for himself on the streets. That was why she had fallen for him. He had the whole bad boy thing going for him. And if Nesta was anything, she was a romantic. He had her hooked on the whole bad boy act. Never. Again. In all the romance novels it’s cute, but when you actually experience it first-hand… “Hey, Nessie? I’m heading to The Court now. You almost ready?” Mor questioned, interrupting Nesta's train of thought. The Court is what they all called Rhys’s club. It was actually called The Night Court, but their group was all about nicknames. “Yeah, I’m almost ready!” Nesta called back while she slipped on her dirty white high top Chuck Taylors. The shoes she had to wear for work were so uncomfortable, so she put off wearing them until the absolute last moment, usually right before she clocked in. Sure she looked like the star of a kids T.V. show from the 2000s in her dress and converse, but at least she was comfortable. Nesta quickly ran to the elevator with her heels in hand just as Mor stepped in and was about to let the door to the elevator close. Nesta was about to yell at Mor to stick her hand through the doors when Mor just smirked and let them shut. Nesta quickly hit Mor's contact on her phone and called her. “Hey, Nessie! I noticed you looked a little sleepy, so I thought you would wake up a little standing around waiting.” “I hate you. I will stand here and wait for the elevator and never will I ever hold the doors for you ever again.” “Really, Nessie? You are the most over dramatic person I have ever met.” “You love it.” “Apparently, so does Cassian.” “Mor-” Morrigan hung up, giggling. Nesta pressed the elevator button for what seemed like the thousandth time. She was so grateful to hear the ding, and when the doors opened she practically jumped in. After checking her phone, she realized if she drove like a madwoman on the highway she would still be late. Damn her and her nostalgia. The elevator doors opened revealing a guilty-looking Mor waiting by the car. That guilt quickly morphed into a smirk when she saw Nesta's annoyed smirk. “Thanks for making me late, asshole.” “No problem, bestie! Besides, Rhys won’t fire you. If he does, we can all disown him! Except maybe Feyre. She will probably be on his side.” “Let's just go.” ~~~~ Cassian was pacing the floor of the staff room. Nesta was late. She was never late. Something happened to her and he was willing to bet those assholes that harass her every week had something to do with it. He had to call the police. He had to do something. Cassian pulled his phone out, ready to call someone when he was interrupted by Rhys. “Hey, Cass? Nesta’s gonna be late today, Mor just called saying she made Nesta wait for the elevator for, like, five minutes. You can stop pacing. Damn, you’ve got it bad.” Rhys walked away giggling like a middle schooler. “Hey! I don��t have a crush on Nesta, you bastard!” Cassian yelled after Rhys. “Well, I would certainly hope not! That would ruin our group dynamic!” Mor yelled at Cassian, with Nesta hot on her heels. “Says the girl who came up with the ship name Nessian. I still think it should be Cesta, by the way.” Cassian quips. “Well, Cesta sounds stupid. Mostly because a cesta is a type of basket.” Mor replies, before leaving to go get a drink. While all this was going on, Nesta was putting on her heels and getting ready to go out and get people to buy more drinks. Before she left, though, Cassian tried to think of something to say to her. “So, Nesta, still single?” Damn. He was an idiot. Why did he ask her that? “So, Cassian, still a grade-A asshole? Because don’t think for one second that you could get in my-” “Sorry! I’m sorry! Jeez. I was just making small talk. Apparently, you are, but I already knew that. Considering the way you blush at the mere thought of me.” Cassian finished with a smirk, making Nesta's blood boil. “The only reason I blush in your presence is because your insufferable male ego takes up so much space that it gets too stuffy and difficult to breathe whenever you get close to me!” “So you admit being close to me makes you blush?” Cassian wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ugh! Goodbye, you impossible prick.” Nesta walked away, Cassian watching her back the whole time as she began talking to the patrons. ~~~~ Nesta could feel Cassian watching her as she spoke with all the customers. Surprisingly, Tomas and his lackeys didn’t show up. Maybe he was finally leaving her alone. Nesta was so deep in thought that she barely heard all the sexist remarks coming from one table in particular. It seemed to be full of a bunch of rich kids. The tips would hopefully be good. Nesta made her way over to the boys, and barely registered the look in their eyes. She was used to it by now. What Nesta was not used to was how forward they were. “Hello, darling. We’ll have three whiskeys, neat.” “I’ll make sure to let one of the waiters know, darling.” Nesta hated these guys already. Misogynistic pigs. She put on her overly sweet smile and walked away. She went to go find Mor, knowing that Rhys wouldn’t get mad at her. “Nessie! How’s work? Wait, don’t tell me. Those guys you were just talking to asked you to get them their drink.” “Yep. Honestly, Rhys should have thought about what customers would think if he had girls walking up to tables, talking to them.” “Between you and me, I think he only created that position because he had a crush on Feyre and she told him you were job hunting.” “Honestly, that’s probably true. Cause Feyre was the one to tell me about the job after she met Rhys at the coffee shop.” “Okay, well I gots to go party for a bit. Come see me after your shift is over!” “Bye, Mor!” Nesta walked away and noticed one of the guys, the one who ordered the drinks, was waving her over. Great. She sighed and tried to walk as slowly as she could, without it seeming obvious. “Hello, boys. Is there something I can help you with?” “Why don’t you sit down with us. We can have a bit of fun.” “No thank you, I’m working right now.” “C’mon! We don’t bite! Unless you ask…” The guys sitting with him started snickering, that was when Nesta decided she’d had enough. “Sir, if you don’t start to respect my answer to your question I will have you and your boyfriends escorted out by security. Don’t make me say no again.” She tried not to flinch when he stood up close to her, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. They must have been bar hopping if he was already this drunk. She turned to walk away when suddenly there was a hand grabbing onto her ass. She was about to tell him off, but he roughly grabbed her face and smooshed his mouth against hers. She pulled away, gagging. Tears stinging her eyes as she was brought back to the night she broke up with Tomas. The sound of ripping clothes filled her ears. The pure undiluted rage in Tomas’s eyes when she pushed him off her. Suddenly, Cassian was there calling her name. She could see Mor pushing through the crowd that had gathered around her, repeating the dumb nickname she gave her. And on the floor, unconscious, was the guy who assaulted her. Oh, gods. Assault. It was happening again. She must have been pure evil in her past life because she had no idea what she had done in this life to deserve all this bad karma. “Nesta? Nesta, please, answer me. Nesta?” That was Cassian's voice. Cassian. He was here. “Take me home, Cassian. Please.” She cursed herself for sounding so weak. “Of course, Sweetheart.” He didn’t say his little pet name the way he usually did though. He sounded concerned. They walked out to Cassain's car in silence. Nesta couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She let them fall freely as she stepped into Cassian's car. Too shaken up by the whole experience to care if he thought she was weak. “Nesta, I know we aren’t the best of friends, but I want you to know I’m here for you. I may not know what it’s like being a woman, but I didn’t have the best childhood. I know abuse, so if you ever want to talk, call me. Based on your reaction, this wasn't the first time.” “My ex-boyfriend.” “What about him?” “He tried to rape me when I broke up with him. He was abusive. So I left. He caught me leaving with my suitcases, though. He got really mad and pushed me into the wall and started to taunt me. Telling me I’d never make it without him. That I needed him to survive. That Feyre needed him. Elain needed him. I pushed him off me, but he just pushed me harder into the wall and ripped my clothes off. Then I tried to run again, but he punched me. We got into a fight, but I managed to hit him over the head and run. Feyre was waiting for me in her car, and we both just drove.” “My birth mom was a druggie. She got pregnant from some guy she couldn’t remember. She used to hit me and tell me she wished she got rid of me. I still have a scar on my arm from where she put out her cigarette once when she was pissed at me. Then, one day she overdosed and killed herself. I was thrown into the system. That’s how I met Rhys and Azriel. In highschool, Rhys’s mom fostered me. Then she started to foster Az.” “I’m sorry you had to go through that with your birth mother. My mom died when I was young, and my dad lost his job a couple of years later. Feyre began working because Elain wished to go to college. That was when I started dating that guy. He knew we were in deep shit, so he started paying for everything for us. He even paid for Elain to go to college. The only thing is, now he seems to think we owe him for all the stuff he did for us.” Nesta didn’t know why she was telling Cassian all this. He was just so easy to talk to. “Damn. What an asshole.” “Yeah… Looks like we’re here. Thanks, Cassian. Truly.” “No problem. It’s not like we’re going to get fired for ditching.” “True… Hey, do you wanna come up and maybe watch a movie or something? If not that’s okay too! You don’t have to...” “Hey, Nesta, as long as you have popcorn and Dirty Dancing I’m in.” “Lucky for you, I have both of those. Also, Dirty Dancing is one of my favorite movies so we would have been watching that anyway.” “Well, Sweetheart, you’ll be pleased to know that Dirty Dancing is my favorite guilty pleasure movie.” ~~~~ Mor pulled up at their apartment complex, not expecting to see Cassian's car parked in one of the visitor spots. She stepped into the elevator, eager to see Nesta. Cassian had whisked her away to his car before she got the chance to see if she was alright. Once the doors of the elevator had opened into their penthouse, first Mor noticed that Dirty Dancing was playing on their flatscreen. Then Mor noticed that both Nesta and Cassian were cuddling on the couch, fast asleep. Mor quickly took a picture then snuck into her room. She could talk to Nesta about what had happened at the Court tonight tomorrow. For now, she decided to just let the enemies to lovers trope play out.

#A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas #nesta archeron/cassian #feyre archeron/rhysand #feyreandnestaarebffs #alternate universe modern #archeron sisters #enemies to best friends #bestfriends to lovers #pov multiple #nessian #mor and nesta are besties #slow burn #very slow #kinda angst #kinda fluff #dirty dancing #Feysand

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mypassionfortrash · 5 years

Text

Do More of What Scares You: Parts 7, 8 & 9 of 11

Things go from bad to worse when you find out what Roger really gets up to on tour.

◾️Catch up: 1&2 ~ 3&4 ~ 5&6 ◾️

Warnings: Smut!

[7/11]

Your heart pounded as you wandered through the cabin. The last time you were on a plane was when your parents had decided on a disastrous holiday in Tenerife when you were still at school. It wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it had been an eternity. There were, however, a few differences this time.

You would be spending longer inside this floating tin can. The best part of a day, apparently. You could already feel the germs in the air clawing at your skin.

And then the dull chatter of your fellow passengers. That was going to be difficult to avoid. Even with ‘Soothing Sounds for Anxious Minds,’ blaring away in your ears at full volume. The tape was Roger’s idea. You doubted it would have any effect, especially if you had to have it up so loud to hear it.

On the plus side, Roger made sure you were traveling First Class. Something you hadn’t realised until you were on the plane, showing a stewardess your ticket. She immediately sprang into action, “Come with me.”

You had to fight your way through the rabble of the Economy cabin, fearing you might spontaneously break out in hives or faint. You struggled to keep up as she expertly darted through the horde of screaming children and adults towards the front of the plane. Finally, she pushed through the curtain. The great divide into what felt like another world. By contrast, this one was quiet and tranquil. Plush leather seats, champagne and canapés. “You’ll be in here, Miss, at the request of Mr Taylor. Is there anything I can get you?”

The cabin was empty. It took you a moment to register that this was where you would be spending your day. With wide eyes and an open mouth all you could muster was a quiet, “I need a drink.”

“Of course. What would you like? It’s all complimentary.”

It was so easy, in the lap of luxury to go for something more outlandish than your social standing would allow. Normally a vodka and coke would suffice. But this wasn't normal. Not by a long shot. Without thinking, you droned, “Champagne.” Not even a 'please' in sight.

You lost count how long you spent cooped up on the plane when it touched down at LAX. The champagne was, seemingly, the only thing you needed on the trip. And the self help tape was surplus to requirements. You wondered, packing up your belongings, why you didn’t do this more often. You could get used to being shipped off abroad to join Roger on tour.

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

“No! You go and hide in a bloody bar somewhere. I don’t want her coming all this way to be mobbed by you three arseholes!” Roger screeched. He felt like his entire body was going numb as he fretted over every last detail of your arrival. He could barely hold on to the wilting bouquet in his hand.

Roger was no sooner in the private car to the airport but Brian, Deacy and Freddie had climbed in behind him. Much to his annoyance. He needed your reunion to go down without a hitch. And this wasn’t going to help his case.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, darling!” Freddie retorted. "Who wouldn't love us?!"

“I mean it. If my girlfriend flakes out because of you lot-”

“So she is your girlfriend now?” Deacy said. “Interesting.”

Roger sank back into his seat, eyeing his bandmates. “Yeah, I guess she is.” Then, he jolted forward again. “But that’s not the point!”

Brian turned to Roger, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Look, Rog, we’ll go off and hide somewhere, if that’s what she needs.”

“We’re doing this for her, not for you, remember that,” Freddie huffed. “I still can’t believe she’s going out with you.”

Roger clenched his jaw. “It’s a bit cramped in this car. I’m going to call another one for the ride back,” he muttered.

“So you don’t even want us to meet your girlfriend?” Freddie pouted.

“Not until you’ve all calmed down. Stop being so hysterical!”

Deacy kept his face smushed up against the window, watching the world go by as his bandmates bickered. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he muttered.

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

Bags in hand and successfully through immigration, you waited in the Arrivals Hall for Roger. He was late. Fifteen minutes late. He was never late.

Your stomach churned, wondering where he was. Maybe he had forgotten all about you. Maybe he was back at his hotel, cosied up with a bunch of groupies. All those hours on the plane would have been for nothing. You began to pace back and forth. The urge to run off and lock yourself in the toilets to bawl your eyes out was so strong that you had to sit down. If your legs moved any more, then they may well have carried you off to the next flight home. Slinking down the wall, you hit the floor with a thud. The rushing in your ears had reared its ugly head again for the first time in weeks. That self help tape didn’t seem so bad now.

On the other side of the airport, Roger was breaking a sweat as he power walked through the crowd of travellers. His bandmates weren’t far behind.

