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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years

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Hello sweetie. May I have 7) “I dreamt about you last night.”, 14) “Can I have this dance?”, “I couldn’t live without you.” and “I’m yours, in every way possible.” with Sonny Carisi (I'm heads over heels for that man) with female reader, please. Thanks :) - @reading--mermaid

for @reading--mermaid. sonny carisi x female!reader.

word count: 2240

rating: e for everyone, because a wedding brings everyone together, for better or for worse, but in this case definitely for the better (pretty much fluff! tw: mentions of alcohol.)

For the moment, you remember why you wish you could be an only child.

“You’re bringing your boyfriend. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“You know, when I dreamt about you last night, I completely forgot about the part where you’re absolutely insane,” you comment mildly. Your hand reaches for your glass, and Jane just sighs. “Guess it just slipped my mind.”

“Uh-huh. So he’s coming, then?”

Your sister is glaring at you from across the table, but you don’t look at her, focusing instead on the brunch menu.

“Seems like I might try the scallops today,” you hum, and she just rolls her eyes.

“You’re allergic to seafood, dumbass, and you’re bringing your boyfriend.”

“No, I’m not, Jane.” Your voice is firm, and when she narrows her eyes at you, it’s your turn to give the dramatic roll. “Look. I don’t want to bring him. Barb’s my friend, and I love her, and I’m excited for her, but that wedding is going to be shitshow. The last thing I want is to scare him off because dear old Uncle Phil decides to get too rowdy and Aunt Julia decides to drink two bottles of wine instead of one at the reception.”

“That’s just how weddings work,” Jane counters, and when you open your mouth again to argue, she raises her hand. “It’s a shitshow, but it’s sweet. You’re a bridesmaid, sweetheart. And unless you want one of the bridal party trying to flirt with you all night, your boyfriend is the perfect protection. Plus, I want to meet him!”

With a sigh, you lift up your hand to tie your hair back, your scrunchie forcing the mess into a bun. “You’ve met him,” you say, with no lack of petulance, but Jane just sighs.

“Once. For like, ten minutes, in passing. You’re both always busy, and not only that, but I know Mom and Dad wouldn’t mind meeting the guy that you’re basically swooning over every time you talk to them on the phone. How long’s it been that you’ve been gushing about him? A year?”

That makes your brows raise, and Jane can surely see them even over the menu. “They’re coming, then? For sure?”

“For sure. Uncle Phil paid for their flight. Said he wanted the whole family there, and that means every brother they can manage.” There’s a moment of silence as Jane glances around. The waiter still hasn’t come for your order, and so she busies herself with a drink of water before speaking again, letting you ruminate on the fact. “Just. Think about it. Please? For me?”

So, you do. You think. And while the prospect of Sonny meeting your… eclectic family is terrifying; you can’t help but think that he’s… well. He’s Sonny. And when you think about him meeting your parents, finally…

With a sigh, you put down the menu, interlock your fingers, and when you look up, your sister is flashing her puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll ask. And if he’s not busy, which he always is, I’ll bring him,” you relent, just to get her to stop looking at you like that. There are practically tears in her eyes. Immediately she breaks out into a grin, a little cackle added on. “But you owe me the name of your firstborn. I don’t care what David says, sister’s honor.”

“No shit,” Jane returns. You shake on it, making you chuckle. “Easiest deal I’ve ever made.”

Sonny says yes. Immediately. No hesitation. It’s a testament to how fantastic he is that when you bring it up over takeout that night, he seems absolutely delighted at the prospect.

Of course, you try to warn him.

“You might not be available the day of,” you point out.

His response is easy as he takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of your couch. “If you give me the date, I’ll take time off right now. Liv’ll be fine with it, you know that.”

“My parents will be there,” you warn, and while the moment gives him pause, he ends it with a smile.

“Good.”

Good. Good. To meeting the parents? You want to poke him, see if he’s an alien or something, but he’s still smiling and all you really can do is kiss him for it.

“You know, all of my family is a pain in the ass,” you state bluntly, a last ditch effort. He snorts, and you reach to stab him with your plastic fork, the takeout he brought home not yet opened up and dug into. “I’m serious! It’ll be a mess, okay, and if I can spare you that –“

He just chuckles, reaching to pull you into his embrace. You melt into it – by this point his button down is off, leaving just his undershirt. He smells like home, and you can’t help but sink into the feeling. “Sweetheart, that’s family. Trust me, all right? You’ve met my sisters, you’ve met my parents. It’s about time that I return the favor.”

When he kisses your temple, you’re realizing with a twist of your lips that he’s unfortunately pretty damn great.

“You know, you won’t be able to really talk to me until the first dances,” you tell him, just for shits and giggles, and that earns you another kiss, this one on your cheek, your neck, your jaw, behind your ear.

“But I’ll be able to see you.”

So, it’s done. The car is rented, the hotel is booked, and when the weekend of comes around, and the two of you hop into your car and make the three-hour ride up.

Of course, the wedding is about as much of a pain as you expected it to be.

It should be noted that you love being there for your cousin, and she looks absolutely stunning her gown. It’s not the gown, or your own dress (which is plain and deep burgundy, styled perfectly with a matching lip). It’s not the ceremony, which makes you tear up, as her and her wife seal the deal with a kiss that you hoot and holler at. It’s not the food or the drinks or the venue or anything else that came together for Barb’s perfect day.

It’s the family.

Aunt Julia goes just as hard as you expect her to. Uncle Phil’s jokes are crude, but… inevitably get a laugh from one side of the family or the other. Your nieces are chaos incarnate, and half your time as bridesmaid is spent wrangling the dog that was made the ring bearer, your bathrobe getting caught on every doorhandle in the place. By the time the reception comes around, you’re exhausted and close to tipping over, navigating the intricacies of a big family with poise and grace you’re sure God probably gave you just for that day or something.

It’s a mess.

It’s your mess.

And Sonny, that day? Well. Sonny… is Sonny.

Sonny helps you catch the dog the first time it escapes (and the second time, and the third time). Sonny, due to some last-minute stomach bug, ends up helping out as usher, and makes every single family member he escorts to their row and aisle and seat smile. Sonny, at his place at the table where your parents sit, spends the whole night chatting them up, and you and your sister at the table with the bride and groom, can only watch from a distance.

“He’s crushing it,” Jane tells you. David’s sitting there, too, and he’s also enraptured with your boyfriend. The weariness of the day starts to wear off, and now that the pictures are done the drink in front of you is white wine and your belly is full. “Don’t look now, but I think Dad’s writing the invitations for Thanksgiving.”

There’s a pride that fills you, then. It’s been coming the whole day, but in that moment, you feel like you’re about to burst. You’re grinning, and when he glances over to where you are, well.

“You know what? Let him,” you say, and your eyes don’t leave Sonny as he winks and goes back to his story. “He really is crushing it.”

Soon the meal is done. There’s cake, and laughter, and you watch as Barb shoves her piece into Meredith’s face with unbridled glee. At that point you look around for your boyfriend, but he’s nowhere to be found. Neither are your parents for that matter, and you’re sliding out of your heels so you can troll around, eating cake, looking around for them.

Eventually, though, they come back. It’s in the middle of the first dance when you feel the familiar presence behind you, and his hands move to wrap around your waist as you watch the brides sway together, the rest of their lives ahead of them.

“Just in time,” you tease. “I thought I’d have to go solo out there.”

He turns you, so your vision of the brides is now full of him. You haven’t got to linger on it yet, but right here and now, he looks stunning. While the men in the bridal parties have black suits, Sonny’s is a beautiful navy, with a pocket square that matches the color of your dress (you’re almost ninety percent sure it’s from that lawyer he knows, but you don’t bring it up, kind of hoping he’ll keep the full ensemble). “And keep the world from seeing my awesome dance moves? No way.”

You giggle. The wine, the meal, the end of the day approaching. You’re loose, and he’s smiling, which makes you grin. “Saw you dodging the chocolatey fingers of my nieces and baby cousins,” you point out, and his eyes widen for a second before he glances around, peeks over your shoulder.

“Yeah, just, uh, don’t tell ‘em where I am. I think it’s part of their game to see who gets the most fingerprints on me by the end of the night.”

The DJ announces the end of the first dance, welcoming the bridal parties onto the floor. Sonny lights up at this, and offers his hand to you. “Can I have this dance, beautiful?”

Your smile softens, just a tad. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The music is slow, but not glacial, and Sonny starts it off by holding you proper. Soon enough, though, you’re moving into each other, and your head is resting on his shoulder, the slow sway of the brides what you’re mimicking. It’s gentle, and sweet, and for the moment you allow yourself to close your eyes.

Everything else slips away. All that’s left is the music and Sonny against you. Your dress brushes against your feet, still bare and cold against the dance floor, but nothing can bring you out of this ecstasy.

His voice is low against your ear, almost raspy as the song fades into something new, and the DJ announces the rest of the group can join with their significant others. “You know, I had a good time with your parents,” he murmurs, and you laugh lazily against him.

“I noticed. Be careful, I think my mom was thinking of kidnapping you so you can tell her all the Carisi family recipes.”

“Now those are top secret,” he informs you, seriousness in his tone, and when you pull back to look at him there’s mirth, even with his little pout.

“Obviously. I’ll distract, and you’ll hit the road.”

He laughs now, and it’s easy. It’s like breathing, the two of you. “Right. Well. We did talk about other things, while I was ensuring the safety of my family’s legacy.”

That peaks your interest, and you raise a manicured brow. “Like what?”

For a moment, he pauses. He’s caught, looking at you, under the lights, and for a moment you think he’s not going to say anything at all. But then he leans in, presses your foreheads together, and the world stops.

“I told ‘em… I told ‘em I’m yours, in every way possible. I told ‘em how I couldn’t live without you, and I told ‘em how I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and when you blink a couple of tears fall. “Sonny…”

“I told them, how one day, I’m gonna propose, and I’m gonna ask you to marry me. And I told them, how I really, really, hope you say yes.” His voice is definitely raw, now, and your swallow is tight. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Of course not, I’m not proposing now, but. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much being a part of your family, how much it means to me. And… I hope you want to be a part of mine.”

The slow music ends. The DJ is cheering now, and the crowd is clapping, and soon something more upbeat starts. But you’re stopped, in the middle of the dance floor, and before you can think you’re pulling him into a deep kiss, pressing up into it on your toes.

When you pull back, your mascara is running. But you don’t care. You couldn’t possibly care less. “If you think I’m saying anything but yes, whenever the hell you ask me, Dominick, I –“

He kisses you again. And when the world fades away once more, it’s because the two of you know that your whole lives are ahead of you, too.

#prompt fill #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #dominick carisi jr #female!reader #law and order: svu #my fic #fluff #tw alcohol #mentions of alcohol

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notapaladin · 3 years

Text

we are all walking each other home

Did anyone order plotless summer family fluff by the pool with snow cones? No? Too bad, that’s all I got. In which Acatl and Teomitl and their family have a good day.

Also on AO3!

If the young and devastatingly attractive Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan wanted to invite his Imperial Consort’s close family to the palace to stave off the heat of the rainy season in his gardens and pools, none of them were going to gainsay him—especially not Acatl. Though his obligations nagged at him, he could set them down for a few hours to spend time with his brother and sisters. It would be nice to simply rest for once; Teomitl insisted it was the least he deserved.

