#am back for round 2 and nothing will stop me from putting it on ao3 or whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months

Text

destiel!steddie pt. 6!!

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | AO3: you can hear the call (when trouble's on the way)

sooo....it's been a while since my last part of this fic.... 😅 to make up for it, here's just under 6.5k words for youuuu

tw for self harm closer to the end of this part (just like in part 1, i am giving a warning, but it is not done as an act of self harm. one of the characters cuts their palm in order to create an angel banishing sigil with their own blood as is done in the show.)

The two of them arrive at the diner a half hour later, pulling in next to Ste–Robin’s BMW.

“You ready for this, Eddie?” Steve asks as he exits Baby.

“Yeah I suppose so; not quite sure what exactly ‘this’ is, but,” Eddie shrugs, holding the diner’s door open for the other man. “Wait, do you know what this is about?”

“I have not a single clue.”

“Eddie!” Dustin leaps from the large corner booth’s bench towards him as soon as a bell rings out above their head. Dustin careens toward them and would have fallen flat on his face if Steve wasn’t in his way.

“Dusty, dude. Calm down. That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, and what’s Steve, huh? Chopped liver?”

“Seriously man, I’m hurt.”

“Obviously I’m just excited for this! Eddie’s real!” Dustin says, rounding around the dark haired man and shoving him forward toward the rest of their little group.

Eddie recognizes Nancy and Robin, of course, a blond-haired, ponytailed, little girl is sat on the former’s lap, and a gangly, shell-shocked looking teen with a tragic bowl cut sitting to her left at the edge of the bench facing the door.

“I’m not real anymore?” Steve mumbles as he steps around Eddie’s stubbornly unmoving sneakers to scoot in next to Robin, who slides a strawberry milkshake in front of him.

Eddie smirks “Guess not.”

“Dude, seriously, move your feet.” Dustin grumbles, still slowly pushing Eddie across the linoleum floor towards the group.

Eddie follows the direction, taking one long stride forward to come up next to the table, putting his hands out behind his back to catch the now falling teen behind him.

“Dick.” Dustin mumbles, and gives Eddie one final shove into the booth beside Steve, who smiles warmly at the twos’ exchange.

“So,” Dustin claps his hands together, standing at the opening of the booth. “Eddie, this is Will Byers, Will, this is Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at the top of Will’s bowlcut (seriously, someone get this kid a new ‘do, it’s 2023..) since the teen is staring down at the book in his lap. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

Will’s hair bobs when his shoulders shrug.

“Will, are you alright?”

There’s a brief moment of nothing, then Will’s hair shakes back and forth, a resounding ‘no’.

Eddie gives Nancy a panicked look, her worried one shrugging back at him.

“Hey, bud, you’re okay.” Steve’s voice floats out from beside him. “Will you tell us what’s going on?”

Will remains quiet for another moment, then abruptly throws himself out of the bench and around his friend, speeding out the front door.

“Will! Wait–” Dustin calls, already running after his friend. Eddie stands immediately, not sure what to do, but feeling like he should be doing something.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” Nancy says at the same time Steve says, “I will go talk to him.”

Steve scoots out off the bench, and may or may not have mumbled a quiet “Excuse me.” as he stands to move out from behind Eddie, but if he did, Eddie has no idea. All he felt were the warm, solid hands on his hips as Steve manhandled him gently out of his way.

He comes back to when the bell jingles above the front door.

Eddie looks down at the snickering traitors at the table.

“Shut up.” he grouses, slouching back onto the bench. “I am but a man.”

The three of them chat absently while the other two are gone, and Eddie’s introduced to the little girl on Nancy’s lap, her youngest sibling, Holly, and Robin talks a little bit about Will’s scarily accurate sketchbook, the whole reason he’s here, and says “You know Dustin’s not gonna stop bothering you about what’s true and what’s not.”

He snickers, “I figured as much”

Though almost immediately after, Eddie worries how close to the present Will’s caught up to….and hopes to God (hah) he doesn’t see the dreams he’s had about their fearless paladin -slash- angel.

Eddie shudders outwardly at the thought, and Robin catches the movement. Her mouth opens as if she’s going to ask, but Is cut off by the door chiming once again.

He looks up at the other half of their group as they arrive back at the table, scooting in at Steve’s gesture and giving him space to sit while Will and Dustin swap places; Dustin in the booth next to Nancy, and Will standing at the gap in the bench where Dustin was previously..

“Okay.” Will starts, taking a deep breath and glancing over at Eddie, exhaling as he does. “I’m not quite sure how to start this, but here goes. Up until what, a day, day and a half ago? I thought Eddie and his Uncle were my own creations; That I was suddenly, finally inspired to create something again.”

He hangs his head again, and fiddles with the multicolored post-its sticking out of the pages of the sketchbook in his hand. “When Dustin saw the drawings–the comics–he asked me how I knew you...” Will looks back up at Eddie. “How in the actual fuck are you real?”

“Well..” Eddie glances around at the people at the table, trying and failing to decipher whether or not to make a joke right now. “I mean, I was born and stuff…”

Steve snickers at that, the other three stifling their own laughs, “We know you were born, Eddie.” He smirks, patting Eddie on the thigh closest to him.

“When did this start, Will? What’s the first storyline you wrote for Eddie?” Steve continues, leaving his burning palm on black denim.

Will glances at Steve’s hand, but looks down at his sketchbook again, opening to the first sticky note.

“This one. It’s from his uncle’s perspective. From when he found him.”

Dustin and Robin both sit up straighter, trying to see the page he’s put in front of Steve.

Eddie barely glances at it, the phantom echoes of the hellhounds claws pulling at him are on him an instant, twisting his stomach in knots.

“This really happened didn’t it.” Will’s voice is quiet.

Eddie nods, almost imperceptibly.

“What did?” Dustin sounds like he’s going to get up from the bench but something stops him. Eddie’s not sure what though since he’s found himself locked into a staring contest with the tabletop in front of him.

“There were some hunts after that–is that what you call them?” Will changes the topic, much to Eddie’s relief.

“Yeah. A couple?” Eddie manages to croak out.

“There were three that I saw,” Will pulls a chair from an empty table behind them up to the open edge of their booth, clutching the sketchbook to his chest as he does so.

Steve moves at the same time, taking the chair and gesturing for WIll to scoot into the booth next to Eddie.

“And then I saw Steve.” the teen seems to be getting more comfortable, excited to be talking about this with someone. Even if that someone is the unfortunate subject of whatever it is that’s happening. “Our Steve.”

He flips to the first yellow tab in the book, and holds it up for both Steve and Eddie to see.

The comic he’s drawn depicts Steve, in the same jeans and sweater he’s in now, sitting on the hood of the same BMW parked outside beside Baby, looking up at a starry sky.

There’s dialogue written there too, in Will’s neat hand, but even sitting beside him, he’s unable to read it. Though he’s not sure he wants to.

Eddie hears Steve mumbling something to himself, catching ‘Munson’ in his words.

“What’s this about Munson?” He asks, looking up at the man. Nope, angel. Stevie and Steve have definitely swapped places again.

“The Munson Gospel. The new book of heaven. The last one was the Winchester Gospel–”

“Winchester?” Eddie and Will both question, “Like Sam and Dean?” Eddie continues.

“The very same.”

“What does this have to do with Supernatural?” Will asks.

“What’s Supernatural?” This time, it’s all but Steve that ask at once.

“They’re this series of older books. Basically like dime store novels, but horror not romance.” Will looks around at all of them, and continues when there’s no recognition on any of their faces. “They are what I thought I was basing my story off of, because I thought it might be a cool way to…deal with Steve’s disappearance. Like, maybe he’s an angel now and that he’s helping his own hunter duo with hunts like Sam and Dean had Castiel.”

Eddie feels his face twitch upward in a smile.

“Did you notice the car we arrived in, Will?”

Will looks up at him confused, then out the window to the parking lot. Guess he hadn’t.

“No.” he breathes, wonder plastered on his face. “You’re a fan of Supernatural too?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Can’t say I am, bud.” Will just looks at him confused. “I just recently got her from a friend of mine. Named Dean Winchester.”

Will scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Uh huh, yeah, sure, you can just say you’re a fan of the books, Eddie.”

Eddie just shrugs, drops it, maybe he can arrange a visit to Hawkins for the remaining Winchester.

“Sooooo what does this book series have to do with Will? And what the fuck is the Winchester Gospel? I didn’t know you were religious..” Dustin asks, mumbling the last at Steve and giving him an appraising look.

“Carver Edlund, real name Chuck Shirley, was a prophet of the Lord. He didn’t know it until Sam and Dean showed up on his doorstep, much like Eddie has for Will.”

Will catches on to the implication easily, his eyes growing wide.

Dustin, however, says “What the fuck?”

“It seems Will is the next prophet.” Steve says, ignoring the exclamation, then his eyes grow wide. “This must be why I was sent to pull you from Hell!” he exclaims, turning to Eddie, “But why? What do you have to do with this directly?”

Eddie blinks at the angel. “Well, I mean, it is called the Munson gospel. That definitely seems like it's got something to do with me.”

“No, not always.” Steve says, still looking lost in thought. “Sometimes the prophet spends their time translating the word of the story they are in without ever meeting the person or persons they are writing about, or even knowing that they are even writing the Gospel in the first place. There must be something of import on the horizon, something that is worth being copied down…” The angel trails off in thought.

“Oh great, sounds wonderful. And what, may I ask, was the subject of the previous book?”

“The apocalypse.” Steve and Will say in tandem.

A solid seven seconds of silence follows.

“The…Apocalypse?”

“What the hell? Where were we when this happened?”

“You would not have much memory of it, if any. You all would have only been young children when it happened. It was around 2005.”

“OKAY! Okay, pause, what the hell is happening over there.”

The three of them look up, and Nancy and Robin are also looking over at Dustin.

“What the hell are you talking about, Steve? How do you know this? What do you mean that ‘This is why I pulled you out of Hell’?” he mocks, looking more distressed by the second.

Steve, still angel, glances at Eddie, as scared as he’s ever looked in front of him.

“I..um…” Steve again glances at Eddie, then says “I will return.” Disappearing with a flutter.

A beat passes, and before Dustin can scream out what is sure to be another ‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’, Will hands his sketchbook across the table, still open to the page of Steve on the hood of his car.

“Dustin, read this.”

Dustin blindly reaches for it while still gaping at Steve’s now empty seat. “Okay, no, you all knew about Steve having superpowers??”

“Not superpowers. Read.” Will points down at the book in Dustin’s hands.

Dustin reads.

“You’re taking this well, bud.” Eddie murmurs to Will.

“I’ve had practice.”

He’s confused for a moment, then remembers the shit these teens have been through in this town. “Ah.”

Quicker than should be possible, Dustin yells out “An Angel?!”

“Dustin–” Nancy starts, no doubt about to chide him for his volume, but:

“No! No. Seriously? An Angel? Steve–” he takes in a wide-eyed breath, staring at Steve’s vacated spot, “Steve’s…dead..?”

Oh boy.

Robin wraps an arm over Dustin’s shoulders and pulls him close to her, removing the book from his hands. “No, no, not quite, Henderson..he’s…it’s…it’s a long story..” she glances at Nancy then to Eddie and Will for help, passing Will’s sketchbook to Nancy.

“He needed a break, Dust; you know how much he’s been through.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know an angel was going to come down and save him!! He could’ve just been gone! And no one would’ve known!”

The angel in question re-appears then, causing Dustin to clam up, glaring down at the table in front of him instead of up at Steve.

“I’ve consulted with my siblings on the matter.”

“You consult—how?? You’ve been gone for like, four whole minutes.”

A blissfully unaware Holly chooses that moment to squirm out of Nancy’s lap and climb over to Eddie, dragging her thoroughly crayon-debauched placemat with her into Eddie’s lap instead.

“Hey kiddo–ow!” her little toddler shoes squish into his leg muscles more than should be necessary as she reaches for Steve’s previously abandoned shake.

“It is not that far of a trip, though I admit I should not have gone.” The angel slumps back into his vacated chair. “Not all of my siblings believed me; they didn’t expect another prophet to appear after what happened with the Winchesters and my brother,” He pauses, glancing around at the table, “As such, I am worried they will come for him.”

“What?!” The group cries out at once.

“As unexpected as this development is, it stands to reason Heaven would want to get ahold of Will, to keep him safe.”

“Steve, what the hell?” Nancy this time, “They can’t just take him!”

“They will not.” his voice echoes with an authority Eddie cannot describe. “God himself would have to smite me down to get to Will. I will protect him with my entire being if I have to.” he pauses for only a moment, tense and rigid. “Your Steve agrees.”

The silence that follows is interrupted by a shrill ringing emanating from Eddie’s pocket.

“Aw shit, sorry, sorry, I have to take this.” Eddie scrabbles for his phone, in a pocket below one of Holly’s sneakers. “Here, hold this?” he asks, passing the now strawberry shake-covered toddler to the angel on his way out of the booth and towards the door.

“Can’t you do something? Hide him maybe–” he hears Robin say as he steps outside.

“Hello?”

“Hey Ted, you and your dad did some work for me a while back, the poltergeist?”

After a moment, it clicks. Poltergeist, family home, Will and Ted Marston–father and son duo–to the supernatural rescue, “Oh yeah, up in Pennsylvania right? How are you…?”

“Mark.”

“Mark! Sorry, I have a horrible memory for names; what’s going on?”

There’s a pause. “Can we talk in person?”

“Ominous Mark, very ominous.” Eddie chuckles, trying to break Mark's bad mood. It doesn’t work. “But sure, I'll head down there right away.”

Eddie looks back up at the diner where he can see the rest of them speaking with the waitress. "Actually, I will head out this afternoon. I'm with family at the moment.”

“Oh sure, not a problem..just… get here sooner than later?”

He irons out the details with Mark, who tells him where to meet him the following afternoon.

Nancy comes out to meet him as he’s finishing up the call, “What’s going on? Is there something wrong with Wayne?”

“Nope, duty calls though, Ms. Wheeler.” she scoffs at him at the formal name. “Heading over to New York this afternoon.” He says as he starts back inside “A guy Wayne and I helped out a little while back just called, said there’s something happening that sounds like it’s in my wheelhouse.” they come to a stop beside the table and:

“You’re leaving already??” Dustin looks crushed, and is still not looking at Steve.

“Sorry Dusty Buns, duty calls.”

“Do you need me to come with you, Eddie?” Steve asks from his spot under a milkshake-fueled Holly.

She’s standing on his knees to shove fries (and her little fist) into the half-full glass of pink mess left there and on the table, then turning to grab and pull on Steve’s hair and sweater with sticky fingers like it’s her most favorite thing to do.

The angel seems to have relaxed a bit in the youngest wheeler’s presence, and Eddie wrestles down his already too-big feelings for the being in front of him, which are now going feral at the sight of Steve with a baby on his lap.

“No, I will be just fine, big guy.” he places a hand on his shoulder, “Besides, someone needs to watch over Will the Wise here.'' Eddie smiles down at Will, who turns bright red and looks down at the burger on his plate “Let me know if he prophesizes my demise, though okay?”

Steve smiles wistfully “Sure thing, Eddie.”

The seven of them have late breakfast/early lunch together, Dustin only acknowledging Steve again after he takes back over control from the angel, scooting into the nonexistent space on the bench to hug Dustin close to his side.

It Turns out that the angel Steve does have a way to completely hide Will from the forces of heaven, but the rest of the Hawkins teens insist on experimenting with their own methods to hide him before letting the angel carve the enochian spell into the boy’s ribs.

“We have our own avenging angel of sorts here in Hawkins already,” Nancy explains, a small smile on her lips, “You should probably try her first before trying anything else.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think Joyce will be too keen on having someone carve anything into her son, not even a whole-ass angel.”

“I think she’d carve you a new one if you even tried.” Dustin mumbles, everyone’s responding laugh helping to loosen him up again.

Eddie grins over at the teen, “She sounds like a force to be reckoned with, sad I won’t be here to see all that.”

The group wraps up their meal with a plan to meet with the rest of their own monster-hunting family to explain the whole ‘Steve’ thing, and as they head their separate ways in the parking lot, Nancy approaches Eddie once again.

“Is Wayne coming with you?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean New York. no, I'm gonna let him relax a bit.” he goes back to checking over the armory in Baby’s trunk but stops when Nancy doesn’t leave. “Why do you ask?”

“You need backup.”

“Not in particular.”

“I’m good with a gun.”

That makes Eddie pause “You want to come with me?”

Nancy shrugs as if nonchalant about her own proposition. “I think I could help. Plus, Steve told me that you almost wrecked the car trying not to fall asleep.”

Traitor. “Pfft, I'll be fine.”

“I’m coming with you.” It’s a statement this time.

“Oh you are, are you? What about your work, school? Family?’

“I’ve got to get out of Hawkins somehow. Robin will be here to hold down the fort, Steve will be watching over them…” she trails off and shrugs “I’ve never been out of Indiana and this seems as good a time as any.”

Eddie just stares at her.

“Let me just help you out on this one, and if I do horribly, you can drop me back here.”

“I already know you can hold your own.”

“So I can come?”

It’s the hopeful lilt to her voice that does him in (not like he was actually against it in the first place, just caught off guard). “Fine! Fine, you can come. Now let's get going, I'm sure you gotta go grab a bag right?”

Nancy just smiles and nods, turning on her heel back to Robin.

She passes her keys to taller woman, says a few words and gives her a quick hug, marching over to Steve, who’s still holding Holly to his chest, sitting on one of his arms so she’s facing out at everyone (‘Fuck that’s so cute…even though he’s covered in milkshake.’), and says something to him. They nod at each other once, and she’s heading back to Baby.

Steve catches Eddie’s eye and waves; first with Holly’s hand (cute cute cute), then with his own and a smile when Holly pulls her fist from his grasp.

Eddie can’t help it, he blows Steve a kiss through the open window as Nancy gets in beside him. He reverses out of his spot, and one pitstop (and one flimsy excuse of a campus tour to Nancy’s mom), they’re on their way to New York.

——

The next morning, after a long drive and late arrival at a local motel the previous day, Eddie and Nancy arrive at Mark’s warehouse.

“You have a sister?” Mark says in lieu of a normal greeting, shaking each of their hands and turning back to head further into the warehouse.

“Yeah, twins actually. This is Natalie.” Eddie jabs a thumb over his shoulder at Nancy even though he’s talking to the back of Mark’s balding head as they follow.

Mark turns his head to look her up and down, then over to Eddie again. “Huh…yeah, I can see it.”

“We didn’t really start getting along until recently so I'm just as surprised as you are.” Nancy smiles.

“I can understand that,” Mark chuckles, Eddie glancing around at the big sections of airplane that are strewn about them, “Well, your brother and dad really got me outta trouble last time.”

“I heard. Teddy said it was a poltergeist?”

“Damn right it was, nearly tore my house apart.”

Mark holds the door for them when they arrive at his office, “Have a seat, please.” he says, coming round to his side of the desk.

“So, wanna tell us what’s going on, Mark?”

The man lets out a long breath. “One of our flights went down recently. Britanica flight 4845. 100 people onboard, only 7 survivors.” Oof, yeah. He’d heard about this crash.

Mark clicks around on his computer, “I’m not even supposed to have this, but as soon as I heard it, I knew it was something in your area of expertise.”

“The black box recording?” Nancy asks, brows furrowed.

Mark nods, and clicks play.

The garbled recording fills the space between the three immediately. It’s hard to listen to, frankly, and is further proof that Eddie’s fear of flying is justified.

Mark's face twists up in discomfort through the duration of the clip; the pilot’s even commands and calls through the radio are frantic in tone, but are drowned almost completely out by something very distinct.

“There’s EVP on that recording.” Eddie says as the recording lurches to a halt.

The older man huffs out a breath, as if he’d been holding onto it throughout the clip. “Exactly.”

“Can you send that file to me so we can fish out the audio?” Nancy asks, already grabbing a post-it note and pen from Mark’s desk to scrawl out her email address.

“Sure thing, anything else you need?”

“Passenger manifestos, seating charts,” she hands over the note, “Anything else you can give us really.”

“Can we look at the wreckage?”

Mark grimaces. “Everything else, I can get, but the wreckage is locked up with the transportation authority for evidence processing; that, I can’t do.”

“That’s not it out there?” Eddie asks, gesturing behind him with a thumb.

“Nah, that’s just another of the same type’a plane we were already working on.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

—

“If we’re gonna pretend to be feds, we have to look the part, you know.”

“I'm not cutting my hair.”

Nancy rolls her eyes at him, “I mean getting some suits, Ed.”

“...Oh yeah.”

“Also, we’re gonna need some IDs.”

Eddie nods, “I’ve got us covered on that end, believe it or not,”

“I believe it,”

“Shut up—anyway, Wayne and I have a guy nearby, he’ll get us sorted out.”

So, after a thorough schmoozing of the Munsons’ on-call badge maker, the tailor shop down the road to get their suits fitted the same day, AND of the guard at the air yard to let the two ‘homeland security’ agents in to take a look at the wreckage, Nancy and Eddie are wandering through the meticulously placed bits and pieces of wrecked 737.

“I can’t even imagine.” Eddie mumbles out around the twisted feeling in his throat and stomach from looking around at the plane. “There’s a reason I drive everywhere.”

Nancy snorts at him, “‘Not afraid’a no ghosts’, but scared of a plane?”

“It’s a reasonable fear, alright? Shut up.”

Nancy only smirks, going back to examining the wreck. “So, what should I be looking for?”

“Sulfur–both by sight and smell, could be a demon in that case, ectoplasm, I dunno.” he shrugs, taking something out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket, “Just let me know if something looks really off and I’ll come take a look too.”

“What is that?”

“It’s an EMF reader, it reads electromagnetic frequencies,” Eddie explains, sliding one of the headphone speakers over an ear.

“Yeah, I gathered that from the name, but do they all look like busted up old walkmans?”

Eddie turns back to her, a grin on his face, “Nope, that’s just mine. One of a kind!” he holds it up proudly, “I made it myself”

Her responding smile is more of a grimace. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Eddie feels his face fall. “Shut up. Let’s see you do better.” he grumbles and turns back to the task at hand

“Give me a couple more hunts," she giggles, but follows as he starts to sweep over the wreckage.

And a couple more does she get.

Settling into long drives with someone besides Wayne on these hunts is kinda strange to be honest, but Nancy is a great passenger. She always has their route pulled up, always willing to help unwrap Eddie’s burgers for him while driving, and doesn't complain about the tapes and tapes of classic rock he is constantly switching out.

She reads, or writes in a leatherbound journal of hers, listens to her own music, or pulls research while they drive from case to case, always starting with a “Listen to this…”. Plus her aspirations for journalism really help when talking to victims; the gap between somewhat probing journalistic and slightly off-kilter investigator questioning is smaller than you’d think.

And she’s damn good with a shotgun. After joining Eddie, she’s always got a few sawed-offs in Baby’s trunk, and has a tiny handgun on her at all times.

Since the demon on a plane case, they’ve taken care of another poltergeist, a regular ol’ haunting, one whole urban legend (Bloody Mary is a bitch.), and another fuckin’ demon.

That last demon was quite the case; though after that, Nancy suggested needing something to protect them from possession. After a call to Dean (“Are you freakin’ kidding me? You’re a hunter and you don’t have a damn anti-possession tattoo?”, “...That’s a thing??”), they both got the symbol Dean sent them a picture of, tattooed.