“I can’t believe I always listen to you lot. I told you where she’d be, and you’ve led me on a wild goose chase. This is brilliant. Exactly how I wanted this to go!” He whined, his cheeks turning scarlet. “She’s somewhere in here on her own, going out of her mind, thanks to you lot!”

“Rog,” Brian began, pulling at Roger’s arm.

Roger’s first instinct was to turn around and glare at him for holding up his mission.

Brian was having none of it. “Do you want her to see you like this?”

“Like what?” he scowled.

“You look like an angry chihuahua, dear,” Freddie remarked, breezing past Brian and Roger.

“Come on,” Brian said, “take a deep breath. And bin those flowers. They look more pathetic than you. I’ll get on the phone and have some ordered to your room.”

Roger huffed, beginning to see reason. “You’re right.”

Deacy took his time catching up, but when he did, he noticed the state Roger was in. He whipped a handkerchief out of his jacket and, like a mother hen, began dabbing at Roger’s brow. “Don’t worry. Brian and I will see to it that Freddie behaves himself.”

Brian nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” Roger said, slicking his hair back, a coy smile on his face. Then he became aware of the situation again, looking around him. “Where is Freddie?”

You had resigned yourself to the fact that Roger wasn’t coming to get you anytime soon. Your legs had gone numb from the perishing cold floor and all you could focus on was the breathing exercises droning away in your ears. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now, imagine you’re in your happy, safe space. Fuck.

You flung off your headphones, and opened your eyes.

A figure loomed over you, immediately catching your attention.

“Oh good, you know I’m here! Excellent. Let’s find your boyfriend,” he said, pulling you to your feet.

“I don’t… Wait, where’s Roger?” you asked, grabbing your bags.

“Nice to meet you too,” Freddie grinned. “I dumped him somewhere along here with Brian and Deacy.”

“Everyone’s here?” Your voice cracked. Your legs stalled, rooting you to the spot.

“Yes! We wouldn’t have missed meeting you for the world.”

“Of fuck,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, feeling like it was curtains for your excursion abroad.

“Oh, thank god!”

Now, that was a voice you knew.

Roger burst from the crowd out of nowhere, throwing his arms around you. He picked you up and spun you around so ferociously that you feared the champagne from the plane might resurface. You could feel his heart fluttering next to yours. But you didn’t feel panic. Not anymore.

Plonking you down, he littered kisses everywhere he could. “I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m so sorry I’m late. These bastards insisted on coming along and I brought flowers but-” he held you out to get a good look at you. “God I missed you.”

You sighed, giggling away. “I missed you too.”

“Was your flight ok?” He asked, looking concerned. “Did they treat you well?”

“Yes, it was perfect,” you said. “I was getting a bit worried there.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Roger said, hugging you again.

You buried your face in his chest, slowly taking in his cologne like it was part of those god-awful breathing exercises. “You’re here now.”

The pair of you were forced apart by Freddie clearing his throat, much to Brian and Deacy’s disdain. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

[8/11]

“Are you sure you don’t want to be there?” Roger asked, slipping into a crisp white t-shirt.

You wrung your hands together on your stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The bed had accepted you as its own, and in your state of exhaustion, you huffed. “I’m not really up to it, tonight. I’m still jet-lagged.”

Roger threw himself down beside you, taking one of your hands and giving it a kiss. “Will you come out tonight?”

Being cooped up in a tour bus with Roger and his bandmates for ten hours forced you into some semblance of being comfortable around them. You paused, thinking for a moment. “Let me sleep this off, and I’ll see what I can manage.”

Roger left for the night, leaving the name and address of the club where Queen’s afterparty was to be held, and the promise of having a brand new outfit sent to his suite, just for you.

Thumbing the card in your hand, you considered his offer before you succumbed to the jet-lag and drifted off.

Four hours later, you woke up to find your room dark and empty. But there was something that called out to you from the far side, over by the dining table. Draped over one of the seats was a crimson dress. Beside it, on the table sat a pair of gold heels, a dozen roses and a bottle of Moet. You ambled over to your gifts on shaking legs and picked up the note nestled in your flowers. “Ask your mum if you can come out tonight. Love, Rog. x.”

As much as you wanted to stay in bed all night and wait for him to return, you were overcome with the urge to put on your new clothes and be a different person. Just for one night.

And so your mind was made up. An hour later, and looking your best, you strutted into the bar. Heads turned as you delved further into the cloud of smoke that blanketed the place. The regret, the panic, the rushing. It all took hold so quickly. You couldn’t ignore the eyes on you. So you kept your head bowed. It did you no good. You hit a brick wall.

“Hello, my love!”

You looked up, recognising that voice. It was Freddie. But, you needed to find Roger before the room suffocated you. “Hi darling,” you said, giving him a hug and a fake smile. “Do you know where Roger is?”

“We have a lounge through in the back,” he began, pointing towards the curtained entrance at the far side of the dancefloor, “but it’s more fun out here, don’t you think? Would you like a drink?”

That smile of yours was real now. You peered over Freddie’s shoulder, at the entourage of moustached men behind him.“I’ll bring him right back out, Fred. Then we’ll come party with you lot.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, hauling himself up on to a bar stool.

You nodded, speeding off into the swarm of partygoers. The music in the room was so loud that it made the ground shake like an earthquake ripping through the building. But as you approached the entrance to the lounge, you could hear laughing. Roger was laughing. You reached out and gingerly pushed back the velvet curtain to peer inside.

What you saw felt like the most vicious gut punch of your life, knocking all the air out of your lungs, sending your head spinning.

There he was, lying on an opulent sofa, with a model on each arm, competing for his attention. You needed to get out of there fast.

The following morning, bags in hand, you wandered out of the hotel towards the bus. Only for Brian to catch your arm. “I wouldn’t go on there if I were you,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look.

You sighed. “I know what he got up to last night.”

“If it’s any consolation, he’s an idiot. We’re going to give him a right bollocking when he wakes up.”

“Fuck when he wakes up. I’m giving him a bollocking right now,” you resolved, wiping your eyes and standing up straight.

Deacy was next to leave the hotel. “Bollocking? Oh, you mean Roger?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Good for you.”

“Well, since you’re feeling brave, can you get rid of those girls too?” Brian half-joked. “Don’t want to smuggle them back into Britain or anything.”

“I’ll deal with them.”

The noise in your brain seemed to escalate as you marched on to the bus. Bottles lay strewn over the floor along with a trail of clothes; men’s and women’s leading all the way to the lounge area. Dragging the beaded curtain aside, you were met with a similar image to the night before. Roger was precisely the same, but the girls were different. The three of them lay on the sofa, half naked and sound asleep; you thought it ironic as you hadn’t slept a wink for worry.

You searched the lounge for something - anything - to disrupt the scene. You hand finally found the neck of a vodka bottle. It was already open. You doused them, emptying it completely.

The girls quickly woke up, realising what was happening. They wordlessly scurried through the bus, gathering their clothes and bundling them in their arms as they left. They had clearly done this before.

But Roger refused to budge. He was still snoring away in his underwear, mouth agape, head lolled back against the window. It infuriated you. You decided it was time to get vicious.

“Wake the fuck up!” you roared, grabbing an empty beer bottle. You lobbed it at him. Instead it smashed on the window.

Roger’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi darling,” he droned, still in a drunken haze. “Feeling better?”

“Better? Better?!” Tact was never your forte. But to get any meaningful response from him, you didn’t need it.

He looked around, completely missing the severity of the situation. “What’s wrong?” He asked, scratching his head, blinking at you.

Your heart sank. Either he was willingly trying to deceive you, or he was so wasted the night before that he had no idea what was going on. You didn’t even want to imagine the other scenario.

Maybe this kind of thing was so prevalent in his circles, that it was an unspoken thing you merely had to accept. You crossed your arms, pacing in front of him. “Who were those girls you were with? Who were you with last night?”

Roger’s face fell. “I don’t remember anything.” He was quiet, sober, now. “What did I do?”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes. All your pride melted away. “When I went to the bar last night, I came to find you, and you were in the back with…” you trailed off, throwing away the last of your sentence with a flap of your hand. Great, wet tears made tracks through your makeup. Your legs threatened to give way, while your heart was working overtime, thumping away against your ribs. “And then this morning. You were here. With different girls. What the fuck, Roger?” you sobbed. “Has that happened before?”

Roger leaned forward, staring at the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and gave a deep sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you; if he did that, he’d be acknowledging a cold, hard truth. He had let you down. In the cruellest way he could.

“I really trusted you.”

“I know.”

But it was as if he could sense your mind beginning to race. To entertain the thought of going back home. And the worry about how you could afford it. He didn’t miss a second.

Finally, he looked up. For a moment, he just took in the state of you; facing the fact that he did this do you. “Can we get back from this?”

Footsteps came thundering through the aisle of the bus. You turned towards the noise to find Brian poking his head through the divider. “We’re leaving now, so I’ve just popped your suitcases up front,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you sniffed.

“Everything alright?”

Roger was quick to pipe up. “We will be.”

Brian shot him a questioning look, before turning his attention back to you. “If you need us, we’ll be down the front, having a game of Scrabble. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, Brian.” When he was safely out of earshot, you and Roger resumed crisis talks. “All this time you’ve been away, has that happened before?” you pressed.

“You’re not going to go home, are you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m fucking stranded here with a boyfriend who thinks it’s ok to get shitfaced and cheat on me! Of course, I’d like to go home. But you dragged me all the way to a place I can’t get back from!”

Roger propped his chin against his hand, sinking his front teeth into his knuckle. For someone with so much verve and presence, he looked utterly defeated. “If I get you a plane ticket home, can we try again when I get back?”

You shook your head. As upset as you were a moment ago, it dawned on you that if Roger got his way, you’d run the risk of falling into a routine. Things would be hunky dory for a month or two. And then a tour would come around, and Roger would be back to thinking he’s a free agent. As much as you hated yourself, you weren’t prepared to put up with that, even if the good times were almost divine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Roger nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m going to…” you began, pointing towards the front of the bus. The last of that sentence escaped you.

[9/11]

Brian, Deacy and Freddie desperately tried to look busy as you approached the front of the bus. But even you, in your sad and panicked state, knew their game of Scrabble was all a ruse. They were eagerly awaiting details of the conversation you and Roger just had.

Flopping down beside Freddie, you tried to gather your composure again. But it was no use. Your body shook as you descended into a fit of sobbing.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Freddie asked, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“I don’t know if-” you began, sniffling. “If we’re going to be ok. I want to go home.”

Brian and Deacy sat at the opposite side of the table. They exchanged a look, before nodding in agreement. “We’d be happy to pay for your ticket,” Brian suggested.

“It would be no trouble at all,” Deacy added.

“Plus it would give you and Roger some time apart. You never know, you might be able to pick right back up when he gets home,” Brian explained, trying to summon as much cheer.

“I couldn’t let you do that,” you said as Freddie ran his fingers gently under your eyes, catching your tears. “And besides, it’d take a miracle for me to trust him again.”

Deacy and Brian nodded. They knew you had a point. Even they weren’t blindsided by the fact that their friend had hurt you terribly.

“Do you know what I think you should do?” Freddie asked, shuffling in his seat to face you.

“What?”

“I think you should stay.”

“But I can’t-”

Freddie held up his hand to shush you. “Stay. Have some fun. Make Rog see what he’s been missing. He won’t do that again, I can assure you.”

“But he’s been-”

“On his best behaviour, actually,” Brian said, not quite finishing the sentence you started.

“Since he met you, anyway,” Freddie added.

“Old habits and all that,” Brian concluded.

Deacy was quick to impart another detail. “He really does care about you. We’ve even seen him cry over you.”

“I was so sure he’d been sleeping around,” you mused, shaking your head.

“Oh, believe me, Roger used to. But not anymore.” Freddie smiled at you warmly. “Let me take you shopping. We’ll have you out of those drab clothes of your’s in no time and flirting up a storm with someone even more handsome than Roger.”

You looked down at your outfit, tugging at the neckline of your top. Blue jeans. A plain white t-shirt. A pair of blue loafers. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. “Drab?”

“I quite like your clothes, actually,” Brian said quietly.

“Thank you,” you said, turning your attention back to Freddie. “There’s one glaring problem, here.”

“Oh, I know. Your anxiety sometimes gets the better of you. Well, Brian has a stash of those self-help tapes, don’t you, darling?” Freddie pressed.

“I thought that was Roger’s idea?” you laughed.

Deacy rolled his eyes, leaning into the table. He was growing tired of the conversation, so he got straight to the heart of the issue, putting you on the spot in a way that almost terrified you. “Do you love Roger?”

“I did.”

“Would you like to get your relationship with Roger back on track?”

“In my own time,” you squeaked.

“You don’t have to go out every night, throwing yourself at every man who looks at you,” Freddie said, softening his tone. “Just get drunk, flirt with someone and make sure Roger see’s.”

“And then what?”

Finally, Deacy and Brian were getting on board with Freddie’s plan. “And then you stick around until the end of the tour,” Brian added.

Rounding off the plan, Deacy concluded: “To keep tabs on him.”

“And do you think this is going to work?” You asked.

“It bloody better!” Freddie began. “There will be no living with him if he loses you.”

“Vested interest. Lovely,” you remarked, realising that Brian, Deacy and Freddie had succeeded in talking you down. No more tears. Just scrabble and talk of outfits you were going to wear to make sure Roger’s eyes didn’t stray again.

——————————————

As it turns out, the following night’s show was one of the worst of the tour.

It all started when you ignored Roger’s pleading for the two of you to share a room. He cornered you in the lobby, still reeking of booze and sweat and sex, trying to apologise. Begging for ‘one night’ to make it all up to you. Instead, you were going to sleep in the master bedroom of Freddie’s suite (he had elected to take the sofa bed in the lounge area, despite your insistence he take the bed).

He showed up outside Freddie’s suite that afternoon with another bouquet of roses, but you and Freddie had gone out shopping together. He even trawled around the entire crew’s rooms in search of you.

Eventually, he binned the flowers.

Roger kept his distance for the rest of the day.