Though I’m not sure how restful this is going to be, he thought. The gardens Teomitl had inherited from his predecessors were certainly lovely enough, all lush greenery and tiled fountains, even if they couldn’t measure up to his lover’s dreams for his own under-construction palace across the Sacred Precinct from Acatl’s temple. If they’d been left alone to walk the paths and stretch out under the trees, Acatl imagined he’d find it comfortable enough. But they weren’t alone, and that made all the difference. He was glad to have mended his relationship with his other sisters, he loved his nieces and nephews to distraction, but all of them together in the same space was...

“Ollin, stop running by the water! You’ll fall!”

“So then I said to Citlalli, I said...”

“And nobody’s offered for you yet, Coaxoch? Why, when I was your age—”

“Auntie!”

...Well. It was a lot.

He’d claimed a seat at the farthest end of one of the intricately dyed reed mats Teomitl had had spread out, watching the chaos unfold from under the shade of a sprawling tree. Ollin had not stopped running; he and a few of his similarly aged cousins had all gotten into what appeared to be an impromptu game of tag with Acatl’s dog Miton, who was yipping up a delighted storm and wagging his tail so fast it was an orange-tipped blur. His sisters Nelli and Icnoyotl had shown up gossiping about something someone’s brother had done and hadn’t so much as paused for breath since, with their husbands providing increasingly colorful—and increasingly loud—commentary. Mihmatini, enormously pregnant, had lowered herself into the waist-deep pool nearby and kept dropping down to dunk her entire body underwater in a way that suggested she was trying to either muffle her nephews’ shrieking or grow gills, whichever happened first. And Teomitl?

Teomitl was in his element. He’d shed all his finery save for the emerald piercing his septum—still too new to be removed so soon in the healing process—but he didn’t need any, not with the way he was crouched down and beaming at Nelli’s fourth daughter showing him a bug she’d caught. It could have melted a stone; Acatl’s heart didn’t stand a chance. He knew he was smiling helplessly, knew his adoration would be clear to anyone so much as sparing him a passing glance, but just then he didn’t care. I love you. I love you. You’re going to be a wonderful father.

“My lords!”

A few of his family members twitched. Nobody except Teomitl seemed to think that the servants carrying trays loaded with bowls of compacted mountain snow and pitchers of fruit juice were talking to them; he, meanwhile, sprang up and announced, “Ices for everyone! Excellent, set them down just there.”

“We get ice?!” That was Nelli’s daughter, her voice rising in a delighted shriek.

“You get ice,” Mihmatini informed her, accepting Teomitl’s arm to heave herself out of the pool with a grunt. “Eat it before it melts.”

Nobody quite swarmed the trays—they were all too polite or too overawed by the match their Mihmatini had made—but there was a general purposeful drift in that direction. Even Teomitl’s gray-and-white hound Ehecatzin slunk over hopefully to try to steal some; when one of Acatl’s brothers-in-law nudged him away, he settled for being scratched behind the ears. Miton, more singleminded, had to be ordered to sit. Acatl watched, finding himself disinclined to move. It was true that snow carried down from the mountains was a treat reserved for those of imperial blood or imperial alliances, especially on such a hot day, but he didn’t really feel like inserting himself into the crowd when everyone was debating fruit toppings.

Eventually, Teomitl padded over with a bowl in each hand, stretching out his long legs as he sat down. It was closer than he ought to be with so many eyes around them, but once again Acatl found he couldn’t really mind. Not when Teomitl was quirking up a smile as he set down a bowl of pineapple-drenched ice for him.

“Brought you some,” he said quietly. Not that he needed to keep his voice down; there was no way to put two dogs and over a dozen people in one space and not have it be loud enough to drown out any conversation they might have. Still, Acatl appreciated the discretion.

He picked up the bowl, noting that Teomitl’s own was the violently pink shade only pitaya fruit juice could give. The runners were fast and the ice had been stored well; it was still cold enough to chill his fingers through the clay. “I would have gotten up.”

“You looked comfortable.” There was another of those soft, sunny smiles, and he couldn’t help smiling in return.

“Mm. So did you.” His lover was always at his best in a friendly crowd, laughing and joking until his family saw past the jade and turquoise to the man beneath. All that energy needed a purpose. Rather like our dogs, he mused, but he knew better than to ever say that out loud even if they did all share a tendency to snore.

Teomitl shifted a little closer, so that they almost touched. The fingers of his free hand twitched as though he wanted to twine them with Acatl’s own. “I’m more comfortable here.”

Then he licked at his half-melted cup of snow, erasing all chances of Acatl managing to reply. The fruit juice was staining his lips and tongue; though he was graceful as he usually was when eating, a drop clung to the corner of his mouth and Acatl itched to brush it away. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could move. Teomitl made a soft noise of pure pleasure that sent a lightning surge of want through his veins, and he couldn’t look away. “Ngh.”

Teomitl cast a glance at him from under lowered lashes, lips curving in a wicked smile. “Hm?”

They couldn’t possibly be any more in public. Taking a deep breath, he wrenched his mind away from memories of what that tongue could do. “Nothing.”

Teomitl hummed, smugly pleased with himself, and motioned to their bowls. “Have some. It’s good.”

He studied his bowl for a moment before trying it; there were chunks of fruit as well as juice, cold and sweet enough to make his teeth hurt. The pain was well worth it, because it was delicious. He let his eyes slide closed as he ate, focusing on the sensations around him—the warmth of the sun through dappled shade, the chill of the ice on his tongue, the tingling awareness of Teomitl’s body next to his, the happy chatter of his nieces and nephews and siblings. He caught slivers of conversation too, Necalli’s first campaign and Nelli’s recipe for washing blood from dyed cotton mingling in his ears. His heart felt like a tiny sun.

This is what makes life living. He inhaled, breathing in the scents of fruit and crushed grass and warm water. The flowers, the jade. Mihmatini was right.

Eventually, all the ice was gone. He was aware of his siblings’ conversations around him; two of his brothers-in-law were discussing the weather with the grave importance it deserved, while his sisters were discussing Mihmatini’s pregnancy with a frankness that was turning Icnoyotl’s always-squeamish husband Chimalli slightly green. The children, unsurprisingly, were the first to throw themselves back into the water; Neutemoc and Chimalli were next, theoretically to keep an eye on them but actually to tow the smallest ones around in the water while they screeched with joy. Teomitl, still eyeing the remains of his ice as though there might possibly be some fruit left, actually set the bowl down and perked up at the sight.

Acatl nudged him. “Go on, help them corral the flock. It’ll be good practice for you.”

Teomitl’s smile was a little crooked, a little helpless, and terribly endearing. “I hope the baby gets along with its cousins.”

“They’ll certainly have plenty of options,” he replied dryly. Between Neutemoc’s five and all his sisters’ spawn, Teomitl’s child would have over a dozen cousins to play with by the time it was born. As always when he thought of it, he sent a brief mental prayer to the gods for Mihmatini’s continued health. She’s the Guardian of the Sacred Precinct. The Imperial Consort of the Revered Speaker. And she’d have my head for fretting over her.

“...They will.” Now the smile was wistful. “Your family is wonderful.”

He nudged him a little harder. “Our family. Or did you forget you chose this?”

Mihmatini was sliding back into the pool, and Teomitl’s eyes followed her for a moment. His fingers just barely grazed the back of Acatl’s hand. “Hmm. I did choose this, didn’t I?”

Then Teomitl left his side and plunged into the water, and he realized that he had perhaps miscalculated.

His lover was always beautiful, whether he was in a warrior’s armor or all the gold and feathers of his office. Even in the plainest clothing, the curve of his cheekbones and the brightness of his smile could take Acatl’s breath away. He’d thought, with the years they’d been together, that nothing could surprise him anymore.

Duality preserve him, he was wrong. He’d never seen Teomitl like this—all rippling water and rippling muscle, laughing and shaking water from his hair as Mihmatini splashed him playfully and Ollin clung whooping to his arm. Droplets hung sparkling in the sunlight like stars, running in rivulets down the well-sculpted lines of his chest and stomach. Surrounded by water—surrounded by family, head flung back in brilliant careless joy—he was more magnificent than he’d been at his coronation. Acatl had just eaten, but he felt as hungry as Toci. I love you. The words beat in tune with his heart. I want you.

Every line of his body felt like a taut bowstring, but he couldn’t move. If he moved, he was going to do something stupid.

Neutemoc’s voice snapped him out of his trance. His brother leaned on his elbows at the edge of the pool, water dripping off him onto the tiles, and flashed him a tired grin. “I’m sweating just looking at you, Acatl. Join us!”

“Nhm,” he managed.

Teomitl lowered Ollin back into the water and gave Acatl a grin of his own. “Please?”

Well, it was hot. But he was still strangely reluctant to move, and it took a long moment before he could stand up, stretch well enough that something in his back stopped complaining, and amble over to the water. The sun hadn’t warmed it as much as he thought; when he slid down into it, he had to clench his teeth at the chill. For a while he simply stood next to his brother, watching their family play.

Neutemoc elbowed him. “See? Told you it was better in the water.”

He nodded. True, they were surrounded by bright flowers and screaming life, but it was...peaceful, here. It reminded him of his childhood, before their father had died and everything had started to go so wrong. No. He shook his head, banishing that line of thought. Today had been wonderful so far, and that was how it would stay. He was standing in cool, clear water with a belly full of delicious food and his family around him. His nieces had roped Teomitl into some sort of splash-based war that involved a great deal of high-pitched giggling on all sides, whereas his older nephews were skipping the splashing in favor of an impromptu and very messy wrestling match. He was on the sidelines, content to observe.

And then someone’s errant flailing limb sprayed him with a fine mist, and he jolted out of his reverie.

“Sorry!” Teomitl called. It would have sounded much more sincere if he wasn’t grinning.

“Hrmph,” he grumbled, closing his eyes. He knew he was failing at suppressing his own smile, and Teomitl must be able to see it.

The peace of his immediate surroundings didn’t last long. The sounds of splashing water grew louder and closer, and his nieces’ shrieks took on the sort of gleeful pitch he associated with trouble. Oh no.

That was all the warning he got before a gout of water arced down and drenched him completely. He yelped, inhaling water, and as he coughed and spluttered and caught his breath he decided that someone was about to be in deep trouble. Grimacing, he scraped his hair back from his face, blinked water out of his eyes, and looked around for the perpetrator.

The unrepentant perpetrator. “You looked hot?”

He took a deep breath and leveled a glare at his lover. “Teomitl.”

“Ah,” Teomitl began.

And then Acatl taught him one of the benefits of growing up with a brother close in age. Namely, when you had someone who was willing and able to throw you into the nearest body of water at any opportunity, you got very good at fighting back in kind. He pushed off from the wall, wading rapidly towards him; before Teomitl could scramble out of range, Acatl’s arm came up to splash him in the face. “You asked for this!”

Teomitl danced out of the way, a grin splitting his face, and wasted no time splashing Acatl back. “Is it war, then?!”

