#i let misty have a little bit of fun... something i think she would possibly enjoy? i do see her as someone who gets nostalgic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

malloryslourd · 3 years

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So Much Better

Pairing(s): Mother!Misty Day x Reader, Mother!Cordelia Goode x Reader, Platonic!Zoe Benson x Reader, Platonic!Madison Montgomery x reader

Warnings: Alcohol Use, Smoking, Strong Language

Words: 3,560

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A/N: the end of this is so rushed... ANYWAYS😐

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"This party kinda sucks," Y/N knew she was yelling, but there was no other way to make sure Madison could hear her. Three hours ago her, Madison, and Zoe had claimed they were heading up stairs to go to sleep after dinner. In reality they were waiting for the household to settle so they could make their "grand" getaway out of Madison's room and to a party they had been invited to a week prior. There was no use in asking for permission to go, the answer was always no so they decided to answer the question themselves.

Madison looked at Y/N, almost offended at what she said. "The party is fine, you suck," she wrapped an arm around the witch's waist, pulling her out of the way of someone passing behind her. Y/N stepped back, pushing the arm off of her and grabbing the drink from Madison's hand. "There you go! That should make things a little more fun!" the blonde teased as she watch her finish what was left in the cup. Zoe had set out to get them all something new to drink so she wasn't as mad as she usually would've been.

Y/N nodded, slightly crushing the cup in her hand. "Hopefully... I'm starting to be over it already." The music was too loud to even understand what they were playing, there had been at least three fights within the past hour, and Zoe had been gone for a lot more than "just a minute" like she had promised. She would've had more fun actually studying or once she drunk something strong enough to fill a few of her senses.

As if God himself heard her thoughts, an arm stretched over her shoulder with a plastic cup almost too full to handle without a spill. "Take it before someone steals it," Zoe's words weren't any softer than Y/N's or Madi's. She handed the other cup to Madison, full just about the same amount but obviously falling victim to a few small spills. The girls took the cups, smelling of much stronger alcohol than what they had previously.

Zoe pressed up against Y/N's back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Thank you ma'am," Y/N took a sip of the drink. She could feel the hangover building from the one cup alone.

"See, already so much better."

—

"Hurry the fuck up!" Madison pulled Y/N behind her as she pushed pass people on the stairs. The drunken pair was laughing obnoxiously, tripping over their own feet as they tried to squeeze their way through groups of people who were somehow more drunk than them. Madison tried to open a door, failing on her first attempt and additionally giving herself a bruise to wake up to. She tried again, successfully turning the knob this time.

They were over taken with drunken laughter as they sat on the bed, Y/N falling back to look up at the ceiling. Madison took a hit of the vape she had convinced some guy to sell her for lower than half the price he was offering to everyone else at the party. She waved the device in front of Y/N's face, holding it in front of her lips when she nodded her head quickly. Y/N leaned forward, placing her hand on Madi's to hold it steady while she took her hit.

They laughed when Y/N blew the smoke back in her face. Madison laid back to lie down next to her. "Good thing Momma Delia doesn't know, she would have a fucking fit," Madison looked out of the corner of her eye to a now slightly pissed off Y/N. It was amusing to her just how quick she could make the witch's mood change. "Or maybe even Misty for that matter." She made herself laugh- Y/N, not finding it as funny as she did.

"If she knew this was your idea, let alone we just so happened to both be here, she would drag your ass again," Y/N rolled her eyes. She grumbled an insult when Madison jabbed her side, returning a softer elbow to her arm. "And Cordelia would just kick me out and call it a day."

"The fuck she would," Madison laughed. She looked at Y/N, chin basically resting on her shoulder. "Why the hell would she throw her pride and joy out to the curb? Me and Zoe would get abandoned before you did." Madison had a theory that Cordelia and Misty would empty the coven of everything but Y/N before they admitted she was at least a little responsible for her less than star-child behavior. In that theory she was the first to go.

"Whatever."

"What are you 'whatever'ing? It's true! Exactly how it fucking works actually."

"They don't hate you if that's what you're trying to say."

Y/N almost said it so low that Madison didn't hear. But she did, and that's what was important. "They do."

"They don't," Y/N looked at Madison, almost upset that's how she thought her mothers thought of her. "You're my friend... I wouldn't let them hate you, but you don't exactly help yourself.."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mo- Cordelia tries... We talked about it once, how you try sometimes to do your best but you always end up, like, doing shit to piss everyone off and start all over again," Y/N took Madison's hand, playing with the rings on her fingers. "Is this mine by the way?"

"Maybe."

"Cunt... Anyways!" Y/N rolled over. "Like, sad shit aside... They don't hate you, no one really does. Well I mean I hate you," she laughed at the way Madison rolled her eyes.

"Fuck you!" Madison took her hands out of Y/N's as she fought back the smile on her face.

"Now that's how you really get kicked out!"

The pair erupted into laughter. Madison took Y/N's hands this time, leaning to kiss her cheek. "That's how I get burned at the stake, don't even." They laid there for a while, laughing at random things the other said, sharing Madi's vape, and complaining about the music they were playing downstairs.

"Get the fuck up, we gotta fucking go."

Madison and Y/N looked over at the door- surprisingly still hanging on its hinges despite how hard it was thrown open. Zoe stood there as pale as a ghost, something the pair had chalked up to cheap booze mixed with even cheaper booze, or maybe even a bad hit from whatever some random was smoking. She rushed over to the pair, grabbing their hands and attempting to pull them up. She was determined, but evidently not enough to get them out of the bed.

Madison pulled her hand back, Zoe almost falling with it. "Okay... chill the fuck out," another puff of smoke traveled up the contours of the witch's face, disappearing into the air and leaving nothing but the smell of a cheap candy flavoring to linger for a moment. She noticed Zoe was red in the face, but couldn't decide if it was too much to drink red or anything a bit more serious.

Zoe had stopped pulling at Y/N's hand but held a firm grasp on it. "Do you think I'm fucking joking? Get your shit Madi," she took the puff out of Madison's hand, tossing it at the wall when she attempted to get it back. "Y/N get the hell up," another useless tug that barely made her move.

Y/N propped herself up with her free hand, tilting her head slightly as she looked at Zoe. She pulled Zoe down to be more level with her. "Why are you so uptight Zo? Like come on, it's a par-"

"-The neighbors called the fucking cops."

The drunken smile on Y/N's face turned into half-sober wide eyes. Madison, who at some point moved to the floor to find the discarded vape, shared the same expression as she looked over her shoulder. The stares lasted only for a few more seconds before they rushed to grab everything they owned in the room. There was no discussion necessary. They needed to leave as soon as they possibly could.

"You could've fucking said that!" Madison struggled to slip on her shoes. She lost her balance more than once, practically falling on top of both Zoe and Y/N at one point. "You were just gonna let us sit here until they walked in?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry that I told you we had to leave and you were too busy laying on your ass! But hey, you're so fucking wasted you probably don't even remember!" Madison looked back at her, almost asking her to say something else to give her an excuse to bite back. No matter how good of a mood either of these were in they had always made a point to form some type of argument by the end of the night.

"Where the fuck is my phone? Oh my fucking God." Y/N was panicking, not even focused on the two about to fist fight behind her. She was sure they couldn't even hear her over the below the belt remarks they were making to one another.

"This was all your fucking idea!"

"It was Y/N's!"

"You wanted us to go out!"

"Shut up!"

"What are you even looking for?"

"My keys so we can actually fucking leave! We've got like thirty seconds to get out of here and you're standing there like a dumbass!"

"I'm the dumbass? Okay, says the bitch who probably got three different strands of mono tonight!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up and help me find my phone!" The pair turned their attention to Y/N who was pulling at the covers of the bed.

"I have your phone!" Zoe pulled the phone from her back pocket, holding it in front of her.

Y/N almost fell off the bed, catching herself with her hands moments before she tipped forward. "When the fuck did you get my phone?"

"When I had to talk you out of texting the fucking groupchat!"

"Give it a fucking break! Let's go!" Madison had already been making her way to the door. Zoe and Y/N looked at her then to each other before they followed after her, Y/N pulling Zoe after her as attempted to keep up with Madison.

Suddenly the blonde had stopped when she reached the bottom of the stairs. She looked back at Y/N and Zoe and before either of them could ask a question a police officer had already walked up to Madison.

—

“Do you know who I am?” Madison struggled to take her wrist out of the officer’s hand, scoffing at him as she turned around to look at him.

He sighed, turning her back around. “Quite frankly maam, I do not care who you are. And if you keep giving me trouble you’ll be taking the ride with your hands cuffed behind your back.” With that Madison stopped fighting, easily letting him guide her to the car Y/N and Zoe were already sat.

As soon as he opened the door she was met with two teary eyed witches. Zoe’s head rested against the window of the car, moving only slightly to look at Madison get in. Y/N’s head was rested on Zoe’s shoulder, tears a bit more visible on her face than the brunettes. “They’re gonna fucking kill us.”

Never did the thought of ending up in the back of a police car ever pass through Y/N or Zoe’s mind- Madison was a different story. She knew they were done for when Madison made a big deal of announcing their names to the police officer like it would make any difference in the outcome of the night. From that point forward she knew the next obstacle was her mothers. And that was going to be the biggest obstacle of the night.

—

The front door slammed hard enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. Y/N, Zoe, and Madison looked up at one another, each looking as if they had been to Hell and back in the span of the last few hours. Zoe's mascara had met at her chin and continued down her neck. She didn't have the perfect behavior, but she was yet to get caught so she was in a deep state of overthinking every decision in her life that had led up to this moment. On the other hand, Madison was conditioned to this already. She knew all the lines about disappointment and responsibility, but she had only seemed to look upset when she saw Y/N and Zoe.

Y/N had returned to stare off into the distance, hoping that possibly this was a really bad dream or even a trip from some secondhand smoke cloud she had walked through earlier that night. She didn't even have the energy to cry anymore, that was over with after the first turn in the direction of the police station. The silence of the car ride back to the academy was almost enough to make her start crying again, but she found herself paying attention to every small detail she could.

Cordelia's extremely white knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel as she broke every speed limit by at least 10 over. Zoe clicking her nails against each other as she readjusted in her seat every other second. Misty holding onto the handle above the passenger door almost as a way to fight back the urge to turn around and let the three of them hear every word she had built up on the way over. Even the slight sticky feeling that Madison's lipgloss had left on her cheek during their heart to heart in that strangers bed.

She was snapped out of her recollection of the night when Cordelia and Misty walked into the dining room where they were sat. Misty was red in the face, she hadn't said a word since the girls got into the car. Madison had sworn she was just a sitting statue in the passenger seat for most of the ride. Cordelia on the other hand had plenty to say when she first saw the girls. "Get in the car," the first words uttered. "What the hell were you three thinking? Are you all fucking idiots?" as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Out of all the things you could've done this what you decide to get caught up in!" just as they pulled up to the house.

As soon as Cordelia parked the car they had hurried inside, just barely hearing her say to wait in the dining room. Even then they couldn't say anything to one another. That's where they were left now, dizzy and tired as they waited for anyone to say anything. Misty took a seat across from the girls, Cordelia pacing behind her.

"We-"

"Don't fucking talk!" the girls shrunk at Cordelia's words, shocked at a harshness they were unfamiliar with. She hadn't stopped pacing, arms crossed firmly in front of her. "I don't want to hear any of you talk, not a single fucking word. Oh my God, how fucking stupid can you be!" Cordelia paused for just a moment. She had been thinking about this almost the entire ride over, yet couldn't find the words to say what she wanted to say. "Anything could have happened tonight and we didn't know where you were, and I sure as Hell hope you weren't stupid enough to get anyone else tangled in this!"

Y/N looked at Zoe, who was staring at her lap, then to Madison, who was staring up at Cordelia. She couldn't help but notice the dramatic difference in how they were taking it. She looked over at her mothers, Cordelia pacing again, Misty staring straight at her. She followed Zoe and fixed her gaze on her own lap.

"It was my idea." Focus in the room switched to Madison. She leaned back in her charge and let out a long breath. Weighing her options, it made the most sense for her to take the fall or this. It was in character for her. "I asked them to-"

"Madi," Y/N cut her off quickly. “It was me... I mean... Fuck,” she ran a hand over her face, hands slightly shaking as she did so. “They were my friends who invited me, I asked Zoe and Madison to go. Going to the party was my idea.” It wasn’t right in her mind to let Madison go down for this just ‘cause. It was her friend’s party. It was her idea to go out tonight. It was her who asked them to go with.

Shock took over Misty’s and Cordelia’s expressions. Cordelia stopped pacing, head turned to look at her daughter. Misty shook her head, “You don’t have to lie for her.”

Madison’s mouth fell agape. Y/N furrowed her brow. “I’m not,” she stated at Misty who obviously thought she had the whole situation figured out beforehand, but was now struggling to understand what was actually happening.

Cordelia leaned onto the table next Misty, staring just as hard at Y/N as Misty was. “Zoe, Madison, go to your rooms,” her gaze didn’t leave Y/N’s as she took the seat next to Misty. Zoe and Madison shared a brief look with one another before they hurried out room, afraid Cordelia might change her mind.

“Really?” Misty’s question was laced with venom, a look of utter disbelief sealing her tone.

Y/N nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “I know,” she was soft spoken. “They don’t deser-“

“-Quite frankly, I don’t really want to talk about those two,” Cordelia held up her hand. She was biting back her tone, afraid if she was too loud she would wake everyone else from their sleep. “This all comes down on you.” It almost hurt her to admit.

Misty sat back in her chair, barely diverting her gaze. “Madison, I expect this from. You and Zoe? Never in a million years,” she spoke so calmly Y/N could feel chills travel up her spine. Misty’s anger was unlike Cordelia’s. Cordelia was simply just an angry Cordelia who would let a few more words slip than usual. Misty was a different person. Her smile faded, she offered no kind words, and she was willing to get years worth of tension and anger off of her chest in mere minutes if she so pleased. “I don’t think you understand what could’ve happened tonight.”

“God knows what type of trouble you three could have gotten in while we were here.”

“Trouble might’ve done you some good, especially if you think any of this is acceptable.”

Y/N nodded her head. The tears she was deprived of since the ride in the back of the police car were fighting to be released by now. “I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” Misty shook her head. Even Cordelia was a little shocked to hear her, possibly because she had never talked to Y/N like this. “We raised you so much better than this. It’s disrespectful!” her voice rose with her temper. “You would think you would have no reason to act out like this! But no, lets end up in the back of a fucking police car by the end of the night!”

Y/N couldn’t find anything to say, she was at a lost for words looking at her mother. She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice at her. Every apology she could think about was stuck in her throat. They wouldn’t have much effect anyways.

“You’re better than this Y/N,” Cordelia spoke softer than Misty, but no less stern.

“You’re damn right she is.”

A sigh left the Supreme’s lips. She was tired, eyes heavy and barely put together enough to even look like herself. “It’s disappointing to us to know you’re better than this and for you to still go out and do something like this,” her volume rose slightly, obviously able to handle her temper much more than Misty. As much as she knew what she did was wrong, Cordelia couldn’t deny that this was her baby. She had felt more disappointment in herself than she did her.

Misty stood, face red and knuckles whitened from how hard she was clenching her fist. “You’ll think of some way to apologize for this, possib- hopefully,” she held on to the back of the chair, looking down at Y/N. “Whatever the hell this is,” she waved her hand around, “I want it fucking fixed and nothing short of fixed. The day any fucking child of mind tries to pull that shit is a horrible fucking day for this coven.” And with that she pushed the chair against the table and turned to leave, muttering unseeing her breath about “how unbelievable” this all was.

Y/N watched as she walked out of dining room, Cordelia following right after with no less speed. She could feel the anger in the room dissipate, but every word her mothers shared with her were still there as if they were being repeated right in front of her face once again.

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

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I’d love a platonically blurb ab them applying to foster/adopt kids 🥺

i love you for this request but also it made me very soft and emo and how dare you

It ended up being a little less about them actually applying and more just them deciding they wanted to adopt or foster and discussing their options because i can't read but perhaps i could do an actual fic later about the process involved and them meeting their kid and stuff?? idk...dad ben makes me 🥺🥺🥺

Anyway, here's the second last blurb in my Platonically event!

Words: 1,683

Warnings: Nothing much really, discussions about children including pregnancy, adoption and fostering, a little mention of sex but nothing explicit.

“I wanna be a dad.” You weren’t surprised to hear Ben say it. You’d seen the signs. There was the way he’d befriended and doted on the adorable toddler who’d played his daughter on a TV project. Every day he’d come home and his face would light up as he talked about her – how she babbled little kid nonsense at him all day and how they’d played silly games sitting on the floor of the set while the cameras were set up around them. You’d almost expected him to bring up the possibility of having kids then but he’d surprised you and not mentioned it. You could tell he was thinking about it though which made you think about it too. It made sense to at least discuss it and see where you both stood now that you’d been in the QPR for a while and knew that it worked and that you made a good team. You asked about it one night while you were washing the dishes and Ben was drying them. “Do you ever think about kids? Like having one?” “Yeah, sometimes,” he said, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but the conversation didn’t go any further than that.

It wasn’t until about three months later that you heard him say it. It took one of his mates having a baby with his wife for Ben to bring it up. You’d gone over a couple of weeks after they left the hospital, gifts in hand (a cute little spotty onesie and soft toy elephant that he hopefully wouldn't grow out of as quickly as he would his clothes). It was a lovely afternoon, catching up with the new parents and meeting brand new baby Bertie who just stared at everyone who cooed over him. You each had a turn holding Bertie too, marvelling at how anything could have such tiny hands and such big brown eyes. Ben happened to be handed the bundle of blankets that Bertie was swaddled in as the baby began to fall asleep. He didn’t mind though. When the new father asked if he should take Bertie and put him in his crib Ben waved him off. He said he didn’t mind sitting there a little longer to make sure Bertie really had dropped off. The parents didn’t argue, a little relieved that they were able to take a break and just relax. Both of them excused themselves for a moment to get some more food and use the bathroom which left you and Ben and the sleeping Bertie alone together. Quietly you stepped towards the armchair Ben was in, sitting on the arm so you could run your fingers through his hair. “I wanna be a dad.” Ben glanced up at you as he said it, and you could see how much he meant it. “Let’s talk about it tonight,” you reached out to stroke Bertie’s pudgy cheek as Ben lent his head against your side, his attention turning back to the baby.

Neither of you mentioned it on the drive home. In fact you both specifically avoided mentioning it, though not from fear of what might be said but rather just wanting to make sure you had adequate time to go over it without rushing. Once you were inside, shoes kicked off and the kettle on, you opened the discussion. “So....a baby?” Ben nodded, as he settled into the couch, body angled towards you, “I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, it’s not just because of this afternoon but that did help. I really want kids and I think I’m at a place where I feel ready to. Is that...is that okay?” “It’s wonderful Ben. Honestly, I’ve kinda been waiting for this conversation for a while. I’ve seen you interact with kids and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you wanted your own.” He laughed and inclined his head in amused agreement, “So does that mean you like the idea?” “Yeah I do.” “Really? Just that I know you weren’t really sure about it when we first decided to be partners.” “I might not’ve been then, but I am now.” “What changed?” “Well...you, obviously.” “Me?” He seemed surprised. “Look, before we got together I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship that didn’t make me feel at least a little uncomfortable. I figured I’d be single forever and I was okay with that. I’d considered just having a kid on my own – sperm donor or whatever – but that seemed like a really hard thing to do and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want it bad enough to do that. But then you showed me that it was possible to be in a partnership that felt good and, I don’t know, I started thinking about the possibility of having a family with you, and the more I thought about it the more I liked the idea.” Ben smiled as if he was trying not to look as pleased with your answer as he felt, “So we’re doing this then? For real?” “Yeah I think so. Weird.” “Bit weird.” There was a pause as you both just sat with the knowledge that you were planning a future together, that you both wanted to go ahead with it. You never would have guessed you’d get to that point with anyone.

Ben was the one to break the moment, “How would you want to...I mean how should we...How do you feel about being pregnant?” You bit your lip in thought, “I’m not sure. Honestly, it still kinda freaks me out.” “That’s understandable.” “I mean, if it was a dealbreaker for you then I would. I’m not entirely against the idea of carrying our baby and it would mean we’d get to do the fun part of making it.” “We do the fun part a lot as is,” Ben laughed, “But it’s actually something I thought about a lot.” “The fun part? That doesn’t surprise me.” “No, the you being preggers part,” he said exasperatedly, “I knew you weren’t super keen on the whole thing so I got thinking about whether or not it really mattered to me and I don’t think it does. I think I could be just as happy with a kid that came from someone else. And,” he paused as if giving you time to prepare for what he was about to say, “I might have looked into our options for adopting or fostering.” “You did?” “Mmhmm. It’s kinda complicated so we shouldn’t rush into anything and we should probably contact some agencies to ask questions and stuff.” “How complicated are we talking?” “Well, basically, if we want to adopt I think we have to put our names down with an agency and then there’s an interview process and if they think we’re suitable candidates then they’ll put our names in the system and find us a kid. And I guess it depends on the age bracket you’re looking for. I think if we wanted a newborn we’d be more likely to get one through adoption but it might still take a while whereas older kids are a little easier to find, so that’s something we need to consider.” “What about fostering?” “It sounds even more complicated. Like adoption you put your name down and go through an evaluation process but then there’s a few different options. There’s short term fostering where we’d look after kids for a couple of weeks or months while plans for their futures are finalised. Then there’s long term fostering which is usually for kids who can’t go back home but don’t want to be adopted out of their birth families and they mostly stay with you until they’re adults. Emergency fostering is another option which is a few nights or weeks at most but it’s for kids who need to be moved quickly and you don’t always get a lot of warning about them coming to you. And like, there’s possibilities to end up adopting the kid or kids you foster depending on what they want and how it goes.” You puffed your cheeks up with air and slowly blew it out, head swimming with the sudden influx of information, “That does sound complicated.” “Yeah. We’ll really have to consider out options and decide what sort of family we want to have. I think reading about adoption and fostering made me want to do it more though. Cause like...” he paused as he tried to find the right words, “These kids are out there without good homes and I really believe we could give them that.” You noted Ben was getting a little misty eyed, blinking more rapidly to hold back the emotion, so you tried to make him laugh by nudging him and calling him a sap. But you loved seeing how much he cared. It worked a little as he chuckled softly and shrugged, “Look, either way – adopting or fostering – it's probably not going to be easy. There’s challenges involved in fostering for sure – kids with trauma we won’t be able to understand, kids who are grieving the loss of their birth families or who’ve had bad experiences with other foster carers and who struggle to trust anyone. And the kids who are up for adoption might not have the same problems, especially if they’re younger but, I don’t know, I think finding out you were put up for adoption would leave its own scars. Issues with abandonment and things like that. So I think we have to be really, really sure before we put our names down anywhere. But I also think we could properly help someone doing it, maybe more than one someone. So, if you’re up for it then so am I.” “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “What are you thinking?” More pros and cons lists?” You both

laughed at that but Ben grabbed your arm, encouraging you to leave your seat and sit on his lap instead. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tilted his head up for a kiss which you gladly gave. “I’m really happy we’re talking about this,” He almost whispered, squeezing you a little tighter. “Me too. I guess we should start by going through all our options and seeing which ones would suit us best.” "I've got some websites bookmarked and a few documents downloaded so why don't I go get my laptop and you make us a drink and we'll start working through it, okay?" "Okay,"

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #platonically event #catch me crying in the club #god this was such a good prompt tho #ily L

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Kayle, the Righteous build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Jessica “OwleyCat” Oyhenart and Victor “3rdColossus” Maury. Made for Riot Games.)