Eddie’s is on the back of his neck, easily concealed and not easily fucked with (another suggestion of Dean’s (“Sorry man, that’s our fault. Me and Sammy had ‘em on our chest and now it seems all demons check hunters there first to break the symbol.”), and Nancy’s just underbust, centered on her sternum and just as easily hidden.

The two of them are walking back into Wayne’s after that one when Eddie’s burner rings.

Eddie answers and puts the phone on speaker, giving it to Nancy while he starts making some lunch.

“Finally you answer,” Robin sighed exasperatedly through the tinny speaker. “I was wondering if you gave me a dud number. What happened to Nancy’s phone?”

“We uh…ran into a spot of bad luck and I dropped it down a storm grate.”

Eddie chuckles at that; Getting an actual lucky rabbit’s foot back from a supernatural tchotchke dealer and burning it to get rid of its curse after Nancy touched it and nearly died from the bad luck wrought upon her when the dealers stole it back all boiled down to a single sentence like that? Hilarious.

“It’s about time you started getting burners anyway.” Eddie calls back to her.

“You guys need to come back to Hawkins, Will is…there’s no way I can explain this thoroughly over the phone. He’s not hurt, just…kinda losing it a bit. When can you be here?”

The two share a worried glance . “We can head out now, give us a day or so.” Eddie says, changing gears from making one sandwich, to packing up a nearby cooler with sandwich ingredients to take with them instead.

The first leg of the drive is tense, Nancy texting back and forth with Robin to get a somewhat clearer picture of what’s going on, but she’s right. It’s just super confusing.

“Can we get a room please? Two beds, thanks.” Eddie asks the older woman when he steps up to the counter of the motel when they do stop for the night, absentmindedly tapping his wallet on the counter after pulling out a $100 bill.

“Of course dear!” she starts shuffling papers around on her desktop. She looks up when the door opens again and Nancy drops their duffel at his feet.

“I’ll be right back!” Nancy calls over her shoulder, walking towards the door marked as the bathroom.

The receptionist is silent for a moment, “You know, you don’t need to pretend, hon, we get all sorts through here. I’ll get you set up with a king bed.”

“Whoa, hold on. What are you talking about?”

She looks up at him with a haughtier-than-thou expression. “We get affairs here more often than you’d think, dear, you don’t need to pretend by asking for two beds. I’m not gonna say anything to her husband.”

Eddie’s speechless for a hot second. Then responds with as pissed off an attitude he can manage over how incredibly hilarious the situation is.

“First of all, I’d hope you wouldn’t.” The woman is still smirking to herself and nodding while she types into the computer, “Secondly, you shouldn’t assume,” she looks like she’s about to say something smart alec-y but Eddie interrupts before she can begin, “She’s my sister.”

The woman splutters as Nancy walks back up to the counter.

“Are we good, Ed? I’m tired as hell.”

“About to be, this lovely woman was about to grab our key.”

The receptionist looks between the two of them, no doubt noticing their similarities, and does just that, handing over the keycard with Eddie’s change.

“Ugh, imagine being in everyone’s business like that? Couldn’t be me.” He grumbles louder than normal to Nancy as they head back outside to their door, making sure the woman could hear him.

“Oh, ew, she assumed we were together?”

“Don’t they always?.” he says with a shudder and unlocks their door.

Eddie tosses his bag onto the bed closest to the door as usual, and while Nancy locks up behind them and starts laying out salt lines across the windowsills and just behind the door, he takes care of checking the tiny bathroom.

His head keeps spinning around what in the hell could be going on with Will, his line of thinking always coming back to whatever it is, it’s something that Steve may not have been able to help with.

And that’s a thought, isn’t it?

As if reading his mind, Nancy asks, “Have you heard from Steve lately?”

“Not since coming back from Hawkins last time. Why?”

“Just wondering if he’d been checking in or not, I worry about him.” she shrugs, packing away her toiletries again.

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, and his stomach starts to sink. “Actually, now that I really think about it, I haven’t heard from him.”

“Yeah Eddie, that’s what you just said.”

“No, no, no,” he waves her off, “I mean, usually, as soon as I say his name, he appears. Now that I’m thinking back, I’ve talked about him since then and after about what? A week after I met Will? He stopped showing up.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach fell further. So much further that he needs to sit down.

It looked like Nancy was starting to get worried too. “Try calling him now?”

Eddie nods, then looks upward at the dingy hotel room ceiling. “Are you there, Steve? It’s me, Eddie.”

“Classic, good start.” Nancy does her best to alleviate his worry.

He gives her a quick, hesitant smile before closing his eyes and bowing his head. His elbows rest on his knees, and his hands are clasped together tightly. “I’m worried about you Stevie, please at least stop in for a minute? Just to let us know you’re okay?”

He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, listening for the angel’s beat of wings around the sound of his own frantic heartbeat.

Nothing. For a whole minute he listens and waits, silently praying. And nothing.

Eddie’s eyes snap open and he shoots up to his feet. “Nancy, what’s happening, he normally comes immediately! And if he’s not answering, that must mean he wasn’t answering the party either; why else would Robin have sounded that worried, is something angel-y happening with Will and they can’t find Steve either and—”

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure he’s just busy with angel things.” She pats his shoulder comfortingly but her tone and facial expression betrays her worry too.

“Wait! Wait, he told me he has a sister, maybe she can help?”

She looks worried, “Do you know if she’s also a…a nice angel? One that’d help us find him and not immediately try to smite us?”

“I…I don’t know..” Eddie combs through his brain, not finding much more that Steve’s ever said about his sibling, but he does remember something else.

“Here,” he says, going to the nightstand between their two beds and pulling out the hotel-branded pad of paper from the drawer there. “I need you to draw this sigil in your own blood.”

“My own–what?!”

“Just..trust me, okay?” he pleads, passing the drawing to her. “It’s a banishing symbol. If Steve’s sister isn’t a nice angel, you’ll slap your hand to the sigil and it will banish her.”

“...Where the hell’d you learn this?”

“I found it not long after Steve found me.” he shrugs, tugging on his hair worriedly, “It has to be relatively fresh, and has to be drawn in the blood of the person who’s using it.”

Nancy looks at him a moment longer, then nods in finality, getting to work on slicing her palm and copying the sigil onto the back of the motel room door.

She gives him a nod once she’s finished, and for the second time that night, Eddie prays.

“Levanael? I don’t know how much Steve has told you about me, but this is Eddie. Can you help us? We’re worried about your brother.” He feels ridiculous for about 20 seconds before there’s another person in their room.

“Robin??”

Levanael’s head tilts to the side in exactly the opposite direction Steve’s head normally does. “No, my name is Levanael. I assumed you would know that since you were the ones who called for me.”

“Yes, you are right, Levanael; We are just surprised that we know your vessel already.” Nancy soothes the angel, ever the steady presence.

“Levanael, can you tell us where Steve is?”

“You keep using that name; that is not my brother’s name.”

Eddie blinks at the angel. “Uhh..”

“That is what he introduced himself to us as?” Nancy questions, looking over at Eddie.

“When I first met your brother, he told me that his name would be ‘incomprehensible’ to me.”

Levanael huffs. “My brother tends to be dramatic. And with how much he loves humans, he should know how easily you can understand Enochian. His name is–”

The racket that comes from Robin’s mouth is the same high-pitched squeal Steve once tried to get him to understand after pulling him from hell, and he and Nancy both cover their ears as fast as possible.

”Put much simpler, and easily translated into understandable English, his name is Leoc.”

“...That’s it?” Eddie can’t help but bark out a hysterical laugh at that.

Nancy is smiling too, “What a dingus.”

Levanael tilts her head again. “My vessel has found immense joy in this conversation.”

“Your vessel, Robin, always calls Leoc’s vessel, Steve, ‘Dingus’.” she explains to the being.

“I see.”

“Let’s get back to how St–Leoc is missing. Do you know where your brother is?” Eddie asks her.

Levanael tilts her head once more, looking toward the ceiling as if she is listening for something.

“Yes.”

“...That’s it?” Eddie asks.

“You asked if I knew where he is, and I do.”

Eddie blinks at her. “Care to elaborate?”

“Would you like me to?” She asks with full sincerity.

“Please.”

She goes back to her thinking/listening pose and Eddie takes the chance to look over at Nancy.

Nancy merely shrugs in return and looks back at Levanael.

For the first time since arriving, Levanael’s face shows the slightest hint of expression, her brow furrowing in confusion. “He is in the Beautiful Room. Why does he not leave?” she says to herself.

“He’s stuck?”

“Angels cannot be trapped in the Beautiful Room. The room is designed to keep those without grace in, and those with grace are free to enter and exit.”

It clicks for Nancy first. “Levanael, if the soul of your brother’s vessel was there with him, would he be able to leave?”

“No. The non-angelic soul would be ripped from its body if my brother were to take flight.”

Nancy and Eddie share a look.

“Thank you Levanael, may we call on you in the future?”

Any emotion the angel had shown previously drops from her face.

“You may. Though be warned that my orders come from Heaven and they come first.” then she’s gone in a blink.

In what seems like another blink, Eddie’s burner rings again.

“Hel–”

“She is with us.”

“Robin?”

“She told me. She said ‘All the might of heaven may not take me from my brother. I will help you.’.”

“We need to get back to Hawkins.”

Part 7 will be here!

@undreaming-rambles, @thefreakandthehair, @potentialheartofdarkness, @munsonfamilyband, @evix-syne666, @mightbeasleep, @hardboiledleggs

8 notes · View notes

beth--b · 1 year

Text

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Ever since Steve had come face to face with a demogorgon in the Byers house in 1983 he had dreamed about ways he might die. Most of them involved monsters.

After being tortured by Russians under Starcourt Mall, a slow and painful death had also featured high on the list.

Then there was Vecna. Broken limbs, more monsters, a snapped neck had all made regular appearances.

Not once had he thought he would die in an alley behind Family Video on a Saturday afternoon.

The day had started off normally enough, he'd had the open shift at Family Video, the morning a mind numbing bar of rewinding videos and shelving returns. There had been a bit of a rush just before Robbyn clocked on at 12 and then the day had picked up a little. It was about 15 minutes until he was done for the day when Eddie wandered in, Max in tow.

In the months that had passed since Vecna had been defeated Eddie and Max had bonded. They had spent time together recovering in the hospital from their injuries and ever since they had become close. Of course Steve and Eddie had also grown closer, the pair both confessing their feelings after weeks of dancing around one another.

Read it on ao3 here

As Eddie approached, Max wandered off to browse the shelves, probably looking for something to watch with Lucas later.

"Hey Stevie, ready for our movie night? Picked something out yet?" Eddie said, leaning on the counter and letting his fingertips brush against Steve's hand.

Steve glanced at their hands, hiding a small grin by ducking his head down before answering.

"Yes, I am ready. No, I haven't yet. Why don't you just pick something out while I finish up?"

Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, "You know you work at a video store yeah? How can you not have something you want to watch?"

"Exactly, I work at a video store and there are movies on all day, you can pick," Steve shrugged as he rounded the counter, the bin near the door was empty so he was going to empty it and change out the bag before he clocked off for the day. "Just let me put this in the dumpster out back and while I do you can get us a movie, grab one for Max too if she wants. I'll be back in like 2 minutes," tying the bag off he headed back behind the counter and through to the back of the store.

Propping the back door open he headed to the dumpster out back and threw the bag in. He turned back to go inside just as a guy who looked a little older than Steve came stumbling into the alley.

"Hey man, you should get out of here," Steve called, standing between the open back door and the guy who was now approaching, a scared but determined look on his face.

"You work here?" the guy indicated the open door and Steve's work vest.

"What do you want man? Nothing back here but garbage."

"Get me the money from the register," the guy started, but as soon as Steve started to move towards the door he seemed to realise that there was nothing to stop Steve locking the door behind him. "Fuck - no I mean…just gimme your wallet!"

Steve eyed the guy warily, he seemed to be on something, he was scattered and looked ready to either jump Steve and run through the open back door, or run away. Steve hoped it was the latter.

He had all of ten dollars on him, stuffed into his pocket to pay for Eddie and Max's movies. With Eddie, Robin and Max all inside he knew he couldn't let this guy get past him.

When Steve hesitated the guy pulled a switchblade out of his pocket.

Steve raised both hands, trying to calm the man who was moving steadily closer, knife still clutched tightly in one hand. He slowly moved his left hand to his pocket and pulled out the crumpled bill.

."Here man, just take it and go. Nobody needs to get hurt," Steve held the money out and the man lurched forward to snatch it from his hand.

The guy looked at the money, looked at Steve and eyed the back door to Family Video.

Seemingly coming to a decision the man rushed forward, pushing Steve into the wall as he did.

Three things happened at once.

Steve felt a burning pain in his chest as the switchblade was shoved into his chest, his assailant seemed to come to his senses at the sight of blood and began to panic, and Eddie came to the backdoor, calling Steve's name playfully.

The man who had stabbed Steve, let go of both Steve and the knife and bolted back down the alley. Eddie stuck his head out of the open door, and at the sight of Steve holding a hand around the hilt of a knife still stuck in his chest, he stumbled in shock,crying out Steve’s name, before quickly finding his footing and rushing towards his injured boyfriend.

As Eddie reached his side, Steve felt his knees buckle, sliding down the brick wall behind him as Eddie helped control the fall.

Steve could see Eddie's lips moving, feel the pressure of his hands against the wound in his chest. He was vaguely aware of Eddie calling for help, telling Robin to call 911.

He tried to focus on Eddie's voice, on Eddie's face.

Steve lifted a trembling hand and tried to brush away the tears he could now see running down Eddie's face. He frowned when red streaks were left behind instead.

"Don't…don't cry Eds. It'll be…be ok," Steve mumbled.

He was so tired.

Why was he so tired?

He was cold too, maybe Eddie would lend him his jacket.

"Cold," he breathed, voice hardly loud enough to hear.

Eddie heard though and pressed his forehead against Steve's.

"Sorry Stevie, we'll get you warmed up soon as we can. I promise."

Then Eddie was gone and someone else was there, asking him his name, what happened. Steve couldn't find it in himself to answer. He was so tired and he was freezing and he hurt. He let himself drift and then he let himself fall.

Steve woke in increments.

He was aware of voices speaking to him, he couldn't seem to remember who the voices belonged to but he knew they were people he cared about. People who cared about him.

He wanted to tell them he was alright but he couldn't seem to speak.

The voices faded out and he slept once more.

The next time he was a little more aware. He heard someone speaking to him and was able to recognise the voice as belonging to Eddie.

There was a hand holding onto his, he tried to squeeze it but he wasn't sure he managed more than a twitch.

Eddie's voice changed, grew louder in volume. Steve tried to open his eyes but they were so heavy. He hardly managed a flutter before he was pulled back into the darkness.

The third time Steve became aware of his surroundings he knew this time would be different. This time he could hear the beep of machinery in the room, the pinch of a cannula in his hand, a dull aching in his chest.

It felt like the hardest thing he'd ever done but he managed to open his eyes, wincing at the bright lighting of the hospital room.

His mouth was dry, and there was something under his nose, oxygen he vaguely recognised.

He turned his head and was surprised to see that nobody else was there. He remembered hearing voices. Hearing Eddie.

He felt sleep tugging at him, he was so tired just from looking around the room, but he fought to stay awake. He knew he was losing the battle when the door opened and Eddie walked in.

He had his head down, dark hair obscuring his face from Steve but it was enough for Steve to force himself awake a little longer.

"Eds," he called softly, voice hoarse.

Eddie looked up and dropped the book he'd been carrying, face lighting up as he rushed to Steve's side.

"Stevie, you're awake!" Eddie moved to hug the younger man but stopped himself at the last second, settling for a soft kiss pressed to the top of Steve's head.

"Mm yeah, tired though," Steve mumbled.

"I know but we should call the nurse, let them know you're awake," Eddie explained, grabbing Steve's hand and squeezing while pressing the call button for the nurse with his free hand.

Steve tried to stay awake but by the time the nurse came he was so groggy with sleep he couldn't really answer her questions. He was out before she finished checking him over.

After a few more brief moments of waking, Steve woke up the next morning feeling far more coherent.

"Morning sunshine," Eddie greeted when Steve opened his eyes.

"Hmm g'morning. What time's it?" Steve asked, reaching for Eddie with the hand not hooked up to an IV.

Eddie held on tightly before pressing a kiss to the palm of Steve's hand.

"Little after nine. Got here as soon as the nurses would let me in. You gave us all a hell of a scare."

"S’rry, didn't mean to," Steve said with a quirk of his brow.

Eddie leaned in to press his forehead against Steve's, a whispered 'I know' passing the metal head's lips.

Hearing the door begin to open, Eddie reluctantly pulled away. A nurse came in to check Steve over and change the dressing on his chest. The bed was raised so Steve was half upright and propped against several pillows.

While she fiddled with the IV, and asked about his pain levels, Steve stayed focused on Eddie, letting the older boy ramble about everyone who had visited in the past few days while Steve had been unconscious.

Once the nurse had done all she needed and confirmed a doctor would be by later the two were alone again.

"So what exactly happened?" Steve finally asked.

"You don't remember?" Eddie's brow furrowed in concern.

Steve shook his head then nodded before finally settling on a half shrug.

"Kinda? I mean I know some jackass stabbed me but not much beyond that."

Eddie nodded and finally went to retrieve the book he had dropped when he'd arrived. Stalling the inevitable discussion. Finally unable to drag it out any longer

"Well you are right about being stabbed. Hopper caught the guy too, was off his tree and trying to get money for his next fix. Not sure if that makes it better or worse. Anyway, you got stabbed on the right side of your chest, luckily not the left or you probably wouldn't be here talking to me," Eddie paused, taking a deep breath before he continued, "You lost a lotta blood baby. Blade knicked your lung and you went into shock. I thought I was gonna lose you."

Steve leaned forward as much as he could, tugging at Eddie, trying to pull his shaking boyfriend into his arms. Eddie moved into Steve's embrace and let himself be pulled onto the bed. Careful not to jostle Steve, Eddie moved so he was beside the younger boy, leaning his head against Steve's left shoulder.

Once Eddie had calmed down he finally started speaking again.

"Anyway, once you were at the hospital you were taken into surgery, the wound was repaired and so was the internal damage. They doped you up to keep you calm and asleep for the first couple of days before slowly letting you wake up. I guess they didn't want you to undo what they fixed. Yesterday I noticed you twitching your fingers and you finally started waking up. You still have lots of healing to do though, but me and the kids and Buckley, we'll be there for you. Promise."

Steve turned his head so he could press a hiss to the top of Eddie's head. It had clearly been a difficult few days for his boyfriend while he'd slept on unaware.

"I'm alright now Eds. Or well, maybe not alright yet, but I will be."

"Robin will be here soon. Want to get some sleep?"

"Not yet. What book did you bring?" Steve asked, gesturing to the book Eddie had placed on the chair beside the bed.

"Oh, it's The Neverending Story. Wasn't sure how awake you'd be."

"Can you read it to me?" Steve asked, settling back into the pillows.

"Of course," Eddie moved enough to pick the book up before settling down beside Steve once more and opening the book.

Steve closed his eyes and let himself relax, letting Eddie's voice soothe him and drown out the beeping of monitors and the general noise of the hospital outside the room. He'd nearly lost his life because of a simple case of wrong time, wrong place, now he intended to enjoy the time he had with the person he loved.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday20 #steddie #steve harrington whump #hurt steve harrington #stab wounds #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #my fics #tw stab wound #tw hospital #happy ending

25 notes · View notes

vex-bittys · 1 year

Text

Bittybones Chapter 8: Organics and Botanicals (part 1)

The phrase "the more, the merrier" clearly does not extend to bittybone adoption, a fact which I learned on the drive home from the bitty convention. First I had to politely ask Phantom not to smoke in enclosed spaces when he took out a pack of bitty sized cigarettes. Who even makes teeny, tiny cigarettes anyway? Next, I chastised my jealous little Edgy and Brassberry bittys because their combined glower power was well over 9000 and aimed directly at Phantom.

(he deserved it)

That's when the swearing started. The source of the swearing? One adorable, innocent-looking Yanberry with an impressive vocabulary of wildly inappropriate language.

(enough to make an edgy proud)

Little Buttons the Blank bitty stared, sockets wide with admiration as the freckle-faced gremlin described everything as an [adjective] ass [noun], used f-bombs in a grammatically correct format for almost every single word in a sentence, and loudly suggested that an aggressive driver should do things that were both physically impossible and legally frowned upon with graphic detail. Now, I myself am known to use an occasional ass expletive to tell some fucker what they can do with their own genitalia and mother (go momma!), but I knew I would have to have a conversation with Yanberry about reining it in… a lot.

The last thing I want is for sweet, innocent Buttons to start talking like a sailor at a swearing competition.

Gigi covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle her laughter as I explained that Yanberry would have to censor his language. The deceptively cute little bastard then proceeded to go through his entire repertoire of vulgarity, asking me one at a time and alphabetically if each individual word or phrase was acceptable. It took every scrap of patience that I had, plus a 30 year, high interest patience loan to deal with the utter and unrivaled sass. Maybe I should have adopted several more Edgy bittys instead.

(she looked like she might explode. It was great.)

Red and Brassberry cackled like hyenas at Yanberry's antics until Phantom decided to give me a comforting kiss on the back of my hand. Suddenly my two jelly skellies decided that a round of no-holds barred, every bitty for himself wrestling death match would be a fun travel activity (it was!). I quickly put a stop to it (boo) just as we pulled up in front of the house.

Yanberry, Buttons, Jealous 1 (me!), Jealous 2 (Why can't I be Jealous 1?), and Phantom all opted to ride in my infinity scarf for the best vantage point going into the house. After getting them somewhat situated, I gathered my shopping bags and peeked into the basket carrier to check on my last two bittys.

Corvus the Kara bitty gave a sleepy "coo~" before snuggling back down into the nest he'd made from the soft blankets inside. I spotted two itsy, bitsy slipper-clad feet sticking out from under the nest.

Apparently Corvus thought little Softbones was some sort of egg in need of incubation. Cute! I lifted the basket into my arms and headed into the house. We were fine. Everything was just fine. Nothing to see here, especially if I deliberately choose not to see it.

I pretended that Red hadn't just shoved his little hands in Brassy's face.

I pretended that Brassy didn’t bite one of the offending hands.

I pretended not to hear an already-long-suffering sigh from Phantom.

I pretended that Yanberry didn't let out a string of creative curses about his "awesome ass new home."

I pretended that Buttons didn't quietly repeat one of the words in a tone of wonderment.

We were all going to be one big happy family.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

…

What have I gotten myself into?

READ ON AO3

INDEX | NEXT

#vexy writes #bittybones #bittybones au #bittybones fanfic #edgy bitty #brassberry bitty #blank bitty #phantom bitty #softbones bitty #yanberry bitty #kara bitty

22 notes · View notes

sukirainbow · 1 year

Text

[+18 Fic] Third Wheeling

Fandom: NARUTO Rating: Explicit - 18+ Content Pairing: Nagato x Yahiko x Konan Characters: Nagato, Konan, Yahiko, Naruto, Kushina, Minato, Jiraiya, Sasuke, Mikoto, Itachi, Tsunade Content: Canon Divergence, Kushina brought the clan back together and now Nagato is her brother, Naruto also call the Ame trio big bro/sis dont ask me it’s a found family it doesn’t make sense, Trans Konan, baby nart, Fluff and Smut, a little pinch of sad nagato but it gets better, then they fuck, Polyamory Word count: 14954 - 13 chapters, complete work Summary: When Kushina heard from Jiraiya that he met another Uzumaki, she pressed him to bring him here for them to meet. Ever since, the Ame trio regularly visit Konoha to see the Uzumaki-Namikaze family. As Nagato takes care of his little brother, a little secret spilled by the young kid changes forever the relationship between the trio.