You laughed and joked with Brian, Deacy and Freddie, doing their hair and applying their makeup, while Roger sulked on the other side of the dressing room, wearing a sour expression.

When it was show time, you watched from the side of the stage. You had never been to a concert before. That wasn’t to say you had never wanted to go to one. You adored music and always went about your business with your headphones blaring your favourite cassettes in your ears.

But concerts?

The vast expanse of bodies?

The sweat and the heat?

And the sheer amount of noise?

It wasn’t for you.

But you had the best spot in the house, and you were safe, with a clear exit planned out if you needed it.

You didn’t. In fact, your eyes were glued to the band. Brian, Deacy and Freddie were all on top form. However, Roger was having the night from hell.

During your dates, he would always bleat on about how the drummer was the heart and soul of a band, half-jokingly, but that night, you truly understood what he meant as he meandered his way through the night. It was like a car crash in slow motion right until the final song.

As the packed venue erupted into thunderous applause, Roger got up and began to haul over his drum kit, sending each item flying across the stage. He didn’t even acknowledge the audience, storming off when ran out of things to wreck.

After the show, Roger disappeared. It played on your mind as you and Freddie got ready together. “What if he doesn’t show up?” You asked, knocking back a shot of vodka, admiring the clothes Freddie held up against your figure.

“Well, you’re going to have a great fucking time anyway. Fuck Roger.” Freddie was so matter-of-fact as he rifled through the mountain of clothes he insisted on buying you earlier. He maintained he knew what Roger liked to see on a woman and made your style choices accordingly. Even if most of them weren’t to your taste. “I know this is a little bit out there for you, but why don’t we go a bit more colourful?” Freddie suggested, taking out a bright pink silk shirt, dotted with blue brushstrokes.

You scrutinised the shirt. “What am I going to wear that with?”

“I got you some lovely blue leather trousers, remember?” he said, pulling them from the rail.

“Uh-huh. And the shoes?”

Freddie pointed at the shoes you were wearing. Your comfy blue loafers. “Those are perfect.”

“I can’t help feeling like I’m your little pet project, Freddie,” you giggled. Shrugging out of your clothes was easy now that you were sufficiently drunk. You weren’t even sure if the outfit Freddie had chosen for you looked objectively reasonable, or if it was just the vodka telling you lies, but you didn’t hate the image you saw in the mirror.

Freddie wandered up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s because I have a vested interest, my dear.”

“When Roger suffers, everyone does?” you guessed, crossing your arms.

“You said it, not me!”

You and Freddie arrived at the afterparty fashionably late. In stark contrast to the previous post-gig shindig, this venue was surprisingly tame. Brian, Deacy and the crew congregated around a table in the centre of the room, unbothered by other patrons. “Can you see Roger anywhere,” you asked, clutching Freddie’s arm, walking further into the room. The pair of you stopped. Searching.

“There he is,” Freddie said quietly, pointing towards the bar.

Roger sat alone, surrounded by empty glasses, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He gazed off into space, getting lost inside his own mind.

“See anyone you like?” Freddie asked.

You sighed. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Freddie looked horrified. “Well, don’t! He’s harbouring enough self-pity to last him a lifetime. He doesn’t deserve any of yours.”

“Ok,” you agreed, scanning the room for someone else.

“What about him? He’s much more muscular than Roger,” Freddie said, pointing towards a man who epitomised the term ‘frat boy.’

“He looks like a brute.”

“Fine, I’ll have that one! What about…” Freddie gave a dramatic pause before drawing your attention to an older gentleman, quietly sipping a pint a few places along from Roger. “Him?”

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, Freddie.”

He shot you a perplexed look. “What’s wrong with that?”

Then someone caught your eye. The bartender. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad. With thick, dark hair, and charisma that was palpable in every corner of the room. You nodded in his direction. “What about him?”

“Free drinks all night? Works for me,” Freddie shrugged.

You and Freddie scurried towards the bar and hauled yourselves up on to some stools, a few feet away from Roger.

He was still knocking back his drinks with a surly look on his face. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose; you had no idea if he knew you were there. With the mood he had been in all evening, it was probably best not to disturb him.

Freddie quickly got the attention of the object of your desires, but you froze when he leaned in to take your drinks order. He had such a warm, welcoming smile and the kind of eyes you could get lost in for hours. Where Roger was lively, this man was dreamy. You tried to commit every detail of him to your memory, from his strong arms to the half-buttoned dark denim shirt that contained him.

And you couldn’t talk to him.

It was sod’s law, really, that Freddie would be the one to introduce you to him and to order a vodka on your behalf.

He served you quickly, whacking down an entire bottle of the stuff, along with some shot glasses, in front of you and Freddie. There wasn’t a ring on his finger. “I’m James, by the way,” he said with a wink. Looking around the bar, he realised that there weren’t any customers waiting to be served, so he leaned over in front of you and Freddie. “I know why you’re here,” he began, nodding at Freddie before turning his attention to you. “But what are you doing so far from home?”

You quickly gulped down a shot, and tried to think up an answer that didn’t make you sound like an idiot.

Again, Freddie was quick to swoop in. “She’s in a kind of ‘fella done me wrong’ situation.”

“Really?” James said, raising his eyebrows. “What did he do to you?”

Freddie pointed over to Roger who was minding his own business. “You see, she went out with Rog over there, our drummer,” he explained, taking a sip of his own shot. “But he’s been a bit of an arsehole.”

You rolled your eyes. “More than an arsehole,” you said under your breath.

James’ face lifted, forming laughter lines around his watery blue eyes. “She speaks!”

“Oh she’s a timid little thing,” Freddie said, slapping your thigh. “But she bites. Be warned!”

The ice had well and truly been broken between you and James. Feeling bolder, you decided to ask him about himself. “So do you own this place?”

“I do,” he said, smiling. “I actually inherited it from my father and his before that. This place has been going for well over a century!”

You listened intently as you poured yourself another shot. “That’s wonderful,” you said. “Would you like a shot?”

James smirked, considering your offer. “Why don’t you and I have a couple of drinks together at the end of the night?” He suggested, pointing to the clock on the wall behind the bar. “It’s an hour until I close anyway.”

You glanced at Freddie, whose eyes were wide. He urged you on.

“I’d love to,” you beamed.

Someone at the other side of the bar was trying to get James’ attention, but he was so taken with you, he failed to notice. The realisation of what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. Suddenly your words dried up.

“Um,” you began, pointing over James’ shoulder, “you should probably…”

“Oh,” James said, looking around. He seemed to have turned into a bumbling idiot, just like you. “Fuck, I should, yeah…”

When he was safely out of earshot, Freddie leaned into you. “Look at you!” He squealed, shaking you by the shoulders.

“I can’t believe that,” you grinned.

Freddie took another shot, and you drank in the view of the bar, gazing around at the revellers in the room. Brian and Deacy were still having a civilised time with the crew. Groups of people were dotted sporadically throughout the place, including members of Freddie’s perpetual entourage, but no one was disruptive. Until you clapped eyes on Roger.

He was sitting there staring at you. You weren’t sure how long he had been doing this for, but as soon as you looked him, he clenched his teeth together, desperately trying to form a smile. Then he waved.

“Fred?” You said, your voice low with renewed nervousness.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you think Roger saw all that?”

“Wasn’t that the plan?” He asked, turning around in his seat to face you.

“Yes, but he’s looking right at me.”

“So?”

“What if he tries something? Oh god…”

“What?”

You and Freddie watched as Roger snapped his fingers to get James attention. And then looked on in horror as Roger grabbed James by the collar, like a chihuahua trying to wrestle an Alsatian. You slid off your seat to intervene, but Freddie merely put out his arm to stop you. From what you could gather, Roger was snarling something at him, his face viciously screwed up.

James remained calm, removing Roger’s hands with ease, before leaving the space behind the bar to join Roger on the other side.

By now, Roger’s face was scarlet as he squared up to the bartender. He got the shock of his life when James grabbed him by his hair and dragged him towards the door. You couldn’t help but laugh as Roger shrieked from the street outside: “Don’t you know who I am?!”

You and Freddie exchanged looks when James returned triumphantly to his post. “He wasn’t hassling you, was he?” you asked him.

He raised his hand and shook his head. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Good. I know he can be a bit hot-headed,” you began, only for him to cut you off.

“I’m thinking about closing early, do you want to stay for a bit? Have that drink?”

You glanced at Freddie, knowing full well you had his support. And then back at James. “I’d love to.”

In the space of ten minutes, everyone had filed out of the bar, leaving you and James alone together. A bottle of whiskey sat between you in one of the booths closest to the door.

In front of patrons, he seemed like the chattiest man in the world. But alone, you could feel the tension radiating from him.

He eyed your lips intently when you spoke, or slurred, about your trip. Once you got started telling him about everything that had gone wrong, you couldn’t to stop. But he grew more and more impatient with every word.

Finally, when he couldn’t take much more of hearing you lament your relationship with Roger, he swooped in. Deep and passionate, he kissed you so fiercely that you had to cling on to the table to stop yourself falling backwards. Not that it did much good. As the moment intensified, James pulled you on to his lap and began to undo the buttons on your shirt.

Even in your current state, you were still lucid enough the know what was about to happen.

James took off your shirt, sending it flying over the divider of the booth. The bar had a coldness to it now that it didn’t have before and it seemed to drag you into the abyss, in your head, at least.

Sure, you went along with everything James did, right until he finished.

But the only reason you did it was to tell Freddie about it in the morning, in the hopes that Roger overheard.

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t thrilling. All you felt was cold, icy detachment. He wasn’t Roger.

It was always the ringing that drove you to despair. Spent, drenched in sweat and hastily throwing your shirt back on, it even followed you out of the bar and into the street.

You felt sorry for yourself, wandering off into the night, following the streetlamps back down the road to your hotel. The fresh night air shot a bolt of clarity into you.

Freddie meant well when he suggested this stunt to make Roger jealous, but if you were honest, it hadn’t achieved anything. It only made you feel even more worthless. Your heart sank.

Maybe you should take Brian and Deacy up on their offer of a ticket home, you thought.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death.”

That familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around to find Roger loitering outside the bar with those ridiculous sunglasses still on his face.

“What are you doing, Roger?” you asked.

“I didn’t want you walking back to the hotel on your own,” he admitted.

You couldn’t help but get defensive. “If this is your way of-”

“Making sure you’re safe,” he said, holding up his hands, “that’s all it is.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t have the energy for it. “Fine. Walk with me.”

Roger didn’t need telling twice. He was glued to your side in seconds. Keeping quiet as you wandered.

The silence didn’t last long. “Do you care about me?” you asked.

“You’re all I care about.”

“Well, why did you do that, then?”

“It’s a bad excuse, but we all do terrible things when we’ve had one too many. Me, more than most… I’ve been trying to be better.”

“I think I’ve been a bit worse. I don’t know why I did it.”

Roger looked at you questioningly. “It worked though.”

“What?”

“When I was sitting outside that door there, listening to you and that bloody bartender. God, it made me sick.”

“You heard that?”

Roger nodded.

“I just want you to know that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Why? He was handsome.”

You sighed. “He wasn’t you, though, was he?”

“I still feel awful about what I did. And I can’t even remember what it was that happened. That’s the worst part.”

Finally, you reached the hotel. The warmth from the lobby soothed your bones as you and Roger waited for the lift to the suites on the top floor. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. His gaze was fixed to the floor.

“Roger?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

The lift doors pinged open, and you got inside, backs against the walls, facing each other. “Freddie’s probably asleep by now. Can I stay the night with you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to wake him. He seems to like his sleep.”

Roger nodded. “Oh, no. Of course. That’s no problem at all.”

You looked each other up and down in silence. It had only been a short time since you and he slept in the same bed, but it felt like an eternity. And so much had changed.

The doors slid open again. Faced with a fluffy, dusty pink hallway, you followed Roger’s lead towards his suite. It was much smaller than Freddie’s and he hadn’t bothered bringing his luggage inside from the bus. Just the essentials - underwear, aftershave, toothbrush. It wasn’t like Roger at all.

Neither was the nervous figure he cut in the centre of the lounge, clasping his hands together and looking around aimlessly. “If you need something to sleep in-”

“My underwear’s fine,” you said, shedding your clothes on your way to the bedroom.

“Do you want me to take the couch?” Roger asked.

You shrugged and spoke calmly, while your insides raged. “We’re both adults.”

Roger slowly began stripping down to his underwear while you did the same.

You could see why girls fawned over him everywhere he went. In fact, it was all you could see.

“Ok,” he said, standing at the other side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

You sank your head on to the pillow, paying him very little attention as he crawled in beside you. Your eyes drooped closed as if he wasn’t there at all. “Goodnight.”

It felt like centuries, lying next to each other in silence like two dead bodies laying in wait. In reality, it had only been ten minutes. “Roger?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

“Can you cuddle me?” you asked, rolling on to your side.

You felt Roger turning around next to you. Before you knew it, his arm was around your waist. He pressed a few quick kisses to your shoulder, his breath was electric against your skin. “How’s that?”

“It’s perfect.”

But there was something in the way. Roger huffed. “I can smell him all over you.”

That statement made you tense. Half of you wanted to scold Roger and remind him that it was he who cheated on you first. But the other half of you was desperate for him to reclaim you. The truth was, you didn’t want James lingering around on your skin or in your mind.

Roger’s hands began to wander, and, eager for them to explore you more, you turned on to your back. He gently undid the front clasp of your bra, exposing your chest to his touch. Drawing feathery strokes around your nipples, he marvelled as they began to harden. “I forgot how much I adore you,” he mumbled against your side.

You ran your hand through his hair, letting out a quiet laugh. “I think you should show me how much you adore me.”

Roger shifted, looming over you, and placed long, luxurious kisses down your stomach. He dragged your underwear, still damp from James’ efforts at the bar down your thighs as his mouth moved lower. Urgent and feverish, Roger’s tongue got to work, eradicating any trace of his rival from your flesh.

Second guessing what was going through Roger's head at that moment was part of the thrill for you as he ardently lapped at your clit. He was hell bent on showing you that you were his, burying his face against your cunt, fingers clawing at your hips. The noises he made were feral. They sent glorious vibrations through your body. You could only respond with a breathless beg for him to fuck you.