You know I find it funny that I haven’t made a build for Kayle yet, given that I made Morgana awhile ago sort of as a spur of the moment thing. Despite the fact that I main support I really don’t play Morgana (can’t hit skill shots omegalul), but meanwhile I really like Kayle. She was one of the first champions I played along with Sona since I was told she was very similar to Terrorblade who was one of my favorite carries in DOTA 2. I dropped her for a bit after her rework but I picked her up again and she’s still super fun! I mean, shame she’s kinda trash in the meta.

Anyways it’s about time I make a build for her since Morgana was alone for so long, especially since she’s coming back along with Pentakill! Kayle’s probably the perfect character to play if you want to go Lawful Stupid, but out of respect for everyone else please don’t play her Lawful Stupid.

GOALS

On wings of fire, hope ascends - It’s the quest of all champions to eventually transcend mortals. Hopefully we’ll at least be able to fly after this.

Fire reveals truth - Kayle is also well-known for her Zealous attack speed, so we’ll need to be able to get out as much DPS as possible.

The worthy survive! - A little bit of Divine Judgement goes a long way. An explosion of flaming swords helps too.

RACE

This may come as a surprise to you but Kayle is an Aasimar. More specifically a Protector Aasimar, which is rather fitting seeing as she’s seen as The Protector in Demacia. As an Aasimar your Charisma increases by 2, but I’m going to increase your Constitution instead of the typical Wisdom increase from Protector Aasimar, for a bit more lane sustain.

You have Celestial Resistance to both your own Radiant damage and your sister’s Necrotic damage, have the Light Bearer feature for the Light cantrip, and can give yourself or an ally a Celestial Blessing thanks to Healing Hands. It only heals up to your level but it certainly helps!

You also get Darkvision and the Celestial language, and Radiant Soul at level 3 thanks to your Protector subrace, We’ll discuss that when we get to level 3.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - League of Legends body types, am I right? Sure you have a bit of an “evil must be purged” personality, but D&D Paladins like that a lot.

14; DEXTERITY - Something something medium armor. I would call what you wear Half Plate, which means that for once the choice of Medium Armor is accurate!

13; STRENGTH - This feels strangely familiar...

12; CONSTITUTION - Kayle is very squishy in League but I like not dying so...

10; INTELLIGENCE - You may have lived through history but most of that time was spent up in the stars. Basically we need everything else more.

8; WISDOM - Yeah I didn’t increase Wisdom with your racial increase because I was planning to dump it. Kayle’s fatal flaw is that she’s blinded by her sense of justice, which is a sign of poor Wisdom and critical decision making.

BACKGROUND

There isn’t a great background for “Half of the Aspect of Justice” but Celebrity Adventurer’s Scion works fairly well. You get proficiency with Perception as well as Performance (you were in Pentakill, after all!), a Disguise Kit (but I’d maybe replace that with something else or ditch it entirely), and two languages of your choice. (Pick your poison.)

Your background feature Name Dropping lets you tell people that your mom was actually a god. You might be able to find people who knew your mom (or more realistically worshiped her before... you know... you became half of her?) and folk might recognize that you’re... half a god, and give you free stuff.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee and Kan Liu. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer because Kayle is about as useless as a level 1 Sorcerer at level 1. (Also because CON saves are nice.) But you can also grab proficiency with Religion (you are a god, after all) and Intimidation. (Because you aren’t exactly nice.)

Sorcerers get to choose their Sorcerous Origin at level 1 and Divine Soul is like being a Cleric but you get to dump your Wisdom because you’re blind to morality. You get one free spell from your Divine Magic and I guess Bless makes sense since its attached to Law? Honestly there are other spells I’d recommend (Protection from Evil and Good would be helpful, and you can’t go wrong with either Healing Word or Guiding Bolt) but it’s honestly easier to just take Bless and call it there.

But of course since you get Divine Magic that means you get Spellcasting! You learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list at level 1 such as Firebolt to smite the wicked, Sacred Flame for enemies with a lot of armor (but hopefully bad Dexterity), Thaumaturgy to make sure your words are heard, and Guidance because it’s good to provide aid to those who need it.

You also learn two spells from the Sorcerer list: we’ll be taking Mage Armor for the same reason you buy Doran’s Shield as a top laner (because laning phase sucks and you’re weak as hell at level 1), and we’ll also grab Healing Word for your Celestial Blessing. As a treat.

You are also Favored by the Gods, so if you miss an attack roll or fail a saving throw you can add 2d4 to the roll to potentially turn it into a success. Given that you’ll likely be making a lot of attack rolls later in this build it’s very useful to be able to give yourself some insurance.

LEVEL 2 - SORCERER 2

Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points equal to your Sorcerer level. For now all you can really do with them is get one of your spell slots back, but they’ll be more useful later on.

For something that’s useful right now take Ice Knife for the AoE burst of your Starfire Spellblade. Yes it does Cold damage, but you also shouldn’t have an AoE E by level 2. Hell you technically shouldn’t even be a ranged champion yet. We have to make compromises here.

If you want a single target Starfire Spellblade Guiding Bolt is a decent choice I suppose.

LEVEL 3 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers gain the power of the Aspects thanks to Metamagic. You learn two Metamagic options to change your spells in various ways: Quickened Spell will let you increase your attack speed to slay the unjust with Zealous fervor, and while it’s perhaps not the most practical choice Transmuted Spell will let you wield holy fire, instead of holy ice or whatever other damage type you pick up.

If you don’t care about doing specifically fire damage than Empowered Spell is a good choice to more effectively maximize damage.

As a Protector Aasimar your Radiant Soul lets you sprout wings as an action. For 1 minute you have a 30 foot flying speed and can add your Charisma modifier as Radiant damage to one target whenever you deal damage. It might not be much at level 3 but the extra damage from Starfire Spellblade adds up when you get more AP! Oh and to top it off you can also learn another spell like Misty Step, for Flash.

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements. Increase your uneven Charisma score as well as your Constitution score for nice, even, Lawful stats.

You can also learn another cantrip like Message to keep in team chat, as well as a leveled spell like Spiritual Weapon. Kayle summons hundreds of swords for her ultimate so I think it’s fine if you summon one sword for some more DPS.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 5

Normally I wouldn’t go out of my way to get 5th level spells but we kinda need Fly more than once per Long Rest. Sprout those wings or grant the gift of angelic ascension to an ally!

The bad witch Tasha also gave Sorcerers Magical Guidance, letting you spend a Sorcerery Point to reroll a failed ability check.

(Artwork by Zeen Chin. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 1

I swear it wasn’t my intention to make two casters with Paladin levels one after another, but we’re doing it anyways because it’s not like Kayle wouldn’t be a Paladin. First level Paladins get Divine Sense to know of any villains who need justice, and Lay on Hands to save the righteous.

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins get to choose their Fighting Style. Normally I’d take Blessed Warrior for a character who’s more-or-less a pure caster but you kinda get too many Cleric cantrips as is, so we’ll settle for good ol’ Defense because you can’t go wrong with +1 AC.

Protection and Interception are also fine to help your friends if you’re willing to hold onto a shield (no reason not to), and if you want to do a funny joke you can take Blind Fighting because Justice is Blind.

But of course what we’re mostly here for is Spellcasting: sure you got the entire Cleric list at your disposal but Sorcerer spells known is very limited, so take the following from the Paladin list:

Command to force evildoers to grovel at your feet.

Detect Evil and Good to... detect evil and good.

Protection from Evil and Good to... yeah this is fairly obvious too.

Heroism to empower heroes.

Shield of Faith to protect the righteous.

You also get Divine Smite, which sure would be nice if you used your sword as a melee weapon. I mean if you want to hit someone in melee you can turn a spell slot into damage but I kinda have to wonder why would you.

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath. Honestly just about any Paladin Oath would work for Kayle, but an Oath of Redemption would probably be best after you failed to upkeep justice the first time. Along with adding Sanctuary and Sleep to your spell list you also get two Channel Divinity options: if you go for Emissary of Peace you can add a flat +5 to all your Persuasion checks for 10 minutes. But Rebuke the Violent works great as a recreation of Divine Judgment’s damaging effect! When a creature within 30 feet of you damages someone other than you they must make a Wisdom saving throw after you use this reaction. If they fail they will take the same amount of damage they dealt as Radiant damage, and if they succeed they will take half. This has no maximum limit so you can use it when an enemy nukes your allies to have them experience retribution! "Drown in holy fire!"

The vial witch Tasha also lets you Harness Divine Power with your Channel Divinity to regain a spell slot equal to half your proficiency bonus once per Long Rest. And finally you get Divine Health, because justice doesn’t take sick days.

(Artwork by John Yucedag. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement so cap off that Charisma modifier, because we’re building AP in this build. Maxed out Charisma also means more prepared spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins get an Extra Attack which sure would matter if you were actually swinging that sword instead of shooting Fire Bolts and Sacred Flames.

But what does matter is that you get second level Paladin spells! Along with Hold Person and Calm Emotions from the Redemption spell list (you should perhaps cast Calm Emotions on yourself at some point?) you can prepare spells like Aid to boost yourself and your allies, and Warding Bond (Tasha’s work once again) to take some damage for an ally. (Which is almost like making them immune to damage?)

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 6

The only reason to multiclass into Paladin as a caster would be for Aura of Protection. Seeing as your Charisma modifier is maxed out already that means that you (and your allies within 10 feet) can add +5 to all their saving throws! I really don’t think I need to explain why that’s useful: your Constitution saves are now a +11 (meaning that if you take 22 damage or less you automatically succeed the Concentration check) and even your lowest save is still a +4!

You can also prepare one last spell but I’m actually going to take this time to remind you that Paladins are prepared spellcasters. Even though you have a relatively limited amount of Paladin spells be sure to swap them around to whatever’s the most useful for your task at hand. But if you must pick up a spell Detect Magic is never bad to have?

(Artwork by Alex “alexplank” Flores. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 6

Now that the obligatory Paladin levels are done it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Hope your party didn’t expect you to be the support because you’re only now getting Empowered Healing to spend a Sorcery point and reroll any healing that you or an ally within 5 feet performs. I mean by total level 12 healing numbers will actually get pretty big, so this becomes a lot more useful!

But speaking of healing we’ll be getting not that but Haste instead. While you can’t use it too well (can only use it to make a weapon Attack, Dash, Disengage, Hide, or Use an Object) you can turn your allies into an avenging angel! As long as you can keep your Concentration which I mean... you have a +11 to your CON save.

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 7

Unfortunately there’s no spell to make someone completely immune to damage for one round (while also still letting them move as normal except the 9th level spell Invulnerability that you can only cast on yourself) so we’ll just have to settle for Death Ward keeping the target you cast this on alive after reaching 0 HP. No rain of holy swords either unfortunately.

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get an Ability Score Improvement and I think it’s about time for us to grab Metamagic Adept for 2 more Sorcery points to use on your Metamagic options like Twinned Spell to spread your wrath amongst all, and Careful Spell to avoid hurting those allied to your cause.

Speaking of AoE damage Vitriolic Sphere may do Acid damage but it’s a great recreation of the AoE damage of a high level Starfire Spellblade.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 9

Behold the might of 5th level spells! Remember how I was a little disappointed that you didn’t have the ability to make flaming swords rain down from the sky? Here you go: Flame Strike! Sure it basically does the damage of Fireball (and hey feel free to grab Fireball if you’re so inclined) but it has the holy flair that’s to be expected of Kayle.

If you want something more interesting than “Radiant damage Fireball” Dawn is also a good spell choice.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get another Metamagic option! Seeing as weve already got plenty thanks to Metamagic Adept one of the few options left is Heightened Spell to make sure your foes tremble beneath your might! You can also grab another cantrip like Prestidigitation for more generalized divine power.

And finally there’s also plenty of great spells you can take but Dispel Evil and Good probably fits Kayle the best. Now is a great time to remind everyone that you’re more than welcome to make your own Kayle, and while what I take may be “accurate” it’s not even necessarily what I’d build if I was making the character.

(Artwork by West Studio. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can finally ascend! I hope you kept your Paladin weapons because it’s time for Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise! Calling upon the power of the Upper Planes (or lower planes too I guess if you’re awful) you get:

Resistance to Radiant and Necrotic damage (which you already have. Oops.) (I mean Lower Planes would make you immune to Fire and Poison damage...)

Immunity to the Charmed condition.

A 40 foot flying speed.

+2 AC

The ability to use your Charisma to attack, meaning that you can finally swing a sword well!

And the ability to attack twice, which you already have.

And the cool part is that unlike Tenser’s Transformation you can cast spells and don’t Exhaust yourself after using this spell! If you want to finally use your Paladin levels to bright the fight to your opponents you finally have the power to do so!

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score or Feat and I’m simply going to suggest the Tough feat. Even if Kayle doesn’t usually build health in League you can, and d6 hit die suck when it comes to actually surviving.

What? Did you expect another spell known? Nah fuck you lmao WoTC says no to Sorcerers having spells.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 13

13th level Sorcerers can learn 7th level spells and while this may seem like a copout I have none that I really want for Kayle. Pick whatever you think would be the coolest since you can make your own choices by level 19. (My personal vote for Kayle would be Fire Storm but you are kinda loading up on AoE spells.)

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 14

Our final level is the 14th level of Divine Soul Sorcerer to finally ascend. You have Otherworldly Wings for a permanent 30 foot flying speed! You did it! You reached max level as Kayle! You’re now unstoppable!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Kneel before the light! - Your spells known go up to 7th level, and your spell slots go up to 9th. I really don’t think I have to explain that a full leveled caster is extremely powerful.

What is dark in me, I will illuminate - Even your non-spellcasting has great utility. Both your Channel Divinity options are extremely useful, and a little bit of Lay on Hands healing never hurt anyone. Not to mention your Aasimar transformation providing a flat +20 to damage every turn while it’s active!

I am your salvation! - Even if you aren’t running up in melee range Paladin levels do help a ton for staying alive. +5 to all saves is no joke, especially when it means that your Concentration save sits at a whopping +13! (You have to take more than 26 damage to even have a chance at failing your Concentration check!)

CONS

Why have we wings, sister, if not to fly? - You’d think a high Charisma would at least make you good at socializing but... no you’re not even that. Proficiency in the “mean” Charisma skills and mediocre ability scores in everything other than Charisma means you’ll contribute very little other than divine wrath.

Wings of Immortal Flame, lift me from mortal temptation! - How much flight is too much flight? Between your Radiant Soul, Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise, and you know... the Fly spell you have quite a lot of ways to take to the skies which all become near-completely redundant by level 20.

Celestial justice, guide my blade - Ironically enough one of the biggest issues with this build is how long it takes to get online. The Paladin dip may keep you safe but it’s not making you stronger, and I doubt you’ll be sitting beside your friends like a support. If you don’t mind praying to darker powers Genie Warlock is actually a great choice to get considerably more damage (and “attack speed!”) with Eldritch Blast and easily accessible flight by level 6 in Warlock. (Celestial Warlock also exists if you want more healing utility and want to stay in flavor.)

Of course weakness is something to shed as you come closer to divinity, but remember that even if mortality makes you weak mortals are not. Your allies will fight by your side and its your duty to protect them, as they shall no doubt protect you. Treat them with respect and vanquish evil together! Because no one likes a lawful stupid top laner.

(Artwork by Atey Ghailan. Made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Kayle #angel #avenging #avenging angel #light #wrath #dnd sorcerer #dnd paladin #Pentakill

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kerwritesthings · 3 years

Text

Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass

Summary: Salty is followed by sour, which should always be followed by sweet.

Word Count: almost 3.7k

Warning: little cursing, little sexual tension, a bunch of sweet and fluff

Author Notes: ::taps on mic:: Soooo it’s been a GOOD while. The muse has been a little bit of a fickle bitch. Or a lot of one, actually. Also didn’t help that the last piece I wrote totally went a hard boom splat - gee thanks tall idiot Canadian one for that :P

HOWEVER, the muse decided to let go with some of the hockey boys and me play with some words for J’s Winter Writing Challenge. I’m just one day off deadline, though I still want to fill the other 1-2 I was thinking of. Thank you J for pulling this all together, you’re a peach.

This one, is the first attempt at writing Tyler, so please be kind to a girl. It was fun to play in this little part of my hockeysphere/hockeyblr.

I’m also maybe possibly most likely making this into a verse/series. Cause y’all should know that’s how I roll.

The prompt from the challenge was: “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“From the cute one in the three piece purple suit at the end of the bar, said to get you another of whatever you’re drinking,” Misty says, sliding the half-sugar rimmed martini glass across the copper bar top. “Wouldn’t even entertain doing this if I didn’t know most of them.”

“Thanks Mis,” you smile, pushing your empty glass towards her.

You peek down slyly towards the right. A gaggle of tall, well dressed men circle the far end. You think some look familiar. Then you see who Misty meant when he turns towards the front of the bar and towards where you’re sitting. You know straightaway who he is, know the reputation, the rumblings. It’s hard not to, as big as Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex is, it’s not at the same time. It also helps that you’ve been a hockey fan since birth, paying attention to the boys in green since you moved to Dallas a handful of years ago.

“Misty are you fucking kidding me?” you snap when she wanders back towards you.

“Nope,” she grins like the cat who got the canary. “You should go over and say thank you. Promise you, you may think you know, but he’s a good guy. The lot of them are.”

You shake your head no, downing half your drink in one sip before wiping your finger against the glass to lick at some of the sanding sugar. Misty’s blood orange martinis are your favorite, and a weakness you cannot kick when she’s got the good stuff in stock.

“Give me a blank tabcard and a pen,” you ask. “How many of them are down there? Do a round of shots on my bill, but lemme think of what to send while I write this.”

Misty places one of her pens, a card and your Visa to the right of your cocktail. You carefully fold the card in half, tearing it in two. On one half you cleanly script out your name and cell number while on the second half, you write a cheeky little note:

If you can figure out what the shot is, Misty has something for you. Thanks for the martini, the second always hits better especially when you lick the sugar rim.

“Mis, do you know how to make a reckless slut?” you snicker, capping the pen.

“Red-headed slut, but with whiskey instead of Jaeger yeah?” she questions, looking underneath the bar for a bigger, clean cocktail shaker.

“Honey whiskey if you’ve got it,” you respond, polishing off the rest of your martini before gathering your things. “Then it’s just a touch lighter on the peach. If he can guess it right, then you give him the second half of the note.”

“You got it, I’ll see you,” she waves, off to the middle of the bar to find more ingredients.

You carefully glance down towards the opposite end, noticing the boys all wrapped up so you carefully slip out to make your exit, smiling and shaking your head.

“I’m absolutely insane,” you say out loud to yourself as you head towards your car.

“Segs, my girl left this for you and a round on her for the rest of the motley crew,” Misty explains, slipping him the first card before handing out the shot glasses.

“What she say?” Jamie nudges.

“Other than I missed her licking the rim of her glass?” he chides. “I need to guess what this is and then Misty has something for me, supposedly.”

“I do,” Misty replies, handing the rest of the shots out. “She picked a bit of a good one to leave for you too. Cheers boys, bellow if you need anything.”

He lifts the glass, sniffing it at first, not having any clue.

“J, Rads you guys have any idea?” Tyler asks, they both shake their head.

“Bottoms up,” Jamie adds before they all tip the shots back.

“Anybody?” Tyler pushes again, glasses clicking on the copper.

“I know,” a voice chimes in from the back, dropping the empty shot glass onto the bar.

“Come on then Dicky,” Tyler urges.

He looks at Tyler, trying to hold back a laugh but it doesn’t work.

“It’s a reckless slut,” he manages out between his laughter. “It’s something else dark in place of Jägermeister. Slightly fitting, eh?”

The group busts out in hoops, hollers and their own peals of laughter while Tyler shoves at the one closest to him, this time it’s Alex.

“Whiskey, honey whiskey actually, so nice one there Jason. Winner gets this,” Misty trills happily, wiggling a card in front of the group.

“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler snaps, trying to lean over to snatch the card from the bartender.

“That’s the rules she set,” she says, flicking the card over to his teammate. “Take it up with him, he got it right.”

“What’s it worth?” Jason grins, fist bumping with Misty before turning more towards Tyler.

“Not whatever you’re scheming in that brain of yours,” he takes a pull off his beer.

“I was just gonna say take care of dinner tonight, but if it’s not worth that,” Jason trails off.

“Damnit Dicky,” he sighs, hand flexing around the bottle.

“Let’s go boys, they’re ready for us,” Joe interjects from the outskirts of the group, nodding to the back dining room. “And we like it here so no bloodshed, ok?”

You’re just about to slip the key into your front door lock when your phone buzzes in quick repeated blips. You juggle everything in, snag a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down on the couch to see what has your phone trilling.

So, Tyler didn’t win the challenge, I did and Misty followed the rules passing it to the winner! Hi, I’m Jason.

::selfie of Jason with the boys scattered about behind him at the bar::

I’m refusing for a bit to give him your number. Want to spare and maybe prepare you before I do. Plus, it’s fun to watch him squirm for a bit when it comes to shit like this.

The reckless slut shot was a nice touch, so I’m hopeful in assuming when you spotted us, him really, you kind of knew who was all down at that end of the bar. Probably have heard some things about his adventures and antics, cause who hasn’t.

I can tell you most of it is blown out of proportion, don’t get me wrong he has his fun, but he’s not an asshole.