This is linked to the Uzumaki clan AU I drew on my art blog [1 2 3 4] I wanted to write Nagato realizing he's having envious feelings toward both his friends and trying to repress them by being the perfect third wheel.

Chapter one under the cut, read the rest on AO3

Chapter 1: They are finally dating

In October, the Ame trio came to visit Naruto's family, having promised to stay until Naruto's 6th birthday.

Nagato was staying with Naruto while his parents were on their busy schedule. Naruto was scribbling a drawing of a frog while his big brother was reading a book.

“When I'm done with it I'll give it to you!”

“Aw, that's very nice of you Naruto.”

“Heehee”

Nagato glanced up from the pages to see the little boy frantically coloring his frog with a very bright shade of green and smiled.

“If you want you can give this frog two friends so Yahiko and Konan can have one too.”

“Ohhh! Yes, a good idea!”

He abandoned his coloring to pick up a red crayon and added another round frog to the drawing, then another. After a bit he looked at his drawing proudly then looked at his big bro for approval. Nagato took the drawing to inspect it, smiled and ruffled the boy's hair to congratulate him.

“Thank you Naruto, it's very nice, I'm sure Yahiko and Konan will love it too.”

“Tell big sis Konan that I even added flowers on the frog for her just like the one she has!”

“She'll love it, Naruto. Good job.”

The little kid smiled and started another drawing then stopped and bit, thinking, then turned to Nagato.

“Big bro Nagato... Yahiko, Konan and you aren't related, right?”

“No we're not, it's just you and I who are of the same clan.”

“I knew it! Because I saw Yahiko and Konan kiss the other day!”

“Oh really?? They kissed? That's nice, it was about time.”

Yahiko and Konan had been mutually expressing interest in each other for a little while now. They've been timidly going out together and holding hands briefly and Nagato knew it was only a matter of time before they got closer.

Nagato's thoughts were interrupted as he heard the little boy's stomach gurgle. He smiled at him.

“Naruto, do you want to come with me? I'm going out to get some food.”

“Oh sure!!”

The little boy put his shoes on as quickly as he could and waited at the door while Nagato put his own on.

Nagato bought taiyakis for Naruto and himself and they wandered a bit around the market when suddenly Nagato froze. Naruto pulled on Nagato's black coat and asked him what was wrong.

“Oh, nothing lil bro. Look. There's Yahiko and Konan doing groceries over there.”

“OHH!! Let's join them!”

“NO- nononono. Look. They're holding hands!”

“Huh? And? I want to say hello to big sis Konan and big bro Yahiko!”

“Oh, I know sweetie, I'm sorry. But they're on a date right now, we shouldn't disturb them, let's have them enjoy their moment just the two of them.”

Nagato was looking at them smiling, as they both hid from the main street to be able to see them without being seen. But Naruto thought his big brother looked kind of sad in the way he smiled. Naruto pulled on his sleeve.

“Are you okay Nagato?”

“Hmm? Yeah don't worry. I was lost in my thoughts.”

He didn't know why, but watching his friends having fun like that without him kind of pinched his heart a little. He brushed the thought away from his mind and took Naruto's little hand to get him somewhere else.

Read it on AO3

#Naruto fic #naruto fanfiction #my fics #nagayahikonan #nagato #konan #yahiko

8 notes · View notes

gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

Text

TWISTER PART 2

Read at AO3

if you want to be tagged in my fics, please tell me! 😗💖

yeah, it's all smut, so if you don't like it, please don't read it and refrain from posting hurtful comments, thanks <3

Gwyn swallowed hard, noticing how the little alcohol she had drunk rose throughout her body, clouding her mind.

Was her crush… asking for a second round?

Obviously she knew the double meaning of that, but she couldn't even get the idea that Azriel wanted to have sex with her enter her head.

I mean, yeah, she knew she was kind of attractive, but he?

He was a fucking Greek god.

Emerie ended up going to Morrigan's house, according to her, because they had arranged to finish a project at Morrigan's Design College, although Gwyn guessed they weren't just going to do the design work. She had watched Emerie choosing a set of red lace underwear, one of Mor's favorite colors.

Insecurity entered her body when she remembered how boring the set of underwear she was wearing was.

Perhaps Azriel expected… something more seductive?

"Gwyn, he hasn't even seen you yet, don't freak out." She told herself, but it was of little use.

Right now she was cursing anyone who was listening to her mind for choosing such uninteresting underwear.

Cassian and Nesta went to his room, taking a bottle of tequila and another of vodka, smirking as they left the two alone in the living room.

They were alone.

Azriel and Gwyn were alone.

The crush that she had heavily flirted with less than 30 minutes ago.

She was going to pass out, she wasn't going to take much longer with that mood.

She had to do something, even if she later regretted it.

She couldn't die without having tasted the perfect lips of her instructor.

She looked at Azriel, her eyes slowly dropping from his face to his abs, being somewhat visible thanks to the white T-shirt he was wearing.

She felt waves of heat go down to her core when she saw the long bulge that squeezed the gray sweatpants.

Fuck, was that… thing going to fit inside her?

"Do you like what you see, Berdara?" He asked seductively, running a hand over his shirt, pressing it closer to his hot body.

She felt her mouth salivate the moment she saw the fucking show he had under that shirt.

Shows like this shouldn't not be hidden.

Obviously not.

Grinning lasciviously, she got up from the couch, her hips swaying as she walked over to where Azriel stood, gazing shamelessly over her body.

She knew that blouse easily showed much of her breasts, and she felt fucking good when his gaze fell on them, his eyes darkening with sexual desire to find everything she possessed underneath her clothes.

She stood in front of the boy who stood with his legs half open, looking at Gwyn with delight and sensuality.

He patted his shapely thighs while he looked at her, running his tongue across his lips, asking Gwyn to sit on them.

However, she had better plans.

She swung one leg up onto the couch, swinging so she wouldn't fall off there - it would be fucking embarrassing to fall in such a situation - and after feeling like she wasn't going to fall if she made that move, she flopped down on top of his crotch, both of them groaning as her core came into contact with his hardened member, furious for attention.

She suddenly lost track of time, there was nothing more important than the wonderful sensation of fullness in her pussy.

God, she hadn't even gotten into her, he was going to break her.

She linked her arms around his neck, caressing the fuzz located in the area.

Azriel grunted, laying his head on the back of the couch.

Gwyn purred in satisfaction when she saw that he left the surface of his throat and neck at her disposal.

She approached him, shyly kissing the area.

Her eyes rolled back as the perfume that had apparently been applied entered her nostrils.

Fuck, there was no way anyone could smell that fucking good.

She continued kissing, now with more effort when she saw that Azriel allowed himself to be done, sighing at the attention of her lips.

Smiling, she bit the base of his neck, licking it repeatedly, then nibbling it again.

Azriel's cock pulsed dangerously close to her clit, sending waves of pleasure all over her body.

She felt how the heat was settling in her stomach under her.

Fuck, was her orgasm building now?

The throbbing of her clit was fucking painful, she needed more friction.

She needed that man to give her the attention she deserved.

She began to sway slowly on his dick, slow and sensual movements, while she continued to pay attention to his neck, noticing how shivers ran down his body.

A lascivious smile decorated her lips painted with carmine, seeing how that man shuddered at her touch.

She began the movement of her hips again, combining it with small bounces on his lap, noticing that his erection pulsed and moved violently in his pants.

Azriel grabbed Gwyn's chin, forcing her to separate her lips from the surface of his neck.

"Do you like to see me like this?" He whispered, biting his lip as he gazed at the spot where their bodies nearly met. "You like to know that this fucking erection is for you, right?"

She couldn't think, she couldn't try to speak when that man talked dirty.

Fuck, she loved when men talked dirty.

It was so… exciting.

She nodded quickly, trying to restart the friction in both bodies, however Azriel's palm rested on her hip.

"Speak up, Berdara. You can use that wonderful little mouth you have to talk." He advised her, slapping her buttock hard.

She moaned loudly, dropping her head on his shoulder.

God, did he just... spank her?

He massaged the area, over the fabric that covered the skin, running his fingers over the sore area, then hitting it again.

"Yes! I love knowing that I am the one who provoke you that erection!" She screamed, burying her face into his neck as she waited for another spanking.

However, he stopped.

Gwyn pulled her face away from his neck, frowning as she expected more pounding.

Azriel held up a dark eyebrow, giving her a crooked smile as he rubbed her buttocks, patting them.

"Do you like to be spanked?" He whispered into her ear, gently hitting her on the backside.

"Y-Yes." She moaned as she felt Azriel's large hands on her body, touching her however he wanted.

He smiled seductively, but didn't comment on her fetish.

What he did was get up from the couch with a grunt, lifting Gwyn, who was quickly linking her heels on the small of his back, positioning herself well on his body.

She didn't want to fall, as well as she didn't want to part with that man.

Searching for his mouth, they stared until Gwyn decided it was enough.

She needed to get those lips, if only once in her life.

Therefore, she brought their lips together in an explosive way, their teeth and tongues colliding with each other, battling who entered deeper, who managed to dominate more part of the other's mouth.

Everything was so hot, she noticed how her nipples were eyeing the situation over her blouse.

They were a mass of mouths, teeth, bites, licks.

Gwyn didn't realize when they had started up the stairs, but the fact was that they had started up them.

She assumed they would go to Azriel's room, since Nesta and Cassian would be in their own room.

Anticipation boiled inside her body, moisture beginning to stain the thong she had put on.

Fuck, she needed that man so bad ...

She listened, as she felt Azriel biting hard on her lower lip, as a door opened, entering a room.

Separating to breathe some air, she analyzed where she was.

There was a fucking huge bed, where perfectly Gwyn could sleep with Emerie and Nesta and they wouldn't get to touch all night.

There were two bedside tables, with a table lamp and a white clock.

She couldn't watch much more, as Azriel pulled her gently into the center of the bed, bouncing slightly as she landed on it.

Azriel leaned back on top, careful not to put too much weight on Gwyn, as he kissed her wet, red lips effervescently, feeling the heat settle back on her belly, drowning out her moans as she groped Az's shirt, tucking her hands inside it.

Azriel pulled away, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as Gwyn continued to stroke whatever skin she could, delighted at the wonderful feel of his abs.

Gwyn began to smile, doing a maneuver that Azriel himself had taught her, grabbing his arm that was near her head and turning it.

Suddenly, Gwyn was the one on top, Azriel smiling at how perfectly his student had made the key.

Gwyn's features lit up with happiness as she saw how her instructor was proud of her.

Azriel put a hand on Gwyn's neck, lowering her head to begin kissing again, more slowly this time, savoring the alcohol and chocolate taste of the dessert they had had less than 20 minutes ago.

The kiss was slow, enjoying the sensation of both mouths in sync as their tongues began a lascivious dance from their mouths.

Azriel ran her hands up Gwyn's torso, massaging her toned belly, then lowered it to her thighs, squeezing masterfully.

His hand was inserted into her inner thighs, so close to where she really wanted him but so far at the same time.

She knew her thong was completely drenched from her fluids.

She supposed she should be embarrassed to react that way to him, but please, it was Azriel they were talking about, nothing was enough with him.

Parting both lips, Gwyn grabbed the hem of Azriel's shirt, pulling it over his arms to remove it.

She gasped as she watched the spectacle the man had under his shirt.

A row of perfectly built abs, well-structured pecs, and a V that disappeared into the elastic of the pants.

It made Gwyn's mouth water to think how well Azriel would be gifted in some other intimate parts.

To try to find out, as they devoutly kissed again, Gwyn gently laid her whitish hand over his dark pecs, squeezing softly..

She continued to descend, tracing random figures on his skin.

She smiled into the kiss as shivers ran down the guy's spine, deepening the kiss as he tightened his grip on her thighs.

She lowered her hand a little lower, until she felt the prominent bulge at his crotch, twitching under her hand, demanding immediate attention.

She had done orals on multiple occasions, although she much preferred that the oral be done to her.

However, she needed that cock to be in her mouth.

She needed it badly.

"Gwyn…" He growled through his teeth, guessing what she was thinking right now. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

She began to slide back, smiling challengingly until the bulge was very close to her lips, his pants soiled with precum.

"The problem is..." she began, while grabbing the hem of his pants. "I just need to have your dick in my mouth." She pulled down the fabric, his cock coming out of it.

Her throat went dry when she saw Azriel's member.

Fuck, seeing him hidden in his pants was one thing, but seeing him in reality was another thing completely.

It was dark, with veins on the shaft while his head was drenched with precum.

She locked her hand around the base, beginning to move up and down her hand, noticing how Azriel began to tremble dangerously.

"Fuck…" He growled, staring at Gwyn and then at his cock in her hand.

It was so big, even with her mouth and hands around it, she didn't cover the entire area.

She noticed how her clit trembled deliciously, causing her to massage his cock more quickly.

She wanted that wonderful dick inside her. She wasn't going to wait a single moment.

"It's not fair…" Azriel began, pointing to Gwyn's still-on clothes. "You can see me and please me, but I can't do the same."

She looked up at her body and realized it was true.

Her blouse was a little baggy at the bottom, but her pants were still in place.

Masterfully, she unzipped the zipper and unfastened the button that kept them closed, pulling them down until she gave them a shake, throwing them somewhere in the room.

Then she passed the blouse over her head, tossing it in the same direction as her pants.

She was only in her underwear.

She watched as his eyes roamed over her body, locating in the soaked thong, doing little to hide what she was feeling down there.

Having quickly undressed, she resumed her attention, as she massaged it with the palm, she began to lick the tip delicately, savoring the bitter taste of the precum.

Azriel grunted, one hand grasping Gwyn's scalf.

She relaxed her throat, assuming he wanted to fuck her throat, but he didn't do anything else, just let his fingers slip through her coppery hair.

But then she felt Azriel's other hand travel up her ass, grabbing the strap of her panties, pulling it away to give him easy access to her hot, soaked, throbbing slit.

"Please…" Gwyn moaned, wiggling her hips, trying to shove those long fingers she had always fantasized inside her.

"Please that?" He murmured, laying the strip on one buttock as his ring finger circled her slit. He tsked, muttering: "So wet… are you always so wet for me, Berdara?"

She noticed how more moisture came out of her inside at those words.

But she didn't answer, and Azriel, apparently, wanted her to use that little mouth she had.

She lowered her mouth onto his cock, licking the shaft slowly, running her tongue over the throbbing veins, while Azriel played with her pussy lips, groping but never entering her.

"I asked you a question, Berdara. Answer." He ordered her, slapping her pussy with force.

She screamed out his name with pleasure, sure that her vibrations and voice had done wonders on his cock.

She wanted to see how much more she could tempt him.

The more she could provoke him.

Ignoring his command, she put his cock in her mouth again, sucking the tip while rising from it and lowering her hand with force, listening to the grunts of pleasure that he let out.

Smiling, she clicked her tongue at the tip, noting the wonderful taste of precum flooding her papillae.

She was close to coming.

But of course, Azriel didn't want to come in Gwyn's mouth.

The hand that was still taunting Gwyn's entrance finally inserted two fingers into her slit.

Gwyn moaned with his cock on her throat, noticing how it shuddered inside her mouth.

He was poking his fingers in and out of her quickly, at breakneck speed.

She closed her eyes tightly, letting herself be carried away by the pleasure.

With the hand that had previously been tending to Azriel's shaft, she lowered it to her clit, pinching and moving it from left to right, combining speeds to make her orgasm come faster. .

She needed it faster, it was not going to last much longer, the well of pleasure was increasing so fast and she would soon overflow.

But that seemed exactly what Azriel wanted to do, inserting one more finger inside her.

Not being able to breathe well, she pulled his cock out of her mouth, moaning loudly as she began to move her hips, looking where his fingers were thrusting in her, glistening with her arousal.

She felt so good. Those fingers were fucking thicker and longer than her own.

She needed it to go deeper.

She needed his cock inside her. Now.

She saw how his dick was twitching violently.

He didn't have much more left to orgasm.

So she slapped the hand that was playing with her pussy away, freeing up the space, and grabbed the shaft of his cock with one hand, lining up to finally unite both bodies.

However, Azriel grabbed Gwyn's arm quickly: "Condom."

She denied, explaining: "I'm taking the contraceptive pill. And I'm clean. If you are too, we don't have to do it with a condom."

Azriel nodded, confirming that he was clean, and moving his hips up, he lightly tucked the tip into her pussy.

They both groaned at the delicious sensation.

Azriel watched her closely, as he let Gwyn sit, taking his cock deeper, parting her inner walls with a point of pain.

She stopped, opening her mouth for air. It was so fucking big.

"Fuck. You're so tight." He whined, slowly comforting her waist, hoping that she would get used to his size.

However, she needed him now. Even if he broke her in two.

She needed to have him inside her.

So, taking a breath, she dropped completely on top of his cock, crying out loudly when he hit that spot that made her see stars.

Azriel growled, squeezing the flesh of her thighs as he dropped his head to the head of the bed, closing his eyes at the wonderful experience.

"Oh my God, you take me so damn well." He moaned as he watched the point where they connected, his cock disappearing into the folds of her pussy.

She waited about 10 seconds to get used to the fucking size.

It wasn't the first time she'd had sex, but none of her former lovers were as gifted as Azriel was.

She placed her hands on Az's pecs, lifting her hips slightly and then lowering them, getting used to the small thrusts.

Fuck, that felt so damn good.

"Gwyn, damn it, don't stop baby." He asked, lifting his pelvis, accompanying her thrusts, helping her to enter more inward.

The speed of the thrusts was increasing. The pain was still there, but it was almost imperceptible. Now there was only the pleasure that Azriel provided her.

"You feel so fucking good…" He groaned, slapping one of her thighs hard.

She lifted a hand to her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples.

She needed more friction. She was so close to orgasm... She was so close...

"Az…" She moaned. Her legs were sore. She loved and hated riding her mistresses alike.

Understanding what was happening, he rested his hand on her belly, letting it fall until she was hunched over, her hands resting on his legs.

"Hold on." He warned him, grinning lewdly.

Then, he began to thrust like a soul carrying the devil.

Gwyn cried, screamed the name of her lover, moaning.

She knew it was impossible that Nesta and Cassian weren't listening, but she cared little.

The only thing that mattered was how fucking good it felt, Azriel's cock coming out of her and into her pussy with breakneck speed, spreading her fucking wide.

"Azriel!" She screamed when he reached that sweet spot, rolling her eyes up as waves of pleasure came down to her clit.

She lowered her gaze from her body, sweaty from work, to her clit and pussy.

Her clit was damn red, begging for immediate attention, as her slit slipped in and out of his cock, glistening with her fluids.

Leaning his hips down, he hit that spot again.

She was going to fall, she couldn't stand the pleasure that guy was giving her.

It was too much. It was all too much and too little.

It was perfect.

"Are you going to come?" Az asked her, eyes clouded with pleasure as he punched over and over and over the point of her, causing her to rave with pleasure. "Are you going to be a good girl and are you going to cum on my cock?"

She nodded, in those moments she was not able to form any kind of coherent sentence, only little whimpers came out that didn't make any kind of sense.

However, Azriel was satisfied with it, hitting deeper and harder, while a hand lowered towards her clit, granting it the attention that it had been demanding all along.

"Good girl ... Now I want you to cum all over my cock and cry out my name, so the neighbors know exactly who you belong to." He demanded, slowly tapping her clit with his fingertip, teasing her.

He began to wrap his thumb around it, pinching and catching it with two fingers, pulling at it and then letting go.

It only took three thrusts for Gwyn to fall into the abyss of pleasure.

Screaming his name out of her, she touched her breasts forcefully, while wave after wave of pleasure were coursing through her body, Azriel helping her to carry out her orgasm.

She noticed how Azriel let out a growl of pleasure between his teeth, jets of cum spilling into her pussy.

Exhausted, she dropped onto Azriel's chest, both of them gasping for air after the overwhelming orgasm.

She whimpered as Azriel pulled his limp dick from inside her, the feeling of emptiness overwhelming, but Gwyn had no desire for anything other than to sleep on the chest of that man who had made her feel stars.

His hands began to tangle in the sheets, finally covering the two lovers with them, still trying to catch their breath.

"It was…" He started, having to grab some more air.

Gwyn nodded, hiding in the crook of his neck.

She didn't want to leave. She knew she should, but she didn't want to.

Everything had been wonderful to pass up.

Besides, it was her coach, what was she going to do?

"Gwyn?" Her name pulled her out of her thoughts, looking at Az, who was looking at her worried, "Are you okay? Does something hurt? Have I been too harsh?"

A goofy smile appeared on her lips when she heard those questions.

He had been such great at fucking her, and now he cared about her health.

Her heart was beating happily. She was happy.

Shaking her head, she gently kissed his chin.

Azriel sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, staying that way for a few minutes.

However, that question kept passing through Gwyn's eyes. She must ask him.

"What will happen to our… friendship?"

Gwyn was afraid that this had screwed up their friendship. Perhaps she was attracted to him, but she did not want to lose her friendship.

Besides, maybe that tumble had been just that, a tumble.

"We can remain friends, obviously." He whispered, tangling his hand in the strands clinging to her neck, stroking lightly. "But we can also… take our friendship further, if that's okay with you…"

Gwyn nodded, smiling against his skin: "Does that mean I'm your… girlfriend?"

Azriel smiled alike, looking at her as his entire face lit up with happiness: "I'd be the happiest man if you were."

They both smiled foolishly, staring into each other's eyes. They brought their mouths closer, giving each other a small beak, which led to their mouths joining in a much more passionate kiss.

"Apparently I'll have to thank Nesta for thinking about playing Twister." Gwyn thought, but she put it on the back burner.

Now only Az's lips mattered, both hearts beating at the same rhythm, forming a symphony that ran through the entire room, blocking out any sound other than that of the two lovers.

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @secretlovelybeauty @starbornsinger @sv0430

#gwynriel #gwynriel fanfiction #smutty #azriel #gwyn #acosf

81 notes · View notes

jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

The Love We Have

Part 2/5 - AO3 - Previous - next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None?? Maybe… I’ll add them later if I remember any.

_______

They’d reached Kaer Morhen by dinner. The keep was… not as impressive as Jaskier had imagined. Deep down he’d known that the home of the wolf witchers had been severely damaged long before Jaskier had taken his first breath, but in his head he’d always imagined a beautiful awe inspiring castle that rose from the mountains and dominated the horizon.

It was barely more than a ruin.

A very pretty ruin, one that Jaskier would normally find absolutely fascinating from an academic perspective, but… he was supposed to be living here during the harsh cold winter.

Perhaps this really had been a bad idea.

He swallowed, debating hiding behind Geralt as they entered the keep, but there was a reason that he’d become a bard instead of inheriting his noble title. If there was one thing Jaskier could do, it was perform. He took a deep breath and plastered a blinding smile onto his face. It was time to act. He laced his fingers with Geralt’s and flashed his witcher a wink before pulling him through the big heavy wooden gates. Another silver-haired witcher grunted as Jaskier flew past him.

“We made it!” he cried with false cheer, spinning both him and Geralt round in a circle. The witcher thankfully loosened his grip on Roach’s reins and she trotted off towards the stable. “I can’t believe we finally made it, oh darling it’s beautiful.”

Geralt’s flushed, a pretty pink that was stark against his pale skin. “Jask,” he groaned but let himself be pulled around, much to Jaskier’s delight.