It was war. Their nieces and nephews joined in, splashing both of them indiscriminately; Acatl reeled under the onslaught, but managed to stay on his feet no matter the weight of his wet hair. Teomitl was stronger than he was, but unused to fighting such a battle. It was easy to back him against the edge of the pool. And then the dogs, wanting to be a part of the fun, plunged into the water in a cacophony of howls and a storm of wagging tails, and he had to stagger back as Miton all but flopped on top of him.

“Bad dog—ack!” Opening his mouth was a mistake, for Teomitl took advantage of his distraction to splash his face again. He glared at his lover through the curtain of his dripping hair.

Teomitl took one look at his face and his eyes went wide; Acatl had a moment of satisfaction before his lover ducked sideways, dodging behind a very surprised Necalli. “Protect me!”

Just as quickly, Necalli darted out of the way. “My lord uncle, you are on your own.”

Teomitl was the furthest thing from a coward, but evidently he had learned when discretion was to be the better part of valor. He turned and waded rapidly for the far edge of the pool.

“Get back here--!”

Teomitl laughed brightly. “You’ll have to catch me first, Acatl!”

Oh, so that’s how it is. Feeling his face split into an unaccustomed grin, Acatl ran after him. Teomitl was younger, faster, and in better shape; but when he heaved himself out of the water and took off down the path, Acatl wasn’t too far behind. As he ran, he realized he didn’t have a plan, but he didn’t need one; it was a beautiful summer day, his blood was pumping, and he was alive. That was all that mattered. Teomitl swerved around a densely-flowered shrub, and he followed.

Whoever had planned the layout of the palace gardens had desired privacy; it was darker and quieter here, the chaos of the pool muffled by the greenery. Anything beyond that Acatl didn’t have a chance to absorb, however, because Teomitl was grabbing him and pulling him into a hot, hungry kiss.

Oh.

That was the last coherent thought he had for a while. His mind was full of Teomitl—of the heat of his wet skin, the strength of the arms around him, the way he still tasted of pitaya juice and mountain snow. One hand settled at his waist; the other slid up into his hair, burying into the thick strands until a soft growl of pleasure reverberated through them both. His body knew just what to do, arching to press himself even closer, and when he dug his nails into Teomitl’s back he was rewarded with a whine. If he didn’t need to breathe, he could have kissed him for hours.

When Teomitl pulled away, mouth red and eyes glittering with desire, he whispered, “I missed you. I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

He wasn’t the only one. But before he could say that, a calloused hand slid down his spine, and Acatl sucked in a hard breath at the way Teomitl’s hips pressed against his own. His blood was still up, but now all that simmering energy was alert to a new purpose. “It’s only been a few hours.”

Teomitl’s expression turned wicked as that hand reached his ass, giving it a lingering squeeze. “And? You’re irresistable.”

Perhaps there was the occasional downside to having such a young and enthusiastic lover, he thought. Out loud, he huffed, “The children will hear us.”

“They’re playing with the dogs.”

The barking, splashing, and cheering ringing through the gardens were loud enough to muffle them—if they were careful. Still, Acatl bit his lip and shook his head. Children were one thing; his nosy sisters were another thing entirely. “My siblings will hear us.”

Teomitl scowled lightly at that. “Am I Revered Speaker or not?”

“Teomitl!” he hissed.

The scowl vanished as though it had never been. Teomitl lowered his head to nuzzle at Acatl’s throat, voice so soft it was almost inaudible. Any sweetness was tempered by the way he drew his nails lightly up the column of Acatl’s spine, hard enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to leave a mark. As his lover’s lips moved against his skin, Acatl shivered. “We’ll be quiet.”

It was tempting. Gods, it was tempting. Teomitl kissed him again, long and slow, and he felt his resolve weakening. His family could entertain themselves for a few minutes, surely. Half an hour. He would prefer more time—would prefer to give Teomitl his full attention all night—but he wasn’t a fool to turn down what was so freely offered. The breeze was cold in the shade, but that didn’t matter when his lover was so warm in his arms, the slide of skin on skin setting his blood on fire. “Mmm...”

“Come on,” Teomitl breathed, and shifted to press a thigh between his legs. Acatl found himself wishing briefly and desperately that they’d have the forethought to hide against something solid, but then Teomitl was mouthing at his throat and he wasn’t thinking anything at all.

“Nngh...” At any other time, he might have been embarrassed at the whine that escaped him, but shame was very far away at the moment. His self-control was hanging only be a few very thin threads, and only the din of his family gathering not nearly far enough away was keeping it in place. We could. They’re having fun without us; they won’t be looking for us yet. But...

But they could. Of course Mihmatini knew, and he was almost sure that Neutemoc did as well, though of course they’d never discussed it beyond the most vague assurances that yes, he was perfectly happy—but his other sisters were clueless, and the thought of their reactions if they discovered him in Teomitl’s arms was enough to turn his bones to ice. Reluctantly, he panted, “No. We shouldn’t.”

Teomitl sighed and pulled back, but he kept Acatl within the circle of his arms as though he couldn’t bear to let him go. “I hate when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t,” he murmured fondly.

When Acatl lifted a hand to cup his cheek, Teomitl tilted his head into it with a faint stirring of a smile. “...No, I don’t.”

There was a particularly loud splash from the direction of the pool, and Acatl winced. “Let’s get back before they wonder where we’ve gone.”

“Mm.” With one final caress, Teomitl let him go. “Alright.”

Later, there would be dinner; later, there would be dancers and musicians to entertain them. Later, he and Teomitl would be properly alone. But for now, they would bask in the warmth of their family and the bonds they’d made.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #mihmatini #neutemoc #teocatl #mihmitl #neutemoc's brood #paladin writes stuff

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 42

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I tapped the ash of my pipe in an alley. The glass made a soft tong sound as I tapped it against the brick. Then I stepped out with a boot and quashed the still-burning greens.

I already felt like a pro with it.

My head clear of distractions like bugs or the sound of Mother's voice I could finally get to work. The slight spinning the greens caused was not unlike alcohol but it was minor. I felt like I could focus through it. I even felt like I could drive, or ride as the case may be.

Gods it was good to be off that stuffy train. There were 'no smoking' signs everywhere and fire alarms in every bathroom. I'd maybe checked a couple.

"Well Neo, let's buy some horses."

She held up one finger.

"One? One horse? For the both of us?"

She nodded.

"So what? You'll just ride bitch on mine?"

She frowned at my phrasing but still nodded again.

"Huh. And feminism marches on."

She kicked me in the shin. I deserved it too so I managed a muted, "ow. Alright. Alright. Fair cop."

I rubbed at one of my piercings, fondling the earlobe around the metallic diamond stud.

"You know I could probably teach you how to ride. It's easy enough for someone like me to figure out so you could probably do it."

She shook her head. Probably thinking something like 'why would I do that when I have you to ride me around?' To which I'd say, 'yeah, fair enough.'

I found a merchant and paid him. It came out to a few thousand Lien but it was no skin off my back. Just one aura-driven horse and we were good to go.

I saddled up. Putting my bag of loose possessions over the horse's back (spare clothes, toiletries, the bare necessities) along with Neo's own duffle. Then I mounted. The horse grunted slightly under the suddenly added weight of all my weapons and armor and me. I was something like two-hundred and thirty pounds by myself. Probably a little more.

I reached down to Neo. She looked away as I easily swung her onto the horse's back. The horse hardly stirred under the addition, she was smaller than Ruby or Weiss. Neo popped her pink parasol to shield us both from the Anima sun.

She rode side-saddle. And managed to look ever so lady-like on the horse's back but I knew the truth. I turned my head back to face forward. This thing was no lady. She was as much a beast as the horse we rode on.

Like that we were off, hooves beating a steady rhythmic clip-clop down a beaten trail. It had the marks of being a real road for cars with four wheels.

"You don't do tactile stuff do you? Just auditory and visual illusions right?"

I felt her nod her head against my back.

"And you haven't been hazing me, have you?" It would be convenient if all my hallucinations were caused by Neo messing with me. Convenient. Not likely or comforting or anything like that.

She shook her head.

"Then I think I'm a little fucked up."

She snorted a little, still managing to be lady-like still. It reminded me a little of Weiss.

"I didn't use to be like this. Mother got to me. Salem, that is. She haunts me like an evil spectre from the end of time. I'm not sure if you believe me about her but she's bad news. Has all kinds of magic besides being old as hell and probably basically unkillable."

She snorted again. I felt her wipe her pink and brown hair back. It brushed against my sleeveless arm. It tingled against my free skin there.

"That's what I'm saying. She's fucking bullshit. I didn't really believe it myself until I ran into her, or her shadow at least. It was almost enough to unmake me, that alone. She made me kill two of my friends. Made me. Like I was a puppet."

She just listened that time. She put an arm around me to hold on as we rode out of Shumi and on to Wutai. It was the first real touch another person had given me since everything went down.

Since I'd killed Ren and Nora.

Since I'd tried to kill myself.

It was oddly reassuring even if it was light and meaningless. Gentle against my arm. Just enough to hold on from where she sat in our double saddle.

I was choking something back as she did and got settled in a little more. I could feel her aura. The cruel cold was a mellow comfort to my own heat. Like I was burning up and hadn't noticed it. Like I had a fever and didn't know.

"That's why I have to go and find Merlot. Salem could make me kill you too, I'm not sure what will make me snap next. That would be bad, for both of us."

She tensed up a little at that. I wasn't sure she took it as a threat but it kinda was. Salem's reach was long and I wasn't sure what we'd find at the laboratory.

"Not right now. Captain of my own ship at the moment. Just… be careful around me. Be ready once we get to the lab. The report was all about modified Grimm. Not like me, maybe, depending on what the fuck I am. Salem mentioned that I do indeed have sisters. How could I forget that? Oh my gods she has my fucking sisters."

I stewed in that. Listening to the rhythmic beat of the horse.

"Depending on how false my memories are. Most of them are fake. Inconsistent when I really look at them. I have to save them, though. And myself of course. I won't get anywhere as her puppet. All the more reason to get to the lab and find Merlot."

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I set up the tent and tied the horse to a tree. Setting out the horse the graze. That was what was great about horses. It was a grass fed engine. They could go anywhere there was grass with excellent mobility. That was why they were a staple of mankind.

I didn't ask Neo for anything as I set up the camp. Which was fine. She sat on a fence looking at the road forlornly. Like she'd made a deal she wished she could go back on.

My legs were cramped from riding and I was sure hers were stiff, too.

"Let's fight." I said, standing up straight from the tent. I took a hit off my pipe at the same time and exhaled.

She gave me an odd look.

"What? Cinder is stronger than both of us. You think you'll reach her level by not sparring? By not practicing?"

She hopped off the fence and stalked towards me. She rubbed her chest as she looked at me.

"I'll take it easier on you than before but we really can't afford to get out of practice. We'll be out here for a week or so. That's two, back and forth to really get to know each other. Plus if we'll be working together it will help if we know the others' style."

She pulled her dolon on me and pranced closer with that otherworldly grace people who'd had their aura unlocked for a long time possessed.

"What's your weapon's name, by the way?"

She made a shushing gesture, a finger to her pink lips. A confident grin on her face.

"Uh, okay then."

She shook her head and pointed at her weapon.

"Oh the weapon's name is Shush."

She shook her head.