Maybe we can all do lunch after practice? I’m happy to play buffer if you don’t want to deal with him solo. We’ll go somewhere solid and make him pick it up :)

You cannot help but smile when flipping through the messages, making sure to save both Jason’s number and ridiculous selfie to your contacts list. You fire off a quick thanks text to Misty before you settle in to figure out the best reply to Jason.

You’re a good teammate and a better friend. I would also make him squirm for a bit too, little shit deserves a bit of discomfort.

I appreciate that, Jason – thank you. I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard when the Cliffs Notes versions are face up all over the place. Plus, a lady can never be too careful.

Want to try lunch next week, the three of us? I can’t remember what your upcoming game sitch is like, sorry. Maybe PS214? Something good that’s not too fussy, but chill. Plus, they should have enough options for whatever your nutritionist wants you boys to try to stick to or options to totally cheat out on.

I’ve got some flex in my schedule for lunches, my later afternoons get to be what’s stickier.

You know they were having a team dinner, so you don’t expect a response right away, so you pull yourself together to wash up and get to bed. You wake up to a flurry of more texts the next morning, plans for lunch Monday their practice and a video clip of the two of them, which was utterly ridiculous and adorable at the same time. It eased your tensions just a touch, but lunch would be the kicker.

“There’s my favorite foodie,” Phil the manager says, hugging you immediately. “I was so happy to see your name on the reservations. Is this a work thing or a pleasure thing?”

“Little of both, I’ve got two possibly three of Dallas’ favorite hockey team joining me which is why I asked about the back-corner alcove,” you explain. “But I also want to taste some of the new things you’ve been floating both at the bar and on the menu. Nothing formal yet, but I’m thinking of trying to pull together something around new happy hour approaches.”

“I think one of your lunch companions just walked in,” Phil responds, as you catch someone walking towards the two of you from the corner of your eye. “I know him and his wife, they’ve been in a few times. Hey Jason, nice to see you.”

“Hey Phil, wasn’t sure if you’d be here, good to see you. You’ve met one half of my lunch date already?” he shakes Phil’s hand before reaching for yours.

“She and I run in the same circles, mutual friends, some projects that have crossed paths,” Phil adds. “We’re waiting on one more, yes?”

His phone trills, “It’s Segs, he’s parking now and apologized for being late. He had to let the pups out because his dog sitter couldn’t get there early today.”

“I was early, force of habit, so no worries,” you reply. “He’s going to be pretty much on time in the grand scheme. Plus, I got some actual work done talking to Phil before you got here, so it’s all good.”

“Jason, you best not be trying to steal her from me already,” Tyler claps his shoulder before setting his eyes on you. “You’ve got someone waiting for you at home.”

You can’t help but half roll your eyes and half chuckle, “Nice to officially meet you, Tyler.”

He reaches out, his hand easily dwarfs yours, “You too, Clementine.”

“If you are all ready, we’ve got the table you asked for set,” Phil nods to the right, into the dining room.

“You were mentioning your work when I came in?” Tyler questions as you all sit down.

“I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle writer, mostly food and drink but I’ve dabbled in some travel,” you say. “I started out with my own blog back when I was in college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and it kind of got a following from there. I refuse to say influencer, cause no I’m not. Not my schtick. Actual writing pays the bills, not sponsored Instagram or blog posts. I refused to let my baby No Fork become something tainted like that, I think why it became so successful.”

“Wait, wait. You’re A Girl With No Fork? Seriously, my wife is obsessed with your insta page and the blog,” Jason exclaims. “She’s going to lose her ish that I’m having lunch with you.”

“Still blogging but keeping that a little more separate now a days. There’s more bylines with Infatuation, Food and Wine, a good deal with some the local papers. I may have a piece end up with Bon Appetite if this pitch I’m working on comes to fruition,” you explain, taking a sip of what Phil just placed in front of you. “Trying to keep a little of that anonymity left to keep Fork as respected as it is. Your wife and I need to brunch at some point then.”

Phil comes by to ask about any allergies or dietary restrictions, the rest is up to him and the chef, and you know you’re all in good hands.

“So, a pretty girl with a unique name,” Tyler leads. “Feels like there’s probably a good story there.”

“I was a surprisingly early baby, literally my Mom went into labor at 35 weeks and in an orange grove. That was her craving when she was pregnant with me, a ton of citrus. Hence the name,” you smile. “It’s rare I hear anyone other than her use my full name anymore. Even my pen name for my byline on pieces uses my initials. Friends mostly call me C or Em.”

“No Emmy?” Tyler questions.

You shake your head, cheeks flushing. You’ve never allowed that by anyone; not that anyone has ever tried that out for size. It always felt to too special to you, wanting to hold on to that for the right person.

“Let me see these puppies that made you late,” you divert.

“Once you get him started on the three stooges, you cannot go back,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you smile, making grabby hands for his phone. “Come on I know you’ve got a ton of photos and videos on there.”

“They’re definitely a handful, and not so much puppies anymore. Though Gerry would fight me on that, he’s the baby,” Tyler grins wide before pulling up a video of three dogs running around like crazy in what looks to be his backyard pool.

Lunch was more of the same, good food, good conversation and a bunch of joking around. Smart play by Jason to recommend it this way, he’s as much of a sweetheart as his texts made him out to be and helps ease some of the worries you had about Tyler. And Tyler, you found yourself gravitating to him a lot more than you thought you would. You all didn’t realize it until the shift change was happening how long you actually spent in the back booth. As you’re saying goodbye, hugs are passed around between the group of you this time.

“We’re keeping you around by the way,” Tyler whispers in your ear. “Welcome to the crew.”

You fall into a quirky but easy friendship with Tyler and Jason after that, eventually Jamie too once the boys drag him to one of your tasting outings. It evolves quickly from random texting to grabbing meals and drinks, hanging out after games, even meeting Tyler at the dog park to finally meet his trio of crazy pups during one of your crazy timed breaks in your schedule that matched up before he needed to get into his pre-game routine.

Gerry is running amok hopping around with a German Sheppard while Cash just wants Tyler to throw a stick for him to fetch repeatedly. Marshall, however, has taken residence with his head in your lap.

“I know your younger brothers are insane,” you coo, rubbing the chocolate lab’s ear as he nuzzles into your thigh. “I’m sorry I have to leave you with them in a few.”

“So soon?” Tyler asks, tossing Cash’s favorite stick a little father. “You like just got here. He also just doesn’t cuddle like that with anyone. Feel special, so you shouldn’t leave him either.”

“Only a quick break today. Deadlines looming and a bourbon tasting that need to get done if I’m meeting you guys later after the game,” you explain, fingers digging into Marshall’s fur again.

“At some point you do need to come to a game,” he sasses as Cash comes barreling into his legs, Gerry not far behind. “I know you’re a hockey fan, you can’t hide that Em.”

“Perhaps maybe,” you tease, rolling your eyes sticking your tongue out at him. “Ok Marsh, I’m sorry buddy but I gotta go.”

Marshall just slides his head further into your lap, while now Cash head butts your free hand as Gerry crashes into your legs.

“I’m so sorry boys, we’ll have another playdate soon I promise,” you call to them as you pet all their heads.

“Where’s my goodbye pets and love?” he cheekily leans his head towards you.

“Oh Ty,” rolling your eyes as you get up.

You lean in as you were going to kiss his cheek, but you just tweak his nose and flip his snapback off, “See you tonight superstar.”

Misty is thankfully behind the bar again tonight at Oak and Cork, except this time you’re in the middle of the crazy group instead of the far end of the bar.

“You hitting that yet?” Alex grins wiggling his eyebrows and nodding to where you’re leaning against the bar talking to Misty while she makes your drink.

Tyler shoves his teammate, “Dude.”

“First off, don’t be crass. Em is in the damn room. And that’s a no by the way,” Jason rolls his eyes at Alex after handing off glasses to the two of them. “He most definitely wants to; I think that she does too. They just won’t actually talk about it.”

“She sent you reckless slut shots, I think you can talk to her about fucking,” Alex replies, taking a pull from his drink.

“Emmy. She’s not just some random girl to dick and dump, Rads. Fucks sake,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair as he looks over in your direction where you’re talking with Jamie, Joe and his wife.

“Emmy, eh? That speaks volumes. Just ask her already,” Jason interjects. “We’re all tired of your crank ass. I’m going to find my better half.”

“He’s right,” Alex taps his glass against Tyler’s. “Go to her. Ask her. Kiss her. Less cranky, more goals, more fucking.”

Tyler shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He snags a bottle of beer from one of the buckets left out on the bar for the group before he looks for somewhere to take a breather. You catch him stalking off to the patio, amber glass clenched in his hand with his brows knitted together.

“He ok?” you ask Jamie, pointing towards the door where Tyler’s walking through.

“That’s not a good Tyler face,” he sighs. “I should…”

“No, stay. I’ll go check,” you interrupt, polishing off your martini to head outside.

“Hard to have congratulatory drinks when the first star of the game is hiding out on the patio,” you call out.

He shrugs, not turning around at first but you can see the tension across his shoulders even through his dress shirt. You take a couple steps out towards him.

“Hey, come on. Can’t be that bad. Right? Nothing’s wrong with the pups? Your family?” you tread carefully not knowing what could have happened between the dog park and that moment.

He turns around slowly, not looking up at first.

“Tyler, what’s going on?” your concern lacing through your voice clearly.

“I still think about that night here, you know?” he starts, placing his bottle on the railing next to him before leaning back against it. “I was intrigued, girl at a bar alone on a Friday night. Gorgeous one at that. She kind of saw right through me but dished it back unexpectedly and pretty well. Then, then that damn chaperoned lunch. Kind of just rolled from there.”

“Ty, what are you saying?” you need to make sure where he’s going with this.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s exhilarating and unnerving,” he fights out, coming off the railing. “I still think about kissing you, wanting that, all the damn time.”

“Tyler,” you begin, trying to move closer.

“Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Tyler fights out, hands flexing at his side but looking you straight in the eye.

You can see the clench of his jaw clearly from there, the fire he’s holding back in his eyes. Your breath catches, your heart skips and your stomach flips.

“What if I’m ok with that?” you whisper, slipping an inch closer.

“I need you to be sure, Clementine,” he looks at you carefully, pupils flicking wider.

“Clementine? Really Tyler?” you try to tease to lighten the thick air around the two of you.

“Emmy,” he exhales deeply. “Don’t. Please, not tonight. Not now.”

You nod once he opens his eyes, stepping closer.

“Use your words, Emmy,” he murmurs, one hand grasping your hip while the other comes to cup your cheek, thumb trailing across your skin. “I need to hear you say it, babygirl.”

You’re distracted for a moment, having him that close. His words swirl around your head, your senses are slightly overwhelmed by him. His cologne lingers in your nose and makes your eyes flutter.

“You don’t need to placate me though, I’m a big boy,” he says softly. “Friends is better than nothing.”

“I wouldn’t,” you jump in carefully. “It’s why I waited, why I’m saying yes now to you Ty.”

Tyler pulls you forward and claims your mouth. His tongue wicked, swiping at yours. Your hands slip up behind his neck with fingers tangling in his hair at the nape. You lose sense of time, all you can do is sink further into the kiss, and into him, until you’re out of breath.

“You taste like those damn orange martinis you love. I like it,” he sighs, knuckle trailing against your cheek. “I’ve never felt possessive, but fuck. The thought of anyone else sipping your sugar after that makes me see red, Emmy.”

“Is that the ass backwards Tyler way of asking me out?” you tease, popping up on your toes to nip at his bottom lip.

He surges forward and knocks the breath out of you with another bruising kiss.

“Come to my game tomorrow, wear my jersey. Let me show you off properly, let me take you home after, breakfast with the dogs on the patio in the morning,” he asks, this time his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “And the game after that and the next one after that, the next weeks and months ahead. Let me show you that I’m not that reckless slut you may think I am. You make me not want to be.”

You smile, nodding and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin writing #tyler seguin fluff #nhl fic #nhl fluff #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juliaswinterwriting

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spuffybot · 3 years

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Walk Me to the Graveyard

Summary: Buffy walks through the graveyard alone at night, contemplating the past few months following the fall of Sunnydale. She reflects on her relationship with Spike, her friendships, and her future before receiving a shocking phone call.

Characters: Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Spike (mentions of Giles, Xander, Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Wood, Angel, and Fred)

Warnings: Some adult language

Word Count: 4515

Author’s notes: If you read this, thank you. I’ve been chipping away at it for the past few weeks and I’m just glad I was able to finish something I started. “Ghostface” is a reference to the Scream movies, which Sarah Michelle Gellar had a cameo in. The high tea spot with the egg shaped bathrooms is Sketch, a place I didn’t get to visit this year due to the pandemic. I hope you all have a safe holiday season and new year. Hopefully I’ll finish the second part of this story in 2021.

Walk Me to the Graveyard (part 1)

Buffy’s joints creaked as she stood up from her crouched position. She’d been staking out this grave (no pun intended) for hours and dawn was slowly approaching. In the last few minutes the air had started to change, and she could hear the telltale rustling of birds in the trees. If this vampire was going to rise, it wouldn’t be tonight.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she rolled out her stiff shoulders, feeling strangely relieved by the lack of action.

Buffy had been coming to this cemetery every couple of nights for weeks, sniffing out even the barest hint of vampire activity. Technically she could have assigned graveyard duty to any of the Potentials, but she craved the silence and the normalcy of the activity.

She chuckled to herself. How far she’d come that she could relish a few hours of graveyard haunting and call it normal. If only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.

The truth was she was tired. After the fall of Sunnydale, she’d been fueled by an insatiable need to just keep moving. Giles had suggested they hole up in LA and take refuge with Angel Investigations, but Buffy refused. She wanted to get started on rebuilding as soon as possible. They couldn’t afford to waste time in LA, on Angel’s turf, killing time as his sidekicks while thousands of girls woke up with powers they couldn’t explain. So instead the Scoobies had moved to London, taking on the role of de-facto Watchers Council. They’d rounded up the few surviving members of the former Council and had started reaching out to as many activated Potentials as possible.

They recruited the ones they could and provided support (emotional and financial) to the ones they couldn’t. It was rewarding and it kept her mind off things.

Things like telling a man she loved him only to have him choose death over a future with her.

Buffy kicked a crumbling headstone, cursing when she stubbed her toe.

She knew that wasn’t fair. Spike died saving the world. It was a sacrifice she’d made more than once, and she knew how much she resented the people she left behind for not understanding the weight of that choice. She didn’t want to sully the memory of his heroics with her bitterness. She just couldn’t help it. Besides, focusing on missing Spike was easier than accepting she didn’t know how to function now that she wasn’t the “one girl in all the world.” The irony of having an identity crisis over getting the one thing she’d always thought she wanted was not lost on her. She should be grateful that she wasn’t the only Slayer. Grateful that her future was finally hers to shape. Instead she just felt lost.

It didn’t help that everyone around her was adjusting to this new life and mission like they were born to it. Dawn was training to be a Watcher, and frankly, they needed as many as they could get. The Slayer to Watcher ratio had been drastically tipped and it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

Faith and Wood had stayed behind in America, taking up shop at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. It was weird to think of Faith as the reigning defender of the Hellmouth, but it felt right. With Wood by her side she would stay grounded and on track. He understood the mission better than most.

Giles was in his glory. He’d vetted the surviving Watchers, firing some gleefully and taking others under his wing. Between them they’d established a kind of Watchers Hogwarts, training Watchers by day and guiding Potential Slayers on field missions by night. He was happy, which was something she’d never really seen him be before. Their relationship had taken a hit in the last few years and while she wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything, she didn’t begrudge him his success. Her Watcher had floundered ever since he was fired, unable to find purpose while she and her friends had grown up around him. Seeing as she suddenly found herself in a similar position it was hard not to understand how he’d gone off track. Besides, she’d lost enough people to know she wasn’t going to lose anymore. She’d fix things with Giles, eventually. For now, she’d just settle for on the same continent and on polite speaking terms.

Xander and Andrew led the Potential Identification and Retrieval Taskforce. They came up with the name. Obviously. They spent their days traveling the world, chasing down leads and giving their best “join team save the world” sales pitch to scared and angry girls.

Buffy smiled thinking about them. The last time they’d video chatted, Xander had looked better than she’d seen him in years. He’d lost the chip on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since they graduated high school. For the first time in his life he was the best person for the job, and he knew it. Trustworthiness and warmth radiated from him and his knowledge of tactics and the cost of the fight lent him an authenticity the girls were drawn to. He never bullshitted or misled them, but he did inspire them. Like he’d inspired all of the Scoobies over the years to keep on fighting.

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and a misty fog enveloped the graveyard. She knew she was dawdling but she couldn’t bring herself to rush home. The alarms would be ringing any second now, Potentials and Watchers scrambling to the mess hall for breakfast before a day of study and training.

Technically she didn’t have any classes to teach until the afternoon, but Giles liked the staff to be present in the morning. He said it communicated solidarity and responsibility. Personally, she thought Dawn had just made him watch the Harry Potter movies one too many times.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. It was either Willow calling to say she had another hit on the Potential alert locator spell or Giles calling to ask where she was.

Either way it could wait.

She just wanted to be in the quiet for a little bit longer.

That’s what she missed the most about Spike. Having someone she could be in the quiet with. He had always seemed to know what she needed, anticipating her every mood and desire.

She’d never met anyone she could just be alone with before him. He never expected anything of her other than to just be. In this chaotic mess of a life she now led she craved his company and his silence. Since she couldn’t have that she came to the cemetery. The dead kept her company in a way the living never could. The occasional scuffle with a vampire didn’t hurt either. The familiar comfort of a stake in her pocket, grave dust on her shoes, her breath quickening for the thrill of the kill, reminding her that even though everything had changed, some things never would.

Her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, wondering why she couldn’t even get a few hours of peace before the sun was fully risen.

Flipping it open she saw two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognize. No voicemail.

It was probably someone trying to sell her something.

Technically her phone was spelled against telemarketers, but magic was fickle. If someone really needed to reach her, they would call the office and leave a message with her secretary.

God. How had she ended up here?

When they’d first arrived in London she’d panicked. Back in California it had seemed so clear. Get to London, find the Watchers, find the Potentials, save the world. Simple.

Except once they arrived there had been bureaucracy and red tape to get through. The surviving Watchers had needed convincing and playing nice with morons wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. After one particularly eventful meeting that ended with some snide British dude’s head slamming into a wall Giles and Willow had pushed her to take a back seat on the negotiations. Much to everyone’s shock, she listened.

As soon as she stopped leading she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Without meetings and planning sessions to fill her days she’d found herself wandering the streets of London with Dawn, playing tourist.

They were having high tea at this ridiculous spot with baby pink furniture and weird egg-shaped toilets when it hit her. She could walk away. The Hellmouth was gone, and there were more than enough Slayers to pick up the slack. Her friends would be disappointed but eventually they would understand. As she sat there watching Dawn sample pastries, no fear of imminent death getting in the way of her fun, Buffy couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. This could be their every day.

They could finish out the summer backpacking through Europe then head home to America to finish school and settle down. She was pretty sure she’d heard somewhere that there were hardly any vampires in New Jersey.

She was so wrapped up in the fantasy that she almost missed what Dawn said as they were walking home to their flat.

“Sorry, what with the what now?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I said, it’s crazy how there’s this whole world out here and no one was helping keep it safe before.”

“Ummm excuse me, Slayer here, has saved the world, a lot. Even got a nice shiny headstone for my troubles.”

“Obviously but...you were always in Sunnydale. And sure, most of the big bad world endy guys ended up there too but...what about all the other regular level baddies hurting everyday people? I mean, look at them all.”

Dawn stopped and looked around, forcing Buffy to take it all in. The couples strolling along, groups of friends, kids in strollers. The street was flooded with people going about their day. As soon as that sun went down, they’d be joined by all the things that went bump in the night.

“I just think it’s kind of amazing what we’re about to do. For the first time we’ll be able to protect people all over the world. These people will have a chance like they’ve never had before. Like everyone in Sunnydale got because you were around. We can give that to them. I’m just...glad.”

Buffy’s heart warmed even as dreams of running away slipped from her grasp. Dawn was right. This was her calling. She’d find a way to live with it. Normalcy would never be available to her and the sooner she embraced that, the sooner she could start working towards happiness.

At least that’s what Willow was always saying.

Willow who saw a therapist three times a week and a substance abuse counselor twice a week.

After the battle she and Kennedy had parted ways. Their relationship had run its course and Kennedy wasn’t interested in staying on Team Scooby. Instead she took her slaying act on the road, traveling town to town looking for monsters to hunt and people to save. Occasionally she’d run into a Potential and send a heads up their way. She seemed happy. Everyone seemed happy. Buffy just couldn’t seem to find her groove.

Ironically, Willow was the only one to notice how out of sorts Buffy was. Maybe it was all the therapy or maybe it was just that she was more herself than she’d been in a long time, but Willow had become Buffy’s sole confidant these past few months. If she thought about it too much she knew she’d cry. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her best friend until she got her back.

At first when Willow tried to reach out, Buffy had been cold and distant. Willow understood, even writing Buffy a letter to explain that she respected her need for distance after the way she had torched their friendship and Buffy’s trust. The letter had melted something in Buffy’s heart. It was the first time Willow had really acknowledged the fact that their sisterhood had been a casualty of Willow’s addiction.

The first time they sat down for coffee together felt like coming home. Willow seemed lighter, more like the girl Buffy had met her sophomore year of high school than the all-powerful Wicca she had come to know lately. She seemed shy, hesitant to take too much from Buffy, a reticence that allowed her to give more than she had intended to when she agreed to meet.

By their third coffee date it was clear that they were going to push through this. When a third turned into a fourth and fifth they decided to just make it a standing girl’s night. Every Tuesday for the rest of their lives.

Last Tuesday they’d finally broached the subject of Spike. Buffy had been dreading this, afraid to pick at the scab only to be met with judgment and condemnation. She wasn’t sure their renewed friendship could handle it. As much as she loved having Will back, Spike was a sensitive spot and she was afraid of how she’d react if Willow said something she didn’t like.

“Buffy, I tried to end the world. What’s a little bumpin of the uglies between former enemies compared to that? I am judgement free Willow of the no judgies zone.”

Willows face scrunched up like it did sometimes when she was trying to find the right words, her nose crinkling and her eyes rolling skyward.

“I just want you to be ok. And if that means loads of tasty mochas and squishy details about Spike sex, I am all ears. I’ve even got marshmallows.”

Buffy saw the sincerity on her friends face and felt something crack deep inside her. She’d been prepared for judgment at worst and stoic acceptance at best. Being met with such openness and warmth took her by surprise and she found she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes welled up and before she could reign it in and full body sobs shook her.