The other witcher cleared his throat and Jaskier ground to halt, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and pressing his face into his chest with a giggle. “My deepest apologies!” he exclaimed, pulling away from Geralt but keeping an iron tight grip on Geralt’s hand as he bowed deeply. “I am Jaskier, Geralt’s partner.”

He gave the witcher a charming smile and winked as he extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, as the other witcher stoically ignored his greeting. “Stop flirting.”

Jaskier pouted, but sighed and curled back up into Geralt’s side, taking advantage of the heat. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that Geralt had been blessed by fire nymphs. It would explain the smokey musk that followed Geralt everywhere, even when they hadn’t been near a campfire in days.

“Geralt, what is this?” the other witcher grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his face clear in its stony disapproval.

“Jaskier, my bard, partner,” Geralt muttered. “He’s staying with us this winter. Jaskier, this is Vesemir.”

“Hi,” Jaskier said with an awkward wave.

“Take him to your room and then come down to the library.”

Vesemir walked away before either of them could argue. Jaskier let out a low whistle. “Well, shit. That didn’t go so well.”

“He’s just protective,” Geralt insisted, squeezing Jaskier’s hand.

Jaskier looked down at their linked fingers, surprised that they were still together. As far as Jaskier could tell, Vesemir was the only witcher at the keep, and thus the only one they had to convince for now. There was no need for Geralt to keep hold of his hand… and yet, here they were.

“I just want them to like me,” Jaskier sighed.

“They will.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Darling,” the pet name rolling off his tongue without thought, “It took you years to warm up to me.”

“That’s not true,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is!” he said as he poked Geralt in the chest.

Geralt hummed and stalked away, pulling Jaskier with him as if he’d completely forgotten they were even holding hands. Jaskier yelped and tripped over his own feet, gripping onto Geralt’s arm to steady himself. It was going to be an interesting winter indeed.

_____________

Geralt’s room was very lovely. He had a large double bed pressed up to the one wall. It was covered in furs of varying types, mostly wolf fur by the feel of it. There was also a large heavy rug in front of the fireplace that was blazing. As a result, the room was actually warm, almost too warm after the numbing cold of the mountain. There was a warm scent of lavender in the room that Jaskier hadn’t expected. It was a scent he enjoyed himself and he frequently chose perfumes and oils that were lavender based if the coin allowed. He found a small incense on the windowsill, the source of the smell. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Whilst Geralt was away he could imagine that the witcher had chosen this particular scent to keep Jaskier with him over their months, sometimes even years, apart.

It was nonsense, nothing but a dream, but it warmed Jaskier’s heart nonetheless. He flopped down onto the bed, exhausted in both mind and body. It was larger than the ones they’d had to share at the inns on the road. He was strangely grateful for that. It meant he’d be able to put at least some distance between him and Geralt. He would need that if he were to survive the winter. He rolled onto his front and pulled his lute case from off the floor. Once his precious instrument was safely unpacked and in his hands, he rolled back, staring up at the ceiling as he plucked tunelessly at the strings.

The cold had ruined the tuning just like he’d suspected it would. It was hard enough to keep the damned instrument in tune without the sudden changes in temperature, but at least it gave him something to focus on. He closed his eyes and fiddled with the pegs one by one, plucking at the strings with possibly more force than necessary, until his darling instrument was once again the envy of all the Continent.

He sighed dramatically and began to pull a heart wrenching melody from his baby. It had no words yet, but the message was clear to even an untrained ear. It was melancholic, full of longing, heartache… and lust.

He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until a sob tore from his throat. He cradled his lute to his chest and let the tears flood down his cheeks. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was crying. Perhaps the whole journey up the mountain had just been a bit much for him. Physically he was completely exhausted. He wasn’t sure his toes would ever recover from the cold and even though they’d taken it slowly, the mountain path was called The Killer for a reason. It would have been hard enough even without the emotional toil that had accompanied it.

The hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He gasped and shuffled until his back hit the headboard. It took him a moment to notice the soft yellow eyes looking down at him.

“Ah, Geralt,” he greeted with as much cheer in his voice as he could muster.

“You’re crying,” Geralt whispered, behaving uncharacteristically soft for the witcher. Jaskier bit back a groan of confusion at the concern lying in those familiar amber eyes. His heart was too fragile right now for this emotional whiplash and Geralt’s odd behaviour was opposite of what he needed at the moment.

“Just tired,” he muttered, wiping the tears from his face.

Geralt carefully took the lute from his hands and returned it to its case. Jaskier felt an urge to hug Geralt and never let go. No one had even treated Jaskier or his belongings with such tenderness. Gods, he was a mess. He was almost crying again because Geralt had touched his lute and didn’t break it.

“You’ll feel better after some food and then we can come back upstairs. Vesemir won’t be expecting our company this evening. We won’t have to pretend.”

Jaskier chewed his bottom lip to stop himself from blurting out that it wouldn’t be a pretence. That would be far too dramatic even for his tastes. Instead he nodded and let Geralt pull him from the bed. Of course, being the disaster that he was, he tripped and practically fell into the witcher’s arms. Geralt caught him but Jaskier hadn’t expected to be so close to the witcher. It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room as he glanced up at Geralt. Well… more across. Geralt really wasn’t that much taller than him despite his fearsome appearance.

They were close.

Too close.

Jaskier could feel the tickle of Geralt’s breath on his lips, that smokey musk mixed with leather and oil washing over him. He licked his lips, speechless for possibly only the fifth time in his entire life. For a moment he thought he saw Geralt’s eyes flicker down to his lips, but that couldn’t be right. That would just be an illusion, wishful thinking. He cleared his throat and patted Geralt on the shoulder.

“Alrighty! Thank you, Geralt,” he stammered and pushed away.

Gods, when had things become so difficult. They’d been friends for years and Jaskier had never been afraid of physical contact with Geralt before. Why couldn’t he just relax, be himself? He was going to ruin everything. Vesemir would never believe their performance if he kept acting like a scared rat, and Geralt would likely start becoming suspicious if he didn’t get a grip soon.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier’s eyes flashed up in surprise. Of all the reactions he’d expected from Geralt, an apology hadn’t been on the list. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re scared of me.”

Jaskier gaped, opening his mouth and closing it several times before letting out a long sigh. “No, I’m not.”

Geralt snorted. “I can smell it, Jaskier. There’s no point in lying to me.”

Jaskier swallowed. “And what else can your witcher senses pick up?” he asked. Okay, so maybe he was a little afraid, but not for the reasons that Geralt would think. If Geralt could smell fear, then it was only natural that he could smell other emotions, love for one, lust for another. Oh gods, how many times had Jaskier come back to camp after a moment alone to himself? He’d never even considered that Geralt could smell it on him.

“On you?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier would praise all the gods if he never had to hear that again. For once, he would just like Geralt to use his damn words! He was tired of trying to translate all the bloody grunts. Whilst he was unusually proficient in it, he was also a troubadour, a poet, a wordsmith. He took a deep breath, ready to give Geralt a piece of his mind when Geralt cut him off, pressing his palm to Jaskier’s lips. He huffed and glared at the witcher.

“Let me think, Jaskier,” Geralt said softly. Jaskier rolled his eyes and did the only rational thing he could think of. He licked Geralt. The witcher snarled and pulled his hand away. “Urgh!”

Jaskier cackled and put his hands on his hips. “Serves you right, darling.”

Geralt growled and shoved Jaskier lightly in the chest so he fell back onto the bed. “You stink of many things, bard.”

“Oh?”

“Lust mostly, bloody hell I’ve never known anyone to reek of arousal every fucking hour of the day,” Geralt grumbled but there was a fondness in his voice. Jaskier felt himself blush at the witcher’s words. He didn’t mention that his arousal around Geralt didn’t necessarily equate to feeling it all the time. That was a fun little fact for another time, possibly never. One to write into his songs perhaps. “and then something… sweeter.”

“Sweeter?” Jaskier asked, his heart beating faster than any percussion at Oxenfurt. There was still time to run right… maybe the trek down the mountain wouldn’t be as hard as the journey up.

“Not sure what it is,” Geralt admitted and Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

Oh.

Jaskier’s relief didn’t last long at all. Geralt didn’t know what it was… because he’d never experienced it. Didn’t have the knowledge to put a name to it. He knew fear, and lust… probably anger too.

But he didn’t know love.

Jaskier wanted to kiss him. He wanted to worship him. He wanted Geralt to know how much he was loved, adored, but he was a coward; a fucking coward.

“Ah, right, well… I have no idea what that could be. New perfume perhaps?”

“Hmm,” Geralt answered, not sounding very convinced and Jaskier didn’t blame him.

“Shall we go?” Jaskier asked quickly, changing the subject before Geralt could press. “I am starving!”

Geralt led him through the stone corridors of Kaer Morhen, occasionally pointing out rooms that Jaskier might need to be able to find. He learnt that they were expecting two more witchers for the winter; Geralt’s family, Eskel and Lambert. He’d heard rumours that Lambert had made a friend on the road but, like Jaskier, he wouldn’t be allowed to winter with them unless they were in a relationship.

Jaskier scoffed haughtily. “You do realise that that is a stupid rule, right?”

“It protects us.”

“And you need protection from your friends? Is romance really that much stronger than friendship?” Jaskier muttered. It was bullshit, but he was a little smug that Geralt was prepared to break the rules for him.

Their friendship meant more to the witcher than he’d realised.

“Geralt, bard,” Vesemir greeted with a grunt, gesturing to the bowls of stew that didn’t look too dissimilar to the bowls of food that Geralt pulled together on the road. Jaskier was grateful for his years of acting training at Oxenfurt, because otherwise he would have pulled a terrible face that would have only offended Geralt’s father figure.

Instead, he swiped up his spoon with a cheerful smile and slid into the bench. Geralt silently moved to sit next to him and Jaskier, taking advantage of their situation, pressed a little closer than he would normally dare. Their thighs touched under the table and Jaskier felt a blush creep up on his face. He hooked his foot around Geralt’s, ignoring the startled look he received.

“Good evening,” Jaskier greeted with faux cheer “Oh this. This smells delicious, I can certainly see where Geralt’s gets his culinary skills from.”

Geralt almost choked on his food. Whilst Jaskier’s words sounded like a compliment, they both knew how much Jaskier had complained about Geralt’s cooking over the years. In fact, Jaskier had taken to bringing his own seasoning and herbs on their travels. Anything to save him from the bland never-ending stews of the road.

Vesemir smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Geralt has the culinary skills of a queen, bard.”

Jaskier flushed; rumbled. “Ah well, it does look rather similar.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Jaskier dropped his head, feeling sufficiently shamed. Only he would accidentally insult their hosts on the first days whilst trying to make a quick-witted joke at Geralt’s expense.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and ate a spoonful of his soup. The flavours exploded in his mouth and he moaned around his spoon. “Oh, dearest Melitele, this is good! My sincerest apologies, Vesemir. Lesson learnt.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. Whilst their cooking skills were vastly different, Geralt and Vesemir’s conversational skills were apparently not so far apart.

“Oh, you have got to tell me how you made this, it’s bloody delicious! Not even the finest banquets in all the Continent can hold a candle to—”

“That’s enough now, bard,” Vesemir growled but there was mirth in his eyes.

Jaskier nodded and went back to his soup. Dinner was a quiet affair. Vesemir asked Geralt a few questions about life on the path, mostly professional curiosity from one witcher to another. Geralt’s answers were monosyllabic and boring, hardly a story to tell. Jaskier vowed to retell their adventures to the Kaer Morhen witchers over the winter. He would do them justice, and contrary to what Geralt thinks of his ballads, he would even tell the truth. They only needed a minor embellishment here and there. The winter would hopefully give him plenty of time to work on a new set. The time he’d normally spend teaching could be spent creating masterpieces, the likes of which the Continent had never seen before.

“Well, this has been very lovely, I thank you once again, my dear Vesemir, for the exquisite dining, but it’s been a long day and we really should be getting to sleep,” Jaskier announced with a flourish, giving Geralt a wink.

“Just remember, bard, that witchers have better hearing than you can even imagine,” Vesemir said with possibly the best poker face that Jaskier had ever seen. It was only the slight twinkle in his ancient eyes that gave away the joke.

Jaskier laughed and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek. “We’ll be sure to remember that, thank you.”

_________________

By the time they got back up to Geralt’s—no, their room—Jaskier was panicking. It had been an innocent joke on Vesemir’s part, a warning that privacy was not something they could expect. It was possibly even a plea to keep any sexual activities as quiet as possible and at reasonable hours of the day.

But…

Jaskier was panicking.

“Geralt?” he asked as he paced around the room.

Geralt was busy stripping off and getting ready for bed. Normally Jaskier would try to peek little glances, but he was too anxious. He didn’t have the luxury of ogling Geralt at that moment. They had a problem.

“Hmm?”

“Geralt, we have a problem.”

Geralt snorted. “We always have a problem, Jaskier, and normally you’re the one causing it.”

Jaskier gaped, his hands flying to his hips in a display of outrage. “Geralt! That is just rude! Mister-Let’s-Call-The-Law-of-Surprise-Even-After-We’ve-Just-Seen-How-Bad-It-Can-Be. You are rude and grumpy, and I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Geralt turned, giving Jaskier a rather lovely view of his bare torso, and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have been there at all if you could keep your dick in your pants.”

“Oh ho ho! No, no, no. You are not blaming that one on me.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Focus, Jask.”

Focus…

“Oh bollocks, yes, yes. Focus! Where was I?”

“You have a problem?” Geralt reminded him gently.

“We have a problem, darling. Witcher hearing,” he announced, his arms wide.

Geralt just stared at him blankly.

“They’ll know if we don’t… you know?” Jaskier hissed, but Vesemir’s words still rang in his head.

“So?”

“Oh come on, Geralt. That’s just not realistic! I assume you have at least mentioned me in passing over the years and the umm… well the trouble my umm… my habits can cause.”

“Fuck.”

“Precisely!”

#the witcher #geraskier #witcher #kaer morhen #kaer morons #eskel #lambert #vesemir #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

117 notes · View notes

liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

My Life is One Complication After Another 2

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

"As Damian had asked are you in reality my biological child," Bruce took back control automatically.

"You can't be serious Brucie!" Jagged went and began to squish Mari's face. "This little ray of sunshine related to your broody majesty. I don't buy it."

"I am not broody Jared." Bruce defended.

"I'll believe that when Ladybug dates Chat Noir." he joked.

"So it is possible" Bruce responded with a straight face.

Now it was Mari's turn to laugh, "Not a chance. Ladybug and Chat Noir dating is as possible as Atlantis resurfacing." she finally stopped laughing. The Wayne's tensed as if they knew more than others about Atlantis. "I honestly don't know if I am your child. I have no objections to taking a paternity test if you want, but I already have parents who love and support me, but I am not opposed to adding to my family though." she again smiled like the sunshine she is.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng What the Hell!?!" Chloe screamed storming into the room.

"What did I do!"

"How are you trending and you never told me" she gave a mock gasp.

However it was not the same for Mari. "I'm what." She opened her phone and sure enough she was trending. "How did this happen?"

She went into the first article she could and backtracked, through the sources and timestamps. Then it all made sense. She was on the Ladyblog, an interview with Lila claiming she was friends with a Wayne. The media then believing her a lost Wayne which explains why she is sitting with the Waynes and them asking about her paternity.

"How did you not know. M."

"All my accounts are private and I've been busy. But this explains the reporters now huh."

"M you are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous" Chloe grumbled. She was now sitting on the armrest Mari was leaning against next to Jagged. "At least tell me you remembered to send the photos and interview." Mari sprung up, Fang having sensed the impending jump. "logged into my laptop" Chloe yelled throwing her key to Mari.

"Meet you at the hospital. 20 minutes. bye" she yelled as she ran down the hall taking the stairs faster.

Chloe and Penny got up followed by Jagged heading to the door.

"Whatcha wait'n for Brucie come on" Jagged called to the billionaire.

Slowly the Waynes stood and followed the others to the hospital, sharing looks and texts the entire time.

True to her word Marinette met with them 20 minutes later on the dot in the hospital.

Both Marinette and Bruce had a blood sample and a mouth swab taken. The doctor then came back an hour later with the results.

"Alright. By the genetic markers that were tested. I can say quite confidently that M. Wayne is the biological father of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng." The doctor handed them a folder. "I'II leave you to process."

Marinette didn't need long to process. In fact her only thought was, Well one more for the list. Everyone in the room was watching her. "Okay" she jumped down from the bench, crap. Forgot about that. Her smile never faltered but her eyes were closed a second too long.

In that second Chloe had taken her purse and was holding up a pair of athletic gloves. “Care to explain!” She held the gloves waving them towards Marinette.

"Um, Well, You see" Marinette started to mumble.

"Why don't you explain in the car" Penny came to her rescue.

"We'll get Pizza and have a Rock' n time" Jagged lightened the mood.

Everyone nodded, walking out Mari kept her hands in her pocket. She was putting on her second pair of gloves, Tikki in her hood, she needed to think and running always helped. Mari was only a few yards away when Chloe noticed, Mari spun to face her when she heard her.

"Red!" Chloe yelled. She noticed how two boys froze, Jason and Tim if she is correct.

"Goldie!" she responded, not missing a beat. She heard Chloe behind her.

"Cat." Penny stated.

"Bird." responded Jagged further confusing the Waynes as they neared the hotel.

Tim was the first who noticed the two girls in front of the hotel. Meaning he was on his phone mapping and timing the route.

"Pizza will be delivered in 10." Mari spoke as the other seven stepped out of the car.

The two girls went ahead of them, but instead of the elevator they took the stairs.

Half way through the second of three pizza did Tim finally speak. "How did you two get back so fast." Tim set down his Pizza as he began to gesture frantically. "There is no way for you guys to have beat as it is a fifteen minute drive and a 30 minute walk, 20 if you run. Wait how did you get there in 20 minutes with a detour." Tim surprisingly still had breath.

"The fastest way from point A to B is not through C." Was Marinette's response as she took a bite. Yet that didn't seem like a sufficient answer as her now brother's eyebrows were still knit in confusion, so she took a breath and said. "Free running, it's a great stress reliever." she finished.

"What did you hit this time?" Jagged gave her a semi serious look.

"I didn't hit anything," a pout on her lips. "The pigeon flew into me."

Dick started laughing "she is definitely yours B, I can say for sure even without that paternity test." Another two hours had passed before she noticed the time and bid everyone goodbye. She gave her number to her father and brothers, Damian begrudgingly because Dick put it in and gave it to Mari.

Her parents had closed early for a date so she was home alone. She went to the couch to sketch a few gift ideas for her newly extended family. She was finishing a semi formal coat with a hidden sling for a katana for Damian. He kept grumbling that if he had it, the way the sword appeared in his akuma form, and she is pretty sure Jason's jokes were more literal by everyone's expressions. When her parents came home.

"Bon soir Maman, Papa," she cheerily greeted them.

"How was your day sweetheart." her Papa smiled kissing the top of her head.

"I met a handful of interesting people." she really didn't know how to broach this subject.

"What's wrong sweetie," her mother must have noticed her be uncomfortable. She sat down next to Mari, and her papa sat across from them.

"Did someone or did these people hurt you." her papa's words began to ring with a hard edge.

"Non, nothing like that. It's just, um," bitting her lip then looking up. "Your not my biological father, are you?"

Her parents froze, and had a silent conversation.

"Marinette, your biological father is an important and busy man. Who has no time for children." Her Maman spoke gently and calmly. "His name is Bruce Wayne."

Okay hold up, she tilted her head empathizing her confusion. "He didn't seem to bad, in fact he has four boys."

"That was who you met today," her papa affirmed, seemingly surprised.

She nodded her head and told them what had occurred today, leaving out the akuma and her free running. When she finished her parents once again held a silent conversation.

"Why don't we invite him over tomorrow for lunch. While you show his boys around." her maman smiled.

"Okay I'll send them a message then." Mari smiled taking out her phone.

Tomorrow will be interesting.

But first she had to survive tonight.

Tonight Ladybug, Todd Tenko, and Emeraude Racer were on patrol. Meaning she had the evening with the Couffaine siblings. Since both were holders it wasn't uncommon for them to swap. Meaning Luka would either be Todd or Viperion, and Juleka could be either Racer or Kitsune.

They each knew what was their designated route, and because of the akuma sent earlier the chance of Hawkmoth striking again was less likely. Each one of the heroes went their separate ways and made their rounds. So when the three heroes went to their rendezvous at Notre Dame's bell tower it ways almost two hour later. However, she noticed she had a tail when she passed the Eiffel tower. So she called Todd and Racer to set an illusion and ambush at the bell tower.

When she stepped on the bell towers stopped in the center and so did her tail with four others, forming a 'v" behind her. Todd's illusion left a Ladybug in the center of the tower while she moved to an ambush point. Four figures swung in and stood at each corner, a Todd Tenko, Emeraude Racer, Honey Bee, and Chat Noir.

"Shouldn't all of you be in Gotham?" Ladybug asked for her.

That seemed to take the vigilantes in her city by surprise.

"We heard about the situation and we just want to help." Nightwing, she is pretty sure, spoke up.

Chat Noir scoffed, "huh as if we would believe that."

"Tt. believe what you want. That is the truth." Robin spoke this time. Interesting.

"Yes after being ignored and called liars for three years really builds trust." Honey Bee's hand curled on her top as she spoke.

Batman seemed like he was going say something, but she jumped down from her perch breaking the Ladybug illusion. As they watched her materialize fifty feet up, followed by Racer and Todd flanking her mere seconds later.

"Todd," her eyes never left the five in front of her as she spoke.

"What!" Red Hood jumped in surprise, "How?"

"Curious. But Todd," this time she turned. "can you drop Mirage." Her teammate nodded and the four illusions disappeared. "Do you need to recharge?"

"Already did LB", he smiled.

"Okay," she pulled out her yoyo, and a box fell out into her hands. "who wants a snack before heading back out."

"Me!" Racer rushed to the box pulling out a strawberry eclair.

It is almost a good thing she always makes eight eclairs for patrol. Seriously she makes two for those on patrol, but after Adrien always left them with one and ate four, did she start bringing more.

Before leaving to do a final sweep of patrol. The three Parisian heroes spoke with the visiting vigilantes.

"We could send them Pinky's way," Ladybug responded to Batman's ask for more information.

"Do you think that's smart?" Todd asked.

"Who is Pinky?" Red Robin stepped into the conversation.

"She is our civilian contact and reserve hero." Racer answered.

"Why isn't she a permeant hero?" Nightwing brought up the question.

"Her identity was compromised but and we aren't sure how many know. So she is kept an back up." she answered.

"Who is she and how do we contact her?" Batman demanded or asked in his case.

"She is Multimouse, her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng." All of them seemed to flinch and paled slightly. "And she'll find you."

The three Parisians stood and left.

Yup, tomorrow is going to be interesting.

Extra:

“So was I supposed to find out the Wayne’s were the Bats on my own or would you have told me?” Mari scolded her boyfriend over video call when she got home from patrol.

“I knew you were smart but less than a day you really are a lucky bug.” He smirked at her.

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Okay, okay.” He rose his hands in surrender. “But how did you figure it out anyways?”

“Apart from Tim and Jason flinching when Chloe called me Red, Damian’s katana grumbles and Tt., Jason freaking out because Todd was on patrol with me, and all of them paling at my name. It wasn’t to hard to piece together after that.” She shrugged.

“You know you’re scary sometimes right?” He feigned chills a goofy grin on his face.

“You love me though.” She teased him.

“I know I do but I know to keep in your good graces.” He responded now completely serious. “By the way, why was my idiot in Paris?” '

“I apparently made headlines a a lost Wayne.” She waved. “Which has more truth than the media knows apparently.”