"Quiet? Silence?"

She pulled out her scroll and typed like she did when I was having trouble guessing. She didn't seem to use any real sign language and sometimes it was nearly impossible to determine what she meant. It was 'Hush' typed on the screen on a note word processor.

"So close! Well then it certainly suits you, Hush."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated that she'd had to pull her scroll.

I tapped out the ash from my pipe on a tree and squashed it. I put the pipe away in a bouch on my belt beside the relic. I wasn't sure how the damn thing worked and I hadn't really messed with it. I was willing to bet if I took the top off the lamp it would do something but I wasn't sure what it would do or even what for.

Sure something related to knowledge but that wasn't exactly a narrow topic. All of knowledge that is.

I still felt like my head was clear enough to fight despite the greens. I drew the longsword from my back. I held it with both hands on the long handle.

I rested my left beneath the right and breathed in. I activated my semblance with a little sigh. I felt good. I felt right.

Neo approached me and poked at the rising wisps of light.

"My semblance? It's called Limit Breaker. It makes me stronger and faster and there's a charge I can spend on an attack or movement."

She counted down with her fingers at a steady pace.

"How long does it last?"

Neo nodded.

"I'm not really sure. It used to only be fifteen seconds or so. Fifteen seconds to spend it or use the mobility and strength buffs. Now I can hold onto the charge for longer. Minutes, maybe." Fifteen seconds was short as fuck but minutes were long as Hell in a real fight.

It used to be a lot of pressure but now I had time to think and to trap my opponents with the superior speed and resilience.

"You ready?" I asked.

She shook her head, hiding a smile and I realized she was waiting for my semblance to evaporate away.

"Hey," I protested. "If you wanted to go without it you could have just said something."

She frowned at me. I threw the Limit away in the form of a blade-beam against a tree. It blended away against the bark, throwing out chips of wood and with a groan the tree fell.

"Fine. Alright? You ready?"

She grinned and vanished.

I stood still and listened. I watched carefully but couldn't see any indication of her movement. She reappeared on top of me. Bringing the sword-stick down on me, trying to breach my collar bone in what I was figuring was a favorite move of hers.

I had to raise Crocea Mors upwards to deflect the blow to the side. I tried to riposte but by the time I brought the weapon around and down in a counter attack she disappeared.

She reappeared behind me and kicked my right leg in the back of the knee. Now I don't care how strong you are and firm your balance is. You get kicked like that, you're dropping to at least one knee.

I did. I swept the sword around my body to ward her off and get back to my feet. As I tried to rise she came at me from the left and I struggled to bring the blade around in time to block the smaller, more lithe cane sword. I leaned on my blade like a knight as I rose to my feet.

I swiped at her and nicked her and sent her tumbling. She growled at me. She cartwheeled back to her feet and vanished.

She stabbed me in the chest, tearing out chunks of my aura as she did. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed her. Her eyes widened in surprise before I bounced her off the ground and tried to reach her by dancing my blade down in a large forward swipe.

I caught her and comboed her forward in four more strikes.

Once she was out of tumble she vanished and kicked me in the chest with both heels. I reeled backwards. She stabbed me from the right. Then reappeared on the left, further away from my sword.

I was sort of intentionally handicapping myself without the shield. I traded mobility for defense and I stepped back with her and tried to block, both hands on my long red hilt.

I caught her across the stomach with a touche and pushed her back with a tiny grimace from her. It activated my charge and I flew towards her. I jumped and brought the sword vertically around my body to deliver a punishing falling upwards swinging aerieal that launched her up in the air at a perfect middle height.

She broke the combo by teleporting in front of me. She jabbed at me with the umbrella and expanded it right in my face, pushing my sword to the side as a matter of course. She then flickered towards my throat with the thin blade. It caught me and I tried to grab her but my grab was slow and she twisted back away with a side flip.

I flew at her, holding my semblance, still. She dodged in place, leaning to the side. She jabbed at my face with her blade and it caught my aura and left a shallow cut on my cheek.

I grunted and in a flash spent my semblance I climbed her up in a massive upwards swing. The Limit Break attack made her aura flash and flicker in a tide of bright pink.

She rolled away from me. She slammed one arm in the dirt and vanished again. She reappeared with her legs around my head and used the momentum to try and slam me into a tree.

I jumped then backflipped off the tree instead of being rammed into it.

She still managed to bring me to the ground and tried to put me in an arm bar at the same time she stabbed down with her cane-sword. I dropped my blade and with pure main strength peeled her off of my arm and tossed her.

She landed neatly on her feet. Her eyes switched colors as she blinked at me.

She reappeared before me and stomped on my foot. I leaned forward unconsciously and she hooked me with her umbrella and used my momentum to throw me to the ground. I frontflipped in place to counter and whipped my sword around and knocked her off her feet.

She attacked me with an illusion. Making me see a flash of white before she went low and stabbed at me. I blindly swung downwards and she slid on her knees beneath the cut and stabbed up at my thigh. She pierced my aura and when I swung at her she vanished and shattered like a glass pane.

Our weapons clashed as I chased after her and she backed up. Three times they met with solid clanging noises as we did. Her blade was fast and it whipped through the air as I chased her.

I kicked out and our legs met. She rolled over it and kneed me in the face. I tried to grab her but she vanished.

I took a guess at where she would reappear and Cross-Slashed her. It was less serious without the broadsword. Even still, I tried to be light about it but she bounced off the ground and lay still.

"How you holding up?"

She frowned and tried to vanish but collapsed.

"Don't push yourself too hard, now. It's just training. To get better."

She glowered at me.

"Why don't we call it there. No reason to over extend until one of us is without aura. How does dinner sound, besides?"

My heart was racing and I could feel the high from my greens up top, really in my head.

She gave me a suspicious look.

"Don't worry. I'll cook."

She giggled a little. I walked over and pulled her to her feet. I rested my sword against my shoulder before I sheathed it.

"Hey I can cook."

She snorted as though to say 'sure you can.'

"I can. You just watch. I'll whip something up. I mean it won't be five stars but it'll be edible." Eggs and rice? Eggs and rice.

I pulled out my pipe. "You want some?"

She sat and shook her head. She was giving me a hard to read, soft smile.

"Suit yourself. I'll get us a fire going and everything will be fine. It'll even be delicious, you'll see."

I wasn't Ren but I could put something together. Ren… nope bad thought. Didn't like that. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to eat a breakfast burrito ever again.

He'd forgive you, Jaune. He would.

I reminded myself.

It was Salem. It was all her.

In the end, we sat back and ate in companionable silence.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

#jaune arc #cloud strife #rwby #ff7 #ffvii #motion sickness #war of the roses #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #neo #neapolitan #whiterose #white rose #white knight #whiteknight #lancaster

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deniigi · 4 years

Text

@puffins-studio is my Selkie Verse enabler.

We were chatting about where Mike would fit in the Selkie Verse and then this AU of an AU happened lol

Title: twin hearts twin coats

Summary: Mike’s an unruly little seal who wants nothing more than to give Jack high blood pressure and he is on a crusade not to make a single friend in Ireland. Unless they’re Matty’s friends. In which case, he needs to steal them.

Context: Matt and Mike are born as rare twin seal pups. This bit assumes that Mike was there for all of Whispering Seas but then fades out of view for a bit as he does his own thing until Matt gets his coat back.

-------

For as long as the two been walking, Jack had been missing a twin.

Usually, it was Mike.

Usually, Mike was trying to sink his sharp little teeth into something he knew Dad did not want him too.

Usually, whatever he was trying to swallow whole would result in a call to poison control and Jack would be on the line for half an hour, reading through ingredients with a patient but stern woman while Mike beamed up at him, proud of his latest accomplishments.

After Matt’s year of hell with foster care, however, Mike had been traumatized. And had taken to keeping Matt within sight at all times.

You would have thought that that would have prevented Mike from being the missing twin these days.

But no.

No, now Jack wasn’t missing one twin.

He was missing two.

Constantly.

Both of his children were un-findable at practically all times.

Grace did not have these problem with the boys. Grace simply made a sound in her throat that Mike called back to immediately, regardless of where he was.

Jack did not have this power.

Over Mike, anyways. Jack had more power over Matty because Matty had a deep-ingrained instinct to only want Daddy when he was upset. But that shit didn’t exactly have range, now did it?

Grace told him he should simply learn how to make the throat-noise, which was easy for her to say: as if Jack could make seal noises.

Jack could barely speak a form of English that folks around here understood. He wasn’t makin’ any damn seal noises. He’d just figure out how to find his kids, thanks.

He was good at it, anyways.

His boys were eight.

They were on the way to being geniuses and criminal masterminds, but they were not there yet, so Jack had a good 76% chance of finding them in the first place he looked.

The bathtub.

He always looked in the bathtub. And, like he said, 76% of the time, there they were. Both of them. Looking guilty as hell—big liquid seal eyes or not.

Matty usually got quiet and scared of punishment around then and would make sad tiny seal noises at Jack and let himself be hauled out of the water and rubbed down with a towel.

Matty was the good twin.

The extremely traumatized twin. Jack didn’t like to think too much about how compliant he became in the face of a stern tone. It was enough that he was home again and that he was healing. Slowly. Very shyly.

It was enough. Matty was allowed to be a little fragile.

Now Michael had no shame and, true to character over the last eight years, refused to feel anything about his disobedience but ‘caught.’

Jack loved Mikey, the little shit, with his whole heart, but that big smile and those baby blues did not work on him anymore.

Up you go, monster-child. And into towel-hell—yeah, yeah, whine all you want. Look how nicely your brother did it.

As soon as towel-hell was over, Mike went tearing out of the bathroom, turning back only to hiss at Jack and then run into the door. Jack watched him vanish out of sight and then sighed. Matty pawed at his side, making those little throat-sounds.

“You’re okay, baby,” Jack said. “No one’s in trouble.”

Matt clung to him and hid his face in Jack’s belly.

Really, he was the one who should have been trouble. He was the one who Jack should have been chasing after to grab the hand of—to be keeping a constant vigilance over to prevent him from falling off cliffs and getting too far out into the surf.

But no.

That would be Mike.

That would always be Mike.

A pot banged and clattered in the kitchen.

Matt covered his ears and made even more urgent sad chirps.

Jack sighed harder.

“Come on, let’s go make lunch before your brother destroys the whole lighthouse,” he said.

----

Matty had Foggy and thank fuck he had Foggy because that gave Jack time to go pry Michael out of whatever deathtrap he threw himself into after school.

Jack didn’t understand what this kid wanted from all the dark places he crawled into.

Was it adventure?

Was it the bugs?

Was he trying to fish?

Mike was more seal-like than Matt. Grace noted this with approval. He jumped into the water and swam deep and ate fish whole and let Mags groom him with minimal fuss while Matt wailed and whined like all those things were a death sentence.

He was simply more human, Grace said. The seal behavior didn’t come as naturally to him, so he was resistant.

Jack thought it was more like Matty had enough sense in him to not want to be suffocated by pelts and people prodding and prodding and dragging his fuzzy little coat this way and that.

Matty was a sensible child.

Foggy was slightly less sensible, but he had the right spirit. He was a good friend for Matty.

Mikey refused to make friends.