As she cried, Willow rubbed her back and let her get it all out, careful to avoid pushing her to talk. It was exactly what she’d needed to be able to open up.

And open up she did. It was like the levies broke and all the confusion and hurt came pouring out. She told Willow about what happened in the Hellmouth. About her last days with Spike, how he supported her and strengthened her when no one else could, or would. This last part she said without any venom, all her anger and resentment at Willow long gone.

She even spoke about their last night together. How they’d made love in the basement, on that shitty cot. The first and only time they’d ever been truly intimate, Buffy’s walls fully down, her heart totally exposed.

“I know having sex with someone isn’t like, a big deal or anything. Especially when you’ve had sex as many times as we did.”

Buffy cringed as the words left her mouth. The familiar guilt over her physical affair with Spike flaring up.

“No!” Willow exclaimed.

“Buffy no. It is a big deal. It’s like, the biggest of deals. You and sex haven’t exactly had the most copacetic relationship, no offense.”

She smiled apologetically, eliciting a soft laugh from Buffy despite the anxiety that was clenching her gut.

“If you let yourself feel something good with Spike, even just that one time, it’s important. Special. You shouldn’t downplay that. He loved you and you let him show it to you. It’s romantic.”

At that Buffy really laughed.

“God Will. Spike. Romantic.”

Willow laughed too.

“You know...it’s not that weird. Remember when he kidnapped me and Xander? He wanted me to do a love spell for Drusilla. I think he’s always had a romantic streak. In a weird, murdery, vampire kinda way”

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

“Did I ever tell you Spike was a poet when he was human?”

Willows eye widened, and her hands flew to cover her cackling laugh.

“A poet? Oh my gosh. That’s...that’s too good.”

Buffy took a sip of her mocha, relishing the warm caffeinated goodness before adding, “he would kill me for telling you this but, the best part is the whole “William the Bloody” thing? That’s because he had a reputation for being such a terrible poet.”

At that Willow dissolved into full on giggles, hands clutching her stomach

“Ugggggh ok ok, I’m done laughing. Promise. Also why is that so cute? That’s so cute. Little Spike the poet.”

Buffy sighed. “The thing is Spike has this immense capacity for love. Even as a violent serial killer he was still driven by love. It scared me. That he was so willing to throw himself headfirst into love without a shadow of doubt. I’ve never...I’ve never been like that.”

She looked up at Willow, trying to read her reaction. The witch just nodded encouragingly for her to go on.

“I just...I told Giles once that I didn’t know if I could love. I was worried I was broken, like all the slaying made me cold and loveless or something.”

“Buffy, no,” Willow cut in, but Buffy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know it’s not true. I died to save Dawn, to save all of you, weeks after I said that.” Buffy’s eyes filled up again but this time she swallowed it down and wiped them clean.

“He really loved me Will. And I don’t know that I was in love with him but that last night we spent together...I kind of thought that I could be, someday. You know? I wanted him to know that. To know that there was a chance for us. I figured we’d have all the time in the world after...”

Buffy trailed off, suddenly tired. She didn’t need to explain the rest. How Spike had died, believing she’d never love him. How all the time she thought she’d have to figure out if she could evaporated in a burst of fire and ash.

—————————

She’d reached the cemetery gates just as the sun broke through the horizon. Her car was covered in dew, glistening in the hazy morning light.

She still couldn’t believe she had learned how to drive. And on the wrong side of the road! Her mom would die of shock if she were still around.

The thought of Joyce made her wistful. If only her mom could see her now. In her heart Buffy new her mom would be proud of the choices she’d made. She’d encourage her to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d be overjoyed to know that Buffy had a future now. Sure, it still involved a massive amount of slayage but for the first time in a long time, the fate of the world didn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Her mom would tell her to embrace that and to live this new life to the fullest.

I’m trying mom.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Buffy yanked it out in annoyance and flipped it open.

“What do you want?”

The silence on the other end only ticked her off more. If it was so important for someone to call her three times before she’d even had a cup of tea they could freaking respond when she finally picked up.

“Hello? I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get all un-ghostface on me and just tell me what you want.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Her annoyance bled to curiosity and she willed herself to be patient.

Infusing her voice with a level of calm she didn’t feel, she asked “Do you need help or something? I don’t know how you got this line if you’re not part of Scooby Central but…you got me.”

The silence eked on for seconds that felt like minutes before the caller sighed. Buffy’s pulse shot up, anticipation making her antsy. She shuffled from foot to foot, fighting her instinct to hang up. If this was a Potential calling for help she needed to wait it out.

Finally, a voice broke through the silence.

“Slayer?”

Buffy dropped the phone on the ground, her fingers losing the ability to function along with her brain, which had gone fuzzy and staticky at the sound of the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line.

She stared down at her phone, the call still connected, wondering if she had fallen asleep somehow.

A muffled “bloody hell” came out of the fallen phone, causing Buffy to gasp and jump back. She crouched down low, getting as close to the phone as she could without actually picking it back up.

“Shit. SHIT. Spike?”

The muttering and cursing stopped.

“Slayer…yea. It’s a long story. But yea.”

Buffy felt her limbs turn to jelly and she sat down on the cold gravel, her head falling into her hands. A sob bubbled up from her chest, turning into a laugh that she couldn’t control. She giggled for a solid minute before gingerly picking her phone up and pressing it to her ear.

“How? You better explain yourself right now.” Her voice was edged with steel, anxiety and adrenaline giving way to nervous anger. If this was someone’s idea of a sick joke she was going to get murdery.

She could almost hear Spike roll his eyes.

“Good god woman, can’t I come back to life without brassing you off?”

She bit her lip to stop a smile, not willing to let hope overrule a protective layer of skepticism.

Rocking back on her heels Buffy gulped down the crisp morning air, willing her body to calm down so she could take stock of the situation. Her dead ex sort of boyfriend was calling her…she looked at the phone number quickly…from LA. Ok. She could handle this. She was the Slayer, queen of things that go bump in the night and let’s face it, this wasn’t her first ex to come back from the great beyond. If Angel could do it…Angel.

“Spike, why are you calling me from LA?”

He sighed again and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a grimace on his face as he debated the best way to tell her what was going on.

Despite the rush of anger, her heart warmed at the thought.

“Eh look, I said it was complicated. I just thought it was right. Telling you I was alive. Thought you should know is all.”

Whatever ice had melted in her heart immediately froze back up. No way was Spike going to call her from beyond the grave and then immediately get shady and secretive.

“So, is that your weird dodgy British way of saying you’re not going to tell me why you’re calling me from LA? Where Angel lives? Are you with Angel?”

She heard Spike mutter something to himself that sounded an awful lot like “bloody bint”. She rolled her eyes and stood up, pacing the lot in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“Yea. Alright yea.”

His voice had changed, his accent becoming sharper, and she knew he was starting to get worked up.

“I’m in LA and I’m with Angel. If you want to talk to him you can damn well call him yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloke comes back as a sodding ghost, gets himself corporealized by a nice scientist bird and calls his girl up and she wants to know about Angel. Figures.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not even bothering to interrupt his tirade. She knew he’d run out of steam eventually.

“Are you finished?”

Spike sighed again and Buffy felt the fight go out of her. She sat down on the hood of her car, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within.

“Yea Slayer. I’m finished.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she laid back, gazing up at the sky. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“How?”

“That’s the million-dollar question love. Seems no one can answer it.”

“Wait.” Buffy sat up; brow furrowed in concentration as she started to put together the various odd things Spike had said so far.

“You were a ghost?”

She tried to picture that. Spike all floaty and haunty. The image made her chuckle, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“Yea, yea, yea, laugh it up. I don’t know if I was a ghost. I was a something. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. Just trapped at bloody Wolfram & Hart with your beloved Prince of Brooding.”

“Wolf ram and what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Done what I set to do. You know. Guess I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Buffy felt white hot anger burning in her chest. Did he really think he was going to call her up, say hey, and then leave? Maybe forever? Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” she spat out.

“Fine,” came Spike’s huffy reply.

They’d reached a stalemate and Buffy did the only thing she could think of doing.

She hung up.

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, unlocking the car door and sliding into the front seat. She stared out the frosted windshield for a moment before screaming at the top of her lungs. When that didn’t calm the storm she felt brewing inside she slammed her hands repeatedly into the steering wheel. The metal and leather began to crunch and warp under the weight of her blows but she didn’t care. She felt like someone had set her insides on fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry, couldn’t do anything but scream and rage into the void.

Eventually she ran out of steam. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but her throat was raw. Rubbing her face she switched into Slayer mode. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Cagey Spike and his caginess be damned.

She forwarded the number he’d called her from to Willow and Andrew. Between the two of them they’d be able to trace it and dig up some dirt on where Spike was. As for how he got there, she was going to need boots on the ground. Luckily Kennedy had last checked in from Arizona a couple of days ago. She couldn’t be far from there and she owed Buffy more than one favor. She might not be Spike’s biggest fan, but she would do some recon and get Buffy the answers she needed. Once she knew what was going on, she could show up in LA and punch Spike and Angel in the face herself.

Buffy felt calmer. She had a plan. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

She’d let Spike get away once before. This time would be different. She didn’t know why or how but it seemed the Powers That Be had given her a second chance.

She wouldn’t waste it.

—end—

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captain-emmajones · 3 years

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everything is icy and blue (you would be here too)

Dearest @klynn-stormz, Merry Christmas! It has been so lovely to get to know you during this past month. I hope you’ll enjoy this gift I wrote for you, and here’s to hoping we’ll get to know each other more during this new year!

A big thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this event, to @therealstartraveller776 for being the loveliest beta and to @carpedzem for screaming at me -- always.

Summary: Canon divergence in which season 3B happens during Christmas time. Set after 3x16 and before 3x17 (let’s pretend more time passed between Neal’s death and Hook’s curse).

When Hook has to adjust to Storybrooke’s Christmas traditions and learns about mistletoe, he starts carrying it around with him, all the time -- just in case Emma decides to join in the fun that was promised and kiss him. Except it doesn’t exactly go according to his plans.

6OOO words - Fluff - Angst - Ao3

The sun is long gone when Hook and Henry finally sail back home. The stars and the moon have invaded the night sky, twinkling peacefully above their heads.

Hook exhales a sigh of contentment, twirls of white smoke dancing out of his lips.

“Quite chilly, isn’t it, lad?”

Henry stands before him, spyglass firmly pressed against his right eye. It seems to take him a few seconds to register that Hook has been talking to him.

“What?...No! I’m not even cold!”

A quiet laughter jolts out of Hook’s mouth. Of course he isn’t cold. The lad has been looking mesmerized ever since they left port. It is a miracle he still knows his name.

A mechanical swing of the wheel, cold fingers against cold metal -- and not warm wood, not like the Jolly -- and the small boat Hook has ‘burrowed’ slides gracefully into port.

“Almost there, lad.”

If Henry hears him speak, nothing in his demeanor gives it away. Hook’s heart smiles as something warm swells inside his chest.

The sailor has to admit that Storybrooke’s docks in this late winter afternoon have proven to be a sight for sore eyes. They seem forever entrapped in shimmering clouds of misty darkness, the pavement glistening under unusually bright street lights.

Hook frowns.

“Tell me something lad, why are those street lights this colorful?”

His question causes Henry to finally give up on the spyglass. He clicks it shut, and abandons the front of the boat to reach him.

“Christmas lights. Why do you ask?”

Although Hook has very little idea what this Christmas thing is, he gathers from Henry’s matter-of-fact tone that it is on the list of things he shouldn’t be talking about with the boy if he doesn’t want Emma to kill him.

“Oh, just like that, lad. My vision must not be what it used to, because I couldn’t make them out properly.”

Emma’s cheeks are flushed and her nose stained with red when Hook and Henry finally reach her. Her slim body appears tense under the quivering lights of the docks, and there is not an inch of her skin showing.

“Everything alright?” she asks, voice hoarse from the cold.

Her head is buried beneath what she calls “a beanie”. It is also red, and it is positively the most wonderful vision Hook’s had the pleasure of gazing at in weeks.

“I think so, Swan. The lad is quite fond of the sea. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry is polite enough to look up from the video game he was already engrossed in to nod vigorously.

“Yeah, it was so much fun. Thank you for taking me, Killian.” Henry dedicates a smile to Hook, to which the pirate answers back: “T’was my pleasure, lad.”

The boy then shifts his attention to his mother. “Can I go wait in the car?” he asks.

Hook watches as Emma pretends to think, for one minute -- eyes rolling and underlip tucked between her teeth -- before she drops the car keys into his hand.

“Thanks, Mom. Bye, Killian!” Four words and the boy disappears as a gust of cold wind curls around the two warm bodies still outside.

Emma scoffs a little as her eyes linger on her son settling himself comfortably in the yellow bug parked a few feet away and raises her eyes to gaze at Hook.

The immediate effect it has on his heart rate is truly ridiculous, and Hook cannot hold back his smile.

“Thank you for taking him,” she mutters quickly, scrunching her nose -- and her words seem to burn her lips.

Hook sees himself lean into her space, smirking.

“Why, you’re most welcome, Swan.”

He watches as her eyes widen and scrutinize him before a slow, timid smile curls up her lips.

Behind her back, the waves crash tenderly against the harbour, claiming it as home.

It’s always a sight for sore eyes, Emma Swan smiling at him, and Hook counts his blessings.

“Oh, by the way, tell me something, Swan,” and as he speaks he leans into her space even more, bending forward as if Henry might hear them.

Emma’s eyes grow wider, but she does not back away.

It isn’t necessary, of course, and it isn’t like Henry is paying any attention to two of them anyway but neither Hook nor Emma seem willing to take that into account.

“Yeah?”

Her breathy tone and bright eyes cause Hook’s heart to leap inside his chest. As he squeezes his belt between his fingers to gain some composure, Hook gathers enough courage to incline his body towards hers even more, lips dangerously close to Emma’s face.

“The lad mentioned a Christmas celebration, and I’m afraid I haven’t been updated on this subject.”

Hook catches a whiff of Emma’s fragrance as he backs away to gaze into her eyes, cinnamon and vanilla invading his lungs, and he has the pleasure of seeing her face crease into a wider smile.

“Christmas, uh? Don’t worry, I’ll make you flashcards.”

“I don't know what that is but sure.”

By the time he finishes his sentence, Emma’s grin is dazzling and Hook begins considering freezing this moment forever in time and possibly angling his face just right so that he might meet her lips, perhaps, just perhaps --

“It’s a holiday from our world. It’s supposed to be religious, but for most people it’s mostly an occasion to exchange gifts and kiss under the mistletoe--”

“-- kiss under the what?”

And Hook sees the bubble burst, just like that. A veil falls over her gaze and her smile dies away in a frown.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Even as she talks, her legs take a step backward, and Hook can only watch as this invisible tether between them seems to stretch and stretch.

He wonders if she feels it too, this suffocating feeling as she pulls away. The answer is cruel: surely not, or she wouldn’t be pulling that way.

“I see. Well, goodnight, Swan.”

Although she’s just begun walking away, Hook knows Emma is long gone when she whispers back: “‘Night, Hook.”

Since Emma doesn’t seem willing to share anything with him these days, Hook settles his mind on learning more about this world’s tradition on his own -- which ends up being quite easy, as he fumbles through Storybrooke’s library.

The Wicked Witch hasn’t shown up in two weeks now — since Neal died — which allows Hook to take some liberties with his time schedule.

“Do you need any help?”

Hook startles and turns around to face two, big blue eyes.

“Belle,” he says, but it sounds a lot like a reproach. Belle’s clearly understood it because she is frowning now.

“I saw you all alone with your books in the Christmas section and I figured you might need help to understand this world’s traditions,” she explains but any warmth has definitely escaped her tone.

Guilt immediately circles Hook’s throat, and he is gentler when he says: “No, I’m fine lass but... thank you for offering.”

Belle simply nods as a faint smile flickers across her face. And Hook thinks guilt is quite a vile thing because it pushes him to give up on the book in his hand Christmas Traditions to Brighten your Holidays-- silly, silly title -- and press his palm across the brunette’s shoulder.

“Actually, you might be able to enlighten me on something…”

A wink, and the right corner of Belle’s lip raises slightly.

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Swan mentioned a kissing tradition that involved toes of some sort?”

She’s frowning now, and it cannot possibly be good.

“What?” Her hands meet her hips as she furrows her brows harder. “Oh you mean mistletoe!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I said.”

Hook watches as Belle’s grin becomes impish. “I’m not sure Emma would like me telling you this,” she begins, coy.

“Which is exactly why I want you to tell me.”

Belle shrugs, glances down for a bit. “Well, I guess there’s no harm…”

“So you mean to tell me if this plant hangs over two people, they have to kiss?”

Hook’s startled blue eyes are quite a comic sight, Belle must confess. Surprised glimmers glisten amidst tender blue; he looks younger.

“Yes, that's what I mean.”

But Belle knows Hook’s cheerful smile is merely a facade. A few minutes ago, he seemed so...lonely, when she entered the library, nose buried in his book, and Belle figures it isn’t quite fair that he ends up having to learn it all -- on his own.

No one deserves to be left alone. Especially not during the holidays.

“And what does it look like?”

Belle gives a little chuckle. “Why? You want to use it?”

Hook’s answer comes out as a matter of fact. “Aye.”

And he looks so boyish, with this Christmas book in his hand and this hope hovering his eyes that Belle cannot help but smile frankly.

“I’m not sure Emma will fall for that.”

“Never try never know, lass.”

Belle sighs, scanning the shelves of books. Her eyes settle on one that she flips through rapidly.

“There,” she points with her finger, “this plant with the green leaves and red berries? It’s mistletoe.”

Hook peers above her shoulder. “Thank you, lady Belle.”

In a wink, the pirate has disappeared out of the library and Belle scoffs— amused, in spite of herself. He won’t be stopped, will he?

Hook and Henry are playing dice at Granny’s when he figures he might as well just ask the boy for more information.

“I’ve got a question, mate,” he begins, uncertain as to how to address the subject without sounding suspicious to those teenage ears.

Thankfully, Henry’s little concerned about Hook as he shoves French fries into his mouth.

“Yeah?”

Hook tries not to look horrified as one French fry tries to escape and Henry tucks it in expertly with one greasy finger.

“Where do you think I could find mistletoe in this town?”

That does make Henry stop for one tiny second, eyes open wide and eyebrows raised.

“Mistletoe? Why?”

Hook clears his throat, looks down at his fingers stretched on the table and lies: “Mary Margaret sent me.”

From the look on Henry’s face, he isn’t convinced. Smart boy.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve been living in this town very long. You should ask my mom about it.”

Hook frowns. “Nah, let’s not bother her with this when she’s already busy with her...how does she say it…?”

Henry’s eyebrows reach unprecedented height. “...Case?”

“Aye. That.” Why would Swan bother with cases, that Hook doesn’t bloody know -- but it’s part of the things he doesn’t question.

If there’s one thing Hook’s learnt over the years, it is that if one wants something badly enough, it always ends up in one’s lap. However, the tricky thing is it rarely lands softly or in an expected way.

As Emma and he investigate the west side of the forest looking for the Wicked Witch, he quite literally stumbles onto mistletoe.

As things turn out, it is quite a painful venture and it involves gazing for a bit too long at Emma who is a little far behind and not long enough at the vicious root right under his feet -- not that Hook truly thinks he is to blame -- and plummeting to the floor, head first, leading up to Emma falling on top of him in a colorful “HOOK”.

Hook groans at the impact but he isn’t about to complain -- Emma falling on top of him might be the only way she’ll fall for him these days.

Emma, on the other hand, isn’t so pleased.

“What the hell? Can’t you look where you’re going?” she hisses as fiery green eyes pierce through his soul from under golden strands of hair.

“I didn’t bloody mean to do that!”

Hook wishes he didn’t sound like a ten-year-old boy, but that’s what it’s come to these days with Emma.

Emma grunts some more before rolling onto her side and kneeling to spring to her feet.

“You’re impossible”, she mumbles, and it sounds a lot like she might just kill him as she taps snow off her knees. “Tripping in the snow as if the Wicked Witch couldn’t kill us both on sight…”

Hook keeps his lips resolutely closed. When Swan starts rambling about him, he knows better than to interfere and possibly worsen the situation.

She’s still dusting snow off her jeans when suddenly, she stops. And stares at him.

Hook’s toes curl in his boots. “What?”

Emma scowls and he thinks she’s hesitating. “You’ve got...” she starts and then seems to catch herself up and stops.

Hook is about to ask what he’s got, but then Emma’s walking towards him, her hand raised up, and before he knows it her fingers have landed into his hair.

“Don’t move…” she whispers. Hook stands very still, feeling a blush creep up his skin, eyes lowering slowly not to stare.

From his height, he is able to see the slight freckles dusted over her small nose, and her pink lips and, -- perhaps he ought to look at the ground.

Emma’s face remains blank as she rummages through his hair, gentle fingers sieving through it, but a hint of red does stain her cheeks. When she retreats, the glimmer of a smile lingers on her lips.

“You had mistletoe in your hair,” she finally explains, with that quiet, abashed tone that’s only too rare.

Hook swallows down, heart drumming. “Thank you for the assistance, Swan.”

But then she’s quick to avert her gaze and Hook knows the spell has been broken as the small sprig of mistletoe lands onto the snow-coated ground in a faint whisper,

“Come on, let’s go. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

Hook lets her stride forward, making sure she isn’t looking at him before stooping down and picking up the small plant to slide it into his coat. He promises himself to come back for more. We’re not about to waist treasures, now, are we...

Hook is a subtle man, but he is aware that he cannot rightly expect Granny to be okay with him sticking mistletoe onto the window above Emma’s booth without asking first.

So he does.

“Why isn’t there mistletoe here? Isn’t it a Christmas tradition?” He begins, the picture of innocence, as he twirls a spoon into his cup of tea.

Granny sees right through him. “Very cute of you to be concerned about our traditions, Hook,” she mumbles, piling up plates onto a drying rack.

He nods, smiles even. “Fortunate are we that I’ve already stocked up on it.”

Granny’s eyes pierce through his soul. “How fortunate indeed.”

She lets him, of course. Not that Hook had any doubt.

When Emma strolls down the B&B’s stairs to go claim her daily hot cocoa and bear claw, Henry still caught up in a teenage coma, she does think Hook looks especially weird -- staring at her with a glint in his eyes that she can only coin as mischief.

“What are you up to?” she mumbles on sliding into her booth.