“You’re serious!”

“Turns out your idiot is my adoptive idiot brother.”

“So are you related to Dick or Tim?”

“Try Damian.”

“To Demon Spawn! How?!”

“Bruce is my biological father.”

“The bug is a bat. Great!” he rolled his eyes, “I knew you weren’t normal but this is ridiculous.”

“You aren’t exactly normal yourself.” She replied pointedly.

“Ya but you love me.” His goofy grin was back.

“Yes I do.” She smiled in return.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha @jjmjjktth @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @stackofrandomstuff @megaafangirl @trippingovermyfeet @chocolatecatstheron @nathleigh @nyx-in-line @indecisive-mess-named-me @ichigorose @maribat-is-lifeblood @user00000001

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #batfam #bio!dad bruce #MLiOCAA #roynette

314 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 11

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Spark.

She watches Ethan from the couch as he pulls a tin of muffins out of the oven, arranging a few on a plate. She’s been thinking a lot about what Mulder said about not having a spark with his ex. She wonders if she and Ethan have a spark, or if they did at one point. When she thinks about her relationship with Ethan, what stands out to her is commitment, dedication, stability. And love, of course, she does love him.

When they first met through mutual friends, she wasn’t particularly interested. He was perfectly nice, and good looking enough, but struck her more as a potential friend than a boyfriend. He was steadfast, kept showing up, kept gently working to get to know her, and eventually she started to grow fond of him. They’ve joked that while his attraction to her was immediate, hers to him was more of a slow burn. This is what mature, adult relationships are like, right? Measured, practical, logical. When you’re young, wild, and free, you date whoever you have the most fun with, chasing the next exciting experience and the rush of a first kiss. But the person you marry should be someone who you know will be a dependable partner, a good parent, and a lifelong support. That has always been her belief.

Ethan returns to sit with her on the couch, setting the muffins on the coffee table to cool. He picks up her feet and puts them in his lap, casting her a brief smile before he goes to work pressing his thumbs into her arches as he watches TV.

Spark.

Is that what she feels when she’s with Mulder? A spark? Is that why her stomach goes into knots when he looks at her? Why she feels the overwhelming urge to touch him? The sensation that there is an electrical current passing between them is not one she’s ever felt with Ethan, that’s for sure. There was no adrenaline in their first kiss, only contentment. Comfort, safety, security. These are good feelings, ones you can build a life on. Can you build a life on a spark?

“You still going to try on dresses tomorrow with Missy?” he asks, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

“Mhmm,” she answers over her book, which she hasn’t gotten through a page of in over thirty minutes.

“Are you gonna let me see what you pick?” he asks, glancing at her from the corner of his eye with a surreptitious smirk.

She sets the book on her stomach and gives him a chastising smile. “Of course not, Ethan. That’s against the rules.”

“Who made that rule, anyway? I’ve already seen you naked, I should be able to see you in a fancy dress before the big day,” he says with a pointed look.

She swats him with the book.

“The fact that you’ve already seen me naked is also against the rules, so I guess we’re 0 for 2. Don’t tell my mother that,” she lectures playfully.

“I’m sure she has her suspicions, given that we live together,” he says dryly.

“Leave the woman to her ignorant bliss,” she retorts, and they hold eye contact for a moment, exchanging affectionate smiles.

Not a spark, but maybe an ember. Burning steady, carrying them through the dark nights. Sparks die out quickly. She only hopes her spark with Mulder fades soon, because right now it’s burning so bright it’s distracting her from the ember sitting right at her feet.

———

She frowns at herself in the mirror.

“This one is really pretty, Sis, you don’t like it?” Missy asks, tugging at the train to straighten it out.

“I don’t know. Maybe. No.”

She looks forlornly at the rack of dresses she’s already tried on. Every length and cut, style of bodice and neckline. They all seemed wrong.

“I mean, I know you’re generally hard to please, Dana, but this is getting ridiculous,” Missy laments.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she replies, casting Missy an apologetic look.

“Which one do you think Ethan would like? Would that help you decide?” Missy offers helpfully.

Ethan. Right. She realizes that she’s been thinking about what Mulder would make of her in a white dress. She suspects he’d go for the mermaid fit.

“Can we just try again another day, maybe? I think I’m just not in the right headspace for this,” she pleads with her big sister.

“Sure, whatever you want. Let’s go get coffee or something,” Missy says as she ushers Dana back into the changing room.

They go to her favorite local spot, finding two open armchairs near the fireplace, which is off for the summer. Dana tucks her legs under her torso, sipping at an indulgent white chocolate mocha; she feels the need for small pleasures right now. Missy eyes her appraisingly, and she can feel the third degree that is about to commence.

“So what’s up with you?” she finally asks, her tone inquisitive but not abrasive.

“What do you mean?” Dana asks in reply, avoiding her eyes.

Missy’s head drops to the side in exasperation. “Are you really going to make me spell it out for you, Dana? I’m trying to be supportive of your decision to marry Ethan, but you’re making it really hard being so openly miserable all the time.”

Dana looks at her with surprise and indignation. “I am not miserable.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Missy says sarcastically.

Dana shakes her head. “I’m just...I don’t know, I have a lot on my mind.”

“Care to elaborate?” Missy asks with an expectant look.

She sighs and sets her shoulders. She needs to talk to someone about this, and Missy is literally her only option.

“Okay, but first I need you to promise me you’re not going to make a big deal about this, because it’s really not a big deal,” she prefaces with a stern look.

“You know me, I don’t do big deals,” Missy replies, working hard to hide her anticipation for whatever her little sister is about to reveal.

“Okay. So, I met this man at work,” she starts, and Missy’s eyes go as round as oranges. “Missy, don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Missy defends, “go on.” She’s leaning forward in her chair, creating less space between them.

“He’s an agent, he was just picking something up for a case he’s working on, but he asked me out, and we’ve kind of been...we’ve become friends,” she says hesitantly, glancing at Missy to gage her reaction. Missy is forcing a blank expression.

“So...you’re dating him?” she asks flatly.

“No! Oh god, no. I mean, he asked me out and I told him that I have a boyfriend, but now we’re just kind of friends, and….Jesus Christ.” She drops her forehead into her palm. Even describing what’s going on with Mulder is apparently impossible. “We are just friends, but...but I’m having a hard time reconciling how I feel about him.”

“How do you feel about him?” Missy asks.

Dana shakes her head. “I don’t know how to describe it, Missy. I love Ethan, I’m not having doubts about him, but this man...I feel so drawn to him. Being around him feels...almost electric.”

“Like you have a spark?” Missy asks, and Dana’s head snaps to look at her. She’s open, curious.

“Yeah...exactly like that,” she replies regretfully.

Missy nods in understanding, and it somehow makes Dana feel a little better, like she’s not totally crazy. “Tell me about him,” she requests, and Dana can’t help but smile.

“Um, he’s a criminal behavioral analyst, in the Behavioral Science Unit. Oxford educated. He’s funny, but in a dry, intellectual way. He has some pretty outlandish ideas, but he’s so passionate about what he believes in, it’s impossible not to take him seriously. He’s kind of intense, but really alluring.” She pauses, knowing she can’t go on much further without veering into gushing.

“Is he cute?” Missy asks, and Dana closes her eyes.

“SO good looking. Painfully so.” She opens them and Missy is smiling knowingly at her.

“Sounds like a real catch, Sis.”

“Yeah, but I’m engaged to someone who is also a great catch in his own right. I feel like I’m in a romcom.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Missy asks earnestly.

Dana looks at her with surprise. “What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything. It’s just distracting, but obviously nothing can or will come of it.”

Missy gives her a doubtful expression, but then raises her eyes to meet with someone over Dana’s shoulder, giving them a questioning look. Dana turns to see Mulder standing beside her, a cup in his hand and that damn boyish smile on his mouth.

“Hey, Scully, we meet again,” he says, glancing between her and Missy.

“Mulder, hi,” she stumbles, bringing her feet to the floor and squirming around as though he’d caught her in a compromised position. “Um, Mulder, this is my sister, Melissa. Missy, this is Fox Mulder.”

He steps forward and extends his hand to Missy, and she shakes it with a flirtatious smile. “Nice to meet you, Fox.”

“Oh, please call me Mulder,” he replies.

“Alright, Mulder, would you like to join us?” Missy asks, and Dana shoots her a look.

“Um, yeah, I can hang out for a minute,” he replies cautiously, pulling up a chair between the two of theirs.

“So, how do you and Dana know each other?” she asks, and Dana isn’t sure if she’s asking because she realizes who he is, or because she doesn’t.

“We work together, technically speaking. I’m a criminal behavioral analyst in the Behavioral Science Unit.” Missy gives Dana a look that tells her it was the latter. “What are you two up to today?” he asks, running his palm over a stubbled cheek. She can hear the scratch of the short hairs against his skin and it sets off a tingle at the back of her neck.

“We were just doing some wedding dress shopping,” Missy offers, watching his reaction closely.

“Ah,” he says, only moderately concealing his dissatisfaction, “sounds like a good time.” His tone is dry and not at all genuine. “So, Scully,” he says, directing his words to Dana, “Priscilla was wondering if you could stop by next weekend. She has something to show you.”

She smiles coyly. “Does she? Not a hairball, I hope?”

Mulder chuckles. “No, it’s a file, actually. Her personal favorite, she’d love to share it with you.”

“I think I might be free on Saturday,” she replies, “I just need to check, um…”

“Check with Ethan, right,” he finishes, his smile fading a bit.

“Right,” she confirms, her own smile quickly extinguishing.

Mulder stands. “I’ll email you, to confirm.” He turns to Missy, “It was nice to meet you, Melissa.”

Missy beams at him. “Likewise.”

Mulder turns to Scully and gives her a longing glance, then leaves. They watch him go, waiting until the door has closed behind him to speak.

Missy slaps Dana’s arm. “Oh. My. GOD, Sis!” she exclaims with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“What?” Dana returns.

“Spark? That is a goddamn bonfire. Even I could feel it,” she says with a look of wonder.

Dana gives her a pained expression then drops her head into her hands with a groan.

“Why does he call you Scully? And who the hell is Priscilla?” Missy adds.

Dana lifts her head, looking at her sister regretfully with a shrug.

“He said I don’t look like a Dana. Priscilla is his cat.”

Missy closes her eyes for a moment and gently shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing like she’s trying to reconcile all this information in her brain.

“Whoa, so you’ve been to his place?” Missy asks incredulously.

Dana nods hesitantly.

“Sis, what are you doing? If you were to tell me that you’re going to break it off with Ethan and run away with that beautiful man I would honestly support you. But if you’re trying to keep things on the up and up here, a private rendezvous at his apartment seems like a really bad idea.” Missy is deeply confused, not used to being in the position to tell her sister what decisions are unwise. That is typically Dana’s role in their relationship.

Dana glares at her sister defensively. “We’re just friends, Missy. Men and women can be just friends.”

Missy shoots her a ‘do you think I was born yesterday?’ look.

“Sure they can, if they aren’t insanely attracted to each other. That man practically devoured you with his eyes, Dana. He wants to be more than your friend,” she says emphatically.

“Well, he’s not going to be. I’m with Ethan. And I’m an adult who can control myself enough to maintain boundaries with a platonic friend who happens to be an attractive man. I’m not a Neanderthal, Missy.” She’s using her professor voice, presenting the topic with supporting evidence. Only the facts, folks.

“Okay,” Missy says, acquiescing. “If you trust yourself then great, have fun with your friend. Does Ethan know you’re gallivanting around with a sexy behavioral analyst?”

The guilty look that overtakes Dana’s face is answer enough.

“Well,” Missy continues, “just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she brings levity back to the conversation with a little smirk.

“That leaves me with a lot of options, Missy,” Dana retorts, and Missy slaps her arm again.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

43 notes · View notes

cabensonsgirly · 3 years

Text

👼Home Is Wherever I'm With You (Alice Macray)[NSFW]👼

Alice Macray x Fem!reader

👼Part 2 of SP getting reader pregnant👼

👼Wordcount: 2714👼

👼Posted on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Fluff, some angst, homophobia, Phyllis and Alice's husband are trash garbage, some smut, strap-on, wlw magic, pregnancy, Alice is an angel, mentions of religion.👼

👼There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.👼

It had been a number of years since you had moved to a slightly more progressive part of town, ever since Phyllis found out that you had – as she put it – “homosexual inclinations” it was made very clearly that you were no longer welcome in that area. And because she ruled with an iron-fist, no one dared to speak out against her, even if they had said to you in private that you were still the same wonderful person they had always known.

There was one person who never left your side though, even if it meant they were put in the firing path of Phyllis, and that was Alice. She, in all her sweet innocence, didn’t understand why it was such a big deal that you happened to like women, surely if God didn’t want the “lovely lgbts” then he wouldn’t have created them. Alice was religious, went to church on Sundays, said grace before eating, prayed before bed, but she wasn’t the type to go around telling people that they were sinning or judge them because they weren’t religious, if anything, she just wanted people to be happy.

It had hurt when you moved because you had grown close with Alice and her kids, even if her husband harboured ill feelings towards you because you were a “dyke” and “we can’t let our children around that dyke, Alice” but she managed to calm him down enough so that you could still come around. But you hadn’t seen Alice and the kids much since moving, and you missed them something wicked. Yes you had spoken to them, mainly Alice, on the phone but it was brief and happened very rarely. You missed her. You missed them.

The days where she called you had you wanting them to last forever, you could wander around your home just listening to her talk about how things were going, how much she enjoyed her job, how the kids were doing in school. You found yourself feeling like a high schooler talking to their crush after school on the phone, laying down on your bed with the dumbest grin on your face. However, that grin changed to a shocked expression when you let slip how you feel about her. “Alice, fuck – sorry I know you don’t like swearing but… Alice, I love you so much and I miss you, I miss being around you and being with the kids. It’s been miserable not being able to see you, but-“ you hear a sharp intake of breath “I- I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before the line goes dead.

Seven months, twelve days, thirteen hours, and fifteen minutes it had been since that call and you hadn’t heard from her. You weren’t usually the type to count these things, even when you had important events to look forward to, you wouldn’t count down the days. You guess it was some form of way to torture yourself, counting the length of time since you fucked up one of the few good things you still had in life. She was radiant like an angel, put the beauty of the moon to shame, and you- you were like a horseman of the apocalypse, ruining everything you touched. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, you haven’t ruined everything you touch but you certainly have relationship wise.

You had a few spare rooms in your house, you’d hoped that one day you would be able to have your own family, a bedroom for each kid: two bedrooms and one room as the nursery. No, that was a lie, you had dreamed about having Alice live with you - be with you – the boys would have their own rooms to decorate how they please (under the watchful eye of Alice) and… a nursery so you and Alice could have a child together, so that the boys would have a little sister (hopefully) to protect from the big kids.

To be honest, you had already started making renovations on the house so that it would be better suited for a family like that anyway, the bedrooms had a fresh coat of paint, nothing that was specifically catered to boys or girls – you wanted the kids to pick the colour themselves if they wanted a change – and made sure the windows had latches to prevent them from opening too far so that no one could fall out of them.

You were most proud of the kitchen though; it was your pride and joy of the entire property. That’s where you currently find yourself, applying the final sealing coat on the marble countertop so that no liquid seeps into the pores of the material. You had music playing through the radio, just loud enough to drown out the sound of the odd car that drove by. You were humming along to this when you heard the doorbell ring, this surprised you because not many people stopped round to your place, and if they did they would usually knock. You put the paintbrush in the sink and put the lid back onto the tin of sealant before you made your way over to the door. You didn’t bother to check your appearance or anything because you thought it was probably some girl scouts or a random, so in all your messy renovation glory you swung the door open to greet whoever was on the other side.

“Hi there, what can I-“ Your voice catches in your throat and colour rushes to your cheeks as you lay eyes on the woman before you. Now you were wishing you had at least wiped the sweat from your face and the grime from your hands.

“Hi… I- I know we- I know I haven’t spoken to you since…well…” She trails off quietly, looking down. You bite your bottom lip slightly and shake your head, willing the tears to remain unshed “It’s- It’s fine Alice, really. It’s in the past… You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older woman shakes her head and looks at you again, her eyes glistening slightly “I want to. Can- can I come in, please?”

You step back and hold the door open so she can make her way inside, closing and locking the door behind her before leading her to the lounge. “I- I wanted to apologise for hanging up the way I did…and for leaving your life without saying anything.” She takes a seat in an arm chair, hands immediately starting to fiddle with the cushion “I just- I didn’t- I don’t”

“You don’t feel the same way. I- I know. It’s okay. I- I got over most of the hurt-“

“No- no that’s not what I meant. I didn’t understand why you felt that way and- and I didn’t understand why I- why I” she shakes her head, her grip on the cushion tightening before she blurts out “why I felt something I hadn’t felt since the joy I felt when I had my boys.” She lets out a sob and buries her face in her hands as she starts crying.

You rush over to her and wrap your arms around her gently, rubbing her back as you hush her gently. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, Alice” She moves so she can hug you tight, burying her face in your shirt as she continues crying. “hey, hey it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Shhh.. It’s okay, Alice.” You continue rubbing her back, only slowing down more as her breathing starts to return to normal. “There we go, there we go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t pull back but you hear her mumble out “my- my husband- ex… he- he found me crying after the call and he asked why. I- I told him that it- it was because I think I- I was in…love with someone else. A- A woman… And- and he” she lets out a sob before continuing “he told me how- how disgusting I- I am. That- that I was going to- to ruin my- my kids. We- He filed for divorce a few weeks later… It’s- it’s supposed to be split custody but- but I guess the boys like me more so- so they stay with me a majority of the time. They asked why I was so sad, why I didn’t bake apple pie as much anymore, why I- why I never called you. I didn’t answer them for so long, just- just said it was some- some trial that God was putting me through. But… a few days ago they asked again, and- and the looks in their eyes…” she lets out a bit of a laugh “they looked like they wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, they- they really are my boys. So…I told them.”

Your breath catches and you still your movements before continuing, encouraging Alice to continue. “I told them everything. Well- well excluding what their father said about- about me. I just- I said that their father didn’t- didn’t approve of- of who I had…fallen in love with. They- they were confused and asked how it was possible for someone to- to fall in love when already married. I said sometimes- sometimes it happens and that it- it doesn’t mean I never loved their father, but I had discovered that- that maybe I…liked women. A woman. Gosh… You should’ve seen the looks on their face, it was like I’d given them their birthday presents early. I hadn’t even told them who but… they’re so wonderful.”

She pulls back and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, giving you a small smile “I told them that the woman I was- I am in love with is you. That- that I hadn’t known what to do so that’s why I was sad for so long because I just… Anyway… They said I was silly and should go tell you everything because they miss you and want to see me happy again.”

You blush deeply and look away, a shy smile settling on your lips before Alice gently turns your head to face her. “I- I love you, yn.” She leans in and tentatively brushes her lips against yours before kissing you, you gasp softly in shock before melting into the kiss.

One year, three months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours. That’s how long Alice and her boys – your boys – have been living with you for. After she kissed you that day, she asked if she could make love to you but emphasised that you would have to guide her because she’d never been with another woman. Alice was a quick learner and once she had a solid understanding of what you enjoyed…she made it very clear that she was the one in charge in the bedroom. This surprised you but you weren’t going to complain, if the love of your life wanted to be called “Miss” in the bedroom and boss you around, you bet your fucking ass you’re going to do just that. Although she did burst into tears after you went down on her because she didn’t know something like that was supposed to feel that good.

She asked you why there was an empty room one day while the boys were at tutoring, and you told her it was because you hoped to have a baby one day… Hopefully with her. She was shocked and had blushed profusely but the smile on her face reassured you she wasn’t put off by the idea. You said you knew it wouldn’t actually be possible for her to get you pregnant but you saw a fierce determination in her eyes that made you feel like she would find a way. Alice didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, and you didn’t press about it either, just put it down to her having forgotten or maybe not actually being into the idea.

One evening while the boys were at their fathers Alice said she had something to show you, said it was really important. When you walked into the bedroom you nearly choked on your bottled water, Alice was standing there, looking down as she adjusted - what appeared to be a strap-on – to fit her comfortably. She still had her simple white bra on but to you she still looked sexy, with or without clothing you were attracted to her; the look of utter concentration on her face made you giggle though, drawing her attention to you, a blush settling on her face as she smiles.

“I- Hi. I- So I did some… I did things to try and- and figure out if there was a way I could get you…pregnant… And- well, I know you don’t always come to church but- No I didn’t ask around church, silly. Every time I prayed, I asked for there to be a time where it would be possible for me to get you pregnant, so- so I could have a baby with the woman I love. And- and so it turns out that tonight is that night. I saw a sign, and I know that sounds cra-“ You cut her off with a deep and slow kiss, hands cupping her cheeks gently before you pull back “Alice, baby, nothing you say sounds crazy to me.”

She blushes more and flusters a bit before continuing “I saw a sign, well- well what I hope was one and knew that it would be possible tonight. That- that it would be possible for me to- to” she tears up, some tears spilling onto her cheeks which you wipe away gently “to get you pregnant so we can have our baby.” You sniffle a little, having teared up at her words “Alice… You’re so- you’re so wonderful. Please take me to bed, make- make love to me.”

Alice takes your hand in hers gently and leads you to your shared bed where she lays you down gently on it before crawling on top of you, her hand stroking your cheek gently. “I love you so much, yn.”

“I love you too, Alice.”

You looked up at the woman you loved, her hand ghosting gently between your legs and roaming over your body before she starts to remove your clothing, kissing your skin as each item is removed. She trails kisses up your thighs before moving up to kiss you, her lips were still sweet from the dessert she had made, her tongue slips between her lips and runs against your bottom lip before you part them to brush your tongue over hers, you both moaning at the feeling. A gasp falls from your lips when you feel her touch your slit, fingers rubbing your clit lightly before dipping the tips of two into your pussy.

“You make the most beautiful noises, my love.”

There had never been a moment before now where you had felt so much love when having sex with someone. It wasn’t only because your girlfriend had managed to find a way to try having a baby with you – having her baby, it was because there wasn't a single moment the entire night where the love in her eyes disappeared.

You wouldn’t know if Alice’s prayers had been heard until you took a pregnancy tests a few days later, but there was a feeling in your bones that made you think that things would work out – that you would have her baby. On the off chance, or more likely chance, that you didn’t get pregnant, that would be okay too. Your sweet Alice would probably try her best to find another way though, she was determined like that.

You and Alice both shared a nice bubble bath after your lovemaking, just enjoying being in each other’s arms. “Alice baby, I love you so much. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for coming back to me. Just- just thank you.” She hums softly in response, her eyes drifting closed “I love you too, Yn. I’d always find my way back to you anyway.” You press a kiss to her head, enjoying the feeling of being content and happy with a woman you love, and with the chance of being pregnant with her child.

#Alice macray #Alice macray imagine #Alice macray x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader

92 notes · View notes

wyvernsandwitches · 3 years

Text

What The Water Gave Me

Finally posting my first fic and obv it's gotta be a mermaid!Jaskier and it really was not meant to be this long but these idiots got away from me.

“They don’t exist,” Geralt of Rivia says, expressionless. “The creatures in your song. And the one before about the merfolk. They can’t mate with humans. There are no half mermaids.” “Ah, you’re wrong there, my friend. I myself am part merfolk,” Jaskier answers with a smile.

Or: Five times Jaskier tells Geralt the truth about his heritage and one time he shows him.