“They’re boring and human,” he told Jack. “I want a friend with more style.”

Mikey was a New Yorker through and fuckin’ through and he talked like a fuckin’ Newsie no matter how hard Jack tried to get him to imitate his mama’s cadence.

That accent would serve him no decent purpose when he was older, whereas something more Irish would at least make him come off as friendly. Jack knew—boy, Jack knew.

“Why don’t you try making friends with Foggy, too?” Jack offered, once the Trouble Twin had been dumped in the boat. Mike popped up and immediately tried to jump ship. Jack pushed the boat further away from the dock with his foot and got a face of pure betrayal.

“I don’t want a friend like him,” Mike snapped. “He’s gooey. I ain’t got time for some fruit snack.”

For fuck’s sake, child.

“Just because Foggy doesn’t wanna steal footballs with you, doesn’t mean he’s not a good friend,” Jack said. “He don’t like the church, Mikey. It’s not you, it’s the church, son. I told you this a thousand times.”

“If he’s scared of the church, he’s gonna be scared of shenanigans, Dad,” Mike said. “I live for shenanigans. No, we just ain’t compatible, Father.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack wasn’t letting this one watch any more tv. No more Guys & Dolls. It was bad for everyone.

“Michael,” Jack said.

“Jonathan,” Mike shot back, haughty as hell with his arms crossed and back straight as a board.

“Son, you need to make friends,” Jack said.

“I got loads of friends at home,” Mike said. “And we’ll be home in no time. I don’t need any more ‘til then.”

Mike hated Ireland.

Jack could not understand this.

There were rocks to climb and there was sand to dig in, there were clams to bang against each other, bricks to throw, a local witch to antagonize—this was Mikey paradise. Or it should have been.

But no.

Mike had learned the word ‘cosmopolitan’ and, even though he thought it meant ‘good enough to be in a magazine,’ he’d declared Ireland not that and had set out on a crusade against being happy with it.

Grace said he was too much of a city boy was all. She said that he’d realize after some time that he was lonely and he’d do what he’d always do, which was charm half the girls at his school and become a popular kid within days.

It had been months now, though, and Mikey was still refusing to budge.

It was exhausting.

“Boy, you’re givin’ me heartburn,” Jack told him.

“Well, you’re givin’ me Lupus,” Mike said.

God.

No more House either.

---

Matty came home around four thirty, which Jack could tell made Mike green with jealousy. Mike wanted to stay out like him, but he didn’t want to be associated with Foggy or his sister.

They weren’t cool enough, apparently. Or tough enough.

Jack didn’t know what that meant. Foggy had helped them relocate Mike’s brother. That was plenty bad-ass to Jack, but what the fuck did he know about kids?

Clearly nothing, since Mike had outsmarted him again and somehow managed to watch a whole three Emergency Vets reruns while he wasn’t looking.

This child wanted to give himself nightmares.

“What did you and Foggy do, hm?” Mike nagged as Matt struggled with his shoelaces. Matt sat down to go at them better and Mike flopped down next to him.

“Hm?” he pressed.

“Made homes for ants,” Matt said. “They live in hills. So we made some for them. Put leaves on top to make sure they stay dry ‘nd stuff, you know?”

No. Mike did not know.

“Ants bite you,” Mike said.

“Only if you’re mean,” Matt said.

“No, they got grains of sand for brains,” Mike said. “They’ll bite you.”

“Well, they got a home now, bitey or no,” Matt said.

“Hey, let’s make a cave—”

“I want a snack.”

“Cave then snack.”

Matt tried to work through that order of events and Jack sighed before he agreed.

“Boys,” he said. “Close the front door. It’s gonna storm. No caves for now.”

Mike turned back to him mutinously.

---

After an hour of shooing the babes away from windows and then telling them that it was time to settle down and do indoor activities or listen to a book on tape, the house had gotten quiet.

That was trouble.

Jack put a lid on the pot on the stove and began the Hunt.

The kids were not in the tub. They were in their room.

They’d made a blanket fort.

It wasn’t a good one—they didn’t have that many blankets, but they had some pillows and Mike had a flashlight. They’d cuddled up in the middle of the room with a pile of pillows from the couch and the spare duvet and were nestled up against each other in their coats.

Mike hissed when Jack parted the sheet curtain they’d gerry-rigged around the perimeter of the nest. Matty turned his way and made a happy throat-sound.

“You two getting into trouble?” Jack asked, folding himself into a pretzel to join them on the duvet. Matt immediately wriggled up to climb into his lap, which Mike scowled at.

Mike was of the opinion that this was ‘baby’ behavior. He was highly concerned that his sibling was still exhibiting it, as if Mike didn’t immediately bury himself into Grace’s side when she came up to take the two of them out for a swim.

Jack pulled Matt into his arms more comfortably and reached over to snag his coat to drop over him.

“Are we telling ghost stories?” he asked the boys.

Matt said yes. Mike told him they weren’t ‘doin’ nothin’’ which meant ‘yes, I am trying to give my brother dreams about banshees again and your presence is destroying all of my hopes and life goals.’

“I have a ghost story,” Jack told them.

“Lana’s not dead, Dad,” Mike said. “You can’t tell ghost stories about ladies who aren’t dead.”

“You ain’t gotta be dead to haunt stuff, son,” Jack told him. “Lana will haunt the blue apartment long after we’re all gone.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mike said. “Me and Matty are gonna live forever. Selkies live for hundreds of years.”

Oh really, now?

“Come here, oh ancient one, then,” Jack said, holding out a hand. “Come indulge a poor, aging human.”

Mike huffed but allowed himself and his coat to be dragged over to join Matty in Jack’s lap.

“A long, long time ago,” Jack told them, “There was a guy trying to raise two squirmy little kids.”

Mike rolled his eyes by rolling his whole head into Matt’s so that he’d giggle.

“Was he a boxer, Dad?” Mike asked.

No, oldest child.

He was a lighthouseman.

Mike sighed harder than ever.

Damn, everyone’s a critic, huh?

“One day, the lighthouseman’s two squirmy kids went out to play on the beach in a storm,” Jack said. “They transformed into seals. But the sea was strong and the tide rose high and it swept them away from shore. They went all the way out to sea, far from their home. And they were lost and scared. But soon they decided that being scared wasn’t any help anymore, and they picked a direction to swim for shore. They went from island to island, asking the people there if they’d seen the lighthouseman because the kids were worried you know? Because their old man was just human, unlike them, and the sea back home had been so strong and the tide so high that it might have crashed against the lighthouse and taken the lighthouseman away. But no one had even heard of a such a guy.”

Matt dug fingers into his sleeve and made a soft distressed sound.

“One day,” Jack said, kissing the top of his head. “The kids came across a load of swans in the middle of the ocean. So they asked the swans, ‘have you seen our dad? He’s kinda tall with a busted up nose.’ And they said, ‘no, we lost our dad, too. Maybe we can help each other find them?’”

“Did they?” Mike asked reluctantly.

“Of course they did,” Jack said. “The swans were secretly the children of Lir. They knew what it was like to be separated from their father, but, unlike those kids, they knew their father wouldn’t recognize them. So they flew up and the kids swam after them all the way back to Ireland, so that they wouldn’t end up like the Children of Lir, waiting hundreds of years for their dad to bring them home.”

Matt did not like this story.

Matt had had plenty of bird people in his life. He wanted no more. He wrapped himself around Jack’s neck and made grumpy sounds to indicate that he was done with this whole story business.

Mike’s little brow stayed furrowed.

“You’d recognize us right away,” he said. “We wouldn’t be like the Children of Lir, Dad, first off, ‘cause we wouldn’t ever leave you by yourself. Second off, because Mum’s carryin’ your soul for forever, so even when you’re old and dead, we’ll still have ya. And third off, ‘cause you’re a hero. We could find you just by sniffin’.”

Matt made louder grumpy noises to remind everyone that he didn’t like this conversation.

Jack hummed and rubbed Matt’s back and used the other hand to smooth down Mike’s hair.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But that don’t mean that I don’t miss you guys while you’re paddlin’ around in the sea without me.”

“TUNA,” Matt snapped.

Jack was startled.

“Tuna?” he asked.

“I’m hungry,” Matt said. “Let’s eat tuna.”

“You hate tuna,” Mike reminded him. “I’m the one who likes tuna.”

“Well I hate tuna less than I hate stories,” Matt snapped. “So I wanna eat tuna.”

Ah.

Bless him.

Okay, tuna it was.

---

Grace told Jack to stop telling the kids that he was going to die. She said it was making them cry out in the sea. She reminded him that she didn’t take the damn kids to the sea to cry. She took them to fish. And they were still both shit at fishing.

Jack apologized.

But he didn’t feel too bad.

The fae in the woods told him he didn’t have too much longer in human form. He didn’t want the boys to be surprised.

Lord knew that they’d already been surprised enough over the last few years.

---

Mike decided that he wanted to learn how to sail and, in lieu of him finding children his age to play with, Jack set to teaching him how to row. It was a good start. Grace approved. She even went out and found a little tub with a set of oars for Mike to play around in.

He immediately nearly drowned by taking it out into the bay.

Jack set him on the other side of the sandbar by the lighthouse and he did better. He was closer to where Matt and Foggy liked to play too, so if something went wrong again, the other kids would start shouting.

After a whole afternoon of no shouting, Jack went out to collect the munchkins and found Foggy out in the bay chatting with Mike with hands on the edge of the tub.

That was surprising.

What was not was the fact that Matt and Candace were digging a fuckin’ hole in the sand. Again.

Foggy must have gotten bored of them.

Jack watched as Mike took ahold of his wrist and heaved hard and brought Fogs over the end of the little tub. They both tumbled down into it.

Then Foggy popped up and leapt right back out into the water. Mike nearly followed him, shaking his oar after him.

Jack couldn’t help but snicker. He left them to it for another ten minutes before calling the boys in.

---

It was hilarious.

It was adorable.

It was the cutest fucking thing Jack had ever heard, indignant as Matty was, standing on his toes, all puffed up and agitated.

“Mikey’s got a crush on Foggy and he won’t clear off,” he’d told Jack.

He didn’t appreciate Jack’s giggling.

“Foggy’s my friend,” Matt told him. “Mike can play with Candace.”

Uh-huh.

Sure, son. That was gonna go down real well.

“Daddy.”

Jack forced himself to stop laughing. He cleared his throat.

“That’s not how these things work, bud,” he said. “Why don’t you talk it over with Mikey?”

“I did,” Matt said. “An’ he told me to bug off.”

Ah, you poor child.

That was older brothers for you. Jack knew the feeling intimately.

“He’s rude,” Matt complained. “An’ he’s stealin’ my friends. He’s already stolen my identity, Dad. Tell him to stop.”

It would never not be funny that these kids thought that people confused them out of spite.

“You can both be friends with Foggy,” Jack told him. “Unless Foggy only wants to be friends with one of you.”

Matt puffed up and then deflated.

“Mikey’s got loads of friends at home,” he mumbled. “Why do I gotta share my one friend when he doesn’t share any of his?”

Oh, baby. No, it wasn’t like that.

It was just that Mike was outgoing, that was all. He just had that special knack for being around people. Jack didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, both he and Grace were not people-people. Matty was the natural extension of their mutual social awkwardness. Mike was more like Jack’s own brothers, actually. Smooth, suave, and oh-so likable.