Hook says nothing but leaves his spot next to Granny at the bar to come and sit down in front of her. Emma doesn’t have it in herself to complain -- it’s too early for that and it’s not like it would make him go away anyway.

“Nothing, Swan. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he asks, pointing towards the window pane.

Emma tilts her face to gaze through the window. She distinguishes a sky heavy with grey clouds of snow and looks back at him with a puzzled frown in her eyes. He is being suspicious. She squints.

“Is that grey sky the reason you’re so cheery?” she asks, and then dives into the hot cocoa Granny just dropped in front of her.

At least, hot cocoa is still sweet and perfect and doesn’t disappoint her.

“Can you blame me for being happy to see you?”

Emma nearly chokes on her beverage but she catches herself soon enough. Instead, she furrows her brows and proceeds to ignore as well as she can the stubborn leap of her heart.

“You’re never that happy to see me,” she retorts, smothering a smile, and then drinks up another mouthful of hot cocoa.

Why is she encouraging him?

“Allow me to disagree, Swan. Plus, look up: there is a wonderful opportunity to make me happier.”

“Why would I want to make you hap-?” she begins, but then she discovers what he’s pointed at with his hook and the end of her sentence vanishes from her mind.

It takes a lot of willpower not to burst into laughter or stab him in the face with her little spoon -- which one she hasn’t made up her mind on just yet -- and instead plaster the blankest expression she can conjure on her face....

...which is in that case a silly, silly smile.

“You’re really desperate if you think mistletoe is what it’s going to take for me to kiss you,” she retorts, and she really hopes the heat she feels blooming on her face isn’t showing up.

From the look on Hook’s face, however, it is definitely showing. Emma wants to rip that stupid, smug smirk off his face.

“Can you blame me for trying?”

This time she cannot hold back the chuckle that’s bubbling inside her throat as she shakes her head. Idiot. Her cheeks hurt.

“No, of course not, if you don’t expect to succeed.”

And he smiles that smile, that “that’s when the fun begins” smile and stands up.

“We’ll see to that, Swan.”

And when Granny asks her “So, mistletoe, uh?” Emma figures the grin spreading across her face isn’t her best poker face and she pretends to be exceptionally thirsty for hot cocoa -- mostly to distract Granny’s from the flush on her cheeks.

Hook is meticulous in his endeavours, and has the sense of details, Emma will give him that.

She slowly finds out that the whole town suddenly is brimming with mistletoe. Mistletoe in the B&B’s corridor, mistletoe in the laundromat room, mistletoe in the library, mistletoe everywhere.

Mistletoe even in the leather satchel Hook carries around everywhere with him. “You never know when the occasion might be right, Swan. You have to be prepared.”

Although she hates him for it, she does not hate him nearly as much as she hates herself for not hating it completely.

After all, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

For instance, when Mary Margaret and David notice it above their head at Granny’s, they smile and meet halfway in a kiss. The other day, Granny’s lips also found Ruby’s forehead and left a sonorous smack there -- a rare display of affection between the two women -- and Ruby then proceeded to stain Emma’s left cheek with a lovely burgundy color.

No one knows Hook is the one hanging them there -- except for Granny -- and Emma wishes she would find it more ridiculous. (Even a little bit, that’ll do to make her feel better about herself.)

They are only a few days from Christmas Eve when, after another endless afternoon spent patrolling, Mary Margaret starts musing over the Christmas spirit in the sheriff station.

“I just love Christmas and I am so glad we are spending it together, this year -- Wicked Witch or not.”

Mary Margaret’s right hand brushes over her round belly while the other rests above David’s shoulder.

Emma sits in a corner; exhaustion is weighing down her limbs, coloring her world blue. The snow seems to have sunk into her skin, crystalizing over her muscles.

She can hardly share their enthusiasm. With the Wicked Witch on the run, she’s had little time to think about the holidays -- if not for mistletoe because of a certain someone -- and what it means to spend Christmas with her parents and her son. Henry still hasn’t recovered his memories and all she can think about is avenging Neal’s death and the life she gave up on, back in New York.

“Should we invite Regina?” Emma asks in a breath. This all starting to sound a lot like a complicated masquerade.

She stares at the bright, yellow neon lights above her head. She’s stared at them so many, lonely times, but now their sight is almost comforting... and then, slowly, slowly, flutters her eyes shut…

It would all be so simple, if they went back to New York. No more villains, no more happy endings to bring, no more sacrifices to make -- just Emma, a mother, and her son in a normal, quiet life. It was enough. She would be enough.

Silence. Emma cannot see her parents’ faces but she thinks she guesses quite well their expression anyway.

And then her mother’s voice, a bit blurry, as if erupting from another reality: “I mean, yes, we probably should or she’ll be alone for Christmas Eve. We’ll just have to tell Henry this family is really close to the mayor.”

“I still don’t know why you guys celebrate Christmas. It’s not even from your world,” Emma mumbles and yawns.

She is tired, so very tired. And celebrating Christmas always did feel like staring at an open wound that will not heal.

“Then we should also invite Belle…”

Emma hears her mother sigh. “In that case, maybe we should just all gather at Granny’s.”

Emma opens her eyes. The bright neon lights above her head are no longer soothing; they glare and burn. There will be no happy ending for the Savior.

“That makes sense,” she whispers and stands up before she can sink into another lethargy

Emma rubs her eyes and stretches her sore muscles.

“I gotta pick up Henry. Hook and he went sailing this afternoon,” she says as she slips one arm back into her jacket and another yawn quivers out of her.

“You should tell Hook, Emma,” adds her mother while Emma sieves impatient fingers through her hair.

Emma stops in her steps, arches one eyebrow. There is still so much exhaustion clinging to her bones and clouding her mind. “Why should I be the one telling him?”

Emma’s mother isn’t impressed by her petulant tone. “Because you’ll see him tonight, Emma.”

Emma winces. “Right.”

Christmas always sucked for Emma. She doesn’t know why this year should be any different.

Emma nearly hates Hook on sight when she sees him reach the B&B alongside Henry, his arm swang around his shoulder and this stupid gust of wind playing with his thick, black hair. She rubs her hands together to warm them up. At least the cold breeze is enough to sharpen her senses and wake her up.

It does warm her heart, to see Henry and he get along just fine, not that she’d admit it under torture or something.

Henry greets her with a hug and Hook with a tilt of his face and an intolerable smile. As they enter the B&B together in silence, warmth curls around their bodies, hugging them tightly, and Emma unzips her jacket on the way up the stairs.

“Go take a shower, Henry. I’ll be here in a sec,” she tells her son, palms on his shoulders to guide him inside their room.

From the corner of her eyes, she sees Hook peer at her but she ignores him. “‘kay, Mom.”

The door bangs close behind her back and Emma shifts to face Hook staring at her with his insufferable blue eyes and a quiet smile and that silly, silly mistletoe hanging between them -- teasing her, it seems.

Smells of food and the faint rustle of conversations surround them as they stand in the corridor -- as if isolated in a liminal space.

Emma blinks, breathes in, inhaling some courage, and exhales: “We’re going to celebrate Christmas all together at Granny’s.”

She can tell he isn’t following because he looks taken aback for a moment and she hates seeing him like this -- when the mask cracks and light spills in and illuminates this earnest look on his face. It’s really hard then to convince herself that she does not care -- not at all, not one bit.

“Are you inviting me, Swan?” he asks, and Emma knows he means to sound impish but something else is rearing its head behind the sly smile and Emma feels a weird pang, down in her stomach.

“I’m not inviting you,” she retorts but she doesn’t have it in herself to keep her armor on tonight and she feels herself smile a sluggish smile. “Everyone is invited.”

He’s tilting his head then, in that manner that has a terrible effect on Emma’s heartbeat, and slowly bends down towards her -- his fragrance filling her lungs.

Emma thinks then that her eyelids are definitely far too heavy, that she should sleep, and she watches herself lean into him.

“So,” she begins again, voice hoarse and it isn’t quite because of the cold, “are you coming or not?”

But then, somehow, something seems to shatter between them and Hook takes a step back. Emma’s stomach gives another lurch and she has to fight the instinctive spring of her hand towards his arm.

“I’m sorry, Swan, but I don’t think I’ll be able to attend.”

“Why?” The word comes out of her mouth before she can think about it.

From the colored windows, Emma can make out the sun setting behind Hook’s back -- purple and pink clouds softly floating away -- and that sadness everywhere -- on his face, in her open palms with nothing to hold, in that distance between them.

Emma clenches her jaw as she watches him, as she watches him pulling away from her.

“I don’t think it is my place to be,” he simply answers.

Emma’s stomach twists.

This same urge to touch him burns her fingertips, owls that she should take a step forward. She doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand why he won’t, why she feels that --

Instead she remains very firm on her legs and smiles a faint smile and says: “I understand. Just know that if you want to drop by, you’re welcome to.”

A grin flickers across his face, but the glimmer dies before it reaches its eyes. “I appreciate that, Swan.”

And then she says: “Goodnight, Hook.”

And feels something bitter tug, tug, inside of her when he bows his head and disappears without a word.

As Emma expected, this Christmas Eve dinner in Storybrooke is...something.

Granny’s diner is bursting with people and clatters of heels and a silly, silly jingle bell rattles the walls. For the occasion, everyone brought a dish of their own while Granny arranged the bar to turn it into some kind of buffet where the guests get to pick and choose what they want to eat.

Emma stands on the side, an empty glass of champagne clasped between her fingers, as she watches her son queue near the buffet.

Emma isn’t hungry. In fact, it feels like her stomach is full to the brim with heavy bricks and she cannot swallow anything else down.

As her gaze wanders and lingers on the Christmas tree, near the stairs, Emma isn’t so sure she wants to be here at all.

She wants to blame the Wicked Witch for her lack of enthusiasm, but the truth is this scene of profusion and happiness is quite painful to watch.

There are so many people, and so much noise, and Emma feels like the light garlands are mere colorful spots dancing before her eyes, twirling and twirling, and they will not stop and she wishes they would.

Hook isn’t there. In fact, since their last conversation in the corridor, he has seemed quite inclined on avoiding her -- which is fair, considering it’s exactly what she’s been doing since she got back from New York.

Emma sighs, lowering her gaze to watch the Champagne bubbles fizzing inside her glass. Perhaps if he were here, it would be a bit more bearable. Emma frowns, fingers clutching around her glass. Nonsense.

A warm hand closes over Emma’s shoulder.

Emma startles, but when she looks up, she only meets Mary Margaret’s gentle green eyes.

“Emma, your plate is still empty. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Emma brushes off the attention. “I’m okay for now, thank you. I’ll go get something later.”

Dammit. She doesn’t mean to sound this cold, doesn’t mean to push her away like this, but thankfully for her Mary Margaret knows best.

The next thing she knows her mother is sitting down on a chair next to her.

“Is everything alright, Emma?”

Emma hates the concern she hears in her voice, or rather she hates that it is somehow enough to tighten her throat and burn her eyes, and that there is a part of her that is desperate to feed on it. Maybe, just maybe, her mother can help her lift the bricks down in her stomach.

“I’m okay, I’m just --”

But then Emma glances down again, and she stares at mother’s hand, brushing over this round, loved belly and Emma’s breath catches in her throat.

Run.

“Emma, you are…?”

Something clatters down to the floor, and suddenly everything is too much. Emma’s eyes widen and before she knows it she’s moved up from her chair, heart pounding.

“I need to get some air,” she says very quickly, putting her coat on with trembling fingers.

The siren keeps blaring in her mind. Run. Run. Run.

“Please, will you make sure Henry eats something? I won’t be long.”

Emma does not wait for her mother’s answer to flee from the dinner, bursting through the front door.

The icy winter air leaps onto her skin just like she expected it to and Emma sighs in relief, closing her eyes. Her legs are still trembling beneath her weight, and her blood is still pulsating at her temples, but at least she is outside now. Her lungs quickly fill in with December smells — burnt wood, misty dead leaves and something almost magical that crackles as she breathes.

Outside, beyond the quiet chirping of insects, there is no noise. And it is incredibly peaceful.

Emma breathes in, and out, envisioning her anxiety slowly flowing out of her body like trails of electricity.

“Swan, are you alright?”

Her eyes shoot open as her heart skips a beat. There he is. Hook is sitting alone, his flask of rum in hand and his legs crossed under the table.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, voice still stammering.

Shit. She didn’t mean it to sound like that. Too late, Hook’s smile has already faded into a mirthless expression. Emma curses herself inward.

“It is always a pleasure to see you too, Swan.”

Oh she hates the tone of his voice, this distant, cold tone that sounds so sad, so sad. She cannot bear it.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales rapidly and she sees his eyebrow raise up under the surprise as she heaves short breathes. “I didn’t mean it like that.” A pause to stretch her hands, to feel the cold seize them gently. And then she tries again: “What I meant is.... why are you not inside?”

He’s quick to strike back but his tone is tender: “Why aren’t you?”

Although her heart still beats uncomfortably fast, he makes her smile.

“Don’t change the subject.”

She wonders if he can tell, if he can tell that she is still shaking, if he can tell that it is helping to simply be there and talk about something else.

Unfortunately for her, her legs are still frozen and she stands on the stairs leading up to Granny’s as he ponders his words.

Of course he can tell. Open book.

“I’m not sure people really want me there,” he says.

Emma’s stomach lurches forward just as her legs begin moving against her will. “That’s not true,” she begins, still walking towards him.

She does not understand the wave of relief that washes over her as she strides his way, and suddenly the Champagnes bubbles are fizzing gently inside her empty belly.

“Is that so?” He asks, his tone polite and distant.

“Yes,” she asserts. She fists her cold palms. “People want you around. Look at Henry, he really likes you. And I --” she begins and then stops in her tracks.

She’s standing before him now, and he’s staring at her with his bold blue eyes, his expression blank.

He isn’t making this easier for her, but when did she make things easy for him?

“And you…?” He’s challenging her, taunting her to jump the one step she will not take with him.

She breathes in the cold air.

“And I could use you around, in case something bad happens--”

His mask finally drops, his eyebrow raising. “-- in case something bad happens?” he repeats, frankly grinning now.

Emma’s lips quiver with a smile. “In case something bad happens,” she confirms, nodding.

All anxiety has now departed from her body and Emma feels light for the first time in...in a very long time.

And then Hook’s standing up in front of her, and Emma’s surprised to see how close they’ve gotten.

There is this terrible moment during which they both stare at each other, and Emma glances down at his lips and fancies herself leaning in and --

“It’s a shame you’re not carrying that stupid leather satchel, tonight,” she says.

She does not leave him time to ponder over her words before she crosses Granny’s door again.

As things turn out, Hook fills the chair next to hers quite nicely. And by his side, the dinner isn’t that noisy and overwhelming anymore -- not that Emma would tell him.

“Killian showed up! That’s great!” Henry looks up from his game when the pirate has gone to get one more serving of turkey.

Emma smiles down at him. “Yeah. I’m glad, too.” Hook definitely seems at ease, twirling among the rest of the guests, one eyebrow raised as he examines the food on display.

Clearly, he was wrong. He fits in just fine. And Emma starts thinking perhaps she was wrong, too.

“It’s good for him, you know,” her son continues and Emma blinks to see Henry, head down, focused on his game as he speaks, “I don’t think he has that many friends here, but he definitely likes you.”

Emma is glad Henry isn’t looking at her then, because it saves her the embarrassment of having to justify the blush on her cheeks.

When Henry’s climbed back up to the B&B to get some sleep, and everyone’s helped to clean the dinner, and Hook proposes one last drink outside, Emma may or may not ask him to go ahead in order to retrieve a bush of mistletoe from the window above her booth.

She may or may not slide it into her pocket and join the pirate outside.

She lets him tell his ravishing tales of pirating and freedom, as they exchange his flask of rum. The starry sky is their only quiet companion as they sit outside until eventually the tingle of her lips cannot be ignored anymore, and Emma gets the small sprig out of her coat.

The bewildered look on Hook’s face is a sight for the ages.

“Pirate,” he says then, and he probably means to say more, but Emma is holding the mistletoe above their heads resolutely.

“Tradition is tradition” she says, even as her free hand already closes over the lapel of his coat.

“As you wish…”

Later, much later, Emma will blame the mix of rum and champagne for the way their lips met in an icy, starry kiss and Emma lingered above his lips, just a little bit, unable to get enough of him, until they were both panting outside of Granny’s -- forehead against forehead, twirls of white smoke escaping their mouths.

And Hook will definitely tease her about her definition of “one time things” but surely that matters little when she can just grab the lapel of his coat to make him shut up once and for all.

#cs ff #cs fanfics #csss20 #cssecretsanta2020 #captain swan #klynn_stormz #my stuff #i hope you'll enjoy this <3 #amy writes

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littlespaceporgs · 4 years

Text

This.

Congrats on the follows! Could you write 15. “how much did you drink?” With kit Fisto? That tall drink of alien fish man would be so good at taking care of me while I try to confess my love and refuse drinking water

A/N: Pre-warning, this is fluffy as all shit, super tooth rotting, chest skipping fluff. Now, I’ve deliberately made the first half to read, as you are a lil bit drunk, so if you stick it out, you’ll get to the part that’s actually good, Hope you like!

Want to Request? See Here.

This.

Prompt: #15 - “How much did you drink?”

Word Count: ~1.8k (wow I was just gonna do a little drabble) Pairing: Kit Fisto x reader Description: A trip out with Aayla typically ends in some form of drunken shenanigans. This time it may have ended better.

Tags: @mcu-padawan and everyone I’m tagging in the comments because I posted this when everyone was asleep 😅

Through the cloudy haze of drunkenness, this all seemed quite fun.

It started with a successful mission out on the Outer Rim and returning home. Upon making it back to the temple, you very quickly discovered that Aayla and yourself were finally planet-side on Coruscant together for the first time in months. And then it was a short briefing with the council, and she was waiting outside your quarters. After a somewhat tearful totally unattached reunion, you both came to the decision to go out and celebrate still being alive and both of your recent victories. It all went down-hill from there.

What began as one drink out and then back to the temple, very quickly became four drinks here and then find a new bar. That’s how you found yourself stumbling back to the temple in each-other’s arms after the fourth place. Somewhere, behind the foggy recollection of the night, you idly thought about the regrets you’d likely have tomorrow. But that, as Anakin Skywalker would say, is future you’s problem.

A curse from the Twi-Lek next to you brought you from your musings. Lazily swivelling towards her, you sent a small wave of confusion through the force. The response she had was to look up at the temple stairs, look back to her feet, gesture angrily upwards, and curse once more. Snorting to yourself, you began pulling each other up the many stairs, giggling and nearly falling over every second step. After the first 10 minutes of only making it 15 steps, you both slumped to the floor. Leaning over each other, you pressed your backs to the step.

“Ah shit, Aayla, we’re not even haf-way yet, we’re never gonna make it!” She groaned and threw her head back.

“I know,” she dragged out the ‘o’ sound, “but we can’t sit here all night either.” Sighing in unison, you fell into an easy silence.

Oh wait! You could call Kit! He was always so nice, he probably wouldn’t mind coming to pick you up off the ground. He did so when you were injured, he would do the same when you’re drunk right? Aayla hummed.

“Good idea, I’ll comm him.” You felt a brush of confusion, ah, must have said that out loud. Reassuring your shields, you put your head on her shoulder while she typed in the number. Your feelings for Kit had always been there of course, and at this point, he’s seen you in more embarrassing situations than you care to admit. Despite this, you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest and the churning in your stomach when you thought about him coming to get you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you drunk before, there was that time when you were Padawans and.. but you weren’t at the point of saying what you were thinking at the time.

“Aayla, is something wrong?” His voice rang out clear from her wrist.

“Yes – well no, not really,” She stopped for a second, and you could almost feel the confusion from the Nautolan. Gathering your voice, you tried to not slur as much as possible.

“Hi! Um – we went for a few drinks and now we can’t go up stairs.” There was silence again, before he snorted. Vaguely, you felt a ping of annoyance.

“Of course, and I suppose you want me to come and get you?” Without thinking, the two of you nodded, before Aayla noticed that he couldn’t hear nods and said yes.

The next thing you knew, he was kneeling on the step below you, holding his hand out to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Aayla steadily pushing herself off the ground. You grinned widely.

“Hey Kit! Where’ve you been? It’s been ages,” he only grinned back and pushed a small bottle of water into your hands.

“You only called me two minutes ago, my very drunk friend.” You chest stung very lightly, but you did not wipe the grin off your face. Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he pulled you from the ground.

“How much did you drink?”

You shrugged with waved him off. “Not enough to deal with your sarcasm.” He snorted and shook his head, before directing a look at Aayla.

“Are you going to be ok to get yourself back to your quarters? I think this one is going to need some help,” Aayla turned her head, just enough to sneak a small smirk at you, before nodding and walking up the stairs, with perfect balance.

“Alright little one, let’s get you to bed, and please drink that,” he said, starting to move towards the sleeping quarters wing. You spared a confused glance at the bottle.

“But, but I don’t want to drink this? Oh wait! Kit, there’s something I gotta tell you!” His entire face smiled and he let out an airy laugh.

“Do you think you can wait until we get back to my quarters? Then, you can tell me all about it.” You nodded proudly. At the time, it hadn’t even registered that you were going to his quarters and not your own.

The next thing you remember was a very soft blanket that was covering the bottom half of you. If you turned to your left slightly, you could see the edge of the Coruscant starry sky. The palest moonlight streamed in and made shapes on the floor. It wasn’t until you sat up that you realised you weren’t actually in your room. This was Kit’s.

You could vaguely remember seeing him on the stairs, but you figured you must have just passed out not long after. Getting to your feet, you wondered out into the kitchen, where the light from the window was reflecting off his tentacles. He wasn’t wearing his robes now, just a plain pair of pants and a sleep shirt.

“Good to see you can actually walk.” Breathing heavily out of your nose, and mock-glared towards the Nautolan. When he spun back around, he was holding two cups of steaming tea. Idly, you noted that it smelt like the flowers you found on your home planet.

“Good to see you’re as jovial as ever.” He snorted and handed one cup to you. You both walked over to the spot near the window, and made yourselves comfortable on the floor, one knee pressed together, and one of your legs draped across his lap. Just like how you’d done so many nights before.

You watched the few speeders that were out at this hour fly past, and watched as the misty clouds seemed to become fluffy balls of light as the stars shone through. The steam from the tea warmed the tip of your nose, and you could feel your muscles relax as you sighed, smiling to yourself, staring out the window. With a passing breeze, you noticed that this was the most relaxed you’d felt since the war began.