Destiny is a funny old thing, Jaskier thinks when he stumbles across Geralt of Rivia in Posada. He’d left Lettenhove behind with ease, relishing the look he imagined must have been on his father’s face when he found his dresser empty and his lute gone. There is nothing for him there. He needs adventure. And oh boy, does Geralt of Rivia positively reek of adventure.

“They don’t exist,” Geralt of Rivia says, expressionless. “The creatures in your song. And the one before about the merfolk. They can’t mate with humans. There are no half mermaids.”

“Ah, you’re wrong there, my friend. I myself am part merfolk,” Jaskier answers with a smile.

The witcher rolls his eyes and stands, leaving a coin behind on the table which Jaskier quickly pockets. He makes a quick decision and packs up his lute, following the man out of the tavern.

It takes almost no time at all for Jaskier to fall head over his heels for him.

Geralt is wrenched from sleep by a pounding on his door. The fire in the hearth is down to embers and the almost full moon shines in through the threadbare curtains, casting the room in an eerie glow.

He recognises Jaskier’s heartbeat outside his door a moment before Jaskier hisses his name.

Geralt sighs and gets out of bed. He throws another log on the fire and casts a quick igni to relight it, before he pulls open the door and Jaskier falls in.

“Oh Geralt, thank the gods! Shut the door, quickly!” he whispers.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls.

“Shh! They’ll hear you!”

“Who?”

Jaskier’s answer is interrupted by a fist at the door.

“I’m not here, okay? You haven’t seen me since dinner. And for goodness’ sake make it believable, Geralt, please!” he whispers again and darts under the bed.

Geralt rolls his eyes and opens the door again.

“You, witcher. You were with the bard that was here this evening, weren’t you?” A middle-aged man with a ruddy face hidden behind a large curly brown beard stands outside the door. His breath stinks of ale and his knuckles are cluttered with scabs. Geralt recognises him as the landlord of the tavern across the street they’d been in earlier.

Geralt hms.

“You seen ‘im?”

“We parted ways after dinner. He’s on to the next village as far as I know.”

The man grunts. “If you sees ‘im, there’s a pretty reward in it for you if you turn ‘im over to us. Man’s barred from this establishment from here on out. And the tavern over yonder. Give us a shout if he comes back.”

Geralt nods and closes the door. Jaskier crawls out from beneath the bed and stands. His doublet is nowhere to be seen and his shirt is undone almost to his navel, exposing an ample amount of chest hair. In the low light, with his hair mussed and cheeks pink, Geralt can’t help but think how attractive he is. He shakes his head at the thought. Those thoughts have been coming a lot more frequently lately and he needs to put a stop to it.

“Let me guess. You stuck your prick in his wife?”

“How dare you!” Jaskier points a finger at Geralt. Geralt just crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

Jaskier deflates and falls into the rickety wooden chair by the hearth. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Although it wasn’t his wife.”

Geralt makes a non-committal noise and moves the logs around in the fire.

“If you must know,” Jaskier begins. I didn’t ask, Geralt thinks, but he knows from experience it is pointless trying to stop Jaskier talking. “The man’s sister walked in on me and her husband in rather a delicate position.”

Her… husband? Geralt has always thought Jaskier prefers women. Although, now that he thinks about it, he’s never really paid attention to who Jaskier takes to bed. Lately, he’s had to start making a conscious effort not to think about it, lest he start imagining Jaskier with those partners, and that train of thought only ends with Geralt frustrated and searching out the nearest brothel.

“What do you mean delicate position?” Geralt asks, making sure he’s understood correctly. He can’t quite process this yet.

“What do I mea– sex obviously Geralt, as you so insightfully guessed when I came in here! Or were you asking for specifics?” Jaskier grins and taps his chin. “Let’s see, he was on his elbows and knees and I was beh-”

“No, I do not need details, Jaskier!”

Jaskier’s grin widens. If Geralt could blush he knows he’d be blushing right now. This new information that Jaskier also enjoys the company of men sends his heart fluttering. The mental image of him with the other man sends heat pooling to his face and his groin. That settles it. The next village they stop in needs to have a brothel, so he can rid himself of these intrusive thoughts.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt scowls and moves to the bed. “Fine, but you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Ohh, but your bed is so big! And I’m all bruised from climbing out of the window.” Jaskier whines.

“Floor,” Geralt repeats and throws one of the blankets on the bed at Jaskier.

Jaskier pouts. Geralt gets back into bed and sighs as Jaskier makes a fuss of arranging himself on the floor.

After a few moments, Geralt throws him a spare pillow. “Take this and shut up.”

“Thank you, dear. You know, you could just–”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine. Mean old witcher.”

He’s blessedly silent for a moment.

“I knew I should have gone for the woodcutter’s son. He had better arms. But the sailor kept talking about the sea and-”

“Sailor?” Geralt can’t help but ask. They are nowhere near a coastline.

“He was saying how much he loves the sea and how he’d been a sailor when he was a young man but then his family married him off and now he’s stuck with a wife he never wanted and a tavern to look after that isn’t even his. And you know I’m a sucker for a tragic ‘my family doesn’t care about my happiness’ backstory. And then when I told him I was part merfolk he barely hesitated before he stuck his tongue down my throat. Shame our little tryst got cut short. He had a really good arse as well and they’re hard to come by round here.”

Geralt mostly ignores Jaskier as he talks about the other man. He focuses his attention on the sounds he can hear, in order to stop those images of Jaskier coming back into his mind. The fire crackling. The wind through the branches outside. Jaskier’s slowing heart rate. A few long, quiet moments pass. And then something Jaskier said snags on his thoughts.

“You told him you were part merfolk?” Why Geralt continually lets himself be dragged into these conversations is beyond him.

“Mm-hm,” Jaskier answers, his voice slow and sleepy.

“And why would you do that?”

“’Cause I am.”

“Jaskier.”

“Told you when we met, Geralt. I’m part merfolk.” Jaskier yawns.

“That’s not possible.”

“Is. I’m it. Mum was part mermaid. So am I.”

“You can’t be part merfolk. You’re either merfolk or you’re human. There is no in between.”

“Whatever you say. G’night, dear.”

Jaskier really could talk out of his ass sometimes. Honestly, part merfolk! Has he come up with that lie himself or is it a childhood tale he’d been told that he still believes?

Geralt ponders on this for a while when Jaskier’s soft voice breaks the quiet, laced with sleep.

“Had nice eyes too, like a storm.”

Geralt takes a breath and tries to tamp down the jealous feeling rising in his chest.

“Not s’nice as yours though. Yours’re like honey.”

Geralt spends most of the night trying to sort through the multitude of implications that that comment leaves him with.

Read the rest on AO3!

#geraskier #geraskier fic #mermaid!jaskier #5+1 fic #jaskier x geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #my writing

63 notes · View notes

barelyaware · 3 years

Text

Hey! Turned this into a fic!

Will be posting updates on ao3

Day 21: Her Majesty, Our Queen

Purely Political Chapter 1:

Zuko knows this is a political marriage. Less a bond and more a contact between two nations to enforce the fragile peace between them.

And yet, he still keeps every letter she sends him in a drawer in his desk. He still keeps her portrait in his pocket. He still gives every trinket she sends him a special place in his chambers.

Zuko knows for certain there won't be romance between them. Not with the way he is, not with his temper, and certainly not with his scars.

He doesn't want to give himself false hope. He knows he'll only break his own heart if he can't cool down these fiercely warm and gentle feelings that bubble up inside him everytime he hears her name.

He knows this..But his heart won't stop beating out of his chest the night before her arrival just the same.

He doesn't sleep that night and when the sun finally rises, he rushes to put on his Fire Lord regalia and waits by a balcony that looks on the docks.

He tries to use the time to meditate but his head is too full of Katara .

Will she look like her portrait? What does her voice sound like? Her laugh? What will she say to me? What will she think of me when she sees?

It's two hours of these thoughts later that he finally sees the ships in the distance, the familiar insignia from the wax of her letters stamped onto the flags of masts towering above the horizon. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and forces his feet one after the other toward the banquet hall where he'll be receiving her delegation.

It's not too much longer before Uncle joins him. He tells a joke that Zuko barely hears and places a hand on his shoulder that temporarily calms his butterflies.

Soon after, his mother, stepfather, and half-sister arrive. The wedding is scheduled a week from today and they're all planning to stay to support him. Azula is still being hospitalized and although she's been able to visit him in the palace on a few occasions, he doesn't believe she's stable enough to meet his future wife. He really does love her, but he won't do anything to risk this marriage. Maybe one day they will meet, but he doubts it will be anytime soon.

“Zuzu!” Kiyi hugs his leg from a running start.

“Wow, look how much you've grown!.”

Kiyi smiles broadly. “I've gained three centimeters since you last saw me!

Zuko smiles back, patting her head gently enough that her intricate hairstyle isn't ruined. But before he can respond, the doors open once more.

Zuko’s jaw drops.

He thought Katara was beautiful in her portrait, but it's nothing compared to the real thing. Her eyes are like sapphires, bright and twinkling as they take in the room and he finds himself frozen in place. When he finally breaks away his gaze, his heart swells as he notices the necklace he carved for her displayed below her mother's on a beautiful strand of pearls.

Uncle had mentioned that it was a standard practice and when he asked if he could make one for her, she'd seemed delighted. But it was one thing to hear it in a letter and quite another to see the stone, carved with two crescent moons surrounding a flame, resting above her heart.

He fights against the dopey grin that seems determined to plaster itself on his face and does his best to keep his voice even and calm.

“Greetings Princess Katara and the delegation from the Southern Watertribe.” Her eyes meet his and he tries to swallow the painful knot that forms when she frowns at him, albeit briefly. “We are humbled by your acceptance of this alliance and hope your accommodations are satisfactory. Our servants are at your service during your stay and I am available if any problems arise. Thank you for your presence and welcome.”

A polite round of applause follows before the servants lead the delegation to their seats. Katara and Zuko have their own table at the end of the hall, just far enough away to hold a private conversation if they keep their voices down.

Zuko sits down and Katara joins him gracefully, the frown long since replaced by a neutral expression.

“Thank you again for coming, Master Katara.” Her frown returns, along with the painful knot in Zuko's throat.

“Well, which is it going to be?”

Zuko looks back at her blankly. “I'm sorry?”

“Is it Princess or Master?”

Zuko blinks slowly, still not quite sure what she means. “I’m sorry, I assumed you wanted to be called by the title you earned, based on your letters. But I meant no disrespect.”

“Then why did you call me princess?”

Zuko tries not to stare at her mouth too much as it moves. “I was just standing on ceremony because you were in front of your delegation.”

“..Oh.”

“Is that okay? I will call you whatever you want, really. And I'm sorry if I made a mistake.”

“No, no, I'm sorry, I just..you called me Master in your letters and I was just..confused at the change.” He takes note of the subtle blush dusting her cheeks and feels the tightness in his throat dissipate. “Should I call you Firelord then?”

“No. I mean, if it's not too much, please just call me Zuko.”

“It's not too much, Zuko,” she smiled. He can feel a warmth blooming in his chest when she says his name. “I really do hope we can at least be friends.”

Zuko smiles back and it's only a tiny bit forced.

“Thank you, Master Katara.”

Katara clears her throat a little. “I'm sorry for making a fuss...I mean... just Katara is fine.”

“Of course, just Katara.”

Katara smiles again, this time so brightly Zuko gets lost in it for a moment, and this time he doesn't fight his dopey grin.

At least we can be friends.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

#Zutara #zutara fanart #zutara fanfic #atla fanfic #atla #atla fanart #zuko #katara #katara fanart #zutara month 2021 #zutara month #zutaramonth #my art #my fanfic #my posts #My fic

74 notes · View notes

chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: Embarrassing and Undignified

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

Essek's time in the hot tub goes a little awry.

Wordcount: 3.3k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt! (i’m so sorry for taking 2+ months to write this... i love Essek so much and he needs more tk content)

---

Essek is no stranger to being - unusual. He often welcomes it, really. Achieving a status such as his for the better part of a century comes with its fair share of eccentricities, his floating among them, and at this point hovering just above the rest of the Dynasty has become something of a favored routine.

And yet, it seems, the Nein have him beaten at every turn.

He had meant to take his leave directly after dinner, unsure of his place among Yasha’s solemn questions of loneliness and Beauregard’s transparent attempts to pry information from him and Jester’s threat to invoke a Zone of Truth for idle gossip -

(and the slight jealousy, he admits, if only to himself, of seeing Caleb, ambitious and focused and loved, among them - )

But. Lonely and friendless he is, as has been quite thoroughly pointed out to him through the evening, and he’s intrigued enough by the rarity of this hot tub to clamber up awkwardly onto the enclosing stone wall and dangle his feet into the water while his hosts bustle around and shuck off various pieces of clothing.

Caleb sits next to him, rolling his own pant legs crisply to the knee and lowering his feet in. “What do you think?”

He looks over - thank the Light, Caleb’s still wearing his shirt. “It’s - nice,” he says. He drags his toe through a slow stream of bubbles rising from what he assumes must be the hottest parts of the depths. “Unfamiliar, but quite impressive that you’ve constructed it on your own.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “The hot tub, or -” He traces a small circle with his index finger, encompassing himself and his companions. “- all of this?”

Decades of court experience well up unbidden on his tongue. “The compliment extends to you either way,” he offers smoothly.

Caleb squints at him, but before he can say anything more the rest of the Nein are joining them with pleased exclamations and a thoroughly distracting amount of splashing. Essek watches, bemused, as Jester flops in belly-first before even unbuckling the last clasp of her outergarments - she wrestles them off, finally, crumpling the dripping green cloak into a ball and flinging it away, and he winces on behalf of the fine Kryn fabric.

She looks around, eyes lighting on him, and her hands fly to her round cheeks with an excited gasp. “Essek! Your legs!”

Startled, he looks down - they seem quite normal, with his boots off and his neatly pressed trousers folded at the knee, if a little more purple than anyone else’s present. “I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, yes.”

She leans in, eyes wide. “Are they re-al?”

Light be with him - she’s hardly said anything, but he struggles not to flush under the scrutiny. “Ah, yes? Why should they not be?”

Just then, something brushes lightly over the sole of his foot - he startles, and -

His seat is well made, certainly, but not enough to stand up to the Nein’s shenanigans; as he recoils, his center of gravity shifts right off the narrow ledge and he’s tumbling backwards before he can do more than blink.

Light, if this is how he dies -

He flails for a solution - it’s been years, at least, since he’s done something so pedestrian as fall, and there are spells for this, certainly, but what he’s prepared for today is more showy fare, in case the Nein asked for a demonstration, why can’t he think -

A hand closes roughly around his bicep, then another around the opposite shoulder, and then he’s dangling from Caleb’s grip with his back nearly parallel to the floor - he reaches out too, panicked, and crumples the front of Caleb’s shirt in a death grip.

“Good reflexes,” he says, breathless. Blood pounds in his ears. Caleb stares down at him, blue eyes wide and jaw tight -

“Ooh, now kiss!” Jester hoots.

The rest of the Nein burst into laughter behind them. Caleb goes bright red and hurriedly turns away, looking over his shoulder. “One of you jokers come here and help me, please,” he chides, strained, “I am not the muscle of this group.”

The tension in Caleb’s face becomes infinitely more explicable - finally capable of rational thought, Essek flicks his fingers and casts a weight-lightening cantrip just as another strong hand latches onto his knee and bodily tows him upright. Yasha nods at him, chest completely bare, and wades back to her corner as Veth pops up from nowhere with her long ears twitching maniacally. “I’m SO sorry,” she screeches, insistent far beyond the point of sincerity. “I brushed against your feet COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT.”

“VERY ACCIDENTAL,” Jester agrees loudly. Next to her, Fjord winces.

Veth’s voice softens, then, as she pats him gingerly on the leg. “I didn’t think you would do that - are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” he says weakly. Her ears droop in what seems to be genuine relief - it is pointless to care, perhaps, but he feels better for having reassured her.

He sucks in a solid breath for what feels like the first time in minutes and turns to Caleb to thank him. There’s still a guarding hand resting warmly against his back - and worse still, he realizes belatedly that his own hand is still fisted in the buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

He snatches it hastily away, ears burning. “Ah, my apologies. I shall pay closer attention to gravity, for the rest of the night.”

Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

A friendly -

Surprised, he glances over at Jester and finds her wearing a smug expression that might not be out of place on Da’leth himself, if significantly sweeter. “E-ssek,” she wheedles, wide-eyed with delight, drawing every syllable to its maximum extent. “Are your feet like, super ticklish?”

Essek blinks - ticklish? But he hasn’t - really, he can’t remember the last time he might have known. As a child, perhaps, when Verin used to tempt him into playing by tackling him straight off his feet and -

Oh. Oh, dear.

At least that particular piece of evidence is decades out of date - a poor excuse to discard it, but he’s willing to compromise in the face of Jester’s ever-sharpening grin and the traitorously pleased squirm in the pit of his own stomach. “What? No, of course not, I was merely surprised-”

“You can be surprised and ticklish,” Jester corrects, skipping forward with a splash. Essek shirks back into Caleb’s hand, millimeters from tumbling off the ledge again, and she giggles. “And I’m pret-ty sure that you’re both.”

The hot tub, for all of its excellent qualities, is unfortunately not large enough to keep her at bay for longer than that. She reaches out as he’s still deciding which direction would be the best to flee in and scoops his ankle up in a grip like steel. “Ah-” he sputters. “I - Jester, wait-”

She drags a fingernail up the arch of his foot.

It feels like one of the few times while developing a lightning-based spell that he’d electrocuted himself - but the feeling doesn’t stop, shooting up his leg and tickling at his lungs too to make them shiver, and it’s silly, and he just -

He panics, jerks back against Caleb’s hand again, and in a moment of brash stupidity the animal instinct of his brain decides that the only safe place to hide is Caleb himself. He buries his face in Caleb’s side and grabs him around the waist just in time to shriek as Jester repeats the same lazy route up and down the sole of his foot, pausing only to scratch tingling patterns into his heel. “Tickle, tickle! Aw, guys, he’s so ticklish, look at how much he’s laughing!”

The fabric of Caleb’s shirt isn’t much of a barrier to Jester’s teasing - or to his own ticklish laughter, embarrassingly high-pitched and loud in a way that makes his whole face heat with shame - but at least they can’t see him blush.

Caleb jumps a little as Essek latches onto him, but his hand stays put, stabilizing, and starts to rub gentle circles on his back as Essek dissolves into cackling at another spidering assault on his arch. “Jester, please be gentle,” he says, amused. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”

Essek’s not sure how he feels either. It’s terribly embarrassing, and undignified, and if this was happening in front of any other being in the Dynasty he would have to learn some sort of memory erasure spell, but - the Nein have never cared for his layers upon layers of decorum anyway, have they, always prying for indignation and confusion and warmth that he’s not certain he even possesses.

Caught between Jester and Caleb and a vat of hot water, with the rest of the Nein making relatively amused noises behind him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt warmer.

Jester just laughs. “I’m barely doing anything!” she teases, shaking Essek’s leg lightly. “He’s just so sensitive - oh, Essek, is it ‘cause you never walk anywhere? Is that why your feet are so soft and tickly?”

He’s giddy, even with the sudden reprieve, giggling too hard to speak. “I - ha - I dohon’t - ehe-”

“Of course it is,” Beauregard says smugly from a distance that seems far too close, “waving all those secrets and magic over our heads and he’s hoisted on his own fuckin’ petard-”

“What’s that?” Caduceus asks. Essek vaguely remembers the term to describe some sort of bomb, but Jester chooses that moment to send her mischievous fingers exploring under his fucking toes and it tickles like absolute hell. He shrieks even louder than before, if such a thing were possible, and makes a solid attempt to burrow his way straight into Caleb’s ribcage as his entire leg jolts in involuntary protest. No amount of desperate attempts to flex or curl his foot make the sensation any more bearable - it’s like the sucking feeling of a Teleport spell, like everything inside him is unmoored and floating in a sea of mirth and the only way he can get any of it out is to scream.

His cheeks hurt and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s beaming.

Jester cackles. “Come get his other foot, Beau,” she urges, easing off to just pinch his big toe between two fingers and wiggle it. “He totally loves it, he’s not even kicking-”

“Uh-huh,” Beauregard says, and there’s another splash. “Maybe I will.”

Caleb’s still rubbing his back - he stops, briefly, and from his huddled position Essek feels that Beauregard has jostled his other side on her way past. “His feet might be worse than yours,” she murmurs. He can hear the grin in her voice. “Better hope Jes doesn’t remember and go after you next.”

“Don’t remind her,” Caleb says, strangled. It’s remarkably friendly for Beauregard, though, and Essek is once again caught up in the paradox of this little group - merciless but fiercely protective, reluctant but trusting. It’s hard to be regretful - or wistful, maybe, one of those feelings that twinges in his chest every time he thinks of the Nein nowadays - with Jester tickling her way up the back of his bare calf and cooing over the way it makes him wriggle. But his heart, a traitor to the last, manages. There are so many secrets between them still.

Beauregard seizes his other ankle, hauling it up from the water, and he realizes for one terrible moment that if they were to, say, force him out of hiding and keep tickling, he might be inclined to spill some of them. “Scoot over, Jes,” Beauregard says, and there’s a squeak that, for once in the evening, doesn’t come from him. She chuckles. “Good thing he’s not trying to tickle you back, huh?”

He expects Jester to sputter and redirect her, as he would, but she sounds entirely unconcerned at the prospect. “Oh, Beau, do you want to have a tickle fight? We totally could, after this-”

“No,” she says, not entirely drowning out the little panicked noise that Caleb makes. “Not the kind of wrestling I want to do when half of us aren’t wearing shirts, if you know what I mean-”

“Beau!” Jester shrieks, giggling. Fjord groans loudly from the other side of the hot tub, and Essek, still squirming, is very sure that he’s blushing enough for it to show on the back of his neck, under his high collar. “Who do you want to wrestle with? Is it Yasha-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, moving on.” Beauregard interrupts hastily. There’s a popping noise that takes a second for Essek to place as her cracking her knuckles. “Hey, Essek - you think you’d trade another favor to get us to stop?”

Essek flails for something resembling a complete sentence as Jester’s fingers curl teasingly behind one of his knees. “Nngh - heh-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She squeezes the back of his other knee, barks out a laugh as he jumps. “Jes, stop messing around, let’s get his feet.”

That makes him kick, but at this point his entire lower half is restrained - all he can do is take one last breath before fingertips are scribbling over both his soles and he’s cackling so forcefully that his laughter peaks into agonized wheezing with each fresh gulp of air. “Hhh - ha - ahahaaaa, hA -”

Caleb shifts a little, bending until one of the strands that always hang stubbornly loose from where he ties his hair back brushes the tip of Essek’s burning ear. Essek shivers. “You can tell them to stop, you know,” he murmurs.

Essek’s almost entirely sure that he’s crying into Caleb’s shirt, tears leaking from squeezed-shut eyes as Beauregard and Jester torment his feet, but Caleb seems - fond, oddly - as he starts to rub his back again. “They’re not trying to be cruel - I believe they’re just excited that you’ve. Ah. Lowered yourself to our level, perhaps.”

And what level is that, Essek wants to ask, suddenly conjuring a mental image of Caleb in the same throes of helpless laughter. But he’s barely capable of that, as he’s currently dying, so he just tightens his grip on Caleb and shakes his head. He can barely even register Jester and Beauregard’s teasing anymore - he doesn’t think he can speak right now without embarrassing himself even more if he tried.