Dangerous shit, that was.

He would be unstoppable after 14 years old.

“Here, come here, you,” Jack said. “Having friends isn’t about the number of ‘em. It’s about having fun. You have fun with your brother all the time, don’t you? And Foggy brings Candace along with you two all the time. Why don’t you guys try to be friends as a group of four, huh?”

Matt didn’t love this idea, but he relented.

“Only if Mike stops tryin’ to be a pirate,” he said. “He keeps hittin’ me with that stick.”

Ah. Okay. Well, that Jack could do something about.

---

“But I am a pirate, Dad. I’m stealin’ Matty’s friends.”

For.

Fuck’s.

Sake.

Jack could not with this boy. He simply could not.

“Son,” he said. Then paused.

No. Mike wouldn’t hear anything he said.

This was a job for Grace.

---

“Is that what Jesus would do?” Grace snapped.

Mike sulked.

“No, Mum,” he groaned.

“Then why’re you doing it to your brother?” Grace demanded.

“Cain didn’t like his brother,” Mike mumbled.

“Michael. You are named for a saint.”

Mike groaned with his whole body somehow.

“I’m sorry God,” he said.

Grace vibrated.

Jack didn’t know who to protect here.

“I just wanna be a pirate,” Mike explained. “And pirates steal things. They gotta, Mum. It’s how they make a livin’.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed.

---

Grace did this occasionally.

She kidnapped one of the twins for some personal time with them. Jack was grateful for it because that twin was usually Mike and he usually came back looking guilty as hell.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t love his kid. It was just that Mike didn’t really show much regard for his authority.

Affection? Oh, sure. Both boys wanted nothing more than to show Jack everything they’d ever done or made. They wanted to be cuddled and tossed around and tickled. It had been ages before they understood why Dad didn’t come out swimming with them anymore—they couldn’t show him their cool seal tricks that way.

But authority? For Mike?

Nope. This kid was on the path towards trouble, and he’d probably already be there if his mama didn’t routinely take him under her flipper and remind him that he needed to think about other peoples’ feelings.

Matty, of course, had decided early on that personal time with Mum was a punishment, however.

When Jack came home without Mike, in full awareness that Mags was probably just gonna throw him in the water and tire him out until he was pliable and open to suggestion, Matt sniffed all around him and came up in tears.

It took a good ten minutes to convince him that Mike would be coming home.

What helped were some cheerios and letting Matt smell the tuna that was to go into the tuna salad sandwich that his brother was currently obsessed with. Jack reminded him that he wouldn’t be making two different kinds of sandwiches for dinner if there wasn’t gonna be someone there to eat them.

Matt played with the dry cheerios in the bowl Jack had given him and quietly asked him if Mike would be mad if he learned that Matty wanted to be a human hero like Jack.

Jack’s heart melted.

Grace had told him that Matt had told her this. But Matty hadn’t said it to him directly and he sure as hell hadn’t told Mike.

That was fair—the second bit. Mike, like most other selkies, tended to see humans as replaceable things. Kinda boring. Kinda selfish. Not overly worth his investment unless they were investing in him.

Jack thought that Mike might change his tune if he realized that his twin thought humans were kind of grand.

Or maybe not. Who knew what Mike would think.

“I think that if you tell him, he might be really confused for a while,” Jack said.

Matt dropped his handful of cereal back into the bowl and squirmed all the way back in the chair.

“’M not hungry,” he said.

Aw.

It’s okay, little one. Things will get easier with time.

---

Objectively speaking, it wasn’t long after that that Jack died.

It was what it was.

His kids were ten. They were safe. Mags tried to wrangle them.

Jack went to sleep.

Five years, he slept.

He woke up to Matty having a breakdown and Mike nowhere to be found and it was another three years before Jack managed to have enough awareness and mobility in the afterlife to get both of them to not fuckin’ do that shit.

Then it was another four years before Mike reappeared out of thin air and announced he was stayin’ in the city and where the fuck was his evil twin, which coincided with Matt showing back up from orientation at law school to shriek at Jack that Foggy was there! Foggy was back! Foggy was studying law with him and staying in his dorm and OH MY GOD, DAD, IT’S FOGGY.

Kid was love-fucking-sick.

Grace told him to watch his mouth. Matty didn’t know yet. They needed to let him figure it out on his own.

Jack thought that it had already taken Matty a good 16 years to realize that the reason he hated his brother crushing on Fogs was because he was crushing on Fogs. He was not the most self-aware of people. He deserved a little help.

Grace told him that he would speak to their younger son only upon pain of being stuffed into her flute.

Jack did not like the flute.

So he kept mum. But only in Matt’s presence.

This did not include Mike’s presence. Because Mike had other problems which looked like him trying to join a local mob, deciding that they weren’t cool enough for him, and then bouncing off to go join a pod of selkies, making enemies of all of the guys in it and then coming back to New York from a trip to Florida in the arms of a pixie who was actively trying to kill him in his sleep.

Mike was, predictably, a hot mess.

And he loved it.

God help this boy. He required all of Jack’s energy.

“Michael,” Jack reminded him exhaustedly when he stopped in the street as a gal with butterfly wings glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’ve got one at home and she’s mad enough to spit.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said without listening.

This fucking kid.

“Hey, pops, why don’t you go be someone else’s angel for like, twenty seconds over there, huh?”

Hm. No, you’re right, what a great idea—AHAHA. No. Nice try. Jack wasn’t born yesterday.

It was his new purpose in death trying to keep this one on the straight and narrow. He’d been assigned the mission by a nun. It was now a holy quest.

“You can’t say that about everything Mom tells you to do,” Mike scowled.

He did not, however, pursue Ms. Butterfly wings.

“Where’s Matty, anyways? None of you will tell me where Matty is,” Mike pouted.

Matty was, according to Grace, being heartsick because Foggy had gone home for the holidays.

“Mass,” Jack said.

Mike rolled his eyes.

“I’m not goin’,” he said. “I’ve got a job, Dad. Tell Matt to get one, too.”

A job, huh?

What a job. Sluggin’ people on behalf of other humans.

“I can feel your disappointment and—oh, wait? It’s my life? I can do what I want? I am allowed to sustain myself with offerings however they come? Oh my god, Father. What sense you speak. You’ve turned over a new leaf, truly.”

This?

This was a Grace problem.

---

Jack didn’t expect Matt to be the one who came home with a secret violent identity.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to break down Matt’s door and stand over him and ask him what the fuck he was thinking.

Then he didn’t expect Mike to be the one to bodily drag Matt out to sea in an attempt to bring him back to his roots.

Mike nearly drowned his brother.

It was certainly one way to get everyone back on the same page. Jack wasn’t about to lie and say it was the best way, but it was definitely a way.

Mike came to church and accused him and Grace of keeping Matt’s secrets from him. Not just the devil, but the coat situation and Foggy.

Mike was justifiably upset, but Grace pointed out that Mike’s current approach to humanity did not exactly jive with his brother’s existence, and not even Mike could argue with that. Although he did try. Let it be known that he tried.

He kept cutting himself off though, saying that Matt was different from other humans. Matt wasn’t like them. He was better than them. Which was exactly what Matt took issue with. And unfortunately for Mike, his brother had supersenses, and that included super hearing.

Grace asked Jack out to go calm Matty down.

He was pretty upset.

He tucked himself into Jack when Jack got to his hiding place on the roof of his loft and asked him why Jack had told Mike about the coat to begin with.

But Jack hadn’t told Mike about the coat. No one had. Mike found out these things on his own. He was clever like that.

“He’s always treated me different,” Matt said. “I thought it was ‘cause I’m blind, but it’s always been ‘cause I’m more human, hasn’t it?”

Horrible things to hear your kids say to each other.

Also untrue.

“Mike doesn’t treat you different because you’re blind or you’re human, bud,” Jack told him. “He treats you different because you’re his brother and he’s protective of you. That’s where this is coming from. It’s nothing you did.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Matt said.

Well, no.

It probably didn’t.

---

Mike came around. And he came around by encountering the Hell’s Beast that little baby Franklin Nelson had become.

Foggy, to put it kindly, was one hell of a selkie.

He was huge, to start with. He’d grown from a chubby, pale little glow worm to a good three hundred pounds of enormous, white seal. He was staunchly traditional, if flexible, in his dealings with other fae, and he had zero patience for humanity while somehow acting entirely in their favor.

Foggy was a selkie in a textbook somewhere. He had to be. He was paranoid and untrusting of humans, but he would throw himself in the line of fire to protect anyone who he dealt with. And Mike, who’s relationship with humans tended to be more on the Trickster spectrum than the whole Noble Being one was a smidge intimidated.

At first.

Then he was violently jealous.

And let’s just play this record once more, shall we? Take it from the top.

He nagged Matt to bits, asking him to give up his bond with Fogs and to entrust his human soul to Mike.

We’re twins, Mike argued, it’s only right that I guard your soul.

Matt told him he’d lived his mortal life in plenty of dumpsters, thanks. He was looking for a change in the afterlife.

Mike told him he’d get him the nicest dumpster blood money could buy.

Matt told him to try to take the question to Fogs and see what would happen.

Mike took that to heart.

Grace asked Jack what they’d done wrong to end up with a stubborn devil-child and a vulture selkie.

Jack thought it was probably the tugboat.

Foggy, however, thought that it was the fact that Mike had zero impulse control, manners that only came out when he didn’t have the upper hand in a situation, no respect for boundaries, and shit fashion sense—not to mention a lack of interest in fae hierarchies, a fondness for antagonizing people, and, in Foggy’s opinion, a brain that didn’t properly register pain chemicals or empathy.

He told Mike that Matt’s soul was his and that if he wanted, he could fight him for it and Mike decided that that was a vow good enough for his little brother.

He switched tact and began trying to court Foggy instead and, to his credit, it sure as hell de-escalated the situation.

---

Grace told Mike that Matt was going to get his coat back, but they didn’t hear from him. Jack wasn’t sure what to do, but Grace said that they didn’t have time to wait.

When they got home and Matty was trying to relearn how to swim and struggling like a zebra on a tightrope despite having both Grace and Fogs there to keep him from sinking, Mike reappeared in a pew at the church.

Jack found him and settled in next to him.

Mike asked him if Matty was okay.

He’d gotten the message only a few days ago. His hands were a little shaky when Jack smoothed his hair back and told him that he was just fine.

And not only was he fine. But he was very recognizable now. Or he should be, to Mike more than anyone else in the world.

Mike asked if Matt was still angry with him. If Foggy was still hellbent on chasing him off.

Jack thought that maybe, what Matty really needed right then wasn’t his mama or his bondmate, but his brother. His twin.

It had been a long time since Mike wanted a hug.

He told Jack that he was sorry for being a dick all these years.

Jack told him that he wasn’t a dick. He was fiercely independent and even if Jack didn’t always agree with him, he was still proud of him and proud of that drive and that passion.

He asked him if he was ready to go make up with his brother and Mike nodded instead of saying yes out loud.

---

Matty’s new coat was white for the time being and Mike would not and could not drop that. He cooed at Matt and told him he was too fluffy to swim. Grace had to break them up before they got to neck-slamming.