You didn’t notice, but instead of watching the sky, Kit was watching the moon lighten you.

“So, I’m guessing you had a good night?” Moving your gaze to Kit, you noticed the loth-cat-like grin he wore. You snorted airily.

“I’m sure I did, it’s a little foggy for me though,” and it clicked, “wait is Aayla ok?”

“She’s fine, I commed her as soon as I brought you back here.” Sighing in relief, you nodded and fell into silence.

“Thanks, by the way, I would still be on the steps if it weren’t for you.” He laughed and gently nudged your knee.

“You’ve done it for me before, I was only evening it out! And don’t thank me yet, you’ve only slept for 15 minutes, you have yet to wake up with the true aftermath.” Groaning, you shoved him back, rewarding you with another laugh. When the laughter ceased, a comfortable silence fell again. You broke it once more, swallowing your fear.

“I mean it though, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” Your face felt suddenly all too warm, and you noticed all the spots your skin was pressed against his. Your right knee pressing into his thigh. Your left ankle against his stomach. When he opened his mouth to speak, you waved him off. “Seriously! You- you’re just, amazing, you know? If I had to be stranded on a planet with nothing else, you’re what I’d bring.” He snorted, but covered one of your hands with his.

“I think I know what you mean.” This and the lopsided smile made your heart stop in your chest, and something in your abdomen lurched. More quiet, with the exception of the occasional speeder engine. Turning, you moved so your head was instead on his shoulder, and you became a tangle of legs and various parts in front of the window. After a second, he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. From where your head was, you could feel his heart beating faster.

You both knew what you meant. You didn’t need to say it. It was there however, the knowledge of each other’s feelings. It probably always had been. The hands on shoulders, the sides of your legs pressed together when sitting, the favourite teas, the same place to meditate in, the knowing what expressions meant, the knowing of how you were feeling, it was all this. Just, this.

Your eyes were beginning to drop now, and all the tension in your body was gone. You yawned as he pulled you closer. With one last piece of confidence, you asked.

“Can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’d say now but I have a feeling I’ll want to remember.” He laughed much gentler than before, so as to not move you too much.

“Yes… I think we should.”

BONUS:

You were no stranger to a hangover, nor a stranger to waking up in Kit’s room. Again. Brushing your forehead with your fingertips, you sighed contentedly. The sun was much brighter than it needed to be, but the warmth was a welcome you wouldn’t soon forget.

He appeared in the doorway, and with a voice just above a whisper, he said something like a good morning. You replied and looked at him, he was leaning on the frame, his arms loosely folded, and a very gentle smile on his face. He usually smiled like that when you were together. You noticed that he seemed almost nervous.

“Can we talk? About this?” he vaguely gestured at the space between the two of you. You heart skipped as you remembered the conversation from much earlier hours, and you patted the spot on the bed beside you. His shoulders dropped in relief, and he took the first half-a-step in your direction. You smiled, and gave a look that had always been reserved for him, and replied.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

#kit fisto x reader #kit x reader #star wars #tcw #star wars fanfic #drunk #kit fisto #reader insert #tooth rotting fluff #like super fluffy #best friends to lovers?

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canonicallysoulmates · 3 years

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As all of you probably already know, Jared had a solo virtual panel last Sunday (on the 22nd). If by chance you haven’t seen it I highly recommend checking it out, as always I will be linking to it at the end of the post. For anyone curious, he did talk a bit about the final episode of Supernatural and about Sam’s ending.

Y’all know the drill so let’s just jump into my thoughts:

- I’m still not used to seeing him with his new short hair, and I love his longer hair so I hope he grows it out again someday, but it looks so good on him! It makes him look younger and so cute 😍

- Speaking of his hair, he’s not used to it either! He was asking for hair advice at the beginning of the panel because he doesn’t know how to manage it yet 😂

- He was asked what his 3 favorite episodes are and he said: the finale, Sacrifice and French Mistake. The Finale because he is a fan of storytelling and for him the finale answered a lot of questions and wrapped things up in a way that he found meaningful, poignant, and frustrating but in a wonderful way, Sacrifice because it’s another episode were we really get to see inside the boys and see their commitment to each other, and French Mistake because it was fun and it really stands out in his mind as an hour of tv that he doesn’t know if any other show could do.

- He said Sam and Cordell Walker would be friends, I’m soft 🥺

- Was asked his fav HP book, movie and spell. Book and movie are pretty much the same: Deathly Hallows, pt 2 in the case of the movie. Spell he said Expecto Patronum...then he said Sam and Dean were each other’s patronus...because when Sam was in trouble Dean was there and when Dean was in trouble Sam was there...I’m fine.... JARED PADALECKI WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- I didn’t even have time to come down from those feels cause right afterwards he was asked his craziest, funniest bts moment he had on spn through all the years, and he gave two examples: when he was waiting for Tom to be born and when he and Jensen were waiting for the twins to be born.

I was not ready for this man to go into a full blown story about the day the twins were born. If you hear screaming, it's me losing my mind.

So, he mentions how when Tom was to be born he was anxiously waiting for G to message him and how after she did they filmed a couple more scenes before Clif drove him to Seattle. And he says that it was the same when Jensen’s twins were to be born, that everyone was glued to their phones and that it was a bit farther travel because D had the twins in Austin and so and I quote “we had to go way far away”. Then he told the story about how Jensen left his passport behind- I think this might be the first time we’ve heard Jared tell this story cause we’ve heard it from Jensen but I can’t recall Jared telling it by himself but basically for those that don't know the story goes that the day before D was to go to the hospital to have the twins, the boys were filming and Jared asked Jensen if he had his passport and according to Jared Jensen was all “I’m not the one who forgets things, of course I do” so Jared asked him as a favor that the next time they went to their trailers he just touch his passport, so they keep working and when they get a break they go to their trailers and when they meet back up...turns out Jared was right, Jensen did not have his passport.

They had been attending cons so he had left it in another bag thinking he was going to be taking that bag with him, which he didn’t, so they were stuck in Canada. Thankfully, they have friends who work in the Austin PD so they contacted them and they were able to help them deal with customs and immigration and everything, and Richard Speight who was directing the episode they were filming at the time was able to wrap up with them so it was hectic but they were able to get home in time which btw is exactly how he puts it “it was a pretty hectic moment but we got home in time.”

There’s just something about him telling this story completely unprompted, and the way he tells it, and the look on his face as he’s telling it, and that he says it was a happy ending, and the “we got home in time” like you can just tell this was an important moment for him. And not important in the way of it’s important to him because of his friend or that his friend be there on time, no, no, it was important to him that they both be there, it was important to him that they both be home. Like, hearing him tell it you can tell that wasn’t a hectic moment for Jensen only, it was for him as well; and him mentioning the twins being born along with his first born it just gives me all the feels. (Timestamp)

- Moving on, when talking about how his acting career got started, he got up to get a Teen Choice surfboard he had won a couple years ago and we got a very nice glimpse of padabooty. I was staring appropriately 🍑👀

- He was asked by a fan from Puerto Rico (Puerto Rico! 🇵🇷) which country Sam and Dean would like to visit on vacation, and he said Puerto Rico!!!!!!! 😭 He said if Sam and Dean could have found a demon or something on the island they would have been here in a snap- Jared baby we got ghosts, aliens, el chupacabra they could have found something 😂 Not gonna lie every time he said Puerto Rico I squealed a little 💓

- He shared that there were some ad libs in the finale, and unsurprisingly they were the best scenes; there was some ad libbing in the barn scene when Dean dies and the boys greeting to each other in Heaven was also ad libbed. Bless this boy for trying to give Dabb and Singer credit but the little additions, the meaningful ones that had thought put into it, that called back to the Pilot they were all the boys and really by the sound of it mostly Jared. Like, even Sam’s son telling Sam it was okay for him to die like Sam said to Dean in the barn was Jared’s idea.

Also this fucking softy, he started thinking about Dean’s death scene while answering this question and he got all emotional and misty eyed 😭

- Another Easter egg that the boys were the ones who added, was Sam keeping Dean’s watch, him and Jensen thought it would be something Sam would have kept and worn.

When talking about that Easter egg he said him and Jensen are big watch fans, I don’t know why I found that so cute.

- He was asked his feelings towards Sam’s ending, and he said he had about a year and a half to think about it cause he had obviously found out way before we did, and that at first it was a little jarring and abrupt but then he says how would you feel about anybody’s ending? and that if you were told how you’re gonna pass whether you’d ever be okay with it so for him no matter how Sam ended it would have been difficult for him to wrap his head around, but once he did digest and spend over a year with it he, personally, feels it was the best way to tell Sam’s story and that Sam tried to live his life the way Dean would have wanted him too; he said that he’s passionate about Sam’s ending being appropriate and Sam got the ending Dean fought for so for him he’s as happy as he can be with Sam’s ending. (Timestamp)

So....here’s the thing, I’m happy that he’s happy with how Sam’s story ended but- I don’t know, y’all know I have my issues with the finale and Sam’s ending is one of the big ones so it’s probably my own issues coloring my view of this but it sounds like while he’s happy with the ending Sam got maybe it’s not the ending he would have wanted and like much like Jensen he too had his struggles with the ending like it sounds like a mild version of what Jensen has mentioned: he struggled with the ending at first but then after a year of thinking about it he accepted it and finds that he’s as okay as he’s going to be with it and it’s an ending that’s still appropriate to the character so he's happy with it. But like I said, I have my own issues with the end and that’s probably coloring my view.

- He was asked about props that he kept and he shared that Jason, his stand in on the show made him and Jensen a very sweet gift. On the final day of filming he got two picture frames and made copies of the boys last call sheet, and framed them along with their tape marks.

- When talking about what it’s like to be both an actor and producer now for Walker he mentioned how he and Jensen sort of became, especially in the later years, creative producers on the set of spn even though they didn’t have the title. I will, forever remain, of the opinion that they should have been named or given producer credits for this show and that they deserved a proper seat at the table. Honestly, the writers of this show had no idea the treasures that they had with these men.

- He was asked script changes due to covid and he said the biggest change he knows of is that originally they were going to bring back a lot of the cast to be in a scene or two in Heaven. But he also says that maybe it ended up the way it should and that it was pretty magical storytelling that it all came full circle to being about the boys because it was always about Sam and Dean.

And I agree, it worked out for the best because I’m telling y’all I know it in my gut that if it hadn’t been for covid restrictions that ending would have been a carousel of characters and wouldn’t have been nearly as impactful or brother centered as it turned out to be.

He also once again mentioned getting everyone together for a reboot in a couple years, I'm telling y'all I wouldn't be surprised if there was a reboot in a couple years. But I hope they don’t bring back everyone if there is one...🙃

- Because he's not done attacking me he said that Sam's Heaven is mostly Dean 😭

Another thing that was Jared's idea was having Sam dressed as close as possible to how he was in the Pilot because to him Sam's happiest moment was getting back on the road with his brother 😭

- He said he and Jensen will definitely work together again! He hopes sooner rather than later, and said that Jensen has a standing invitation to do whatever he wants on Walker. He doesn't know if he'll be able to go up to Toronto since he's so busy with Walker but him and Jensen will find something somewhere.

This man has my number, if he's not coming at me with the brother feels he's coming at me with the j2 ones; this made me so happy to hear, I'm not surprised in the slightest but it still made me so happy to hear him say he and Jensen plan to work together again in the future and it's so cute how he said sooner rather than later like he worked with that man for 15yrs you'd think he'd be ready for a break but nope he already wants to work with him again and is looking at his schedule like 'umm what week can I sneak off to Toronto?' ❤

Now, if I may take a moment to be petty and say suck it! to those who thought the end of spn meant the end of j2's relationship.

- The panel ended with him giving some advice for anxiety. He shared that something that has worked for him is accepting it ain't going anywhere but you can learn to live with it.

And that was the panel! Like I said if by chance you haven't seen it I highly reccomend it, it was a great panel, he was all in his brother feels and he was mentioning Jensen left and right, and he looked adorable- honestly, like it just made me happy and gave me a needed cheer up.

Jared Solo Panel November 22nd 2020

#j2 tinhat #this man be giving me all the brother feels 🥺#by relationship i also mean frienship #mine #gonna have to fix these tags later #jared padalecki #spn #annianvi

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twistedsinews · 3 years

Text

OC Profile

Tagged by @chyrstis

Tagging: @rosewaterhag, @hunnybadgerv, @gatticus, @heywoodvirgin (for when you come back), @chyrstis, @ ... whoever wants to do it and hasn't yet!

General

Name: V. Literally. It's always been just V.

Alias(ses): Enough people assume that V is an alias, and it's difficult enough to track down in a database. However. She will use other aliases for one-off jobs when she needs the extra layer of security of not having someone track her down through street work, but none of them really get recycled.

Gender: Nomad. I jest, but I'm pretty sure she's somewhat off the binary even if she straddles the line.

Age: As of the events of C77, she'd just turned 29.

Birthdate: I don't actually have one for her. Possibly in January... I'm only saying that because I started playing Cyberpunk on my birthday but that's when she came into creation so why not.

Place of birth: The Badlands. I'm not sure where in the Badlands, but probably quite the distance from Night City.

Hometown: She grew up in a roving band of self-sufficient scavengers, so... everywhere. And nowhere.

Spoken languages: English. Bad English. She might've picked up a few scattered words of other languages, but she relies heavily on her translation software and that reliance has stunted her learning.

Sexual preference: Ladies and gentlemen, and Jackie Welles. She's not picky on the sex or gender front, but someone who can keep up with her, ideally.

Occupation: Street Ronin. Mercenary for hire.

Appearance

Eye color: Mid-light purple. Dark brown, prior to getting modded.

Hair color: Blue and red, although she'll change it from time to time. Black, prior to getting modded.

Height: 5'8"

Scars: She has a few. The healed slash on her face comes from her first real knife fight, and she keeps it as something of a memento. There are some newer scars on her hands. And let's not talk about that mess of scar tissue that is her heart, because ow.

Favorite

Color: I think she probably likes pink, red, blue, and teal about equally.

Hair color: Barring mods, probably dark.

Eye color: Sky blue.

Song: Favorite in the same way that pain makes you feel alive, I think, but post-Heist, she found a new appreciation for Never Fade Away.

Food: Marshmallows. City takeout, especially pizza.

Non-alcoholic drink: Soda, the sweeter the better.

Alcoholic drink: Nomad moonshine, but tequila can be fun. And then there's vodka.

Have they...

Passed university: Fuck, no.

Had sex: Fuck, yes.

Had sex in public: ...I mean. Not on the Main St. Sidewalk, but I'm... pretty sure there wasn't as much privacy in all those back alley trysts as you might want to believe. Also, do orgies and sex clubs count as public? ‘cause, uh...

Gotten pregnant: Nope. Cyborg birth control ftw!

Kissed a boy: Yes.

Kissed a girl: Yes.

Gotten tattoos: Several. All traditional, none of them are Light tattoos.

Gotten piercings: A few in her ears, the nosering, and the eyebrow thing.

Been in love: Yes. Not until she reached Night City, but then she kinda made up for it by falling in love a few times over the course of the game.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Pretty regularly, for business and for pleasure.

Are they...

A virgin: Ha. No.

A cuddler: Very much so. Even before the love part, she was always very tactile. (It confused the hell out of Jackie until he just accepted that being her best friend and go-to fling was about as intimate as some relationships he'd been in... prior to feelings coming to light, anyway.)

A kisser: Indeed.

Scared easily: In some ways, not so much others. On her own, she's pretty reckless and fearless. When she has people she cares about, she can fairly easily get scared of fucking up the relationship and also of outside harm coming to them if and when these things crop up on the horizon. However, it pretty much took coming face to face with death in a way she couldn't shrug off before she actually got traumatized to the point of being terrified.

Jealous easily: Under the right circumstances. She's less jealous of physical activity and closeness and more when it comes to feelings.

Trustworthy: She can lie and she can twist the truth, and she has no scruples against doing either. But when it boils down to it, if she's on your side she will have your back to the last cliff at the end of the world.

Dominant: She certainly can be. She can be hard-headed and stubborn, to add to it, and she has no second thoughts about stepping up and taking charge. Though if we're talking about in bed, she's drastically less so.

Submissive: To whom is the bigger question. If she likes someone, she tends to be a lot gentler and tries to be considerate. And again, if we're talking about in bed, well... yes. Pushy about it sometimes, maybe, but yes.

In love: Ha. Hahaha. Yes. With quite a few people.

Single: It's complicated (TM).

Random questions (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: In a manner of speaking. It's not a conscious/deliberate thing, the way most people think of self-harm, but she falls into plenty of behaviors that would qualify and definitely puts herself out there in harms way or restricts herself as a means of self-punishment.

Thought of suicide: Yes. Quite a bit, after the Heist.

Attempted suicide: Again, not in a conscious or deliberate way, but more of a sarcastic 'wouldn't it be a shame if these dangerous behavior patterns happened to have consequences' way.

Wanted to kill someone: Quite a bit! And has!

Have/had a job: Very many!

Have any fears: Losing the people she cares about, to negligence or outside influence. Not making any lasting impact. Dying, after viewing that BD, and double after reliving Johnny's memories, and triple actually doing it once or twice.

Family

Siblings: To her knowledge, she's an only child. It's plausible that her mother remarried after leaving the clan.

Parents: Her father is a Nomad. Her mother is City, though V never knew which city. She's not in contact with either. And so far, I haven't given them names.

Children: None and she's a little terrified of the idea. Not that she couldn't eventually change her mind - she never thought she'd be in love, either.

Significant other: Jackie. Misty. Arguably Panam and River. Saul and Placide she kinda wishes. Johnny she kinda wishes not, but they share a brain and that's pretty significant even if not in any traditional relationship sense.

Pets: One (1) sphinx cat she found and picked up that was hiding in the alleys of her MegaBuilding.

#chyrstis #nomad!v #cyberpunk 2077 #i'm pretty sure i've done this one with faith before...#so... have a v

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ezrasarm · 4 years

Note

I'm kinda new here, but I wanted to tell you that I really enjoy your writing. Thanks for bringing all of his characters to life! 💕 If you're still looking for blurbs/HC rqsts, I'd love to know how all The Boys would react if they came upon reader while she's playing some fun music and dancing like no one is watching. Would he start dancing? Could he be coaxed into dancing? Would he roll his eyes and leave the room? P.S. This is my first ever ask. It's probably silly. 😬

Dancing

Warnings: Fluff!!! the boys being too sweet to handle and a lack of proofreading because I was excited... I think that just about covers it 😂

A/n: Not silly at all and thank you for reading and welcome to our little corner of this hell site!!! I had a great time writing these and I hope they were sort of what you had in mind! I’m a nerd and wound up linking the songs that came to mind as I wrote each of them but of course you’re welcome to interpret them as any song you would like! I may or may not have taken some liberties with the request because I didn’t want to get repetitive so I hope you’ll forgive me 😬

[ masterlist ]

Javier

Hate Street Dialogue - Rodriguez

Javier had just had a very long and exhausting day at work. His patience had been running thin since his meeting that morning and now it was 7:30 and he finally got to do the one thing he had been wanting to do all day. Go home. He was in the hallway when he heard the music, it wasn’t uncommon for you to blast it if you were the designated chef that night. With a headache coming on he really thought he wasn’t in the mood for all that energy tonight. All he wanted was some food in his stomach, maybe a drink in his hand and to curl up on the couch with you and make fun of whichever soap opera had decided to possess your TV screen that night. What he hadn’t been expecting was to wonder into the kitchen to see you absolutely gunning it on what you had now designated as the dance floor. With your back to him and the music so loud it wasn’t until you spun around on your heels to pick something up from the island that you saw him and just about jumped out of your skin. At this point he had a smile from ear to ear and he realized what he had been yearning for all day wasn’t to go home, it was you. You would look at him, a little bashful about him catching you in the act before he would pull you into a toothy kiss and tell you how much he needed that today.

Din

I Know What I Am - Band Of Skulls (how do you choose a song for Din???)

Things get boring when you’re stuck on the Crest alone for hours on end. So yeah, maybe you came across an old transmitter that just so happened to have a data card packed with music on it on your last supply run, and maybe you snuck it onto the Crest, and maybe you listen to it whenever Din’s off doing bounty hunter things so you can keep your mind busy while you tinker around the ship and try to keep the kid entertained. Maybe, every once in a while you just get carried away and start dancing along in a very uncoordinated fashion, but who cares? Because you like it and it makes you feel good and no one is there to judge you except maybe the baby, who just so happens to think you have some sick moves. This had become your routine for quite some time now. Din would leave, you’d put some tunes on and just let loose for a bit. It kept the kid happy and let him have some fun and who were you to refuse him that? You had gotten used to predicting when the mandalorian would come back so you would shut it off and get back to work like nothing happened... except this time. He must have come back early or you had gotten carried away and lost track of time, either way, one second you were alone dancing to your hearts content and the next there was a mandalorian standing in the doorway and you had stopped in your tracks.

“What are you doing?” He would ask with a slight tilt to his helmet as you let your gaze wander the cabin, settling on anything but him. What you couldn’t see was the entertained smile toying at his lips behind the mask.

“...nothing.” You shrugged, leaning over to turn the music off and feeling your heart drop in your chest at the way the child’s ears drooped.

“You don’t have to stop.” Din said and for a moment you thought you had misheard him.

“What?”

“I said you don’t have to stop on my account.” He shrugged, pushing the button on the transmitter as he passed to climb up the ladder and into the cockpit. Well that, you were not expecting.

Ezra

We’re Only People - Father John Misty

Ezra had noticed your glum mood today. He could understand that spending your days digging for gems you weren’t exactly sure you would find wasn’t always the most exciting existence but, once settled into your usual places for the evening he caught sight of the slight tapping of your toe as you listened to music through your headphones and an idea popped into his mind.

“Care to share?” He asked, gesturing to the music playing device in your hand and unplugging the headphones. For a moment you were confused but when you caught sight of the look in his eye you knew he was up to something and it made you curious to find out what.

He extended his hand towards you, a slight bow to you in a silent question before you took it and let him guide you up, leading you into a spin before pulling you close and giving you a toothy grin. It was a little awkward in the cramped tent, with only a few feet of space to accommodate your movements you found yourself being forced closer together but you weren’t one to complain when you had an excuse to press yourself as close to him as possible. You could already feel your worries from the day washing away as he dragged you through a few elaborate dips and swings just to get a giggle out of you.

“Thank you,” You whispered to him quietly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and pulling him into a hug as the song came to an end, your bodies still swaying to the rhythm despite the fact that the music was long gone as you took one another in.