“Fuck, alright,” Fjord says abruptly from somewhere miles away, “I think he’s actually crying now, the Dynasty is going to have our heads if we break him.”

“He wouldn’t let them, he’s our friend,” Jester trills, but she does stop tickling, ghosting a hand up over his heaving shoulders to pat him gently on the head. “His ears are really purple though, like magenta purple, I think he’s blushing.”

For some reason - perhaps because he can finally think - it strikes him, fighting through the warm and pleasantly tingling haze of being touched and gentled back into himself, that as much as the casual label of friend pleases him he cannot afford this kind of vulnerability.

“Or suffocating,” Beauregard says a moment later, dropping his foot unceremoniously back into the water. “Thelyss? You alive in there?”

And, a beat later, when he doesn’t reply - “Are you just, like, smelling Caleb now?”

“Gross,” Veth squawks. “Get him off, get him off!”

Caleb smells quite pleasant, actually, but that’s not the point - his self-awareness is slowly trickling back in as he remembers who and where he is, and what he’s done to the Nein, and now they’ve broken him and he would rather die than look any of them in the eye for the next year.

Caleb pats his back. “Come on, friend, chin up.”

And he’s right, Essek can’t afford to cling to this veneer of comfort any longer - but to his immediate and eternal shame, he whines and nuzzles further into Caleb’s ribs. Just a moment to gather his wits, maybe, and he’ll be able to Misty Step to the front door and don his mantle-

“No? Alright, then - I’ll go to work too, if I have to.”

The hand on his back lifts away and walks itself on two prodding fingers neatly up under Essek’s arm, gently wriggling into the hollow until he can’t bear to keep his arms up any longer. “Nnn, hnn! - eheh, thahat’s - enough, please-”

It’s. It’s not, is the problem - he tries to stir up anger, distaste, but there’s only fear. He would deal with this indignity again, suffer it gladly, even, just to have them speak to him kindly. It’s new, and terrifying, and he needs to think it over alone with a generous glass of wine in his tower.

He shrinks back in on himself, still snickering at the tickling under his arms, and Caleb takes the opportunity to grab him neatly by the shoulders and sit him back up - Essek catches a glimpse of his blue eyes shining with rare merriment and promptly swivels to look away from all of them. No one stops him as he rolls his pant legs down and shoves his feet into his boots, heedless of the damp. He can feel their curious gazes prickle on the back of his neck - shifting into an unconscious competence that’s carried him through many anxieties before, he’s already floating off the ground before he can remind himself otherwise. “I’m going to go now,” he says, rushed, still too terrified to turn his head. “Thank you, I -”

“Essek, wait!” Jester says, confused, and Beau scoffs, and he’s not going to think about how he can recognize their voices without even seeing them, he’s not -

Yasha’s voice, at last, breaks through the hubbub, and it’s only in deference to their conversation before dinner that he pauses to listen.

“Hey,” she says, quiet and certain enough to shake him. “You said that you’re lonely, right?”

The noise fades away. He inches down to the ground with it. “Recently, yes,” he replies, just above a whisper, fighting to keep his voice steady with the enormity of this, this feeling -

“I didn’t say so before,” she continues, perfectly calm, “but it’s a little scary, right? To not be so lonely, anymore.”

Essek says nothing - he knows, without the mantle, that they can all see the slight tremble of his shoulders.

“Go away, then,” she says confidently, and then, hastily, “oh, no, that’s not right -”

“Yasha,” Jester squeaks, horrified, and Essek, to his own surprise, laughs. More of a chuckle, really, but. That’s a relief, after all this.

He can place her roughly in the rightmost corner of the hot tub, turns just enough to catch her heterochromatic gaze in his periphery. Her mouth drops slightly open before she gathers herself. “I just, I meant -” She inhales nervously. “I used to leave all the time, to go do - things - and come back when I was ready. You can do that too, if you want, we won’t mind, as long as you come back. And the tickling - we’re all ticklish, you don’t have to feel bad about it - ah, maybe someone else should say something.”

Caduceus pats her shoulder. “Nah, that was pretty good.”

Essek agrees, despite his better judgment. He rolls his shoulders, forcing them loose. “No, no, that’s - helpful,” he assures, and then, taking a deep breath and praying that his cheeks have cooled, he turns to look at them all. “I am to show you my abode tomorrow, yes?”

Caleb looks extraordinarily stressed. “Ah, you don’t have to, if you would rather-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder harshly enough to make him wince. “Yes.”

“Yes, and breakfast pastries!” Jester cheers, clapping her hands together - he’ll have to talk to his staff tonight.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, and spares only a brief smile before casting Misty Step to take him to the door and then again to the street.

He’s not quite ready to lose all his dignity, yet.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #chocfic #it's been a long monday and i needed to post this before i give in to the impulse to collapse hhh

125 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 3 years

Text

I Hope We Never See October (4/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

Found on Ao3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

-/-

Emma has this thing about the summer tourists in Martha’s Vineyard. There are several types, but they can be categorized into two main groups: the annuals versus the one-timers.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. The annuals come back every year. They usually have a family home on the island or in Cape Cod or Falmouth, and they come back year after year to do the same things – from taking out the same boats to eating at the same restaurants. Then there are the one-timers. They get an opportunity to come and spend a week or two taking pictures, eating food, spending time by the ocean, going on hikes, and then they never, ever come back. They’ve seen enough.

The annuals pay for Emma’s life. The one-timers, though, keep her entertained.

If she never has to see them again, there are no consequences, no attached strings. It’s the perfect distraction, especially in the past few years, and she will not be ashamed of the choices she makes.

Not at all.

Except, right now, she’s seriously questioning her choices because sometimes Emma can be pretty damn stupid.

But then Killian’s hand slips down the back of her thigh, fingertips pressing into her skin, kneading it in the places that bring her pleasure, and she forgets how stupid this is and remembers how good it feels. His voice is deep with his teasing, his mouth soft, and when he uses his knee to nudge hers to the side, Emma complies and arches her back as he slowly guides himself into her. Her heartbeat speeds up, sweat already forming at the nape of her neck that not even the breeze from the open window can fix, and she continues to adjust her hips as Killian finds his rhythm.

It’s a damn good rhythm, one that only takes a little instruction on her part, before he’s leaning over her, sucking the skin at her neck, and building her toward a higher and higher pleasure as he whispers filth into her skin.

And for the minutes that it takes, ones that seem to fly and drag on all at once, Emma forgets how monumentally stupid she’s being by sleeping with him. It was a moment of weakness, one where she was lonely and he was there with his stupidly handsome features and charming stories, and it seemed like the obvious thing to do.

Even though she really did simply intend to invite him in for coffee, but how many people truly believe that offer to be taken at face value?

Emma thinks he’s an obnoxious flirt, but at least it’s nice to know he can back his words up with actions.

Emma scratches her fingers down his back until she’s tightening them around the muscles in his arms. He’s fitter than she imagined, which is always a bonus, and his muscles twitch as he continues to move in her, over her, until his hand reaches between them and Emma finds the subtle bliss she doesn’t often find from arrangements like this.

So, she’s stupid, but at least she’s satisfied.

Killian hovers over her as his thrusts become more erratic, as he finds his own release, his forehead pressed into hers, and then he’s rolling over, taking a breather next to her, before getting up to dispose of the condom and put his briefs back on. Emma does the same, using the bathroom to pee and wash her face, before putting on a t-shirt and pair of underwear.

“So, that was,” Killian begins when she comes back from the bathroom. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, body still on near full display as he presses his hands back.

“You’re only staying here this summer, right?” Emma interrupts.

He raises one brow, then the next. “Aye. I don’t imagine I’ll return next year. My life should be…less complicated then.”

Okay, good. Maybe she’s not so stupid after all.

Because he may be friends with Ariel and Eric, which isn’t the clean break she’s looking for, but it’s clean enough.

She wonders how his life could be complicated. She doesn’t know much about him, but she knows enough. He’s rich, can take months off from work to vacation, and there’s little chance he actually knows what complicated is.

“Why do you ask?” he continues, scratching his neck.

Emma shrugs. “Because this wasn’t…this was casual. I’m not into having a relationship, especially with someone who has an expiration date.”

“Trust me, love,” he laughs, “neither am I. I do fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me, but I know what this was. I’m not under any impressions otherwise.”

Emma nods and grabs a pair of sleep shorts from one of her drawers. “Well, good. That’s good.”

This is always the awkward part. Do they stay or do they go? Emma votes go, but she’s unsure how to ask without coming off as a total bitch.

Especially since this is a man who already knows her more than he should.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “it is good.” He leans down and picks up his jeans, standing to slide them on. Why the hell are his pants that tight. “But I have the feeling you’re waiting on me to leave, so I can do that for you.”

“Oh, I - ”

“Perceptive, Swan.” He points to his head. “I told you I’m actually quite perceptive, and I meant it. Have a good night, love. I’m sure I’ll see you around the island.”

He finishes getting dressed as Emma stands in the corner and crosses her arms, watching him. Not five minutes ago she was watching him move in a completely different way, and the memories nearly tempt her to ask him to stay.

She’s stupid, but she’s not that stupid.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll see you around.”

-/-

July

“Can you work Saturday, Ashley?” Emma asks as she pulls up next week’s schedule. “Heather apparently can’t, and I have to have someone cover her shift. You’ll get good tips.”

“I can work then, but I need next Thursday morning off. I have an appointment.”

Emma adds Ashely’s name into the chart and looks up as Ashley rubs her hand over her stomach. “I’ll cover you. Are you finding out the gender?”

“I am. I’m excited.”

“Good.” Emma closes her laptop and stands from behind her desk. “I’m glad you’re excited. How are things out there?”

“Busy. I’d expect nothing less from the holiday week.”

Emma inhales before breathing out a slow exhale. “I wouldn’t either. I’ll come and help out. Make sure you’re taking enough breaks and drinking enough water. I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

“I’m not,” Ashley promises, but Emma knows how tired the girl is, “but I really appreciate you.”

They walk out of Emma’s office, and while Ashley goes back to her section, Emma starts doing her rounds, checking in with her servers and cooks, making sure everything stays up to the standards she needs. This is one of their busiest weeks of the year, and she can’t afford for anything to go wrong. They had a hiccup last week with the bread order, and with how many burgers they’re selling, she really can’t afford for that to happen again.

Once she’s done checking inside, she walks to their outside area. It’s such a pleasant day out with the sun shining directly over them. The boardwalks are full of people, the beaches the same, and she sees more boats out on the water than usual.

She also sees a familiar mop of black hair sitting alone at the end of their outdoor patio. She hasn’t seen him since he left her house a few days ago, headlights of his Jeep fading in the distance.

Go figure that he’s here again. He seems to be fond of the place.

“You really like the food here, huh?”

“That and the manager.”

Emma laughs and leans against the railing as a family boards a boat a few feet away, their voices carrying over to Emma. It’s four of them, mom, dad, brother, and sister. It’s the picture-perfect New England family, and she imagines all the brochures in the tourism office look just like this.

And not at all like her.

“Laying on the charm a little too thick,” Emma sighs, shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that’s your thing.”

“I like to think it’s just the right amount.” He spears a bit of his omelet and pops a bite in his mouth. “What are you doing out here?”

“My job.”

His brow arches and he reaches out his arm, moving it around to the railing. His skin has tanned since she first met him, and she must admit, at least to herself, that he looks good. “You check in on all your customers like this?”

“Just the ones who keep coming back.” “To be fair, I figured I could avoid you seeing me if I sat out here.”

Emma rolls her eyes as the family’s boat starts and begins to stutter away. “Look, you can come here all you want. I know I - I didn’t make it seem that way, but I don’t care what you do or don’t do as long as you don’t expect anything from me.”

“Not a thing, love.”

“Good.” Emma stands, tightening the knot on her Blue Dog Tavern t-shirt. “But, you know, if you did happen to be up late at night, and I happened to be up, I wouldn’t oppose you stopping by for some coffee.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Well, some nights, of course. When I feel like it.”

Killian chuckles and leans back in the chair, the front legs coming off the ground. “When you feel like it. And how would I know that?”

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and holds it out to him. Without a word, he types his number in and hands it back to her. “That’s how you’ll know. I hope you enjoy your meal, Jones.”

Emma taps him on the shoulder and walks away, shaking her head. She’s stupid. So damn stupid, but as she walks back into the main dining hall and sees how crazy it is, she thinks she deserves a bit of a break, a bit of fun. She’s an adult. She can make stupid decisions sometimes.

Especially hot, British stupid decisions who are here on a time limit.

Her life is messy already. What’s one more thing?

-/-

Emma pops open a beer bottle, throwing the top away and settles on David and Mary Margaret’s pool lounge chair, pulling her legs up to keep them out of the sun. Ruby, meanwhile, is on full display on a pool float, as is David. Mary Margaret is joining Emma in the no sun club.

“So, how are you lately?” Mary Margaret asks, sipping on her lemonade. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a week.”

“That’s because you haven’t.”

Mary Margaret laughs and puts her drink on the table between them. “Well, you have to tell me what you’ve been up to. I don’t know how you deal with months without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby screeches, nearly flopping into the pool before she paddles her way toward the two of them, “I totally forgot.”

“What’d you forget, hon?”

“That I saw Emma’s hot British friend running yesterday, and I nearly passed out.”

“Why?” Emma asks, sipping on her beer again. “Were you running too? I told you to stop doing that when you haven’t had water in ages. You’ll legitimately pass out.”

Ruby kicks and some of the water splashes onto the side of the pool. “Hey, careful!” David yells. “I just cleaned this grout.”

“Yes, Dad,” Ruby mocks, kicking more water before paddling to the edge of the pool. “Anyway, I meant to say that I saw him, was reminded of just how attractive he is, and Emma, my darling, I must say that there is no harm in having a little summer fun. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for the soul. And the vagina for that matter.”

Emma spits out her beer, the alcohol spilling onto the tile, and she swear David gives her murder eyes even though he’s gone back to lounging with his eyes closed. “You need a filter, Rubes.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Emma laughs and stretches her legs out, letting her toes peep out of the shade and into the brightness of the sun. “I will have you know, though, that he doesn’t plan on returning next summer. He has an expiration date.”

“So you fucked him?” Ruby asks, a little too gleeful.

“You can fill in the blanks.” Emma pulls her feet back under the shade and closes her eyes.

She’s not shy with her friends, especially Ruby. they know enough about each other’s lives to fill books about, but some things, Emma keeps under wraps unless she absolutely has to share them. Or unless she’s in the mood. Right now, with David nearby and with Mary Margaret totally judging her.

The woman is kind and fun and supportive, but she also met David a decade ago and knew he was the one on the first date. Personally, Emma thinks that is bullshit, but she’d never tell anyone that. You can know someone for years without truly knowing them, so how could anyone be so sure on a first date?

David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard somehow were.

“You know, Emma,” Mary Margaret begins, “that wall you keep up may keep out pain, but it may also keep out love.”

Emma laughs and presses the cold bottle to her lips. “Marg, I’m sleeping with a guy for fun. It’s not a love match. Let me have this. In September, I’ll go back to being the Emma Swan who doesn’t do stupid things like this.”

“I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine.” Emma finishes her drink and pulls her hair into a high bun before standing and walking toward the pool, quickly submerging herself in the water to get used to the chill. She swims over to David and pulls on his float. “Hey.”

He lifts his sunglasses. “Hey.”

“How goes the job? Still seeing a bunch of cats and dogs be cute?”

“Cute and gross. What’d Mary Margaret say to make you leave your cocoon of shade?”

“Nothing. Just thought I’d come say hi to you. I do like you from time to time.”

David chuckles and slides his glasses back on. “I only believe half of that, but it’s alright. I won’t push.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Emma stays with the Nolans and Ruby for the rest of the afternoon, and no one bugs her about her dating life, thank God. They all mean well, truly, but sometimes the last thing Emma wants to do is listen to them. On the spectrum of how they approach love, Emma is somewhere in the middle. She’s not David and Mary Margaret with their love conquers all attitude, and she’s not Ruby with her casual, carefree approach to simply seeing where the wind takes her. She’s...well, she doesn’t know what she is. All Emma knows is that while she’s experienced the highs of what love can bring, she has also experienced the lowest of the lows.

It’s safer in the middle. If you don’t fall in love, you can’t get your heart broken. But you can have some fun when you need it.

Hence, Killian, even if he is not the someone she expected to be having her summer fun with.

God, when she thinks like that, it sounds like she’s narrating a beach movie where all the colors are too bright and no one ever sweats despite spending their entire lives outside.

Speak of the devil, a group of young girls ride down the street on bikes, laughing, their hair falling behind them, and then two minutes later, they’re back again. What the hell?

That’s when she realizes they have a friend with a camera standing on the sidewalk, taking pictures of them, and Emma rolls her eyes before turning to grab her purse and her keys. “I’m going to head home,” she yells out. “I want to beat all the drunk drivers and the illegal fireworks home.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Mary Margaret insists from her spot on the couch. “Let me get you some leftovers.”

“Marg, you don’t have to feed me.”

“I know, I know.” She stands from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. “But you so rarely cook, and it’s good for you to have real meals. And since you’re alone without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby squeals, king her leg out. She nearly knocks over the vases and books Mary Margaret keeps on her coffee table. “Holy fuck. Like, fuck.”

Emma drops her purse. “What?”

Ruby raises her hand and folds her fingers, beckoning Emma to come closer to her. Emma rolls her eyes, but she does it anyway, plopping down next to Ruby.

“Okay, so, I couldn’t stop thinking about your new boy toy,” she starts.

“Not a toy,” Emma corrects. “He’s fine with the arrangement too.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to know more about your little sex buddy, not that I think he’s little in any way, so I went to Ariel’s Instagram, searched through her followers, and found him. And, well…”

Ruby shoves her phone into Emma’s hands, and Emma looks down, scanning through the photos. It’s a lot of group shots of men in soccer uniforms, and she thinks that’s weird but okay. He’s a member of a little soccer club back home. That seems like something rich people in England would do. It’s probably more interesting than her extracurricular hobbies which consist of eating, going to the gym, and sitting in David and Mary Margaret’s living room. It’s not like she has any room to judge someone over what they do in their free time.

Still, she continues scrolling, careful not to like anything, and it’s not until she comes across a picture of him with his shirt off that she stops to really think.

Not because he has his shirt off. She’s seen that in person. She doesn’t need to see that in pictures.

But because of the number of likes on the picture.

And the number of followers he has.

And then the little blue checkmark next to his name.

Holy fuck indeed.

“So, that’s how he has money to rent one of the big houses over in Edgartown.” Emma closes out the app and hands Ruby back her phone. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Ruby scoffs, getting loud enough that David finally looks up with his own phone. Mary Margaret remains clueless in the kitchen. “You’re sleeping with a literal professional athlete, and that’s your reaction?”

Emma shrugs and stands from the couch as David asks Ruby to see what she was showing Emma. “David obviously finds it more interesting than me. I don’t care who he is or what he does or doesn’t do. That’s none of my business.”

Ruby gapes, David does too, and while Emma does have a bit of a weird feeling in her gut, she truly does not care what Killian Jones does. She’s got a few questions, sure, but much like the other men she’s been with lately, all she needs to know is if they’re clean and if they have condoms.

A little crude, but it’s the truth.

“Holy shit, Emma,” David whispers, but Emma is already ready to go, making her way into the kitchen to get the tupperware from Mary Margaret before this becomes a thing and she gets home too late.

It’s not a thing.

And she wants to go home.

-/-

It’s definitely not a thing, but she does think about it the next time he comes over. Not for long, though. Just when she notices a noticeably defined muscle she’s a little jealous of, but then he does this particularly delicious thing with his tongue or his hips that makes her completely forget about it.

And it’s not a thing when she thinks about it when she sees him running along the sidewalk outside the Blue Dog. She can run. She’s fit. She hates doing it, but she can. He just seems...graceful or something that she isn’t always. It’s difficult for her to articulate in her mind.

It continues to not be a thing each time she sees him, even when he invites her to his place for a change of scenery. The house, surprisingly, isn’t overly big compared to some of the other houses in the neighborhood, but it’s definitely not a place she could ever afford.

Not if she worked her literal ass off for five lifetimes and never spent any of her money.

All of the finishes are new, the design that modern coastal feel Emma sees on all the HGTV shows, and she can’t say she minds it. Her taste has always been a little more eclectic, but it’s nice, clean. And maybe one day when she’s not living in someone else’s house, she’ll actually decorate where she lives to her taste.

One day.

“Nice place,” Emma says, craning her neck so he can run his lips in just the right spot. He’s a quick study, which she appreciates, and he always remembers whatever she tells him.

“I like it,” he mumbles, his voice vibrating against her skin.

“Is this your style? Do you live in a big coastal home back in England?”

She doesn’t know why she asks, but she does.

He pulls back and raises his brow, which is this thing he’s always doing. At first it was annoying, like he was always questioning her, but now she realizes his brow likely has a mind of its own.

“Why do you ask, love?”

And much like the brow, that word seems to slip off his tongue without much thought. It has also become less annoying.

“No reason. Just curious.”

“I thought we didn’t ask personal questions.”

“You,” she corrects, tapping his chest, “don’t ask personal questions. I never said I couldn't ask.”

“I don’t think those are rules I agreed to.”

Emma ducks from underneath his arms, making her way into the open space of the living room. She unbuttons her shirt until her bra is exposed, and Killian’s eyes immediately glance down. Men are so easy.

“Okay, fair,” Emma sighs, running her hand over the back of a very well-made couch. “If I ask you a personal question, you can ask me one in return. But I have the right to veto. It’s a tit for tat situation.” He opens his mouth, and she already knows what he’s going to say. Again, men are so easy, and this is one that never passes up the opportunity for an innuendo. “Don’t say it, Jones.”

“Wasn’t going to.” He strides toward her, his movements fluid, and he puts his pointer finger in the empty belt loops of her jean shorts to pull her closer to him. He’s ridiculously warm. Then again, that could just be the flush in her cheeks. “And to answer your question, no, my flat in England doesn’t look like this. The colors are darker, but I do have a lot of blue and a few nautical pieces.”

“So you like the ocean then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he corrects, tugging on the loops again, “you’ve already asked your question.”

“Asking if you like the ocean is not a personal question.”

“Anything can be a personal question depending on the person.” There’s a flash of something in his eyes, but Emma can’t decipher it. She’s usually a little better at reading people than that. “That can be your question for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she asks as his hands sneak around to her ass.

“Yep. One personal question a day. Keeps things interesting while separate.”

“And we keep the veto rule?”

“Aye, we keep the veto rule, Swan,” he smiles, dipping his head down to kiss her. That’s the entire reason they’re here, after all.

“Good.”

Tomorrow, she’s totally going to ask a better question than if he likes the beach or not. He left England to hang out in Martha’s Vineyard for a few months. He obviously likes it.

“So,” Killian begins as he skillfully snaps the hook on her bra off. Emma lifts her back from the couch to give him easier access. “Tell me, darling, do you like seafood?”

His mouth grazes over her nipple, and Emma yanks on his hair, hard. “Is this your one personal question?”

“Aye.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the same time that she rolls her hips, and she thinks there must be some kind of metaphor for her life choices there.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he whispers as his warm hands run down her bare stomach and underneath the waistline of her shorts. “Then I insist you stay for dinner.”

And because Emma has been all into making stupid decisions over the past month, she does.