But at the end of the day, Mikey was right.

Matt’s new coat was a baby’s coat. And Matt was a good 14 years out of swimming practice. His muscles had forgotten how to work as a seal. He was angry about it, which was endearing, but not especially helpful.

He explained to Mike that he’d made a deal with Fisk and Mike went dead quiet before exploding at him and once they’d mutually worked through that argument, the intensity of the swimming lessons rocketed up. Grace stood back and pulled Foggy back with her and they watched on as Mike harassed Matty back into fighting shape.

After the third night of Matt’s refresher course, Jack went to go check on them and found them piled together in their coats on Matt’s couch.

You couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended and to Jack, it felt like home.

He found threw a blanket over them both and took the time to kiss both foreheads before turning off the light and letting the purples and pinks of the billboard outside wash over them.

It was its own kind of rippling sea.

---

#ficlet #matt murdock #mike murdock #jack murdock #fic #selkie verse

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sarcastic-bubble · 4 years

Text

Just Out of Reach

Paring: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: none

Request: Short Jedi reader in a relationship w Anakin and he teases her because of her height - anon

A/N: Looks like we’re getting another shorter one today! Here’s that fluff I owe you @sithmyass

Masterlist

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

Your eye’s scanned up and down the data that rested in your right hand; a fresh cup of caffe in the other. You liked to indulge in a good novel from time to time and it was only in the mornings that you had time to read. You were so caught up in the story of a young smuggler that you didn’t hear Anakin walk up behind you.

He leaned over your sitting body, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Morning, princess,” he mumbled, still half asleep. His arms draped themselves around your shoulders and held you in a tight yet warm embrace.

“Good morning, Ani.” You take a sip of the caffe. The liquid burning as it ran down your throat. As the warmth spread down your chest you couldn’t help but smile.

His fingertips gently grasped the top of your mug and pulled it from your hand. Not expecting it the cup easily left your grip. “Now what do we have here?” He stood up leaving you to whip around in your seat and reach for the mug. All he had to do to avoid your grasping hand was step back. He raised the cup to his lips and swallowed a large gulp of the contents; a teasing smirk never leaving his lips.

“Give that back!” You lunged forward only to have your plans foiled when Anakin’s hand shot straight up, the mug raised above his head.

His smirk was only growing, “Only if you can reach it.”

“You know I can’t.” Even after your response you still tried. You stood up on your toes and stretched your upper body as much as you possibly could, but to no avail; the tips of your fingers just short of his wrist.

In response, Anakin stretched his arm out furthering the distance between you and your caffe. “Having a hard time there, princess?” he teased, one brow cocked slightly.

You glared up at him, despite all your stretching your eyes still nowhere near level with his. “Obviously.” You hop slightly. Your fingers finally able to fell the mug but unable to get a proper hold. “You don’t plan on doing this all day, do you? Because we definitely have a mission today,” you hissed.

His free hand took hold of your waist, “No, it’s just so much fun to tease you that I need to take every chance I get.” He dipped his head down a gave you a quick and sweet kiss. Much to your dismay, he was still able to keep the mug just out of reach. He stepped away from you and before you could reach of the mug again he downed what was left of the caffe.

Your lips pursed in a slight pout. After all that he had drunk it anyway. He laughed and took you back in his arms. “I’ll make you more while you get dressed,” he promised, placing a kiss on your forehead. His arms dropped down to his side and he slipped into the kitchen, leaving you to get ready.

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

Much later you found yourself army-crawling up the side of a large hill, Anakin at your side. “Does the council really think the separatists set up a temporary base here? It doesn’t look like anyone has set foot on this planet for years,” you grumbled. The constant mud and large swarms of bugs were starting to get on your nerves.

“All the more reason for us to believe General Grevious set up shop here,” whispered your companion. Upon reaching the crest of the hill Anakin pulled out a pair of binoculars. It only took him a few moments to spot the base. “It’s right over there,” he said, his finger pointing into the distance, “It looks like it should be fairly easy to infiltrate.”

You took the binoculars from him and held them up to face. Through them, you were able to make out the base. It was small and relatively obscured by the dense rain forest that covered most of the planet. From this distance, proper security seemed to be lacking. “It doesn’t look like they have much security, at least on the outside. The hardest part will be finding it once we’re back in the forest.”

You both snuck down the way you had come, careful to keep your presence a secret. Navigating the rain forest did prove difficult; the vegetation quite dense. But after an hour of suffering through bug bites and more short jokes you made it to your destination.

While the base was larger than it had semed it was still small. It didn’t take you and Anakin long to make a loop a of the perimeter; taking note of any droids and spaces to enter through. In the end, you settled on an out of the way window.

You craned your neck in an effort to get a glimpse of what was on the other side. Anakin leaned down, his body pressing against yours and a smirk on his lips, “Need a boost?”

You glared at him and your voice picked up an annoying edge, “No, I don’t need a boost. Maker, Anakin. I’m not that short.”

“I don’t know,” he teased, “I swear I’ve seen porgs taller than you. ”

You didn’t even spare him a glance before jumping up into the large window.

The rest of the mission went better than either of you expected and contained far less teasing. In fact, Anakin managed to keep any quip about your height to himself until you were back at the Jedi temple telling Obi-wan of your Success.

“So as you can see Master,” Anakin continued, “that base won’t be causing us any more problems.”

Obi-wan thoughtful stroked his beard before favouring you both with a smile. “It always surprises me how well you work together, considering you almost constant childish teasing.”

“I don’t see what you mean Master,” replied Anakin with an all too familiar teasing lilt to his voice. I moments his elbow was comfortably resting on the top of your head.

You swatted at his arm but he wasn’t budging. He had done this far too many times to count and it always drove you crazy. He knew it too. But he claimed that you made to perfect of an armrest for him to ignore. “Oh, he’d never tease me,” you added sarcastically.

“You two should be careful,” started Obi-wan with a chuckle, “if you keep flirting like that someone might assume you’re in a relationship.”

Anakin just laughed as he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the small room. “What are the odds he knows?” He asks quietly.

You punch in the keycode to your room and stepped through the door Anakin close behind you. “If he knows I don’t think he cares.” You shrug off your outer robes and place them neatly on your bed. “Now can we talk about all the teasing?”

“What about it?”

You move to stand directly in front of him, “It drives me crazy Anakin; absolutely insane.”

He takes a step forward and pulls you into a tight embrace. “I only tease you because I love you,” a smile gracing his lips as he spoke.

“Really?” you mumbled skeptically. You tried to step back but his arms held you in place.

“Definitely,” he mused. “If you were too much taller I wouldn’t be able to do this,” his nose buried itself in your hair and his chin rested gently against your forehead.

“Is that all?” you ask with a quiet laugh.

His lips pressed against your hair as he thought, “for the moment.”

You rolled your eyes and relaxed into his embrace; your forehead coming to rest against his chest. “So does that mean you’ll stop teasing me?”

“Not a chance princess.”

Taglist: @psionicsnow @in-the-frap-of-the-gods @wishiwasanavenger

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #star wars x reader #star wars #star wars imagine #obi-wan kenobi

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is-this-a-skam-account · 4 years

Text

A Christmas as (a fake) Elu 1/3

Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350677/chapters/50853832

“I have a girlfriend, you know.”

“And yet your hands are dangerously low.”

Lucas isn’t even sure if his dancing partner heard him, but he takes the low hum he hears from behind him as recognition enough. He sucks in a breath when the strangers hands tighten around his waist and pulls them closer together. Lucas had made contact with the stranger from across the bar, he winked and the guy bought him a drink. Soon enough he was being asked to dance.

“It’s really just that easy for you, huh?” Yann had made a snarky remark next to him.

Lucas gave him a small smile that said: “what can I say. When you look this good they flock to you.”

But Lucas wanted to scream. He wanted to scream because the one person who he actually cares about asking him to dance is too busy talking it up with the bartender, not even sparing Lucas a glance when he’s dragged to the dancefloor. He has been hopelessly in love with Eliott, his best friend, since middle school. Ever since he told Lucas about his bipolar disorder. Ever since they promised to never leave each other.

“What do you say we get out of here?” the guys rough voice says into the soft skin where Lucas’s ear meets his neck.

“Hm, what would your girlfriend say about that.”

“I say she doesn’t have to know.”

Lucas sighs dreamily, “so charming, why don’t you just whisk me off into the sunset?”

Suddenly the warmth pressed to Lucas’s back is gone. There’s a ghost of a touch gracing every inch of his skin. He turns to find the guy backing out of the crowd with a smile on his face. Lucas follows.

As Lucas follows this stranger through the Parisian streets, he knows he will regret it in the morning. He knows he will wake with a sore body and splitting headache. He will wake up before the stranger and slip out without another word. He will feel a small glimmer of a flame inside him, that maybe he was able to get over with this random guy. Maybe there was something special about this one night stand. But the flame will fizzle out, like a candle coming to the end of its life. He will go home knowing that nothing could ever compare the raging fire that he feels when he’s with Eliott.

“Yann, can you pick me up? I gave Arthur my wallet last night so I don’t have money to get a cab.”

His friends voice is rough and scratchy when he answers. The voice of a person just waking up after a night out, “yeah sure, just send me the address.”

“Thank you.”

He spends the few minutes waiting for his friend by scrolling through social media. He sees all the posts from his friends the night before. He likes and comments on all of them. He doesn’t see anything from Eliott. No posts, texts or calls. He briefly lets his mind wander to what Eliott could have done after he had left. Maybe he took that bartender home. Or maybe he found someone else to occupy his time. Maybe he didn’t hook up with anyone last night. But, knowing Eliott and how his face and body draws people to him like bugs to a light, that’s a very slim chance.

Finally Yann pulls up and Lucas jumps in without a second delay. They drive in silence for what could be longer than a second before Yann is asking, “how ya feeling?”

“Sore, and like I really need coffee. I think that dude threw out my back,” he groans to nail home his point.

Yann laughs, “was he bad?”

“Not bad, just rougher than I thought he would be.”

“Eliott didn’t go home with anyone.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I knew you would ask.”

The guys all know about his crush on Eliott. Well, except for Eliott of course. They were back in high school when he decided to tell the gang about his sexuality. They had been super accepting, even though Lucas had burst into tears the second after he proclaimed his undying love for his best friend. They had asked if there was anything to do, but what could they do? Yann had pulled him aside later and tried to convince him to talk to Eliott about it. “No, Yann,” Lucas had said, “I know how that conversation is going to go. I’m going to tell him ‘hey, I’m so in love with you that I think about kissing you everytime you smile at me. I literally think you are the freaking sun and without you my world is dark.’ And he will say ‘jee, Lucas, I’m not sure if I want things to change between us. I love you but as a brother. Why can’t we just keep what we have? I don’t want to jeopardize anything.’ And I’ll be all ‘yeah you’re right.’ But do you know what will happen after that? Things won’t go back to normal. We’ll start acting weird around each other, we won’t be able to act the same after I proclaimed my love because everytime he will look at me he will feel pity. Because I can’t face the fact that he will never love me like I love him.”

“You don’t know shit,” Lucas says, angled more towards the car window than at Yann.