His movements ceased for a moment, looking up at you. “Are you sure, darling?”

You were desperate to be back in his arms again, so desperate that you couldn’t help but whine. “Please, Roger.”

“Ok, baby,” Roger whispered, his face now inches from your own. “I’m here.”

The relief you felt at having him close again was better than any fucking you could do with any bartender. Having Roger slowly push into you was even more blissful. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him by his hair in for another chaste, breathless kiss as he gathered momentum.

Then, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, overcome with how incredible you felt around him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you whispered in his ear, your cunt grasping at his cock. “I bet those girls don’t feel nearly as good as this.”

“Oh fuck,” Roger hissed, thrusting harder into you. “You feel fucking incredible.” He leaned back on to his haunches, grabbing your waist to hold you up as he pounded you mercilessly. “Let me see you play with yourself, darling.”

You did as Roger told you, and began to circle your clit in time with every one of Roger’s sharp thrusts. He was stroking just the right spot inside you, winding you tighter every time, making you milk his cock. Coaxing release out of him.

You got there first. Seeing stars as tears stung your cheeks, barely able to get a breath.

He wasn’t far behind, collapsing over you as his passes became jagged. He buried his face into the pillow, and with one low growl, he was spent.

Lifting his head to get a good look at you, he wore an angelic expression. “Are we ok?” Roger whispered. His voice still shook.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out. But I hope so.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen fic

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all-things-skam · 5 years

Note

Elu, 19 and 23

Please continue to sent requests from this list of prompt!

19. “Stay.”

23. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Title: Tea for three

Ship: Skam France | Lucas Lallemant and Eliot Demaury (Elu)

Leaving his phone on the couch wasn’t a smart move from Lucas. Or, maybe he didn’t leave it there. Maybe it slipped from his joggers’s pocket and Mika didn’t tell him because he had an evil plan that was asking be put to work.

Throwback a couple weeks ago when Lucas started questioning his sexuality. Having only one gay in his circle of friends, he turned to Mika for gay advice. Little did Lucas know, Mika wasn’t dumb and quickly caught on that there was a boy in particular on Lucas’s mind.

This boy was Lucas’s his first official gay crush and, although he had never met the the boy - or knew his name -, Mika was so excited. His baby gay had a crush!

Unlike Mika, Lucas was very, very slow. After a whole month of wanking to the thought of his crush at night - yes, that’s what Mika assumed he was doing given how many used tissues were on Lucas’s nightstand -, the young boy still hadn’t made a move on Eliott.

Give him a chance, Mika told himself. It’s all new for him.

A whole month had passed and Lucas still hadn’t made a move on Eliott, something Mika couldn’t quite understand why. If he liked this boy so much, why didn’t he make a move on him? He wasn’t a complete stranger. Mika knew they texted on the phone, those blushing smiles on Lucas couldn’t be from the boy squad.

Lucky for him, his amazing roommate wasn’t so tongue tied.

It took Lucas ten minutes to realize he had left his phone in the living room. “Mika, have you seen my-”

“Phone? Yes, here,” he finished with a mischievous grin that got Lucas suspicious.

“What’s that face? Did you put your dick as my lockscreen or something? I swear if you did this again I’ll-”

“I invited your crush over for tea in about 20 minutes. Can’t wait to meet him,” Mika blurted out excitedly.

Lucas’s eyes went round like saucers. He did what?!

“What the fuck, Mika?!” Lucas yelled, making every occupants in their building jump.

Mika tsked him. “You’ll thank me later. Now, shower. You stink.”

At 2pm sharp, the sound of the buzzer echoed in the appartement and Lucas only had a towel around his waist. Shit. He shouldn’t have shaved in the shower…

He heard some rustling in the apartement followed by the melodic voice of Eliott. The sound alone got Lucas’s heart beating so fast he would feel his pulse in his fingers.

Throwing his towel on the floor, Lucas quickly put on his boxers and grabbed a pair of pants, slipping one leg in when his bedroom door burst open.

“Ah! I see you’ve shaved for E-L-I-O-T-T,” Mika pointed out, not seeing any hair peeking from Lucas’s boxers.

Lucas whirled around, almost tripping because of his pants. “Fuck, get out, Mika!” he said, pushing him out and slamming the door. He’s such a pain.

When he was finished, Lucas joined Mika and Eliott in the kitchen where Mika had set up a cute display for afternoon tea. He was really serious about tea, uh?

“You’re late, Kitten.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and took a seat across Eliott who smiled at him, bright but soft. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Lucas returned, trying to not stare at him too much.

Every time Lucas’s eyes landed on Eliott, Taylor Swift’s Gorgeous started playing in his head and it couldn’t be more accurate to his situation - beside the older boyfriend part. Eliott was gorgeous and Lucas couldn’t say anything to his face because…look at his face. His perfectly styled messy hair that barely moves an inch when there’s wind, his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. And, let’s not forget his eyes. So blue.

Mika poured some tea in a cup and placed it in front of Lucas, having already poured one for Eliott. “Here, just the way you like it.” He turned to Eliott, crossing his arms over the table. “So, Eliott. Let’s start with fundamental questions: do you suck cocks good?”

The crude question had Lucas almost choking on his tea, sending him in a coughing fit. Mika patted his back to help cough it out and he narrowed his eyes at his roommate.

“Erm, I don’t know.” Eliott cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable. “I’ve never been with a boy before,” he replied, glancing at Lucas who quickly looked away, still embarrassed by his roommate.

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Lucas has never sucked dicks either!” Mika said, earning a kick in the shin from under the table. Lucas get that he was trying to play matchmaker and help him make a move on Eliott but, can they not talk about sex?

From across the table, Eliott raised an eyebrow and glanced at Lucas who was quickly looked away. He’s never gonna be able to look at Eliott in the eyes again after that.

“He’s all new to the gay world. Gotta give him a chance,” Mika added.

For the next ten minutes, Mika kept his tongue - much to Lucas’s relief. The conversation flowed nicely and, every now and then, Eliott would flick his gaze to Lucas who was either quietly drinking his tea or playing with biscuit crumbs, ignoring Mika completely.

Lucas’s phone went off on the table, the picture of a brunette appearing on his screen.

“Is it Manon?” Mika asked, unable to see clearly from his seat.

Lucas shook his head. “No. It’s Chloé.”

Mika pulled his eyebrows. He’s heard that name before. “Chloé? Is that the girl who couldn’t get you hard?”

Lucas went rigid.

He couldn’t believe Mika bluntly exposed him about something so personal. The dick sucking question was borderline invasive but, this- This was out of line. Lucas went to him about his erectile dysfunctions because he thought he could trust his roommate with this kind of information - and he was too embarrassed to talk with any of his friends. Guess he was wrong.

“What the fuck, Mika?! You can’t just say that!”

Lucas stood abruptly and disappearing into his room, leaving Eliott alone with Mika.

Lucas had been part of many embarrassing situations in his life but nothing this embarrassing. Eliott knew Chloé. And now he also knew about his erectile problems. Great.

A few minutes after Lucas left the table, there was a knock on his door.

“Fuck off, Mika!”

“It’s not- It’s me.” There was a short pause. “Can I come in?”

Lucas opened the door and Eliott stepped in.

For the first time, Lucas was embarrassed about his ‘teenage cave’, as Mika would call it. Dirty clothes everywhere - even underwear -, an assortment of junk on his desk, his comforter had a sketchy stain and, Mika was right, it didn’t smell so fresh.

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t know we’d be having a guest.” Lucas frowned, shaking his head. “Not that I tidy my room when we have guests…”

Eliott chuckled. “It’s okay.”

He looked around and Lucas felt embarrassed by the pigsty around them.

“I’m sorry about my roommate. Mika is…Mika. He doesn’t have a filter,” he explained.

“Don’t worry about it.”

They stood there for a minute, not knowing what to say, until Lucas noticed Eliott had his jacket on. The brown one he always wears. Its yellow based color makes Eliott’s eyes pop and Lucas loves it.

“You’re leaving?” Lucas asked, nodding at Eliott’s jacket.

“Yeah. I think you and your roommate have things to talk about. I’ll see you at school on Monday.” Eliott turned to leave but Lucas grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Eliott looked down, casting his eyes over Lucas’s small fingers wrapped around his wrist, the small touch sending electricity through his whole body. He looked back up, catching Lucas’s eyes. This time, Lucas didn’t look away. He plunged his blue eyes into Eliott’s, staring into them intently. “Your secret’s safe with me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Lucas blushed.

Although he was pissed at Mika for going through his phone and embarrassing him in front of his crush, without him, he would’ve never had the courage to invite Eliott over. In order to thank him, he decided to push through his embarassement and make a move because he didn’t went through all this for nothing.

“Eliott-”

Lucas was cut off by a pair of lips on his, catching him off guard. He gasped, breath catch in his throat, not expecting this. Eliott had kissed him. His Eliott. The boy who Lucas turned into silly putty whenever he was around. The boy who made the butterflies in his stomach go wild every time he glanced his way.

It took Lucas a few seconds to realize he might be giving Eliott the wrong message if he didn’t kiss back so, he brought one hand behind Eliott’s neck and pulled him down, pressing his lips harder against his, releasing his hold on Eliott’s wrist to join his other hand. By reflex, Eliott pulled the younger boy by the waist, deepening the kiss.

As their lips caressed one another, all soft and gentle, the world tuned out and it was only the two of them, kissing in the middle of Lucas’s bedroom.

Eliott was the first to pull away but kept his hands on Lucas, needing to feel him. He pressed his forehead against Lucas’s and smiled broadly. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, making Lucas’s stomach all warm and fuzzy.

In response, Lucas smiled, pushing his fingers into Eliott’s unruly hair, so soft underneath his fingertips. “Don’t leave yet. Stay.”

Eliott let go of Lucas, sending the boy into a short panic, and closed the door. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#elu #elu fic #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #mika #skam france #skamfr #skam #please help my find a title for this one #all the ones I thought of were bad

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atenementfunster · 5 years

Text

all the more reason, chapter 6

ao3 link here!

Roger Taylor, dead as a doorknob, and his best friend John Deacon (also dead) meet some blokes who are decidedly NOT. Dead, that is.

(aka that ghost au that no one asked for, featuring Gay Panic™, John’s sass, and Brian being too endearing for this world. the overall vibe of the fic is not sad, if that’s a concern for you, but it does get rather melancholic. they are dead, after all.)

“Holy shit.”

John’s grip on the back of the sofa slips, and he elbows Roger in the back of the head. Roger can say nothing, only nod in agreement, his skull throbbing dully.

Freddie smiles, lips curled over his teeth, and turns back to Brian. “Well, they’re delightful. Where did you find them, the playground out back?”

Brian cants his head, and a new flood of panic rushes through Roger so fast he's near dizzy from it. He can’t help but turn to John, who looks something like a mouse pinned beneath the gaze of a hungry cat.

“This is Roger,” Brian says, slowly, like he’s worried about Freddie’s mental stability. Which is fair. “Met him at school, actually. He’s a Biology student.”

Freddie’s gaze, sharper than it has any right to be, flicks from John, to Roger, to Brian, then back to Roger. He’s got the look of a man who’s processing at an alarming rate, and Roger recognizes it instantly because it’s a look he often sees on John’s face. He opens his mouth, then closes is, completely unable to think of anything to say. John shifts again behind him, and Roger turns to see him with a hand up in a fragile little wave.

In a flash, Roger forgets about Brian and about Freddie, and turns fully to look at John, who’s gone quite white. Ignoring any semblance of consequence, Roger shifts and puts his hand over John’s, who’s got a death grip on the back of the sofa. He watches as John let out a breath, and says, “hello,” to the first living man that can see him.

Roger turns back to Freddie, whose lips are pursed and eyes assessing. There’s comprehension there, and acknowledgement, and space for a whole conversation. But in a blink the look is gone, and Freddie’s turned back to his friend. “A biology student? Brian, I never knew you’d stoop so low.”

Brian’s still looking at him a bit oddly, so Roger leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and says, “attitude like that, you must be an arts student.”

Freddie’s smile takes a turn for the wicked. “I didn’t take you for romancing bitches, Brian.”

Brian makes a sound like he’s choking, but it’s drowned out by Roger’s surprised laugh. “Something tells me I’m not the bitchiest person in the room, mate,” he counters, standing and holding a hand out for Freddie to shake, unthinking.

Roger realizes his mistake almost immediately, but he can’t back down now, but apparently his worries are unfounded. The man ignores it and loops his arm around Roger’s shoulders instead, pulling him so close their heads knock, other hand coming up to pat at his chest. His warmth is the same as Brian’s, thrumming with energy in ways it shouldn’t be, and behind him John makes a noise like he’s being strangled.

“Well, you’re right about at least one thing, Rog,” Freddie says, like they’ve been friends for years.

The floor feels like the deck of a ship, and Roger laughs shakily, managing to say, “at least one person acknowledges I can be right sometimes,” before backing out of Freddie’s grip. “Gotta hit the head,” he adds, turning to Brian with a question in his eyes.

“Down that way,” he supplies, looking a bit overwhelmed, which Roger thinks is entirely unfair, considering the very fabric of his existence is undergoing a rather dramatic remodel. And then there’s John.

Roger catches his gaze and John slinks around the sofa, looking at Freddie like he’s a predator about to give chase before following Roger to Brian’s loo.

“Oh my god,” he says the second the door’s shut, turning to Roger with wide eyes. A hand comes up to his mouth, and he gasps, “oh my god,” again into his palm.

“Hey, Deaky, hey,” Roger whispers, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in a feeble attempt at comfort. “This is a good thing, yeah?”

John stares at him as he shakes in his grip, holding his gaze unblinking for too long before nodding once, a jerk of his head. It sends his hair from behind his shoulders to the front, and Roger brings a hand up to fiddle with the strands.