Frankie

Easy Rider - Eddie Berman

Frankie woke to the muffled sound of music playing from the kitchen. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and casting the room in a bright warm glow as he padded out of the bedroom. His hair sticking up in every which direction and his eyes still bleary from sleep when they fell on the sight of you, an energetic bounce to your step, hips swaying and head rocking to the music when you caught sight of him. The smile on your face widened when you bounded over to him. “How are you so awake this early?” He asked, an entertained grin tugging at his lips when you kept swinging your limbs around in no particularly coordinated fashion.

“Dance with me and maybe you’ll find out.” You beam up at him, giving his hips a slight jostle.

“Too early,” He groaned back facetiously as you dragged him into the kitchen and hopped around on the spot.

“C’mon, no coffee until you dance with me!” You exclaim and he shakes his head despite the smile betraying him.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” He asked and you purse your lips, feigning contemplation of his proposal before that devious smile flashes across your features and you give him a quick shake of your head. Eventually he breaks down when you grab his hands and drag him into a twist. You were right, it did wake him up faster than his usual slow mornings with a coffee and the news.

Marcus

Your Moon - Rosie Carney

It was more of a gentle sway at this point, your playlist had gotten shuffled around and instead of the usual upbeat and energetic music you would normally listen to when you were cleaning, you had fallen into a gentler rhythm as you swayed around, dusting the living room. You let out a slight squeak when a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle and a solid chest pressed against your back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.” Marcus would mumble against your shoulder before placing a trail of kisses up your neck, jaw, cheek and to the corner of your mouth. “Watcha listening to?” He would hum against your temple, loosening his grip only to allow you twist around in his embrace and sling your arms over his shoulders before handing him an earbud, the thin cord connecting you to one another as he fell into the same subtle sway that had over taken you.

His forehead would drop to press against yours as your fingers played with the overgrown hairs at the nape of his neck and his nose would brush against your own slightly when he nuzzles into your touch. Theres a tired, blissed out smile on his face as his eyes fall shut, his grip on your waist tugging you a little closer, the world seeming to fade from around you when he presses a kiss to your lips and murmurs a quiet “I like this song.”

[ masterlist ]

Permanent Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia @cryptkeepersoul @prxtty-boah @aliciaxglasgow @elena-myth @theocatkov @bioticgoddess @edencherries

Pedro Boys Taglist: @theravenreads @mrschiltoncat @seasonschange-butpeopledont @deafspaceperson

#javier peña x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier peña x you #marcus pike x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #din djarin x reader #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #din djarin x you #ezra (prospect) x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x you

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

pegasus grounded (part one)

[horse racing au]

———————————

...and they’re off!

“Lawrence will you stop cringing and HELP ME?”

Barbara’s partner peeked into the barn, his face pale and expression disgusted, then immediately yanked himself back out.

“Oh, that is so gross! I didn’t sign up for this!”

“You didn’t sign up for ANYTHING! I am letting you LIVE in MY HOUSE for FREE! So get your ass OVER HERE and HELP ME!”

Standing against the far wall of the barn, Adam, Barbara’s husband, and Lydia, their young farmhand, stood by, watching the exchange go down. Lydia was holding any tools that might have been needed. The barn cat, Hemlock, came strolling by, took one glance at the scene, then bounded out.

“Are they…?” Lydia’s words trailed off as she scratched the top of her head. “Does this…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Barbara said, looking over at her. “This is our process!” And then, shrilly, “LAWRENCE!!!”

“You have your ARM in a horse’s VAGINA!! You never said anything about THAT when I came to live with you!”

“I’ll stick my arm up YOUR VAGINA if you don’t get over here!”

“I don’t have a vagina!!”

“I DON’T CARE!!” Barbara then quieted her voice and stroked the fur of Latte, the foaling horse she was assisting, “Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay… LAWRENCE I SWEAR TO GOD!!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!”

Beetlejuice dragged himself over to the fallen horse and did his best to not look at the hooves sticking out of the mare’s vagina.

After some time went by, Barbara was pulling on the foal’s front legs, sticky and wet with birthing fluid and covered in the placenta. She was doing her best to be gentle, yet firm enough to pull out the baby, but the mare continued to let out louder whinnies. Adam gripped tightly to his shirt as he watched. They had already lost three dams that season. They couldn’t take losing another.

Despite its name, The Netherworld was one of the most successful horse ranches in all of America. In terms of the equine community, Barbara and Adam Maitland were basically famous. They had bred several winning foals from the finest mares and the strongest stallions. People came from miles just to bid on one of their colts or fillies. All the horses on their farm were like family, and losing them was like a shot straight to the heart.

“Come on, girl. I can’t do it alone. Push.” Barbara said encouragingly, pulling out more of the baby.

“Come on, Latte, push. You can do it.” Beetlejuice said to the mother. The horse’s wild, tired eyes looked up at him.

And then, as if she was actually listening, she began to push harder. The foal’s head slipped out a second later, followed by the rest of the upper body.

“Hey! She’s doing it!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “Oh, that is disgusting. But she’s doing it!”

“Almost there,” Barbara murmured as she got a hold of the foal’s middle.

After a few minutes, the foal was finally out. A spew of birthing fluids and placenta followed, and Beetlejuice was darting out of the barn, causing Barbara to laugh as she peeled off the soaked glove she had on her arm.

“Good work, Beej!” She called.

“Urrg…” Beetlejuice groaned from outside.

“You okay, love?”

“Fine,” Beetlejuice replied, then grumbled, “Like you care…”

Barbara laughed again and then looked back down at the baby. The new foal looked just like its mother. Under all that goo was a beautiful, chestnut-colored mustang, with a sweet little patch of white on its nose. She just about swooned when she saw those large, gleaming brown eyes look up at her.

“It’s a filly,” Barbara called to Adam, who was taking deep breaths of relief.

“Oh, she’s perfect,” Adam said, walking over slowly. “I was so worried for a moment there. You know, after Misty and Prancer and Baylock…”

“Hey,” Barbara cupped his cheeks, making him look at her. “That isn’t going to happen. We aren’t going to lose anymore.”

Adam nodded.

The filly began to gather her surroundings, looking around to see where she was while her mother licked and nuzzled her from above. After a moment, she slowly began to stand on her long legs, wobbling and tumbling down a few times, making Lydia laugh a bit before she finally started to get the hang of it. She clumsily tottered her way over to her mother and instantly began to nurse.

“Can’t believe you made birth your profession,” Beetlejuice said as he entered again.

“What do you think doctors do?” Adam looked at him.

“I--” Beetlejuice shut his mouth. “Shut up.”

Adam laughed. Barbara shook her head, then looked over at Lydia.

“What did you parents say about tonight?”

“They said yes,” Lydia said.

“Awesome!” Adam looked excited. “FINALLY, we can show you proper horse racing! Barbara, go get changed! Hurry!”

None of them blamed him for his energy. Horses were everything to them, and there was no better way to pass the time than watching horse races. This would be Lydia’s first time watching one firsthand since she was employed by them.

Lime Rock Raceway was a huge, towering stadium, filled with sharply-dressed patrons, colorful slot machines, and expensive fine wine. Barbara, her two partners, and Lydia got to watch the races from the highest point, where the whole track was stretched out before them, eager for their attention. They discussed their bets on the contenders in the next race as they waited.

“That one.”

Beetlejuice scoffed.

Barbara did not. She continued to stare down at the horses filing onto the muddy racetrack. The one that had caught her eye was at the back of the pack, head held low, ears flicking all over as if it heard something nobody else did. She checked the number.

“Beside The Dying Fire,” Adam said, having already looked. “Jockey’s name is Jeopardy.”

“What a curious name,” Barbara mused. “Must be a nickname.”

“I sure hope so,” Beetlejuice snorted. “Or else his parents must hate him.”

“Why are they always men?” Lydia grumbled. She wasn’t having nearly as much fun as Adam had been hoping for, but Barbara didn’t blame her. Watching a horse race wasn’t for everyone.

She looked up at Barbara, asking again, “Can women not race or something?”

Barbara chuckled. “Of course they can. A lot just choose not to. It’s a very male-dominated sport.”

“That’s weird,” Lydia said, squinting down through the glass at the jockey in question. Despite how thin all the riders were, this one in particular was awkwardly small compared to his competitors. His silks were red and white with black and white stripes down the long sleeves. “Aren’t jockeys supposed to be, like, light? Wouldn’t it make more sense for women to race? It’s easier to be lightweight when you’re a woman.”

“You got a point there, kid,” Adam said.

“The weight thing is so fucking stupid. Also, no offense, Babs, but you can’t possibly think that will win?”

Barbara turned to Beetlejuice with a coolly raised eyebrow, a smile playing around her mouth. “Do you doubt me?”

Beetlejuice grinned at her. “Never.”

Nobody knew exactly where Lawrence “Beetlejuice” Shoggoth had come from. He had just shown up one day down in town, presenting himself at Yonkers Raceway with dyed green hair and barely the clothes on his back. But when he started to ride, nobody cared about that anymore. Up on that saddle, Beetlejuice was unstoppable force of speed and grace. Nothing stopped his stride, ever. The races he rode seemed to unfurl as though to a script he had written; a script that left everyone else trailing behind his broad shoulders like a wake left in water. He was the best rider Barbara and Adam had ever seen, but never got to actually become professional due to the weight limit required to be a jockey. Now, he had become more mellow, living among Barbara and Adam as a horse trainer, wanting to teach others about his methods, but still not finding the right student. Nobody he ever came across was good enough for him and his golden wonder: Sandy aka “It’s Showtime,” a magnificent black and white thoroughbred mare with bulky muscles and a knack for sprinting.

Barbara winked at him. “Exactly.”

Out in the mud, the horses were lining up at the gate. Barbara’s bet, Beside The Dying Fire, had drawn a bad position, way over on the outside. Barbara glanced over the information again. The horse was coming up to age four, stood at a staggering seventeen hands, and had terrible form. His jockey was basically a nobody, too, as scrawny and aloof as the horse. And yet, she was drawn to the stallion. There was something to look at with that dull grey horse, even if nobody else saw it.

The racers came under starter’s orders and then they broke from the gate as one at the siren’s scream. It was a small field- plenty of hooves had scratched their own trenches from the earth due to the weather. Beside The Dying Fire hunkered down the outside, ears pulled back against the driving rain. Barbara watched him gallop, watched the low, straight stride stretch and release over the sodden ground. She had grown up around horseflesh, had watched races obsessively for years; she knew a good horse when she saw one.

This was not it.

But all the same, she found herself unable to look away. There was something.

Slogging through the slippery mud, Beside The Dying Fire did not display the brilliance locked deep within him--but when the finish line passed beneath him, his nose was one of the ones in front. Barbara could see the jockey, slathered in muck all over, smiling with relief.

Barbara smiled too, which turned to a smirk as she looked at Beetlejuice. “I told you.”

“Never doubt you,” Beetlejuice said. He looked back down at the horse in question. “I’m glad I listened to you. Let’s go have a chat with this one.”

——— ——— ———

“How many times do I have to tell you? Use your goddamn whip!”

“I don’t want to! It’s mean!”

The sound of arguing echoed down the stable corridor like thunder.

“Mean? What kind of PETA shit have you been looking at? It’s a damn animal. It doesn’t know anything.”

“Peril knows a lot of things! He’s smart!”

“You’re losing us so much money.”

“I can win without hitting him. I don’t need a crop. I did good today!”

“You got third. You should have gotten first.”

“At least I wasn’t last.”

“Each day you prove that your kind doesn’t belong in racing. Not unless you use your fucking whip!”

“Well, I think I raced really well.”

“Your parents will be hearing about this.”

A grizzled man stormed past Barbara, Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia as they were making their way down the aisle, hissing and cursing underneath his breath. They all looked forward again to find the victim of his verbal assault: the jockey of Beside The Dying Fire.

“I think we did good,” He said to the grey giant munching on some alfalfa inside the pen he and that man had been arguing in front of.

“Jeopardy?”

Saying that name made Barbara feel a little stupid, but her call was received when the jockey just about jumped out of his skin. He whirled around, startling his horse into a stomping, huffing fit. He blinked big, doe-like eyes at Barbara and her group.

And that was when Barbara realized he wasn’t a he at all.

Beside The Dying Fire’s jockey was a girl.

Well. That probably explained what that man had meant when he said “your kind.”

She was a tiny, skinny little thing, barley 5’1, bearing no muscle at all. She was young, too, much younger than any of the jockeys Barbara had ever seen before. At most, she had to be fifteen, but by how high pitched and youthful her voice was, she could be even younger. She was completely slathered in mud from head-to-toe, face smeared with sludge and blocking most facial features, but her youth was clear and her hazel eyes were bright behind her goggles.

“Hi! Hi. Yes, hello. I’m Jeopardy.” She said, stammering slightly, and her voice was a lot higher up close, but not in an obnoxious way. It was sweet and silvery, like candy.

“You’re a girl,” Lydia said in wonder.

The jockey blinked, then looked down at herself. “Last time I checked, yes.”

Lydia laughed.

Jeopardy tried to dust herself off now that she was in the presence of other people, only to remember that she was completely covered in grime. She dropped her arms, looked back up at them, and said, “I swear, I’m not usually covered in this much mud.”

They all laughed. It was nice to see a jockey that had a sense of humor. There were too many that got cranky for asking simple questions or even breathing in the general vicinity of their horse. This girl was the complete opposite of that, and it perhaps had to do with her young age.

“Does it get in your mouth?” Lydia asked.

“Oh yeah,” Jeopardy answered. “And my nose. And my ears. ”

Lydia laughed. “How?!”

“I have no idea!” Jeopardy exclaimed. “Usually it isn’t this bad, but it was rainy today, so it kinda got everywhere. My dinner tonight is going to taste like earth.”

More laughing, and Jeopardy looked delighted. She was giving off a strong sense of loneliness, like it wasn’t normal for people to talk to her in such a friendly way.

“I’m Presley Lind,” Jeopardy— no, Presley, said. “Jeopardy is just a show name.” She then extended a hand to Barbara, only instantly rip it away when she realized how dirty her glove was. “Oh dear. Pretend I shook your hand or else my Southern Belle training will go down the drain.”

“I’m Barbara,” Barbara said. “These are Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Presley said politely, smiling, and her lips were caked with drying mud. “What can I do for you all?”

“Oh, we just wanted to come down and congratulate you on your victory tonight,” Barbara said. “You were amazing.”

Presley perked up, as if it wasn’t uncommon for her to be congratulated. “Oh, really? Th-- thank you! But I didn’t really do anything. It was all this big guy!” She turned to her horse, who looked more brown than grey with all the mud sticking to his coat, and she had so much love in her eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” Adam said. “What’s his name?”

“Peril!” Presley told him proudly. “Presley and Peril- it’s kind of our thing.” She reached out and patted the stallion’s freckled nose.

Barbara felt a sort of endearment fill her heart. What an adorable girl.

And then Peril snorted and spit half-chewed alfalfa and huge globs of saliva right into his rider’s face.

For a moment, Presley was frozen, then spit the muck back out onto the ground and raised her gloves hands to wipe her face off. She took off her goggles, and the rings left around her eyes were perfectly clear of grime.

“I deserved that,” Presley said. She looked at Barbara and her group. “Do not mess with this one when he’s eating.”

“Say, Presley,” Beetlejuice spoke up. “Do you have a trainer?”

“Yes, sir,” Presley said, and her manners shocked Barbara. “He was that guy yelling.”

“Does he always yell at you like that?” Adam asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Presley nodded. “Usually. He doesn’t like me or Peril very much. But he was a lot nicer today. He didn’t hit me with my crop this time!” She laughed, and then realized the others weren’t laughing with her, so she stopped and cleared her throat. “I’m-- I’m totally joking. That was a joke!”

“Well, it sounds like your guy right now is an ass, but you’re in luck,” Beetlejuice said. “Presley, I’d like to be your trainer.”

#horse racing au #ta-daaaaa!#beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #the jockey #beetlelands #chasing pegasus

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years

Text

Carnival of Hearts (Part 1/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe. I’m here with a new series because I have no self control. If you’ve been here for a while then you know this is my typical behavior but if you’re new my apologies. Good news, I do have specific plans on what I’m tackling, so hopefully things will happen soon. But I do have a lot of (good thankfully) things going on in my family life so it’s a bit chaotic.

This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)

Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward

Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1074

“I have found you the perfect guy,” Nat announced as she flounced into your room.

“Oh joy, oh happy day. I shan’t die unwed,” you deadpanned without looking up from your book.

You squawked indignantly when she flicked your ear and yanked your book away from you.

“What the hell? I was reading.”

“I’m serious,” she huffed. “I had lunch with Wanda today and she mentioned that she has a friend she thinks would be perfect for you, and after scoping him out I have to agree.”

“Wonderful. Can I have my book back now?”

“His name is Bucky,”

“Someone actually named their kid Bucky?”

“It’s a nickname. And he’s a sweetheart,” she continued, ignoring you. “He’s a linguistics major. Minor in creative writing. You’re really gonna like him.”

“I’m sure I would if I were actually going to go out with him.”

“Oh come on. You haven’t been on a date in over a year.”

“Which should have been your first clue that I didn’t want to get set up. I’m enjoying single life. Thanks ever so much.”

You plucked the book from her hands and rolled over onto your back, trying to find your page.

“Sitting here pining over your best friend is not enjoying single life.”

“Number one, I’m lying down. And number two, I’m not pining over you. Though you certainly are a sight for sore eyes.”

You batted your eyelashes at her flirtatiously. She rolled her eyes and took your book again only to swat you with it.

“Cute. You know that’s not which best friend I’m talking about.”

You sighed and sat up, moving back against the headboard, slightly out of reach.

“I’m not pining over Steve either.”

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest weren’t very convincing.

“Y/n, you know I love you and I just want what’s best for you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then just trust me and go on a date with Bucky. He’s exactly what you need.”

You sighed.

“You’re not going to let this go. Are you?”

Her smile was triumphant.

“Nope. And I’ve made it as easy as possible for you. He’s going to be your date to the carnival.”

“But Steve and I are going to the carnival together.”

It was tradition. It was not a date.

Unfortunately.

“Not until after Steve finishes volunteering. This is the deal. You, me, Wanda, and Bucky all meet. If you hate him immediately I’ll let you bail. But otherwise you hang out for a few hours; we’ll all meet up for lunch. And then you can spend the rest of the night with Steve. Deal?”

You mulled it over. It wasn’t the worst deal. Your date would have a set end point if it wasn’t going well. And if it did go well you had a buddy to go on rides with while Steve was working.

“And I promise not to set you up again for a month,” she added.

“For the semester,” you countered.

“Fine. Deal.”

“Deal.”

You shook on it.

“Excellent. I’ll tell Wanda to give him your number.”

“Buck, you home?” Wanda called as she let herself into the apartment.

“In my room,” he shouted back.

Picking up a few stray papers, Wanda stacked them neatly on the coffee table before heading down the hall towards Bucky’s room. He was hunched over, scrawling in a notebook.

“Academic or inspired?” she mused.

“A little of both. I really liked the flash fiction prompt we got in class today.”

“What was it?”

“Everyday romance.”

“What’s your story about?”

She smiled fondly at the shy excitement blossoming on his face.

“It’s kinda weird.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“It’s a series of descriptions of everyday items, but the descriptions are the way it’s special. Like: coffee in a novelty mug purchased at gift shop in Hawaii. The brew was set seven minutes ago with two teaspoons of sugar. Just the way he liked it,” he read aloud.

“That’s really sweet. You really do have a way with words.”

Bucky beamed.

“Thanks. So what brings you over?”

She perched on his desk, legs swinging back and forth.

“I have found the perfect girl for you.”

He rolled his eyes before she finished speaking.

“Wanda, I don’t need you to set me up.”

“Buck, you should be out experiencing love instead of only writing about it.”

“I’m just not looking for someone right now.”

“Then how come you went on a shitty date with Dot last weekend?”

“It wasn’t a date. We just went to dinner.”

“On a Saturday night in Little Italy.”

“She just wanted to thank me for my help with her paper.”

She leveled him with her stare.

“You don’t actually believe that do you?”

He silently met her gaze before crumpling.

“Okay, no. So it was a date, but it was enough of a failure for me to not want to do it again any time soon.”

“Or you can go out with the very sweet girl I’ve picked out for you.”

“How do you even know her?”

Wanda smirked, knowing that if he was asking he would likely agree to it.

“I don’t personally. She’s Nat’s best friend.”

Bucky’s brow disappeared into his hairline.

“Mainlines vodka and coffee and still has a 4.0 Nat?”

“Yup. That’s the one.”

“Not exactly my type.”

“Well, she’s the opposite of Nat so that works perfectly.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Why are you forcing this, Wan?”

“Because you deserve to be happy and I can’t watch you go on another shitty date. Although that’s a lot better than pining I suppose.”

“Fine,” he conceded, not wanting to argue that particular point.

He never won that argument.

“Give me her number. I’ll set something up.”

She plucked a card from the front pocket of her purse and handed it to him.

“Here you go. But the date’s already set up. You two are going to the carnival together.”

“That’s in two days.”

“Do you need more time to fix your hair?”

“Wanda,” he growled.

“I’m teasing. Relax. We were going anyway. Look, it’s super low pressure this way. You meet her in the afternoon and if it doesn’t work out, you say goodbye when we meet up for lunch. I will give you a built in out.”

“Promise?”

She smiled warmly at his innocent pout.

“Cross my heart.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Great. You’re gonna love her. I promise she’s exactly what you need.”

A/N: This one is gonna be fun. Hoping to finish and have it queued to post regularly soon, but wanted to get this part out there. I hope you enjoyed!

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rohad93 · 3 years

Text

Moonlit Masquerade: Moonlit Ever After Pt 2

Luz hopped off her staff in front of the portal, letting King down to scamper back into the house with Eda and Lilith before she stepped through the door. That uncomfortable magicless feeling washed over her and she shook herself as she dashed out of the old shack.

She jogged to her mother’s house, today was Halloween, so no one walking up and down the street even blinked an eye at her as jogged past in her usual witchy attire, staff on her back.

She'd have to bring Amity here next Halloween. They could do something fun for their first anniversary and just walk around as they were and no one would think twice.

"Mami, you home?" Luz peeked her head in the door, not bothering with knocking.

"Coming, Mija!"

Her mother appeared on the stairs, her hair lying in a shiny, flat curtain against her back and dressed in a knee-length, dark green dress, a belt cinched around her waist.

"Ay, looking good, Mami!" Luz grinned, shooting her a finger gun.