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #queue poetic noble land mermaid

97 notes · View notes

chuckbass-love · 4 years

Note

So you wanted requests? Can I maybe get a breeding kink with Ransom Drysdale? I feel like we don’t see that a lot and dammit we should! And maybe if you have time, Henry Cavill realizing he’s in love with his girlfriend? Like maybe she does something cute or funny and it just hits him that he loves her. Anyway I hope you feel better soon! Toothaches are the worst 🥺

Hey love, sorry for the long wait! Been trying to work more on my WIP’s and my collab. I’m gonna reply to this with the main request you put in with the Ransom breeding kink and then i’ll do a separate post for the Henry Cavill request.

I really hope you love this and i agree, this is something we don’t see enough of.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: Smut, language, fluff, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, oral (male receiving) and spit play (sorta, i guess) 18+

Word Count: 3,225

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @definitelysoftransom go check them out 💙

Knock You Up

As a woman who firmly believes in romance and all of that mushy stuff, it sure is questionable as to why you’re in a relationship with Ransom Drysdale. He’s everything you should detest and yet you don’t, you adore him.

He’s the only man you’ve ever been in love with and you cannot see that changing anytime soon.

You’ve lost count of how many times your loyalty and love for Ransom has been questioned. Friends constantly ask and say

‘but why are you with him?’

‘you deserve better’

But you brush them off. Even his family, his own flesh and blood call you out on your apparent terrible choices. You just put it down to them not knowing him the way that you do. They don’t see the other side to him, the side that feels, loves and has a kind heart.

Of course he isn’t always that way, he has a temper, he loses his cool. He kicks off, throws stuff, shouts and screams. And that’s just the aftermath of one of his family parties. Which you’re at right now.

You’ve been here for an hour with your boyfriend of 2 years and you’ve had just about enough of their digging and sarcastic remarks about your relationship. It’s like they are always mocking you. Making fun of you behind your back and to your face even, they have no shame. No remorse.

“What did you just say about me?” you speak up, after listening in on their conversation for long enough now “i’m sorry” Walt turns to face you, watching as you stand in the doorway, sipping at your drink.

“You heard me. You’re all having a jolly good time mocking my love life, the relationship i’m in with Ransom, why don’t you explain yourself” his smile soon drops, he’s straight faced, staring you down as he scoffs “i’m good thank you” you just chuckle as you walk over to him.

You kneel down in front of him, your eyes locking on his “if you can’t explain yourself, the jokes you make, the digs. Then i suggest you keep your ugly mouth shut” you mutter, earning gasps from everyone in the room. Including Ransom who is more shocked at your attitude and bravery. You’ve always been the type to just sit pretty and ignore everything whenever you’ve attended a Thrombey party. Not tonight though, no, tonight you’re finally sticking up for yourself and your boyfriend.

“He’s your family and you all treat him like dirt. You should really take a good look at yourselves in the mirror, because you’re all disgusting” you stand up as you speak, glancing over at Ransom who starts laughing, unable to hold it in, you laugh too.

“God i’ve spent 2 years holding all of that in and i’m so glad to finally say it. Walt, you’re a stuck up, old as fuck, ugly hearted bastard. Joni, you’re a money grabbing, selfish and self centred bitch. And as for you two, Linda, Richard. I’m glad that i don’t have to play nice with you anymore. The pair of you should have never been allowed to be parents. Ransom might be a lot of things but at least deep down he has a kind heart and one of the best personalities i’ve ever had the privilege to see. But you wouldn’t know that would you? Because all you’ve done his whole life is throw money his way and pray for the best results. It’s sad. Tragic even. Come on Ransom, we’re leaving” you strut out, Ransom follows closely behind.

Once you’re in the beamer, he crashes his lips to yours. It’s fiery and passionate.

“Have i ever told you just how much i love you?” he says as he turns the key in the ignition before stepping on the gas to get the fuck away from all of them.

“You might have a couple of times” you giggle, his free hand finds yours as he drives, holding it and intertwining your fingers before lifting it to his mouth so he can press a couple of quick kisses to your hand. He really worships the ground you walk on.

And that just makes you love him more. He treats you like a princess whilst also fucking you like the whore that you are for him, every day and night.

He pretty much speeds his way back to your shared place, well it was his place before you moved in and now it’s both of yours. Courtesy of Harlan Thrombey of course. One of the few members of Ransom’s family that you actually have the time of day for.

Ransom pulls up to your house and as soon as the engine stops, he’s rushing out and jogging round to your side to help you out, as he always does. He pulls you from your seat, lifting you up into his arms before kicking the door shut and continuing to carry you bridal style inside.

“Ransom” you squeal as he smacks your ass before putting you down.

He spins you around, making you go dizzy.

“You were on fire tonight baby, might have to rile you up more often” you smack him playfully on his chest, rolling your eyes as you do so.

“I’m sorry i know they are your family and all and i’m supposed to just keep out of it but they make it so hard to do that when they are constantly bashing you and mocking what we have” you say, you can hear the care in your voice. How much he means to you and how much the relationship means to you.

“It’s fine baby, really. I know i joke about it and play it off but really it’s fine. It stopped getting to me years ago. All that matters to me is you and our life together. Nothing else can faze me” you stand on your tip toes, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull him down to meet your lips. Which of course he does.

Your lips fit together so perfectly, it’s almost as if you were made for each other.

And you believe that you were. You’ve always been a firm believer in soulmates. Someone for everyone, even Ransom Drysdale. A man who most would describe as an asshole. But even he found someone, he found you. The only woman that can bring him to his knees, the only person that knows everything about him that there is to know.

You know all of his sweet spots, all of his kinks, all of his secrets. It took him a while to get there but when he did, it was so special. When he finally opened up, properly.

Like the first time he cried in front of you, it broke your heart. It was actually the night you first slept with him. You were a virgin when you first met him so naturally, you made him wait.

You really weren’t kidding with the whole ‘he’s the only man you’ve ever been in love with’ thing. It’s the truth.

“I love you so much, you know that right? I never want to lose you, i want to be with you for the rest of my life” you say, cupping his face with your small hands, making sure to give him direct eye contact so he can see you properly.

“I know. I love you too, i’ve never felt like this about anyone. You’re never getting rid of me now baby, you and me forever” you smile before diving back into the kiss.

Tongues battle for dominance and teeth nip at bottom lips as you both tug at each others clothes. There’s a strong hunger that’s become very prominent since you left the party. Actually no, the hunger you have for each other is always prominent. You always crave each others touch and kisses.

“I want you so badly” you moan out as you remove his grey cable-knit sweater and he removes your tank top. You jump up, letting him catch you and you wrap your legs around his waist. He starts walking to your shared bedroom, laying you down on the Egyptian cotton sheets. Soft to the touch. Makes it even harder for you to leave the bed every morning.

“Do you have any idea how turned on i am by you?” he starts, removing the rest of his clothes and his boxers before hovering above you “you sticking up for me against my highly dysfunctional family and putting them in their place” you giggle from his open mouthed kisses as they begin at your jawline and trail down to your neck.

“No but i’m sure you can show me just how much” he pulls away, giving you the look. The look that even by now you know means he’s taking you up on that request. And boy will he show you how much he loves you and how hard you make him.

He gets off the bed and stands at the foot of it, signalling for you to join him and when you do he glares at you “do i even need to ask you pretty girl?” you shake your head no as you sink down to your knees, taking his hard cock in your small hand and pumping it a couple times.

You give the tip a couple of kitten licks to rid it of the pre cum that’s leaked out during the lead up to this moment. He groans as you take him in your mouth for the first time, throwing his head back and letting his mouth fall open slowly “oh god, just like that. Such a good girl” he praises, taking your hair in his hands to hold it up and out of your face, letting you really go for it.

And you do.

Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and he stills your head so that he can take over “that’s a good little cock slut” he mutters, his thrusting pace picks up, grunting and groaning each time you gag and splutter all over him.

All of a sudden he pulls out. He bends down to pick you up and throw you onto the bed like you weigh nothing.

“You like sucking daddy’s cock, hm? Like causing a big mess all down yourself baby?” you nod, biting your lip “yes daddy” he smirks, as he wipes your chin.

“Open that mouth for me” you do as you’re told, opening nice and wide for him. He hovers over you once again, lowering his head and spitting into your mouth “like that huh? want me to do that to your cunt, spill my cum inside of it after i fuck you senseless?” you can’t help but feel more turned on as the minutes tick by. He’s always been able to get you crumbling so fast. He knows all the tricks.

“Yes. Please cum inside me”

He slowly removes the rest of the clothes that cover you up. The bra that hides your breasts. You arch your back, allowing him room to unhook it before tossing it behind him, setting them free. He leans down to show them love. Pinching the hardened peaks in his fingers before taking one in his mouth. Sucking and biting.

He shows the same amount of love to the other nipple before pulling off with a pop.

Next up are your jeans, he slides them off once undoing the button and pulling the zipper down.

And now you’re left in nothing but your red lacy panties. He licks his lips, growling as his eyes rake over your figure “so sexy”. His fingers hook into the waistband before he removes them in an instant. Like it didn’t even take him a second to do it.

You spread your legs for him, giving him a good show “look at this” he grazes his knuckles over it before pulling his hand away and tossing your panties.

Once they are on the floor he kisses his way back up to your sex, starting at your legs. You feel shivers all over your body as he gets higher, the pool in between your legs is growing more and more with each one he presses to your skin.

“Please, hurry. I need you” you beg, gripping onto the strands of his hair. He just tuts “so desperate to be fucked, to get stuffed full of my cum aren’t you?Well not so fast baby, let daddy take his time” you arch your back as your head falls back down to the sheets underneath.

“I need you now though, i need your cum now” he chuckles, as his face is now inches from your soaked pussy “oh you need it do you? And why’s that sweetheart?” you just hum in response, enjoying the feel of his breath on your clit.

“I asked you a question baby” you prop yourself up on your elbows “i love how it feels when you spill your cum inside of me” you lie as he licks across your folds briefly before pulling away.

“Let me guess. You want my cum so you can have my baby is that it? Should know by now that you can’t fool me sweetheart” you feel your cheeks heat up at the embarrassment of your broody side coming out, now of all times.

“Wait, no. That’s not it” you lie again. The thing is, Ransom is a lot of things but one thing you’ve always assumed of him is that he’s not the father type. That kids will never ever be a thing he wants. You don’t want to scare him away with how you feel. Lying is the best option right now. You don’t want to kill the buzz.

“Now now, don’t get all hasty. My woman wants a baby, she’s getting a baby” your mouth hangs open in shock as he moves upwards so that his head is level with yours. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance.

“So wet for me, just the way i like you”

He slams in without warning, not that you expected one. It’s Ransom. You should be used to it by now. You grip onto his biceps, letting him ram into you again and again. With each thrust you move further up the bed. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him in even deeper, you need to feel him deeper.

“Daddy” you moan, your toes curl “you like this? Like me fucking this tight cunt, stretching it out nicely” you nod, biting your lip as you cup his face and pull him down for a kiss.

The kiss soon turns into a make out session to which you break away from, taking his tongue with you as you suck on it before he licks his fingers and presses them down onto your bundle of nerves.

“SHIT” your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every nerve in your body going crazy at how good he’s making you feel. All the hairs standing on end, goosebumps appear.

The tip of his cock pokes at your g-spot and you can quite literally feel him in your stomach at this point.

“Want me to cum inside this pretty little pussy?” he moves his hand from your nub to your stomach “want me to put a baby in here? hm? would you like that sweetheart?” you can’t even muster up a single word to respond to him with. The pleasure is mind blowing and toe curling. You know if things continue like this then you won’t last much longer.

“God i want to knock you up so badly, make me a real daddy” he chuckles “you’re gonna make the best mother. Nothing like mine. You’re gonna care for our child like mine should have” his pace is rendering on animalistic at as the coil twists and twists.

“Gonna watch you glow as you carry our child”

“Yes. Ransom. Fuck” he keeps going “make you my wife some day huh? would you like that? To marry me, be my wife?” all the words that you never expected are leaving his mouth as he grunts and growls, shocking you to your core.

You never imagined him to ever want marriage or kids and yet here you are. Discussing it as he fucks you so good. As he pushes you close to a state of pure ecstasy and pleasure.

“Yes, i want that. I want all of that with you, please, give it to me. Fill me up daddy, give me your cum” he lowers his head, burying it into your neck, kissing and sucking.

“Fuck, i’m gonna cum daddy, make me cum” you whine, reaching your hands around to his back, scratching at it as you let him send you toppling over that cliff for your sweet release.

Your walls flutter around him deliciously, gripping onto his cock and keeping him from leaving you completely.

His thrusts go from fast and rough to slow and hard, he’s close now. You pull his head from your neck so you can look into his eyes as you say “give me your cum baby, make me a mommy” and that’s all he needs to fall.

“Fuck”

“Gonna fucking knock you up”

“Give you a baby”

“My little fucking whore wants to be a mommy huh? Then she’s gonna be a mommy”

“That’s it. Keep squeezing my cock like that sweetheart, milk me”

“Fuckkkkk, i’m cumming”

Soon enough you feel him twitch and spasm inside of you before the warmth of his seed spurts inside of you, painting your walls and doing exactly what you both wanted, filling you up.

“god, that was incredible” he pants, falling down onto the bed, beside you. You both just lay there, trying to take in everything that’s just happened.

Everything you both just said.

“So you want a baby” you speak up, breaking the silence “i do. I never thought i’d ever say that but i do. But i only want one with you, i only want any of that serious shit with you” he turns on his side, you join him.

His thick digits trace their way down your arm and eventually falling onto your waist and resting there.

“I didn’t think you were after all of that?”

“It’s you Y/N. You do this to me. How have you done this to me? I never wanted any of these things before and yet with you, i want it all and nothing else matters except from you. You’re the only person i care about”

“I love you so much Ransom”

“And i love you, more than you know”

You kiss him quickly.

“I guess now this means more sex for us, we won’t make a baby doing it twice a day”

You squeal when he picks you up as he gets off the bed. He carries you over to the bathroom and into the shower.

“You gonna let daddy fill you up again baby?”

You just nod as you feel him slide inside of you, his cock still hard. How is that even possible. Once the shower is turned on and the water cascades over your naked bodies, he pushes you up against the wall. Picking his pace up gradually.

You can’t wait to spend forever with him.

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

General Tag List: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld

Just Chris & His Characters Tag List: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1

387 notes · View notes

miraculouslycool · 3 years

Text

across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise

Summary: Once Hawkmoth is defeated, Ladybug rushes back to find her partner, to confess her love for him once and for all now that nothing was standing in their way. However, Chat Noir, one of the two halves of Paris' superhero team had vanished into thin air, nowhere to be found despite the sleepless nights of his lady combing an entire city to find him.Two months later, Ladybug meets Adrien in front of his mother's grave for the first time, and apologizes to him for ruining his life at the expense of her duty to Paris.

Note: this is an AU taking place after Hawkmoth was defeated where Adrien was homeschooled and therefore never met Marinette or Nino or any of his classmates, but was Chat Noir and only knew Ladybug as her superhero self.

Read in AO3:

Chapter 1:

Growing up, Adrien Agreste had gotten accustomed to silence. The silence in his lonely bedroom; the quiet, stern face Nathalie would put on while reviewing his work, the silence on his part that would follow a direct order he would inevitably obey.

The glare on his father wore when he slipped up in his fencing classes, or when he dared to ask what actually became of his mother spoke a lot more eloquently than any of his curt orders ever could.

And then one day, his life was surrounded by noise. One day, in return for his first and last attempt at going to public school, a chaotic kwami named Plagg flew out of a ring on his table, and his life had never been the same since. Plagg was the complete antithesis of his controlled life. He was chaotic, marked his territory wherever he went with cheese, and yowled and grumbled for it 10 times a day, but Adrien had never been happier. He had been given a responsibility to protect his city from a maniac who sent monsters every day to destroy it and to get his ring, and though he took it very very seriously, Plagg wasn’t just his friend, he was also his gateway to the outside world, and to Ladybug. In his head, Paris was a priority, but in his heart...Ladybug was.

Who he had desperately loved for the past 5 years.

Who he hadn’t really seen or talked to for the past 2 months.

Turns out finding that he lived with the maniac sending monsters every week to destroy him and his partner can change everything.

“Are we there yet?” Plagg bemoaned in his coat pocket. “How far away is it? You shouldn't let your bodyguard take the car with him.”

Despite his gloomy mood, Adrien smiled to himself. “You know I like to walk. And besides, I let you eat three wheels of cheese this morning, now that we’re on our own you can’t be eating every single minute like you used to.”

Plagg let out a grumpy snort, but didn’t say much after that.

Adrien gripped the white roses in his hand as he greeted the older security guard in the graveyard’s entrance, who tipped his hat and gave him a sympathetic smile in return.

Sympathy. That was all people seemed to spare for him these days.

Not that he was complaining, sympathy was what had gotten his Aunt Amelie to take over the Gabriel brand from London, and not leave several people’s livelihoods under his responsibility. Sympathy was when his cousin, who he generally knew to be someone who kept to himself, gave him a rare hug.

Sympathy was what he got when an entire city looked at him and saw a victim, and not a perpetrator in association with his father and Nathalie. Sympathy was what Officer Roger offered in the form of a cup of tea when he stormed out of his father’s prison that day.

Companionship was far and in between. Chloe visited him every week, left him with several applications for universities and a demand to look into them at least. Plagg was always there, no matter what, through the sleepless nights and lonely meals.

But they weren’t her.

He stopped when he saw his mother’s gravestone, the usual lump in his throat thickening. He had no one to blame but himself. Chat Noir was the one who walked away after seeing Gabriel Agreste carted away to prison by the authorities. Chat Noir was the one who ghosted Ladybug. And Chat Noir was the one who read Ladyblog updates about Ladybug’s solo, yet superficially useless patrols every single day and did nothing to fix it.

He had no right to complain about missing Ladybug when that was his doing.

Not that she’d be better off with him around.

“Hey again, mom.” Adrien managed to say as he placed the bouquet on his mother’s grave. “I-I know I said I wouldn’t be able to visit this week.” he stuttered stupidly, like a block of stone could resent him for interloping. “But yeah, I didn’t have much to do today so….” he trailed off, squatting in front of the gravestone. “Chloe dropped off a therapist’s number.” he managed to chuckle. “Pretty rich of her, don’t you think? She hates the very idea of therapy and doesn’t want to admit that she needs it too. She’s the most caring hypocrite ever.”

He couldn’t really find anything else to say. Which was even dumber, it wasn’t like there was anyone here who would get up and say that he was wasting away his life instead of getting it together.

He sat down on the grass, and twiddled with his thumbs for a while. Plagg, for his benefit, stayed hidden in his coat, letting out soft purrs every once in a while. He didn’t know what was worse: slowly coming to terms with the fact that his mother was dead, then finding out that she was in a coma and losing her all over again, or never really being able to understand why she had died, because his father was still being an asshole and refusing to answer him.

“You wouldn’t understand, Adrien.”

“If you didn’t understand why I became Hawkmoth, you’ll never be able to understand why your mother became sick.”

He realised then and there that his father would never know that he had spent the better part of his teenage years fighting against him. He didn’t deserve to know. Adrien didn’t want him to know, not someone as stubborn and…evil like him. He had practiced saying that word to describe his father after Plagg suggested it. It was like a bandaid for his bullet wounds for a while.

He started a little when he heard a familiar ‘whip’ behind him.

He’d know that sound anywhere. It was Ladybug’s yo-yo.

It couldn’t possibly be. He was just missing her so much it was starting to get to his head. Yeah. That was a reasonable explanation.

“H-hello.”

Adrien yelped as he stood up and spun around.

It was her.

Ladybug, his partner, his other half, was standing there, her hands raised up in peace.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” She stammered.

“It’s okay.” Adrien managed to squeak out. This was the first time he was seeing her in 8 weeks.

His heart thumped heavily as he got ready to fold into himself in guilt at leaving her high and dry. Imagine his surprise when he found out that she was doing the same.

“I can leave if you want me to.” She said in a small voice, and that reminded him that he wasn’t suited up as Chat Noir at the moment. “I don’t want to impose, I didn’t realise you were in the middle of-” she gulped audibly, then bowed and took out her yoyo. “Never mind, please forgive me, I’ll get going now-”

“Wait!” Adrien cut her off before she left and deprived him of his chance to see her again.

Ladybug stiffened and did as he said. His tongue felt dry as he gave the love of his life a once over. The voice that came out of her mouth was indeed hers, but it certainly didn’t sound anything like her. He had heard her loudly denounce his jokes and his attempts at flirting, he had heard her talk gently and kindly to confused akuma victims, he had seen her doubt herself and worry if they were going to make it. This was none of those instances.

“May I ask what you are doing here?” He remembered to sound polite somehow. He was Adrien Agreste now, the son of her worst enemy, not her partner Chat Noir, who had abandoned her.

He remembered with a painful pang how he used to tease her about her height, but she couldn’t have looked any smaller than she did then. Her eyes held fear, like she was expecting him to lash out at her.

“I...I was just in the neighbourhood.” she said. “And I saw you here, and I was hoping to talk to you- have been hoping to talk to you for a while now - not that I was stalking you!”

Something warm in Adrien’s chest bloomed, but it wasn’t enough to make him crack a smile. “No, it’s alright. I understand what you meant. What can I do for you, Ladybug?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Was she going to ask him for an update on the status of his father? His heart sank. Ladybug was never a malicious person, but he supposed she was practical enough to do this.

“Do you want to know about any suspicious activity from my father?”

Ladybug’s eyes went round as saucers. “No! No, not at all! I didn’t- I would never- I mean, I wanted to- I came here to apologize?” she finished off awkwardly.

“Apologize?” Adrien echoed.

She nodded mutely. “I know that this will never make up for what happened, but -” she fisted her palms and exhaled. “I am so sorry Adrien. What happened to you, what he did to you - I can’t imagine what it is like to be in your situation right now and I have been kicking myself every day for being the one to put you in this position. I wanted to come and see you at your mother’s funeral, have been wanting to do it for a while actually but...with everything that was going on I didn’t think you’d really want to see the girl who put your father behind bars right?” she awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Adrien blinked in confusion.

She was blaming herself for defeating Hawkmoth?

Why should she?

‘A-anyway! I just wanted to tell you that, and if you need any help with anything you need, please, just give the Ladyblog a buzz and I’ll be right there! If you want to. No pressure. If you want me to steer clear of you I can understand that too. The last thing I want to do is offend you-”

“Ladybug.” he interrupted her gently. “It’s okay.”

She blinked right back at him.

“I do not blame you for that. At all.” He crossed his arms as he gave her a reassuring smile. It was very much like her to go out and take responsibility if she felt like she did something wrong. Doesn’t mean he’d actually let her do it. “My father...he was a terrible man. He put several people’s lives in danger and kept on doing it for years, and you are the reason this city isn’t burning to the ground right now. You should be really proud.” he said sincerely. “Paris owes everything to you. You don’t have to feel bad for doing the right thing.”

Ladybug’s shoulders slumped, even though her expression looked less pained now. “You can still be angry with me, you know.”

“I’m not.” he insisted. “Believe me, I’m not. Thank you for coming here to talk to me though.” he twisted his ring nervously. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Ladybug nodded, giving him a small smile. “Will you let me know if you need anything? I’d be happy to help.”

‘What if I told you that I needed you?’ he thought helplessly.

Adrien nodded, without saying anything.

“Have a good day, Adrien.” Ladybug said with a shy wave, before pulling out her yo yo and swinging away.

Adrien walked up to the nearest bench and collapsed into a heap.

“Sooooooo.” Plagg popped out of his collar. “When are you going to tell her?”

“Shut up.”

#my fics #ladrien #ladybug x adrien #angst #hurt/comfort #post hawkmoth

62 notes · View notes