“This is good,” he repeats for John, hoping his expression is a better reflection than how confident he feels. Because for all their unsurety, it is. Roger might not know the why’s and the how’s about what’s happening to him, but he’s not alone in it anymore. He was never alone, he knows - John’s too good a person to leave him alone in this, even though he’d probably deserve it - but now John gets to know what it feels like to be seen, to be touched again.

“Maybe you should talk to him?” Roger says when John says nothing, just keeps staring at him.

The reaction is an immediate shake of his head. Roger feels a teasing retort rise to his lips, reminding John just how he was when Roger reacted in much the same way, but resists the urge and smiles instead.

“Doesn’t have to be now, but you’re talking to him. We both are,” he decides, and his tone brooks no room for argument. John’s shoulders, which were creeping somewhere along the level of his ears, drop as the tension seems to melt out of him. For a moment, Roger thinks he might need to catch him, for fear of him falling, but he just leans heavily onto the closed door, hand coming back up to cover his mouth.

“Yeah,” he mumbles eventually. “Yeah.”

“C’mon,” Roger says, giving his arms one final rub for comfort, “we’d better get back out there before Brian thinks I’m taking a shit in his toilet.”

It surprises a chuckle out of John, who swats him but looks a bit less shaken, and Roger knocks him gently on the side of the head before opening the door and going back out to their waiting hosts.

“So, you’re the singer, yeah?” Roger says, walking over to Freddie with his hands on his hips, posture as relaxed as he can make it. John’s at his shoulder, arm touching his elbow, and Roger doesn’t have to look to know he’s trying very hard not to stare at the man.

The man who’s looking at John with a smile, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. “Ooh, the singer, I like that,” he replies, but his gaze is still all for John.

Brian doesn’t seem to notice, because he’s shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer before saying, “right to his head, I tell you.”

Roger feels suddenly cornered, and rubbing his palms on his jeans doesn’t seem to assuage the feeling. He doesn’t know how to handle Brian, what to do about Freddie, and John, who’s normally a comfort, is now shaking against his arm.

Freddie’s said something to Brian, taking the attention off of them for a moment, and Roger interrupts tactlessly with, “sorry, guys, but I think I’m gonna head home. Feeling a bit peaked.”

Brian looks like a cross between disappointed and confused, and it damn near makes Roger double back, but John’s leaving his side while mumbling, “you don’t have to, Rog,” before phasing completely through the front door. Freddie tactfully doesn’t watch him go, but does stare Roger down, head cocked and eyes appraising.

Decision made, he says, “thanks for the beer, I’ll see you soon, yeah?” to Brian, taking the few steps to reach him before touching his elbow lightly. He doesn’t have to put much effort into looking sorry. “Nice to meet you,” he adds, glancing over at Freddie, whose stare is unnerving.

“Pleasure was all mine, dear. Do come and visit.”

Roger gives a feeble one-handed wave, and nearly walks straight through the door. Remembering at the last second, he grabs the door handle and twists it open with an unpracticed hand, before pulling it open and shutting it softly behind him.

The doorway that greets him is empty, which throws Roger off, as his mouth had already been open to try and give John the reassurements that would likely fall on stubborn ears.

Pot, kettle. Roger huffs and takes the stairs two at a time, ready to start hollering his name, but it seems he needn’t have worried - John’s sitting on the curb at the base of the steps, knees folded to his chest and chin propped up on them.

Roger eases his way down and leans too much weight against him, causing John to nearly overbalance. He blinks rapidly but looks over at Roger with a steady enough look, one brow even raised. Roger’ll take it.

“Alright?” He asks, then chuckles and adds, “stupid question, I know.”

John exhales on a dry laugh, eyes sliding shut and hands clenching around his shins. “Now I feel like an ass for taking the piss out on you,” he mumbles into his knees.

Roger shrugs even though he knows John can’t see it. “I probably deserved it.”

Tilting his head, John looks over at Roger with a half-lidded gaze, expression open and contemplative. It lasts for a moment too long, and soon Roger’s wilting a bit under the attention, because he already feels taken apart tonight, he doesn’t exactly like it coming from John, too. He looks like he’s going to say something, though, and Roger when opens his mouth to tell him to get on with it, John turns away so suddenly Roger’s mouth closes with a clack of his teeth.

“Thank you for leaving, even though you shouldn’t have,” John says to the thatch of weeds beside his left shoe. “Means a lot.”

Roger shoves him again, this time a hair too hard, and John has to stretch out a hand to catch himself before he goes ass over tits on the pavement. It earns Roger a glare, and he maturely sticks his tongue out in rebuttal. “I wasn’t gonna stay, not with you shaking like a lamb.”

John frowns - no, Roger would go so hard as to call it a pout. “Wasn’t.”

“A foal, then.”

“You’ve made your point, I think, Roger.”

They’re at a standoff, Roger leaning into John’s space with eyebrows raised and John holding steady beneath his prying eyes, until he finally deflates, shoulders dropping as he lets out a breath beneath the weight of Roger’s gaze. “I panicked,” he finally admits. “Happy?”

“I’m always happy,” Roger says, and it surprises a laugh out of John.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Enough of this,” Roger declares, bringing his hands down onto his thighs with a loud slap. Standing, he holds out a hand for John to take, which he does with no hesitation. “You know,” he adds, one John’s standing, Roger looping an arm over his shoulders, “this Freddie might be your Brian May.”

“Stuff it,” John says, smiling sideways at him through a veil of hair.

“And they know each other. What are the odds, right? Destined to meet, we were.”

For once, John seems content under Roger’s touch, leaning in as they walk slowly down the lot. It’s both proof that John was well and truly shaken, as well as evidence that he’s slowly learning to like Roger’s touch. Maybe it’s his way of readying himself for Freddie’s.

“Guess so,” John murmurs, and he looks down at his feet, lips still curled in a soft smile.

#maylor #deacury #queen fic #fic: atmr #all the more reason #my fic #hi yes hello i'm FINALLY CAUGHT UP TO MY ARCHIVE #in other news i need to actually write ch 7

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Live Forever - Chapter 1 (Group Fic)

a/n: A self-indulgent Grey’s Anatomy AU ft. literally everyone.

I’ve got a fair few ships in mind but this will be pretty Shalaska-centric, with sprinklings of other ships that I won’t spoil. This chapter is pretty short (I did it for you mobile users) but, GCSE workload permitting, they should get longer. Also, this is my first fic here so if you have anything at all to say about this clusterfuck of queens-as-doctors, teach me how to use tumblr so I can know!

Enjoy, lovelies!

The first thing that crossed Alaska’s mind when she woke up is that she was screwed. Honest to god, abso-fucking-lutely, no way out of it, screwed. The second thing she thought was that great surgeons are never late. Especially not when they’re starting their first day as an intern at one of the best surgical programs in the country.

Which is why opening her eyes on the living room floor, with a pounding headache and a naked stranger lying next to her, was a complete and utter disaster.

Cursing her nearby bar and their stupid Tequila Thursdays, Alaska hauled herself to her feet. Light streamed in through the open window, not a good sign, and so Alaska took a deep breath, said a quick prayer to the patron saint of ill-advised sexual encounters, and checked her watch. “Fuck me!”

“I mean sure. I’ll go for round two.” Even better. Drunk bar hook-up whose name Alaska couldn’t remember except that it might have possibly been Karen, was awake. Just what she needed.

Alaska sighed heavily, spinning around to look for the bra that she was sure had been there last night, amidst the piles of boxes and stacks of clothes and books. “Look, you need to go.”

“Is this yours?” The girl, although still sprawled out naked on top of Alaska’s favourite rug, was holding her black bralette aloft in one pale hand. How humiliating.

She snatched it from the girl’s grip, trying to ignore the flush rising on her cheeks. “Thanks.” Alaska stared pointedly at the door, but Erin, or whoever, didn’t move. “Seriously, can you leave. I’m late, which isn’t a good idea on your first day of work, so….”

“Nice place you’ve got here.” Shannon smirked, letting the pointless small talk roll off her tongue so slowly that Alaska wanted to strangle her. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, kind of. It’s my mothers. But I’m selling it.” Manon opened her mouth as if to speak again, but Alaska cut her off. “We don’t have to do the thing.” At her blank look, Alaska elaborated, reciting off the spiel that she’d used on every one night stand since her second year of college. “You know, exchange details, pretend to care, all that stuff. It’s been really great but I’m gonna go upstairs and have a shower and when I get back down here you won’t be here. So, goodbye, um–?”

“Sharon.”

“Right. Alaska.”

“Alaska?” The corner of Sharon’s mouth crooked up and that time it seemed less mocking, more genuine somehow. Alaska got a look at her properly for the first time that morning. Platinum blonde hair falling messily around high cheekbones, plump lips, icy blue eyes - Shit. She was even more attractive than Alaska remembered her being last night, which, God knows, is a fucking rarity. “Nice meeting you, Alaska.”

“Bye, Sharon.” Alaska dashed up the stairs, her heart beating a mile a minute and a familiar warmth pooling in her stomach.

Great. This was all she needed.

Alaska arrived at the hospital sooner than she’d expected and she reached the designated O.R just as Chief Visage was working her way through an introductory speech. The chief caught Alaska’s eye, but a brief purse of her bright red lips was the only punishment she got.

The twenty or so interns were left to eye each other up, circling around the operating table like vultures. Alaska knew that not all of them would make it through their internships and she couldn’t help but wonder which of them would be gone come two years time.

Maybe the petite blonde, practically bouncing around the room in excitement. Or the redhead across from her, a wide, lazy grin on her face. Perhaps the thin, modelesque girl with the bitchy expression on her perfect face or the handsome guy smirking in the corner, or–

It could be her.

Alaska might be one of the eight that switch to an easier speciality, part of the five that crack under the pressure, a member of the two that get asked to leave. And as much as that scared the shit out of her, Alaska knew that she wouldn’t let it happen. She was a good surgeon, and nothing, nothing, would distract her from playing the game she knew that she needed to play to win.

“Right, Coulee, Velour, Taylor, Moore, with me.” Names were called across the already loud locker room and Alaska strained her ears to try and catch her own. She’d been sitting and waiting for her resident for what felt like hours, and there were only so many times that she could adjust her stethoscope or re-button her lab coat.

The numbers dwindled until there were five of them left, sitting on the wooden bench in the now-quiet room.

“Got Del Rio?” The girl closest to her asked, her voice a strong Aussie twang. Alaska nodded wordlessly, nerves clogging up her throat, but the Australian just beamed back, apparently completely at ease.

“Hey, so do I.” It was the gorgeous brunette, striding across the room towards the two blondes. She walked like she owned the place, head held high, and Alaska couldn’t help but feel intimidated. “They call him the Nazi.”

“I’ve got him too. At least we’ll be tortured together, right?” The ginger woman opposite them offered, stuffing a hoodie back into her locker. She had kind eyes and Alaska immediately felt more comfortable. “I’m Jinkx Monsoon.”

“Act, Chachki, Belli, Monsoon, Thunder.” At the sound of their names the group of interns rose tentatively, making their way down the hallway that the doctor gestured to. A woman stood at the end of it, short and unassuming in stature, her caramel hair twisted into a glossy updo.

Chachki sniffed, and Alaska could practically hear the disappointment in her voice. “That’s the Nazi? I thought she’d be more…”

“Terrifying? Yeah. But that’s good right, having a nice resident?” The Aussie offered hopefully, earning a withering glare from the brunette and a scoff from the curly haired man.

“Nice usually equals incompetent. So no, blondie, we don’t want a resident that’s all sunshine and fucking rainbows. We want a good surgeon.”

Act sniffed, obviously put out by Belli’s dismissiveness. “Well, it never hurts to be nice.” She approached the Nazi, extending a dainty, manicured hand. “Hi, I’m Dr Act. But you can call me Courtney, or Court, or whatever. I don’t mind.”

Del Rio turned, looking at Courtney’s dainty hand like she’d been performing rectal exams all day. “I have five rules,” she barked, her voice loud and harsh, and Courtney jumped back like she’d been shot.

“Rule Number One. Don’t try to kiss my arse, I don’t want you there. Whatever you think it’s gonna get you, it won’t. Me hating you, it’s not going to change. Two, answer every page at a run.”

She shoved a pager into each of their hands, the black metal cold and unfamiliar between Alaska’s fingers. Jinkx leaned in towards Alaska as they followed Del Rio down countless identical, sterilised corridors.

“Looks like Belli and Chachki got their wish, huh?” Alaska allowed a small smile to play on her lips before focusing again, trying to take in the information that their resident was shouting at them.

The hospital flashed by Alaska in a blur, and she could only catch brief snapshots: a burn victim being rushed past on a gurney, nurses surrounding a hospital bed, a glimpse of peroxide blonde hair. Almost immediately Alaska was transported back to last night at the bar, her cloudy memories suddenly crystal clear. She saw herself, throwing back shots until the room spun and her heart beat faster in her chest. Catching the eyes of the woman across the room, her mauve lips stretching into a wide grin as Alaska waved. The girl, no, Sharon, walking over with a can of PBR in her hand and talking together for what must have been hours, before making their way back to Alaska’s house.

But then came the harsh reality of morning, the knowledge that no matter how funny or charismatic Sharon had been, Alaska was a surgical intern. She had to work, eat, sleep repeat. Even if she did have time for someone other than a patient in her life, what was the chance that this beautiful woman would be able to understand the demands of her job. What sane person would agree to a girlfriend whose time was not her own, who worked ridiculous hours, who had to be on call day and night? Certainly not Shar-

“Thunder? Watch where you’re going.” Alaska stumbled back, recoiling from the impact of crashing into Dr Del Rio and trying to ignore Belli and Chachki’s muffled giggles. “What was Rule Number Four.”

“Four, uhm…” Alaska stuttered, desperately hoping that whatever information Del Rio had been spouting had somehow absorbed into her brain via osmosis. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Well, Dr Thunder,” Del Rio hissed, “Maybe you’d like to get your head out of your pretty blonde arse, and listen to what I’m trying to teach you. Unless you think you’re too good for us?” Alaska shook her head hurriedly, staring down at the white tiled floor. “No? Good. Rule Number Four is to always do what I tell you to do. Answer my pages immediately, take the patient I assign you, and, Thunder, listen to me when I speak. Clear?”