"Thank you, baby, but wait until you see Amity." She smiled knowingly, and color Luz intrigued. She of course was already waiting on bated breath to see her soon to be wife, but her mother making mention of it has her even more excited.

"Was she beautiful in her dress? I mean, I know she must be, she's always beautiful, even when she first gets up and is grumpy and has bed head and morning breath…," Luz rambled excitedly and her mother just smiled knowingly at her. It was always nice to see the ways in which Luz hadn’t changed while she was away; made it feel like she hadn’t missed quite so much.

"That girl just owns you, heart and soul, doesn't she?" Camila laughed, bringing her rambling to a halt and Luz chuckled, cheeks pink, scratching the back of her head.

"Yeah." She can only nod in agreement, she couldn’t even think to deny it.

"As for her dress, you'll just have to wait and see, Mija."

"I'd rather wait till tonight anyway." Luz shrugged with a smile. "Are you ready to go?"

"Si, si, let's go, you need to start getting ready, your hair is a mess." Her mother fussed, trying to smooth her windswept locks.

"I'll fix it after I shower," Luz laughed, but resigned herself to letting her mother fuss over her.

When they returned to the Owl House Gus and Edric were waiting there, dressed in their matching dark blue dress shirts under black vests and coats. Luz is glad to see that Edric has shaved off his mustache. She didn’t mind it, but she knew Amity hated it and was threatening to ban him from all photos if he didn’t shave it off.

“You guys are early!” Luz smiled as they walked into the house. Camila greeted the boys before walking into the kitchen where the Clawthorne sisters were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Better early than late, right?” Edric grinned.

“Amity would kill you.” Luz grinned back.

“Too true, sis.” Edric nodded sagely, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you excited?” Gus grinned gleefully at her, bouncing on his toes.

“Very, I gotta go shower and get dressed. You guys got everything else taken care of?”

“Everything is set up at the tree.” Gus nodded.

“We stopped by the school too, they have everything just about set up there too,” Edric gave her a thumbs up.

“Great, I’ll be back in a little bit!” she hurried up the stairs and the sound of the shower running followed.

Two hours to curtain time and everyone in the owl house was in the living room, waiting on Luz.

“Have you heard from the girls today?” Lilith looked at Edric who nodded.

“Em just messaged me that they’re leaving for the school now, so everything is on schedule,” he confirmed.

“Now if we can just get the other bride to get a move on,” Eda snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She should be down any minute now,” Lilith replied.

As if summoned, a door closed upstairs and Luz thumped down the stairs.

“How do I look?” Luz asked nervously as she finally appeared from upstairs, making her family look up, and they went quiet.

Luz stood in front of them in her shiny dress shoes and white pants, her button-up shirt a vivid violet, tucked into her pants under the white vest and tie knotted smoothly against her neck. Her long hair combed back carefully, laying against her back atop the matching white, tailed coat.

She does a little spin and Camila is already tearing up as she looks at her, while her soon to be brother-in-law whistles.

“You look amazing, Luz!” Gus gushes.

“Sharp as ever, Kid.” Eda smiles at her softly from the couch.

“Amity will be smitten even further, if possible, the moment she lays eyes on you,” Lilith agreed with a nod and smile as Luz chuckled.

“Thanks, guys.” she fretted nervously with the buttons of her coat and smoothed the perfectly straight, bright white tie.

“Why all the white? No one here believes you're a virgin,” Eda cackled and Luz flushed brightly against the stark color. Camila shook her head, exasperated by the gray-haired witch. Edric wheezed at that while Gus just flushed.

“I just liked how it looked…,” she mumbled.

“You look wonderful, Mija,” Camila assured her, walking up to her smoothing her coat before cupping her cheeks in her hands. “¡Oh, mi bebé se va a casar!” Camila smooshed her cheeks as her eyes got misty.

“Mami, por favor…,” Luz begged, prying her mother’s hands off her cheeks.

“¡Amity es una chica muy afortunada!” Camila sniffled, making Luz smile.

“I think I’m the lucky one…,” Luz mumbled, grinning at her mother, who smiled at that.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both very lucky, you can be sickeningly in love together for the rest of your lives,” Eda broke the moment with a grin. “Are we ready or what?”

“We got the rings?” Gus asked and King held up the two boxes in his clawed hands. “Do you have your vows?” he turned to Luz.

“Vows?” Luz repeated, blinking before she slaps her hands against her face. “...I forgot to write vows…,” she said quietly, staring wide-eyed into the air with horror, mouth hanging open and Eda starts to laugh uncontrollably, doubling over on the couch as Edric snorts, trying to choke back his laughter while Lilith sighs, shaking her head, fingers pressed to her temple.

“Luz…,” Gus sighed, pressing his hands to his face.

“Mija…” her mother is shaking her head tiredly.

“It’s okay! I got this, I am a master of improv!” she insists. “I mean, it’s basically just saying things I love about Amity, I can do that in my sleep!”

“She can, I’ve heard her yammering about her in her sleep.” King nodded, rolling his eyes.

“See?” Luz held her hands at the demon.

“I dunno if this is the best time to be practicing your improv, Luz,” Gus said, worried.

“Well we have to leave now, there’s no time to write any,” Lilith sighed.

“Ride with me kid, you can jot down some thoughts on the way over,” Eda said, finally standing, and wiping mirthful tears out of her eyes.

“I don’t need to write anything down, trust me, I got this!” Luz insists, hands on her hips.

“It’s your wedding/ funeral.” Eda shrugs and holds out her hand, something crashes in the bowels of the house before her staff flies into her hand. “Let’s get this matrimony show on the road!”

They pile out of the house into the front yard.

“Come on, Mami, you can ride with me,” Luz said as she hopped on her staff.

Camila nervously climbed on behind her and Luz grinned as she clung to her as they lifted off the ground.

Edric and Gus are already taking off on their own staves with Eda and Lilith behind them, Luz following along a little slower for her mother’s sake, who clings to her tightly.

“It's okay, Mami, I may never have learned to drive, but I am a master with a staff,” she promised.

Camila squeezed her tighter. Luz just smiled to herself and kept flying, slow and even toward the cliffside where they were getting married.

Amity and the rest of the girls were going to be at the school while Luz and the boys would go straight to the tree. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, the moon already rising across the sky, and it’s blue hue was apparent to all, though it yet had no light of its own as the sun’s bright orange rays drowned it out as it dropped below the horizon line, casting bright oranges and pinks across the sky.

Luz smiled to herself as they approached, she could see the bright pink tree standing tall over the rest of the forest. When they touched down she grinned to herself, the tree was still in full bloom, even though its pink leaves and flowers were slowly falling from their branches with every stray gust of wind. Even better were the hundreds of little orbs of light floating in the air above them, lighting the area up with their gentle glow.

It was a simple set up, there was a long dark rug stretched from under the tree, back out into the forest toward the school, where a large curtain had been set up in the trees where Amity would appear later. The cliffs on the other side and several rows of white folding chairs on either side,

A few people had already arrived and were sitting around talking, including Bump, several of the council members, and some of her and Amity’s friends and old allies from the various covens.

It was happening here in just a scant hour. They were getting married.

Luz swallowed, suddenly feeling a little stiff as she looked around at everything. Was her tie too tight? She suddenly found it hard to breathe and wondered for a moment if her PTSD was choosing this moment to make the worst timed appearance of all time, but there’s no quiet buzzing under her skin or whispering in the back of her mind, it’s blissfully quiet, though she suddenly feels an anxiousness settle in the pit of her stomach. It feels different than the kind that usually accompanies one of those days.

She fidgeted with her sleeves, foot-tapping anxiously on the ground, drawing both her mothers’ gaze.

“Mija?” Camila looks at her, concerned.

“You okay, Kid?” Eda tilts her head.

“YEaH…” her voice cracked a little and she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I just…” She glanced around, unsure.

“Oh,” Eda smirked, seeming to catch on. “Finally getting cold feet?” she asked knowingly.

“What? No! I just… I dunno, I just feel so nervous all of a sudden.” she frowned.

“That’s perfectly normal, Luz.” Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “This is a big step in your relationship with Amity, a lifelong commitment, It's natural to be nervous," she soothed.

"Yeah, you still wanna marry her right?" Eda slapped her hand atop Luz's other shoulder.

"Of course I do!" Luz nodded. "I guess it's just… it never felt like this day was ever actually going to get here… now it is and It's like I just did a milk shot. My stomach is all squirmy." She placed her hands over her stomach, frowning.

"I felt the same way before I married your Papi," Camila admitted and that made Luz's racing nerves screech to a grinding halt.

The most she knew about her dad was that he had died before she was born, her mother had never wanted to talk about it when she was a kid, always telling her that they would talk about it when she was older, but then she'd vanished for the last six years. It had never really bothered her, she'd just gotten used to functioning as though she didn't have a dad, since she actually never had, and she had being the school weirdo to contend with most of her first fourteen years.

"Huh?" Is all she can get her mouth to say as she looks at her mother.

Camila's smile is soft and sad. It had been over twenty years, but she still found it hard to talk about, she'd even gone as far as getting rid of all the photos, they had just been too painful to look at at the time and pictures of their daughter had taken up the spaces left empty on the walls shortly after.

Till Luz had vanished, then they too had been packed away, but she had gotten her baby back and more in the form of her soon to be daughter-in-law.

"We'll talk about it soon, I promise, Luz, but for now, trust me, this is normal and once you see Amity all those nerves will go away.” Camila smiled at her daughter.

“Yeah,” Eda threw in. “I’ve been watching you two be grossly in love for six years, you two are sickeningly perfect for each other.” She grinned, squeezing Luz’s shoulder.

Luz took a deep breath and tried to quell the flipping in her stomach.

“Right, I know… I should go... talk to some of the guests…,” she mumbled before walking over to the coven heads who were seated already.

“Hmm, we should keep an eye on her…” Eda set a fist on her hip and Camila nodded as they watched Luz chat with the group of witches.

~ ~

Amity took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from her dress, her fingers brushing the brooch Luz had given her, pinned to the left of her chest, she never took it off. Just next to it, beneath the top of her dress was the power amulet Lilith had given her for her fifteenth birthday, she was never without that either, it had saved her life a few times during her many battles, and powered the final spell of the war.

Another pillar crashed to the floor, in the wake of Amity’s flaming abomination, set ablaze by Luz’s glyphs shoved inside of it and raising a cloud of dust and debris that stung her eyes as the two teenagers dived behind another pillar to catch their breath while the creature distracted the weakened Emperor.

The castle was shaking and trembling as witches fired off spell after spell in every hall and corridor in the place. Rebels and loyalists fighting bitterly everywhere, dust fell from the ceiling with the force of the magics that battered the walls and ceilings from every direction. Even the floor beneath their feet is a mass of broken and loose stone from the force of the attacks being flung about the room.

Amity hissed, looking down at her leg, blood was dripping down her calf and into her boot, but she didn’t have time for that, she could tend her injuries when Belos was dead.

“I’m nearly at my limit…,” Luz panted quietly, knees shaking and Amity sucked in a sharp breath at that.

Once, Luz had claimed that her glyphs didn’t suck up energy or make her tired the way Amity’s own spellcasting did. One thing the war had taught them was that that was horribly untrue. Luz had just never needed to expend that much energy on the small glyphs she usually used in day to day life to notice the drain. Hours or even days of endless fighting had proved that her form of magic did suck up her energy, till she could barely lift her head, an alarming thing they had discovered after the first few battles of the war. After that, Luz had to learn to better monitor and sparse out her magic, though it certainly made her a much shrewder and acute fighter.

Amity grit her teeth, she’s exhausted too. It had been a blow for blow firefight just to get them to this point, then just to weaken him enough that he could no longer meld into the floors and walls. She cursed under her breath, she knows she can’t do this alone, and the others are all fighting elsewhere, their next attack is going to be their last and they need to make it count, or every spilled drop of blood and snuffed out life will have been for nothing.

An explosion sends bits of singed abomination goo across the room, beyond its ability to reform. Their time is nearly up.

Her mind is a whirling mass of thoughts.

“Come out, children.” Belos’ low voice echoed in the cavernous room, but she can tell it’s strained. They’re not the only ones injured. Amity squeezed Luz’s arm, drawing exhausted brown eyes to her, allowing her to see the long cut, seeping blood on her cheek.

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, love. I have a plan.” Amity’s voice is a tight whisper in Luz’s ear and her white-knuckled grip on her staff tightens further as she jerks a nod.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Stone cracks behind the pillar and Belos turns to it, eyes blazing beneath his mask.

He rounds the pillar, staff raised above his head but an abomination lunges around him, covering him in its gelatinous body, and before he can move it glows blue and ice erupts across its gooey flesh, freezing solid around him; trapped.

The crackling of a portal, makes him turn his head as far as he can to see the two teenagers appear behind him.

Amity stood behind a trembling Luz as she held a fire glyph in front of her. Between the ice glyphs and the portal, Amity’s left arm wrapped tightly around her waist is all that keeps her standing, and sheer willpower is all that stands between Amity and passing out.

Amity reached around, power amulet in hand, and grabbed Luz’s trembling hand gripping the glyph card, the stone amulet pressed between their skin is warm, alive with magic she’s been storing for months and she wills the stored power free.

They were both enveloped in the bright magenta glow and then the glyph blazed to life and fire erupted like a volcano from it, the sweltering heat licks at their skin, and the thunderous sound of the roaring blaze pounds in their ears.

Their eyes slammed shut against the blinding, white-hot light. It seemed to drag on and on, before finally, the amulet’s power is expended and the flames faded to flickering embers, leaving them in the dimly lit room, blinking away the spots in their vision.

Luz panted, slipping to her knees, and Amity drops behind her, head on her shoulder and arms limp. They poured everything they had left into that one spell.

When her vision finally cleared, Amity, with great effort, lifted her head to find that where the Emperor had once stood is nothing more than a large, smeared, black stain against the singed stone wall. A pile of ash is all that remains, along with a half-melted, broken staff.

She waits, holding her breath, eyes flickering around the room, as if waiting for him to pop out of the shadows and finish them both, it would be easy, they’re boneless and have nothing left to give, but the longer they sit there on their knees, Luz’s ragged panting the only sound in the room, nothing happens. Her grip on Luz tightens and tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

“He’s ...dead…” her choked voice is foreign to her own ears, but it makes Luz lift her head and she looks at the smeared pile of ash that is all that remains of the once tyrant Emperor of The Boiling Isles.

“It's over…” her voice is barely a whisper and she’s so tired. She relaxes and her consciousness slips away, body slumping to the floor.

“Luz?… Luz!” Amity leans down, pressing a pointed ear to Luz’s back, and relaxes when she hears the steady rhythm beating inside her chest. It takes the last dregs of her strength to pull Luz’s limp body up so her head lays against her chest.

They stay there until the rest of the rebellion bursts into the throne room and finds them, both unconscious on the floor together.

She shook her head, casting away those thoughts, and drags her finger away from the amulet. She hasn’t had to use it since, but its presence is comforting. She knows the devastating power she can unleash with it.

A knock on the empty classroom door makes her jerk.

“Come in.” She glanced over her shoulder as her sister poked her head in the door and smiled as she looked at her sister in her dress, auburn hair done in perfect, bouncy curls, and her makeup done immaculately, if Emira did say so herself, she had done it after all.

“Hey sis, we got like, thirty minutes, you bout ready?”

Amity nodded, still fiddling with her clothes as Emira stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Still nervous?” she smiled gently as she stood behind her and Amity looked at her in the reflection of the mirror.

“Actually, no. I was this morning, I thought I was going to throw up after breakfast but now I’m just… excited.” She smiled and Emira grinned at her and flicked a few of her curls with her finger.

“You should be, Ed was just here, apparently our new little sis looks sharp enough to cut. Said you better hold tight to your heart when you see her,” Emira laughed and Amity’s smile turned into a toothy grin. Luz was pretty content most of the time to just throw on something clean under her cloak, but Amity was intimately aware of her ability to turn the knob all the way to the max on her appearance when she wanted. More than once she had left Amity near speechless on special occasions, and as far as special occasions went, she couldn’t think of one Luz would put more effort into than their wedding.

“I’ll do my best,” Amity chuckled.

“Alright, we’ll be waiting out front when you’re ready.” She threw over her shoulder as she turned to go. Amity nodded and the door closed. She took another breath and picked up the bouquet of blood-blossoms sitting on one of the desks and smiled at them, running her fingers over the petals The flowers always made her think of Luz, being the same kind she had once put on her locker.

She’d been the first one to ever gift flowers to her.

Actually, Luz had been her first… well, everything. Crush, kiss, girlfriend, love.

She won’t say first wife, because that implied that she might have a second someday and Amity has no plans to ever let that happen, and maybe it’s naive, but she’s sure that she’s going to be with the human all the rest of her life.

They’ve known lots of other couples over the years and it always astounded both of them how some other couples could argue about things that could so easily be fixed if they just talked about it. Sure, they fight sometimes, but never for long and never anything like the screaming matches they’ve witnessed other couples have. Ugly, knock-down drag outs that leave someone in tears. The only times they’ve left the other in angry tears have been because the other did something dangerously stupid.

Usually, it was Amity, but after the battle at the knee, it had been Luz, who had screamed at her for fifteen minutes while sobbing. Maybe it wasn’t the smart thing to do, too so carelessly throw her life around, but she meant it and means it still. She would always put her life on the line for her and that argument was quickly ended by Amity telling her that she damn well would have done the same thing and she knew it, and her life was worth no more or less then Luz’s

That stopped the screaming, but it didn’t stop the tears, it took a while for those to stop.

It’s strange when she thinks about it, loving someone so wholly and fiercely that the threat of her own death seems like such a trivial thing in the face of losing her, that someone can make her feel so totally fearless in one moment and then terrified to breathe the next.

Amity huffs, smiling to herself. It sounds so sappy, like something straight out of the pair’s favorite book series, but she and Luz have a powerful bond, forged first out of love and affection, then the complete and total trust that could only come from being tempered with blood and the fires of war.

If Luz told her to jump off a cliff Amity knows she would do it because she trusts Luz above all else; she always had a plan.

Amity rolled her eyes at herself. She’s such a sap, not that Luz is any better, which makes her feel a little better.

Their friends are right.

They are gross.

There’s a knock on the door and Amity straightened.

“I’m coming, Em!”

The door opened but her sister didn’t say anything. Amity turned and stopped.

“Dad…,” she breathes as she stared back at her father, standing in the doorway.

Alador Blight smiled at her.

“May I come in?” he asked her.

“Of course!” she nods and he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

She can only stare at him as he crossed the room to stand in front of her, gold eyes aglow in the last bits of light coming in the classroom window, the sun has set, but a faint orange glow still rests on the horizon, slowly being overtaken by the blue glow of the bright, full, blue moon that is rising overhead.

“You look breath-taking, Amity.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you came.” she smiled at him, and she is. For all their disconnects over the years and her hurt feelings at his absence as a child, she can’t stop loving the man in front of her, and because she knows her dad loves her, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

Alador’s smile fades at that.

“I apologize for not being able to send Thrasus to you sooner, I have been rather preoccupied with your mother.” Nothing about that surprised Amity, but his next words did. “Getting her to agree to unbind our eternal oath has been a tiresome affair.” His brows furrowed between his eyes, frown deepening.

“What?!” Amity blinks wildly at that, her eyes dart to her father’s left hand, and sees that he no longer wore the gold band that had sat on his finger since before she could remember.

Alador folded his hands behind his back and looked pensive.

“I loved your mother dearly once, but I have realized in recent years that I let that blind me to certain things that I should have seen, especially things concerning you and your siblings.” He looked so tired right now, the lines in his face are deep rivers around her mouth and beneath his eyes. “When you left Blight manor to live with Luz they suddenly became clear, and after questioning Edric and Emira, I’m ashamed to admit that I let so much get by me that should not have, and for that, I am truly sorry, Amity.”

Amity chewed her bottom lip. She wants to say it’s fine, but it isn’t and they both know it. Luz told her once that it was okay to not be okay, and she was right.

“Thank you.” Is what she settles on and Alador nods.

“I've spent the last three years trying to understand and find that woman I once know, but after you came to the Manor and told us about the wedding, I realized that she does not exist anymore.” He turned his head away and Amity can see the sorrow on his face. She reached out and took his hand, drawing his gaze back to her.

“It’s over between the two of you?” she questions and he nods.

“I’m sorry,” and she means that. She’s sorry her father is hurt.

“To be completely honest with you, I don’t think the woman I knew ever existed, I chose not to see. I’ve always known that your mother did not care for me the same way I cared for her, but I hoped it was more than I thought. I could have spared myself twenty-five years of wasted time had I been willing to accept that when I was young, I did not, but despite that, I can’t find it in myself to regret all that time.”

“How can you not regret wasting half your life on someone you know didn’t love you back?” Amity can’t understand that at all.

Alador only chuckled at that as he looked at her, gold eyes the same shade as her own staring back at her. He turned his hand over to hold her, dwarfed in his much larger one as he held her hand between both of his.

“Because what I got was worth much more.”

Amity fully anticipated she would cry today, expected it, but not before the wedding even started.

Alador tuts and pulls the kerchief from his breast pocket and dabs at her wet eyes.

“There is no time for that, Amity. If you’re going to cry, then save those tears for Luz.”

She laughs, despite herself and nods, willing back the water.

“I’m glad to know that you won’t face a similar problem in the future”

“How can you know that?” she asked, she knows it’s true, she does, if there is one thing in life she doesn’t doubt, it’s Luz.

“I’ve seen the way that woman looks at you enough times to know that she cares for you just as dearly as you do for her,” Is her dad’s simple answer. “I’m sure you’ll be quite preoccupied after the ceremony, so I came to tell you that I’m proud of you, Amity, you’ve proven yourself to be so much stronger than I could have ever hoped.”

Amity just smiles and Alador pulled his pocket watch from his pocket and popped open the face.

“I believe it’s time for you to go, my dear.” He smiled and Amity nodded. He turned and started for the door.

“Dad…,” Amity called and he stopped, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She hesitates for a moment but carries on. “Would you walk me down the aisle?”

His eyes widened at that and he turned to face her completely.

He looks like he wants to question her, she can see the jump in his jaw, through his mouth never opens to voice any of them.

“Yes,” he finally said and Amity smiled, and walked up to him, slipping her arm through his.

“Then we better go.”

He nods, and they leave the school.

#Lumity #moonlit masquerade #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #Eda Clawthorne #Lilith Clawthorne #Camila Noceda #Gus Porter #Willow park #Alador Blight #gay #fic #toh #the owl house

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