They pulled to a stop at the main nurses station, where a folder was shoved into each of their hands by an exhausted-looking nurse. Alaska could hear Jinkx’s heaving breaths beside her as they flicked through their files, and even her own heart was pounding in her chest. If every day was like this she’d have to invest in some running shoes.

“Excuse me, Dr Del Rio?” Chachki raised an a hand tentatively in the air. God, if even that stone-cold bitch was afraid of their resident, Alaska knew that Del Rio was legitimately terrifying. Even in the face of Del Rio’s arched, perfectly-plucked eyebrow raising in a way that was somehow threatening, Chachki continued, “Didn’t you say that there were five rules?”

The resident’s brow shot up even higher, and Alaska made a mental note to find out who her beautician was.

“Well, Dr Chachki, since you’re dying to know - Number Five. Do not wake me when I am sleeping, unless your patient is on the brink of death. Speaking of, I have to make it through 48 hours with you fucking imbeciles, so I am taking a nap. All the information you need is in those packs. Try not to kill too many people.”

With that piece of advice, she strode off, the harsh white lights glinting off her honey highlights. Alaska looked at the four interns next to her, suddenly realising how alone and incompetent they were in a massive hospital, full of busy professionals who actually had a single clue about what they were doing. They all looked at each other, and Alaska could see her own insecurities reflected clearly in their eyes.

“Well,” Jinkx murmured, splitting the nervous silence in two. “She’s a fucking delight.”

Willam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, real sweetheart. What’re you guys assigned too?”

“Dr Michaels, pediatrics. Oh, that’ll be so fun, I love kids!” Courtney squealed, her green eyes lighting up as she scanned the page in her hands.

“You practically are one. Did Mummy give you too much go-go juice this morning?”

Courtney furrowed her brows at Willam’s comment. “Why d’you have to be such a dick? Just because I’m trying to stay positive and not complain like a certain person I could mention doesn’t mean I’m a child.”

“Sorry that we can’t all be happy-go-lucky balls of fucking energy, blondie-”

“Do not call me blondie!” Courtney stepped forward so that she was nose to nose with Willam, both of their faces hard and stony with anger. The tension in the air was so thick that Alaska could have sliced it with a 10-blade.

Willam was the first to move back, spitting out another insult. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re exhausting?”

“Oh, I’m exhausting? Well you’re an insufferable prick with a penis the size of a-”

“Shut up! I’ll go insane if I have to listen to your little lover’s quarrel for the next two days.” Violet raised her hand, stopping Willam and Courtney’s vehement protests. “I’m on cardio with Dr Liaison, and if anyone has any idea which direction it’s in, I would be very grateful.”

Alaska tucked her folder under her arm and pointed down the main corridor. “I think it’s down here. I’m on neuro, and I’m pretty sure cardio’s on the way.”

“Great let’s go.” Violet hooked her wrist around Alaska’s bony forearm, dragging her away from the still fuming Willam and Courtney.

“Jesus, they really hate each other,” Alaska commented after a few moments of silence between them. No matter how intimidating this girl was, they’d be spending 100 hours a week together, so Alaska might as well make an effort to get along.

Violet stopped outside a door clearly marked ‘CARDIO’, a vixen-like smile lighting up her sharp face. “Nah. I guarantee they’ll be fucking each other’s brains out in a week. Anyways, enjoy neuro.”

“Yeah, you have fun with cardio,” Alaska replied, but the door had already swung shut behind Violet.

Throngs of scrub-clad people swarmed around her, and for one second, Alaska felt completely lost. It was the first time that she’d been alone in this hospital, this huge building full of sick and dying patients, of people that could make or break her career. She was frozen, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all she wanted to was to just leave-

Then her pager buzzed.

The small noise broke Alaska from her reverie, and she checked the device, the small screen displaying a short series of numbers.

4679, a room number. At least whoever the Dr Needles written in Alaska’s file was had thought about the fact that Alaska would have no clue where to go. The room was just off the next corridor, and, standing before it, Alaska couldn’t help but pinch herself.

Whatever was behind the door to room 4679 was the beginning of the rest of her life.

Steeling her nerves, Alaska pushed open the door…

“Hi Dr Needles, sorry for-”

…And was greeted by platinum blonde hair falling messily around high cheekbones, plump lips, icy blue eyes - Shit. Alaska stopped dead in her tracks.

Oh, she was so fucking screwed.

#shalaska #doctors au #cisgirl au #group fic #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #courtney act #willam belli #bianca del rio #violet chachki #jinkx monsoon #rpdr fanfiction #submission #lesbian au #live forever

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sohotthateveryonedied · 6 years

Note

Hey I saw you support trans keith! Right on you, mate! Got any headcanons for us?

bOY DO I HAVE HEADCANONS (though disclaimer: I myself am cis, so if anything I say is wrong please tell me; I really don’t want to offend anyone so don’t be afraid to speak out if I say something wrong okay? okay now let’s go)(also I apologize in advance this is way longer than I thought it would be)

•When Keith was at the Garrison and then living alone in the desert, he would act as masculine as possible because when he was in foster care his families always insisted on him taking part in more “feminine” activities, so you can bet Keith did stuff like work on his bike and get all grimy and let it stain his clothes and later buy ten different colognes and wear all of them at once. Why do you think he loves swords and sword fighting so much? It makes him feel masculine!! Honestly any stereotypical ‘manly’ activities make him feel so much better, he just enjoys them so much

•People ask him sometimes why the long hair but guess what!! He doesn’t need to have short hair to be a man, he’s already a man and he likes his greasy mullet so stay in your own lane dude he’s happy with his long hair and having it doesn’t make him any less manly

•When he started hormones, every day he would practice talking as deeply as he could. Once he found a lizard sitting on a rock and recited the entire Bee Movie script to it in his deepest voice possible

•For most of the time during his time at the Garrison he’d just wear two sports bras instead of a binder because he didn’t really know how to get one and was too scared to ask. Plus he had like four dollars at most on a good day so how could he possibly buy a binder? He started resorting to ace bandages which oh no Keithy boy that’s not how you bind you’re gonna mess up your ribcage sTOP

• But don’t worry, Shiro the Hero™️ is here to help. Back at the Garrison, Shiro was the only person besides the teachers who knew Keith was a trans boy. And lemme just say Shiro is the most supportive human, he did as much research as he could and always stood by Keith whenever people were being jerks (and beat them up when he had to because Keith gets into enough fights as it is, he’s already gotten too many strikes so he’s not allowed to get into more fights or else risk getting expelled and it kills him when he can’t punch someone out for bullying him but guess what Shiro has no problem with that he’s the teacher’s pet anyway he’s not worried about getting in trouble) So when he found out Keith was binding with ace bandages he was like “okay first of all no, I don’t know much but I know for a fact that’s gonna destroy your ribs come on man I’ll go with you we need to buy you some binders”

• When Keith first got to space, one of the things he worried about the most was the fact that he only had the binder he was wearing and that was all, and he was terrified because what if something happened to it and he couldn’t find anything else to bind with oh no

•But never fear, Coran is here!! He asked Coran about it one night because he trusts him and turns out that plenty of Alteans are trans too!! However, they didn’t exactly use binders because they could simply shapeshift to fit their ideal body expectations, but Coran is amazing so he used Keith’s binder as a reference and made a ton of new binders out of this great alien material that stretches in a way that makes them safe to fight in too!! So hooray for Keith not having to worry about breaking a rib during a fight anymore

•And the hormone situation turned out to be easily remedied as well. When Keith realized he couldn’t go much longer without his hormone treatments he worked up the courage to ask Pidge for help, who managed to come up with an alien substitute that worked about the same as his regular hormones from earth so yay!! Now he can get his hormones without any trouble!!

•And at this point Shiro, Coran, and Pidge all know, so Keith figures that he might as well come out to the rest of the team since half of them know already and he may as well get it over with now, since telling them is easier than them all finding out through some accident. And it goes roughly the same way it had when Pidge revealed she was a girl.

•Keith walks into the dining hall one day where everyone is eating breakfast and he kind of just announces “hey by the way I’m trans, guys” and plops down to eat his food goo. (Shiro doesn’t even look up from his book and says “hi Trans, I’m Shiro”) and Hunk is like “oh rad, dude. I mean I kind of suspected but I wasn’t sure and didn’t know how to ask but this is awesome! So what pronouns are you okay with then?” “He/him, thanks” “Okay, cool cool cool” *goes back to eating* And after they explain what the term “transgender” means, Allura says “Oh, we have that on Altea too. For a moment there I thought trans was another alien species and you were admitting you were more than just galra but this is much better” “Thanks..? I guess?”

•And then you have Lance. It takes him a little longer to catch up to speed, but once it sinks in he’s like “but wait what about that time I called you Dolly Parton because of your mullet and when you said y’all oH MY GOD I MISGENDERED YOU IM SO SORRY” “seriously dude it’s fine, chill” “AHHH BUT WHAT IF ITS NOT” It takes him a long time to stop walking on eggshells, and pretty soon Keith being trans is just another fact of life, same as Pidge being a girl and Keith being galra and Shiro being a closeted Taylor Swift fan

•Keith: “I’m trans” Lotor: “I thought you were galra”

•When Keith starts growing facial hair oh my gosh he gets so excited. He starts strutting around so proudly, showing off the hair on his chin and when he walks into a room Hunk is like “heyyy nice beard dude, super manly” *thumbs up* Though the first time Keith tried to shave he cut himself like five times because he did it with his BOM knife, so that didn’t work out too well. Luckily, Lance decided to take pity on him and educate this poor boy on face management and helped him shave properly to avoid future fiascos

•Shiro: “Keith you can’t bind while you’re training, stop ignoring me you’re gonna kill yourself” Keith, firing up his bayard and already turning on the training bot: “What was that I can’t hear you” Shiro: *disapproving Dad Glare™️*

•Keith is an irresponsible boy so he leaves his binder on for like ten hours at a time (which!! please don’t ever do!! this will kill your ribcage please bind safely don’t be like keith!!) After so long of this routine of reminding Keith over and over again to take a break with his binder off and him blatantly ignoring it, Pidge modified the training deck so whenever Keith is in there training for hours at a time he will get alerts to take his binder off which thank god for that because he always either forgets or doesn’t care enough to

•Because he’s not fully transitioned, Keith still gets periods which really sucks. That’s usually when the dysphoria is at its worst so not only does he have to deal with stupid cramps but now he also has dang dysphoria to make him feel even crappier. When that happens, everyone on the ship makes an effort to take every opportunity to use masculine pronouns when talking to him and comfort him when he’s feeling Bad. (It’s a good thing Keith has his awesome boyfriend Lance who is so sweet and always supportive and will cuddle on the couch with him for hours as they eat snacks and watch earth movies for hours on end)

•Once he breaks three ribs during a fight and Allura tells him that he can’t wear his binder for a while otherwise it’ll just make the injury worse but like. Keith is so scared to go around without binding, he doesn’t want anyone to see him so he stays in his room for most of the time but on the occasions in which he does leave his room, he gets so worked up because “shit shit sHIT they’re gonna see me without my binder oh no I can’t do this” but. Nobody really notices? At all? It’s like there’s nothing different. He meets up with everyone for dinner and he’s sweating bullets he’s so nervous but it’s like no one even sees he’s not wearing a binder. So that was quite the experience, and after that Keith gets more comfortable with wearing his binder less often because the reason he always wore it too long was because he didn’t want anyone to see and judge him, but turns out it doesn’t matter in the least to them whether he’s binding or not, so he’s more confident being around them without a binder on days when he’s feeling comfortable enough to go without it.

•Keith has definitely taken an Axe Body Spray shower before this isn’t even a debate

•Shiro takes every opportunity to call Keith his brother not only because wow gotta love that wonderful honorary siblings broganes bond, but also hell yeah calling Keith masculine names.

•Shiro, introducing the paladins: “—and this guy over here is my brother Keith” Keith: *beams*

•Keith: “Zarkon is transphobic” Lance: “why” Keith: “Because I’m trans and he annoys me”

#voltron legendary defender #vld #headcanons #keith kogane #trans!keith #klance #takashi shirogane #Shiro #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #pidge holt #princess allura #coran coran the gorgeous man #trans headcanons #voltron #lay it on me papa bob

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iwasnthere622 · 7 years

Text

Oh My God, It’s Jason Scott!

AO3 Link

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" someone said as they walked past, blatantly staring.

Zack gave the person a look, but Jason didn't even blink, just kept moving, so Zack shrugged. Jason was a bit of a celebrity for his spectacular fall from grace in a literal crash -- even Zack, who only sometimes bothered to go to school, knew the story -- so he figured this person was just surprised to see Jason out and about.

But then they went into the store and Jason tugged the cart from Zack's hands when he nearly ran it into a display trying to push it fast enough to jump up on and ride, and the employee glared at Jason and muttered, "oh my god, it's Jason Scott."

He got distracted arguing with Jason over which snacks to buy for their movie night, convincing him no one liked the weird cotton candy flavor of cheese doodle, please just stop white boy, but he heard it again as they were leaving, when Jason and Zack paused to let an elderly couple exit ahead of them. "Oh my, it's Jason Scott," the woman said to her husband, both eying Jason as they walked past.

"Dude, have you noticed that people seem to have turned spotting you into a sport or something?" Zack asked as he climbed into Jason's truck, snacks on his lap.

Jason shrugged. "I'm still the big headline, the kid who fucked his life up and ruined the Tigers' season."

"How is that more relevant than the giant monster made of gold and living rock creatures that were stopped by dinosaur robots?" Zack wanted to know, shaking his head at this backwards town and its fucked up priorities.

Jason laughed, relaxing as he drove them to Kim's for movie night. "I know, right?"

They made it there easily enough, heading inside and passing Mr. Hart on his way out, Zack snickering when he said "Oh, it's Jason Scott."

"And Zack Taylor," Zack added with a snort, smiling innocently at Mr. Hart when he just blinked at him and nodded, telling them both to enjoy the movie night, he had to run to the office for a few hours.

Jason and Zack brought the snacks to the others, who were already set up in Kim's living room. When Jason went to the bathroom, Zack glanced around at their friends. "You guys notice that people use J's name as a curse word?"

"What?" Trini asked, frowning.

"Yeah, like at least four different people were all, 'oh my god it's Jason Scott' when we were grabbing snacks, like he's a disease or something and they have to point him out to everyone else," Zack said.

"Now that you mention it, when I walked home with him last week I did hear a few people say that, but Jason didn't seem to notice..." Billy said.

"He's resigned to it," Kim said. "Everyone judges him for the prank and his accident." She hesitated, glancing at the hall to make sure Jason wasn't coming back yet. "Before we first met, that night at the mine... Jason and I talked about leaving Angel Grove."

"They mock him that much that he'd want to run away?" Trini asked, unable to imagine Jason running from anything, he seemed so strong and capable. She knew he was teased at school, but he always dealt with it and kept his head up...

"I think most people think it's okay to judge his mistake," Billy said softly, not understanding why but thinking that people often judged things they didn't understand.

"Well that's bullshit," Zack said, overprotectiveness making his chest ache.

Kim opened her mouth to say something but closed it when they heard sounds of Jason coming back, picking up the remote to start the movie instead.

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" Zack yelled as soon as Jason walked into the room, big grin on his face, putting as much enthusiasm in his voice as he could.

Jason gave him a weird look, not used to Zack using his name, much more used to his name being used negatively, so it was a little weird to hear it said so happily.

"I was gone like two minutes," Jason said as he sat down.

"Ages and eons," Zack said, grinning, meeting Trini's gaze and grin widening when she rolled her eyes at him -- she knew what he was doing.

Zack jumped off the cliff and dove into the water below, swimming to the ship. He pushed his hair back once he'd landed, moving to the clothes the team had stashed here to change quickly and spread out his wet clothes to dry.

"You're the first one here," Alpha-5 told him once he'd gone to the pit, the robot a bit surprised.

Zack shrugged and grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Was gonna happen eventually, no need to be surprised."

Billy and Kim arrived next, both just as surprised to see Zack already there.

"You're early," Kim commented.

Zack smirked. "Just wanted to see your smiling face again, Princess."

Kim rolled her eyes.

"If you were lonely, you could always come over to my house," Billy offered.

Zack smirk turned more gentle, offering Billy a smile and holding out his fist for a quick bump. "Thanks, man, I'm good. Just finished up at home early today."

Billy bumped his fist to Zack's and smiled, nodding. "That's okay, too."

Zack laughed, glancing up as the last two members of the team walked in. "Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" he yelled, laughing and grinning.

Jason rolled his eyes but he was grinning. "Expecting someone else?" he teased.

Zack grinned. "Nah, just excited to have our fearless leader finally join us for another exciting day of training."

Trini punched Zack in the shoulder. "Quit flirting, it's gross."

Zack just laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Can't, it's part of my charm," he said, noting that Jason had glanced at him and then away at Trini's comment.

"What charm," Kim snorted, laughing when Zack stumbled back from Trini with his hand on his heart.

"I'm wounded!" Zack laughed.

"All right, c'mon," Jason said, calling order though he was grinning. "Let's pair up!"

Zack ended up fighting Kim first, while Trini and Billy took on Jason.

"Is this going to be a thing now?" Kim asked, punching out at Zack but missing as he dodged.

"You not landing a hit on me was always a thing," Zack said, grinning and kicking at Kim's legs, the pair circling each other.

Kim rolled her eyes and double-tapped Zack's chest for that, smiling when he stumbled. "Flirting with Jason," she clarified.

"I flirt with everyone," Zack said, focusing a little more on their spar, landing his own succession of hits.

Kim nodded, conceding that point, but... "His name, though. You've done it twice now, and you hardly use any of our names, you prefer your ridiculous nicknames."

"You love 'em, Princess," Zack teased, but at Kim's look he sighed, slowing his movements a bit. "People giving him shit for something that doesn't even matter pisses me off, okay? So yeah, I think bossman deserves to hear his name not being hurled at him as a curse."

Kim smiled, knowing Zack really did have the biggest heart of them all though he tried to hide it, nodding. "You're adorable," she grinned, leaping forward to tackle him to the ground.

Zack shouted in surprised, blinking up at Kim, who had him neatly pinned. "Thanks?" he asked, not really sure what just happened.

They rotated partners, Zack helping Billy take down Kim in revenge, then sparring with Trini, who also managed to tackle him.

"What is this, beat up Zack day?" he grumbled when she finally let up off him.

Jason moved over, offering his hand to Zack to pull him up. "Maybe you're just off your game today."

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott," Zack grinned up at him, taking his hand and letting him pull him up, grin widening when Jason rolled his eyes and said they'd be sparring together next, with the girls taking on Billy.

"Seriously, man, you all right?" Jason asked.

"I'm good, dude," Zack assured, punching Jason's shoulder and then backing up to plant his feet firmly, stance loose and ready. "Bring it on!"

Zack hopped the fence and strolled through the school parking lot.

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" he yelled once he spotted his friend, walking over to him.

Jason paused, raising an eyebrow and flushing a bit. "Really?"

"Morning, J!" Zack grinned, punching him in the shoulder and ignoring the attention he'd attracted by shouting Jason's name. "Ready for another day of hell?"

Jason huffed, smiling a little and leading the way into the building. "Are you?" he countered.

"I was born ready," Zack grinned.

Jason laughed, heading to his locker, glad to have Zack walking with him -- it was always easier when he was walking with one of them.

"Sure. Gonna make it all day this time?" Jason asked as he grabbed his books, noting that Zack didn't have any.

"Maybe," Zack shrugged, not sure yet.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Here," he said, shoving a red notebook at him, pen clipped to the binding. "So you can at least pretend to pay attention."

Zack grinned, taking the notebook. "Are all your notebooks red? That's hilarious."

"...I'm leaving now," Jason said, walking away, Zack's laughter following him.

They didn't share any classes, but they passed each other twice in the hallways in the morning, and both times Zack was sure to yell, "Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" and offer his fist for a quick tap, loving the flush that Jason got each time he did it.

He was sitting at their lunch table with Kim and Trini when Billy and Jason entered the cafeteria and made their way over to them. His eyes lit up when he spotted them, opening his mouth--

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott!" Kim yelled, laughing.

Zack let out a breath, closing his mouth as Trini and Kim laughed at him. "That's my line," he grumbled.

"Not you too!" Jason complained as he and Billy sat down, though he was smiling. "Zack's been doing that all day!"

"I know," Kim smirked.

"Homeboy loves shouting your name," Trini said, grinning when Zack choked on his drink and Jason coughed, avoiding eye contact.

"Don't I get enough teasing from everyone else," Jason grumbled.

"Probably, but we're your friends," Kim said. "Besides, we're genuinely happy to see you, mostly. Well, sometimes. A few times."

Jason laughed, kicking her under the table. "Gee, thanks!"

"I'm always happy to see all of you guys," Billy said, grinning at everyone.

"Us too," Kim grinned back.

Zack watched everyone make Jason laugh, something cold twisting in his gut, because that was supposed to be his thing. He was probably just being dumb, of course when Kim said Jason's name he would smile, too, he was probably just happy to hear his name being said in a positive way, which was the point.

Trini kicked Zack when he stayed quiet for too long, studying him and oh. Oh. Shit. Maybe homeboy actually did want to shout J's name...

Zack watched Trini frown and he smiled at her. He was fine.

"Enjoy the rest of the day, losers," he said when lunch ended, hanging back when they all turned to go to class.

"You're leaving," Trini said flatly, giving him a look that he chose to ignore.

"Can't expect me to spend all my time here, can you?" Zack smirked. He tossed his notebook at Jason, who caught it easily enough.

"Zack..." Jason started, but Zack started backing away.

"Thanks for the loan, bossman. See you all!" Zack said, turning and walking away.

Zack swung his feet idly, chewing on his necklace and staring up at the sky as he laid on the top of the train car. His phone went off and he reached for it, frowning at the message.

don't say i never did anything for you - T

Zack asked her what she meant, but she didn't answer. Typical crazy girl. With a careless shrug, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and resettled, trying to just drift and not think.

He frowned when he heard someone approaching, sitting up and letting his necklace fall from his mouth.

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott," Zack said, honestly surprised to see him, having thought it was Trini.

"Uh, yeah," Jason said, smiling. "Mind a little company?"

Zack shrugged. "Sure, dude."

Jason nodded, jumping up to sit on the top of the train car next to Zack.

"What brings you here?" Zack asked, not used to seeing Jason after school like this, frowning a bit. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's okay," Jason assured, smiling a bit because Zack tried so hard to pretend he didn't care when in reality he probably cared more than any of them.

"So what's up, J?" Zack asked, studying him.

"J, huh? And not Jason anymore?" Jason asked, studying him right back.

"Nicknames are kind of my thing," Zack smirked.

"True, but lately you've been saying my name a lot," Jason said. "And I kinda wanted to ask why."

Zack frowned. "It's your name?"

"Yeah, but like you said, nicknames are your thing. Before this weekend, I think the only time I'd heard you say my name was when we fought Goldar," Jason answered.

Zack shrugged, looking away and out at the mountain. "I don't know, guess I just wanted to switch it up."

Jason was silent for a moment. "Trini told me to come here," he said at last.

"Okay?" Zack said, confused now and looking back at Jason.

"She said you'd gotten upset when you heard people around town say my name the way they do," Jason continued, looking at him carefully. "So you'd decided to reclaim it."

Zack was going to kill Trini. "I..."

"Trini thinks you got upset when Kim joined in cause you wanted it to be your thing, saying my name like that," Jason continued. "Is she right?"

Zack half-shrugged, not meeting Jason's eyes. "It's bullshit, how they treat you," he said, not answering.

"Yeah, it is," Jason agreed easily, "but I've gotten used to it."

"That's bullshit, too," Zack said, glancing up. "Your name shouldn't be something used against you."

"It doesn't matter -- I don't care anymore," Jason said, meeting Zack's gaze. "The only people who's opinion really matters to me are you guys."

Zack grinned a bit, knocking into him. "You know we love you, bossman."

Jason chuckled, knocking back into Zack. "Back to bossman, huh?"

"Prefer something else?" Zack asked, turning to grin at him and something clenching in his gut at the look on his face.

Jason met Zack's eyes. "Yeah, actually. I kinda... liked hearing you say my name."

"Oh my god, it's Jason Scott," Zack said, teasing, leaning unconsciously closer and licking his lips.

Jason's eyes darted down to watch Zack's tongue peek out and wet his lips, looking back up into his eyes. "Oh my god, it's Zack Taylor," he said back, leaning in and kissing him.

Zack closed his eyes, pressing closer, kissing Jason back. He swayed after him when he pulled back, blinking and blushing a bit. "Jason..." he said, gasping when Jason pulled him closer and kissed him again, more insistent and demanding.

Zack's hands jumped to Jason's shoulders as Jason cradled his head to hold him closer, opening his mouth and deepening their kiss.

They kissed until they couldn't breathe, pulling back only enough to rest their foreheads together, both panting.

"You gonna kiss me every time I say your name?" Zack asked, slipping his hand up into Jason's hair.

"Hmm, maybe. We should test that theory," Jason said, grinning.

Zack grinned back. "Jason," he said, still grinning when Jason kissed him, meeting his eyes when he pulled back.

"Jason."

Jason pressed him backwards so he ended up laying on the top of the train car, Jason hovering over him and kissing him.

"Jason."

Jason kissed along his jawline and down his neck, making Zack shiver and cling to him, rolling them so that he was on top.

"Jason," Zack laughed as Jason pulled him down to kiss, giving their leader a few hickeys of his own.

They settled together, laying in each other's arms, both panting and both needing a few minutes to calm down.

Zack turned his head to look at Jason. "Trini is gonna be so smug now."

Jason laughed. "Probably," he agreed, tightening his hold. "Worth it, though."

"Yeah," Zack said, grinning. "Jason."

#Zason #Jason Scott #Zack Taylor #Zack Taylor x Jason Scott #Power Rangers 2017 #getting together #flirting #kissing #making out #awkward flirting #fluff #crack #teasing #high school #fanfiction

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tayshipping · 7 years

Text

La Belle et la Bête

This is my first self insert fic and I am really happy that I gained confidence to do it. Mainly wrote this for a contest on @spookyselfship and also because I wanted to write something self ship related.

Synopsis: Arno and I come across a stranger gave us strange purple liquid and someone thought it was a good idea to drink the liquid...

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 1,050

I held the small bottle containing the unknown purple liquid between my fingers and gazed at it.

“We can't let this fall into the wrong hands.”

Arno gently took it into his hand and lifted it upwards and gave it a wee shake.

“It's probably harmless,” he proposed.

“We should be heading back to Café,” I advised.

“Right.”

The cool breeze left goose bumps on my skin, even with a coat on. Making our way through the door of the Café, it seemed to have been closed for a while now. Arno reached for his pocket watch in his robe and clicked it open.

He peered down at me as he uttered, “we should be making our way to the room.”

Before we made our way up the substantial stairs, Arno who yet again peer down at me, asked for my hand with the corners of his mouth rising. Without hesitation, I took his hand and made our way up the Café’s stairs. He opened the door to our room and went to his desk, letting go of my hand. I realized that I was caught up in Arno’s company that I've forgotten where the strange liquid was placed.

I gasped,“Where's the liquid?”

“Relax ma cherie, it's here in my pocket,” as he laughed and pulled it out of his coat pocket. I felt the weight lift of my shoulders and began to change out of my assassin robes and into something more comfortable.

I heard a quick pop of maybe a bottle or some sort. I froze and turned to see Arno drink the purple liquid with the cork still in his left hand.

I closed my eyes in disbelief and dictated, “I know you didn't just drink that to its entirety, Arno Dorian.”

He stared at me seeing that my eyes were now open and not to impressed with him.

“I said we shouldn't let this fall into the wrong hands, I didn't think that meant you,” I ranted.

Arno placed the cork back onto the bottle and put it in the far right drawer of his desk.

“Tu voit, nothing is happening,” he quoted.

I gave him a quick conceded reply, “Perhaps you're right, I'm sorry I got a bit mad at you.”

“You're kind of cute when you're mad, Tay, with you being much smaller than me,” he jested.

“You are lucky that I didn't get really adorable then,” I cajoled.

Arno began to undress out of his blue robes and many waist coats. While he undressed into something more appropriate, I was already waiting for him to wrap his arms around him. Arno left his boots by the foot of the bed and wrapped his right arm around my waist, allowing me to be the smaller spoon.

“J’taime,” I whispered.

“J’taime aussi mon amour.”

Arno knew I was already tired so he didn't say much more before I fell asleep.

I was woken by the sound of a beam braking. Before I did anything, I reached for my glasses on the table beside our bed and unfolded them onto my face. I recognized that Arno isn't beside me and that there a claw marks near the ladder that leads to the attic. I only imagine the worse being that something supernatural took my Arno. My feet gently pressed against the wood floor and I reached for a candle and lit it with a nearby match. Before I began investigating, a broad, at least six foot tall, bipedal wolf jumped in front of me. I was expecting an attack or something but, no, it starred into my eyes. Those large yellow eyes said something that I didn't quite understand yet but, it wasn't an alarming feeling. Then I noticed a familiar looking ponytail tied off with a red hair ribbon. My eyes couldn't have deceived me but I cleaned my glasses’ lenses to be sure. This enormous beast couldn't be Arno, or at least I thought.

“Arno?,” I echoed. The werewolf whimpered to me, leaving me almost heartbroken knowing that it was him. Arno lowered down to my eye level and I was almost hesitant to place my hand on his furred face.

“You'll get through this,” I mumbled with a tear streaming down my cheek. I wiped the tear off my cheek with the tip of my finger and headed towards Arno’s desk. Arno followed me his desk while I began searching for books on lycanthropy. Being the researcher I am, I find some valuable information.

“Ah, here it is,” I mumble to myself. “Just need some Mountain Ash…”

In one whole hour, an antidote was brewed and ready to be served. About a half cup was put into glass and I handed it to Arno to drink. He was sitting on the floor with the antidote in his hand and he gazed at it and drank it rather eagerly, I won't blame him though. We stared at each other waiting in anticipation, hoping this would work. A minute passed and I saw how Arno began to twitch as he began to transform back to human form.

It didn't take long for the transformation to end. Arno peered down at himself to see that his shirt and breeches were torn up and he pressed his palm to his head.

“Ahh, mal a la tete,” he groaned.

I jabbered his name and placed myself beside him as I wrapped my arm around his.

“Are you alright?,” I proposed

“I'm fine, just a bit of a headache. That's all,” he replied. “But, what exactly happened? All I remember is waking up and now I'm on the floor with ripped breeches.”

“Well,” I added, “you kind of turned into a werewolf.”

“What?!,” he shouted.

I could only nod at him since there wasn't much more to explain.

“Just promise me something?,” I muttered, “Don't drink unknown substances again?”

He giggled before giving me a reply, “oui ma chérie.”

He stood up and put his arms around me to pick me up bridal style. Arno laid me on our bed and pressed his lips to my forehead and laid beside me. I was pushed closer to him as he ran his fingers through my hair.

He whispered into my ear, “Taylor, try to rest now, if you can.”

#sssc17 #arno self insert #selfinsert

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crimsonrevolt · 7 years

Photo

Congratulations Cassidy you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Igor Karkaroff!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

It’s always a joy seeing people apply for a second character and it was such a pleasant surprise to get this app in our inbox! I feel like you fully fledged out a character that we haven’t seen a lot of, and gave him a life beyond the little skeleton that you based it off of! It’ll be so intriguing to see a character like Igor on the dash and to see you personify a character that is as underplayed and unknown as him and make him your own! I’m sure he’ll be a fantastic addition to the dash, and we can’t wait to see how you explore him further. *your fc change to Boyd Holbrook has been accepted

application beneath the cut; tw: physical abuse, violence, death

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Cassidy, 22, she/her, Pacific Timezone, United States.

ACTIVITY

I feel like I’m decently active. I try to get out one reply a day, if not more. I do have more time to write now, but just to be on the safe side I’d say 6/7 out of ten.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I’m already a member of this AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL group, but it was through the marauder rp tag….I think.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I feel like the many characters of Harry Potter are misfits, outsiders, people who just don’t fit in, and I’m definitely part of that group. I think last time I said Sirius (yay for dysfunctional families) or Luna (because she’s always being herself no matter what). This time, I’ll say Neville because if one guy didn’t fit in well it was him. Sure, he had friends, but I think even then he still felt like an outsider even if that wasn’t true. He had major insecurities, but we read and watched him develop and move beyond those which takes guts and I really dig that.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope! :D

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Igor Einar Karkaroff

‘Igor’ is a common Slavic name and means protected. His mother chose this name because she wanted her son to always know that she will always be thinking of him no matter what. To her, it is meant as a blessing.

‘Einar’ comes from the Old Norse name Einarr, possibly related to the concept ‘the einherjar’, warriors who died in battle and ascended to Valhalla. ‘Einar’ means one/alone and warrior. This is also the middle name of his father.

I found pretty much zero information about the meaning/definition of the name ‘Karkaroff’, but in Turkish ‘Kark’ means unsettled, so there’s that.

FACE CLAIM

First choice: Boyd Holbrook

Second choice: Taylor Kitsch

Third choice: Wentworth Miller

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I’ve had my eye on Igor for a while now. He’s not the most played character from what I’ve seen and there isn’t a lot about him anywhere (I guess I have a type). There are no long lists of headcanons or a few dozen dreamcasts and aesthetics rolling around in Tumblr, or extra hidden facts if you look hard enough between the lines. All we know is what the books say and how the movies portray him. And he has an ugly, cowardly, slimey personality. But all of that is why I was so drawn to him. His bio made me see him in a different way and the more I develop him in writing and in my head the more excited I get. It made me start thinking about who he was as a 29 year old man, what made him the way we saw him, what was his role is and why.

Young Igor is not the man we know or think we know, but that is exactly what he wants you to think. He is an intangible mystery, like trying to catch smoke with your hands. All people annoy him, disgust him, he hates everyone and everything. He sleeps all day and stays up all night, smoking half a pack of cigarette as he tries to wash the blood out from his clothes. Nothing fazes him because he’s seen it all, he’s done it all; that’s what happens when you attend Durmstrang Institute. This is the real Igor, but no one sees the real Igor. Not some, not a rare few, not close friends- no one.

On the outside, he works for a wealthy pureblood family training and tending to their dozen or so horses, for both racing and companionship. The work is quiet. It’s just him, the horses, and his thoughts, just how he likes it. It pays well enough for a room every night at the Leaky Cauldron and to put food on the table. He is always dressed neatly, always very, very clean, and almost too formal even in the most casual of situations. His connection to the Inner Circle is Orion Black, who has slowly introduced him to a handful of Death Eaters and like minded people within the past year. He is still earning their trust, but he’s so close he can taste it.

Igor doesn’t care about blood status or the lack of magic. He is a dark, dangerous man by nature. Being a Death Eater means having all the fun and no consequences. And it allows him to continue his search for the people who killed his family, making him the last Karkaroff.

Igor has the dark mark. He always wears his mask when it’s needed and only a few Death Eaters know he is one.

I stopped myself here, but I’ve written more about his family and stuff in his about on his mock blog.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Igor is male and uses the pronouns he/him.

Igor/Chemistry. Also, I think Igor would like Alecto and Edgar. She’s very Durmstrang in his mind and Ed seems pretty dark, ya know.

Igor does not do romance. He doesn’t cuddle, he doesn’t kiss, there is no hand holding or hugging. He doesn’t want to know your life story and he will never ask for it in the history of ever. The only thing he wants to know is your age. Hell, he doesn’t even need to know your name. Once he’s done fucking, you better get your clothes on and the get the hell out of his bed. There is only enough room for one person on his very large king bed. Maybe a cat or a dog. He hasn’t decided yet.

With that said, Igor is an intensely private man, not very experienced if we’re talking about the number of sexual partners, and sex just isn’t important to him. Relationships don’t matter to him either. It will only get in the way of his ultimate goal. He values intelligence more than anything else.

He is pansexual, with many hedonistic qualities. I don’t think Igor would really know the term ‘pansexual’ so when it comes to his sexuality he doesn’t put a label on it and simply likes what he likes.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOCKBLOG: https://igorkvrkvroff.tumblr.com/

-A PLAYLIST: https://igorkvrkvroff.tumblr.com/tagged/%7B-igor-%7C-music-%7D

Depending when you check out the mock blog, there might be a few headcanons which will be labeled as so.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

That answer is easy. His first thought his is family. Igor wouldn’t want to bring them back from the dead, but he’d want to be able to access all of their memories, their final thoughts, the last things they saw. Happy memories and, their favorite ones. He would be able to revisit these memories over and over again. It would most likely have to be a spell, as it would only work after a person died when their consent is not needed. The spell would only be needed to be performed once, but it would have to be very soon after death before the body has mostly or completely decayed. (wow that’s a little morbid).

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

Igor would bring a couple packs of cigarettes. He’s a fighter and not afraid of much, but if he doesn’t have a smoke on him he will go batshit insane. He would probably bring Severus Snape with him. He’s just as mysterious as Igor is and the kid doesn’t talk too much and when he does it usually has value to it. Most importantly, he can trust Snape not to do something that could cost them their lives.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

The hardest decisions to make for Igor are about the ones who he chooses to trust. Short of saving his life, there is not much one can do to earn his trust even if they have innocent intentions. It takes months, even years of knowing each other. His closest friends are back home, brothers and sisters who he went to school with. There may not be many of them, but Igor knows he can trust them with his life.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

Igor would do anything to make sure his affiliation with Voldemort and the Death Eaters does not get out. It would get in the way of his own personal vendetta. Igor has business with many people, each one carefully used to his exacts needs and if any of that got out it could mean his life.

WRITING SAMPLE

Word count: 867

Trigger warnings: physical abuse, violence, death

It was the first day of spring in Kalmar, Sweden; beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. Daylight broke only five minutes ago and the town was barely waking up. A young eleven year old boy was rising from bed, his footsteps so quiet it was like he was floating above the ground. Although it was now spring, there was still snow on the ground and a biting chill in the early morning wind. The boy got dressed in thick furs and thick boots. He passed by the kitchen where a young man sat alone, just getting home from work, vodka in one hand and a book in the other; he did not look up so the boy continued on. He grabbed his bicycle (that he bought with his own money) out of the shed, dragged it to the sidewalk, and started pedaling to the office of the local newspaper.

The snow had melted just enough to where it only took him one and half hours to finish his paper route instead of the usual two. The boy returned the bag to his boss, a generous old man, and collected his weekly check; 50 kr, muggle money, but it was just as good as the magic kind. With a hug, the boy left and returned home.

If only his route he had finished sooner.

He could hear his twin sister sobbing inside his home and he was still on the sidewalk. The blue bike fell to the ground with a loud scraping noise as he took off; the tire stuck up in the air spun as it was left. As hard as he could, he opened the front door, ignoring it as it bounced off the wall, catching everyone’s attention.

“Nikolai! Go to your room! NOW!”

His mother pointed at him then the stairs, but his father, who was tall, angry, and greasy, who has been gone for three weeks, smacked her hand out of the air and grabbed her wrist, twisting the bone as she bit down on her lip to swallow the cries.

“BOY! Go sit your ass down. Right. NOW!”

His eyes darted around the living room; two lamps were broken and a glass of orange juice puddled in the middle of the floor. Time froze. The air tasted like poison.

“BOY!”

Nikolai watched himself turn his head as he looked at the kitchen where smoke was rising up behind the counter; breakfast was burning, the kettle was going off, his twin sister was watching their parents with fat tears running down her face, blood dripping from her cheek, and horror in her eyes. He watched as his father yelled again. He watched as his father marched up to him still body and just as he raised his hand, a bright red light shot out from behind him and slammed him into the wall.

“Igor!” Nikolai shouted as his brother descended down the stairs in a black robe and red cotton pajama pants with the Durmstrang insignia printed on it. His wand was high in the air.

Igor ignored his little brother, gently pushed past his mother, and walked right up to his father where he crouched in his own piss, moaning with pain.

“You broke my fucking leg, you fucking bitch!” His father screamed, spit flew in all directions.

Igor tilted his head down at him with a look of pure disdain, only letting out a rough sigh.

“What did I tell you I’d do if you ever came back here?”

His voice was so calm, so cold, it gave Nikolai chills.

Igor’s father gritted his teeth through the pain as he tried to stand up, swinging at his oldest son, but with one strong kick Igor broke the other leg.

“Igor!”

“Mom, take Nikolai and Natasha upstairs.”

“Igor, please,” she said as she waved the twins over, putting her arms around them protectively. “What do you plan on doing?”

Igor kept looking into the glossy eyes of his father, “Mom, take them upstairs or you all are going to watch me kill him.”

Only the cries of Igor’s little sister could be heard.

Finally, his dad spoke, “…son, have mercy on your father…”

“Mercy? You want mercy?” Igor growled, pressing his bare foot down on his father’s chest. “Did you give mom mercy when you beat her within an inch of her life? What about Natasha, when she couldn’t leave the house for three weeks because of the black eye you gave her! Or Nikolai when his arm was broken and in a sling because of you! YOU! The man who is suppose to be their father!”

Igor’s cheeks felt wet as he pressed down harder on the man’s chest. “Or me, who you use to practice the cruciatus curse on? Where’s your mercy now?”

His father was babbling, completely incoherent as he tried to reason with his son, but Igor wasn’t listening. He wasn’t listening to the pathetic cries of his father, or his mother begging him to not do it, or his little brother and sister crying into their mother’s stomach.

Time stood still. The air burned his throat like fire.

It was only Igor and his father.

“I should have done this years ago.”

#accepted app

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