“He was watching you, you know,” Yann flicks his gaze between Lucas and the road, “he was watching you dance with that guy. He looked so hurt, Lucas. I thought he was about to go march out there and tear you away from him.”

“He was probably looking at the guy I was dancing with, not me.”

“God, you are so dense!”

“Yann, he doesn’t love me! I’m his best friend. I think I would have noticed if he thinks of me in that way.”

Yann huffs out an angry sigh, “Lucas, I need some advice.”

“Shoot.”

“So, I have a crush on this girl-”

“Yann…”

“No! No, just hear me out. I have a crush on this girl. I’ve known her nearly my entire life. When we were in elementary school we would always play house together and we would tell each other things no one else knew about. During middle school we grew even closer. She ended up being my first kiss the night she told me some...really personal things. Throughout middle school we hung out and during sleepovers we would kiss and...and he-she told me she loved me. But then, she got a boyfriend. I was confused, because why would she kiss me and then get a boyfriend? But that boyfriend ended nearly right after it began. They didn’t even make it to the beginning of high school. High school began, and she didn’t see anyone else, though her ex-boyfriend and her were on and off. Sometimes it felt like she only had eyes for me. We were, and are, still super touchy with each other, people mistook us for a couple multiple times and still do, and I finally realized that I love her around that time. Now we are in university together. Her grades weren’t the best in high school, so she struggled getting into the same university that I was going to. She had to take these extra classes over breaks in order to get in. But she managed it because she didn’t want to leave me. Now, I just need to know. Do you think she loves me?”

“Yann, I-”

“You don’t have to answer, Lucas. I just needed you to hear the facts from an outside view. Because, man, I have never seen a connection like you and Eliott have. It would be a waste of a relationship, dude.”

Lucas didn’t even realize they were stopped until he looked outside and realized the sidewalk wasn’t moving. He unbuckles his seatbelt and spares his friend one last glance. “Even if I agree with you, Eliott might not.” he mumbles before jumping out of the car.

Lucas ends up spending the majority of his afternoon lounging around the pollock with Manon since Mika had to take a last-minute shift for work. They made cookies, they as in Manon made cookies because Lucas can’t cook for shit, and watched some romance Netflix movies Eliott would deem cringe-worthy. It was nice to let his mind and body relax for once. His whole body felt like lead as they began their third movie of the night. He honestly thought that if he didn’t get up soon he would become one with the couch.

That’s when his phone lit up with a call notification.

“Lucas?” It’s Eliott.

“Hey, Eliott, what’s up?”

“Nothing really. I just realized that we never got our coffee together today.”

Right, it was Sunday. They usually met up at the cafe near the campus for coffee in the morning before Eliott would have to go to his studio art class. Lucas will never know why Eliott decided to schedule a class on a Sunday of all days. Truly a mystery.

“Shoot, you’re right. Sorry-”

“You don’t have to apologize, I forgot too,” Eliott’s voice gets drowned out by a vehicle on the other line, but Lucas can still make out what he’s saying.

“Are you just leaving class?” Lucas asks and is already slipping his shoes back on.

“Yeah, it got out super late today. One of our models fainted, and-and it was just this whole thing-”

“Stay there, I’m coming to you.”

There’s a pause, “but it’s nearly six, why would we get coffee now?”

“We don’t have to get coffee, you know. We could get like a pastry or something.”

“Hm, I suppose. You never get real coffee anyways.”

“Hey! A frappuccino is a coffee, shut up.”

Eliott’s laugh fills the phone, and Lucas unconsciously moves his ear closer, trying to absorb the sound, “okay, okay. I’ll wait in the cafe. See you in ten, love you.”

“Bye, love you too.”

Lucas gets up from the couch with a huff. When he looks over his shoulder to tell Manon where he’s going she has a look in her eyes. A look that says “I know it’s painful, being in love with someone you can’t have.” She nods at him before turning back towards the TV, and then Lucas is on his way towards the bus stop.

When he spots Eliott he finds him hidden away in the corner of the cafe. He’s hunched over on himself, looking at something on his phone. Lucas scans the area. His eyes land on a table of girls, whispering and looking between themselves and Eliott. Of course they have their eyes on him. Everyone does.

“Hey,” Lucas says before he reaches the table. He’s a good ten feet away when Eliott’s head snaps up towards him.

His whole face cracks into a smile and then he’s rushing out of his chair and catapulting himself towards Lucas, wrapping his arms around his friend. He lets out a squeal before saying, “I ordered your drink for you, by the way.”

And it’s stuff like that. It’s Eliott ordering his drink, or paying for his dinner, or pressing a hand to the small of his back when he can sense Lucas is uncomfortable, or giving Lucas a smile that is reserved just for them. It’s that stuff that makes falling in love with Eliott just that much more painful. Because Lucas knows Eliott can never be fully his.

“Thanks,” Lucas says and takes a seat across from Eliott.

“So how was last night?”

Lucas laughs; Eliott always asks him about the details, wanting to know the grueling details, “he was really rough to be honest. My hips are still in pain.”

Eliott cringes but bubbles of laughter burst through, “poor baby. Do I need to kiss it better?”

Lucas rolls his eyes, “no, idiot, you don’t have to kiss it better. I just wish I hadn’t gone home with that douche bag.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah, well,” Lucas mumbles into his cup before taking an extended sip, “can’t reverse time now, can we.”

“Speaking of reversing time…” the break in Eliott’s voice catches Lucas’s attention. “I may need your help with something.”

“Go on…”

“Well...you know Christmas is coming up…” Eliott adds warily, looking up at Lucas through his lashes. “And you also know my parents who...needless to say have been pushy about my personal life ever since I broke up with Lucille.”

Lucas nods, “of course.”

“Well, I maybe kinda sorta mentioned that we were dating to my mom and dad to get them off my back and now I need you to come with me on my family’s skiing trip for Christmas,” Eliott blurts out so fast that Lucas barely registers all that he’s being told.

Lucas clears his throat and lets the news settle on the table, “so...we have to-to fake date..?”

“Ye-es.”

Lucas takes a deep breath in, “um, no.”

“Lucas, please , I really need your help.”

“I’m sorry, Eliott, I am. But I don’t want to lie to your parents about us dating, that’s not right.”

“We’d only be lying to them for like a week, and then we can fake-break-up and we can go back to normal,” Lucas nearly winces at the word ‘normal,’ “I know I’m asking a lot. I do. But I’m asking for your help as your best friend. I couldn’t turn to Idriss or, for god sake, Basile for help with this. Besides, my parents adore you, Lucas.”

Lucas looks down into his coffee. He’s asking for help as Lucas’s best friend, because that’s all they ever will be. They’re friends, nothing more. No matter how many times they stare at each other for a little too long, or hug and cuddle in private and public settings, no matter how many coffee-dates they go on, they will only ever be friends. And going away for a week with Eliott, acting like his boy friend in front of his whole family, Lucas isn’t sure if he can handle that. If his heart can handle that. If Lucas goes, Eliott will be more cuddly with him, more loving, more caring than ever to try and make their relationship seem realistic. Eliott, being the romantic he is, will probably pepper Lucas with kisses and hugs… it would be way too domestic for Lucas to handle. If he goes, he knows how it will end. He will end up getting his heart crushed when they pack their bags and travel back to their side of France. Because when they get back to reality, they would no longer be Lucas and Eliott: loving boyfriends, but rather Lucas and Eliott: best friends.

“I’m sorry, Eliott, but no. I can’t,” Lucas says after what could have been an eternity of silence, he really isn’t sure how long he was gazing into his coffee.

“Why. Why can’t you?” Eliott’s voice is laced with venom when he speaks.

“Because, Eliott, I already told you. It’s not right to lie about something like this.”

“God, Lucas, it would hardly be a lie! We already act like a couple most of the time anyways!” there must have been something that flickered across Lucas’s face because Eliott then follows up with, “don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. I’m not-” Eliott bites his lip, “whatever, forget it. I’ll just give them some bullshit excuse.”

When Eliott starts to gather his things and stands from his seat Lucas panics. He grabs Eliott’s arm, pulling him back, “Eliott, wait. Stay, please.”

There’s something in Eliott’s expression that looks like he’s battling with himself before he eventually huffs a sigh and sits back down.

“Okay,” Lucas nearly whispers. “Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But, Eliott, we need to talk about this. Thoroughly. I know your family so I know that they will ask us a lot of questions. So,” Lucas takes a deep breath in, “we should probably order some food.”

Eliott’s face cracks into a smile.

After three hours, yes. Three. Hours. They finally had their entire backstory and rules laid out, “okay,” Lucas says, crumbs falling from his mouth as he takes a bite from his sandwich, “so. Let’s go over what we have. Ready, pretend I’m your mom.”

Eliott chuckles, “if I think of you as my mom I don’t think we would be fake dating.”

Lucas reaches over and smacks Eliott on the head before he has a chance to protect himself, “focus! Okay, so, first question. What was your and Lucas’s first date? How did you transition from friends to boyfriends? Was it difficult?”

“It wasn’t difficult at all. We’ve always been close, and being friends for such a long time actually helped us in the beginning I think. Our first date was actually really chill. I don’t think either of us really realized it was our first date at the time because we’ve done it so many times before. We basically just chilled at my apartment. We turned on a movie. Lucas made some popcorn because he will never let me near the stove after giving him food poisoning that one time. We cuddled for a while, basically both falling asleep. It eventually got so late that the buses stopped running. I offered for him to spend the night, but he said it would be best if he went home. I walked him home and when we got to his apartment we lingered outside. We talked about what we are, what we wanted to be. I ended up giving him a quick goodnight kiss, and then I went home.”

“Good. Have you guys said I love you yet?”

“Not as a couple officially, but we have always said ‘I love you’ to each other.”

“Does Lucas trust you? Do you trust Lucas?”

“Lucas’s always trusted me, I think that’s why he was always such a great friend, and an even better partner. With Lucille, I never thought that she really understood me as an individual, but only as a boyfriend. Whereas with Lucas, I actually feel like myself when I’m with him. I don’t really have to worry about feeling uncomfortable with him.”

“Alright, good,” Lucas says, “now, let’s go over our rules. So, 1) no lip-kisses, 2) no sleeping on the same bed. We can sleep in the same room, one of us will just sleep on the floor. And last, but not least, 3) no catching feelings,” he underlines the last one on the napkin he’d written them on. More for himself than for Eliott.

“Sounds good,” Eliott beams down at him, “thank you again, Lucas, you’re saving my ass.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas laughs and Eliott chuckles, “I’ll just cash in the favor at some point. Maybe to help me hide a body or something.”

“Little hedgehog Lucas killed someone? No way. You’re too tiny!”

“Oh frick off, I’m not too tiny.”

Eliott laughs, “whatever you say, little hedgehog.”

As they gather their stuff and head out of the shop (finally, it feels like they’ve been there forever) Lucas finally asks, “by the way, when do you guys go on your skiing trip? Isn’t it a few weeks before Christmas?”

“Oh, right, it’s actually in five days. OH! Look at the time, gotta blast,” Eliott says before rushing across the street towards his apartment complex.

“Eliott Demaury get your ass back here! Eliott! Eliott, I swear!” Lucas yells after him until Eliott is no longer visible behind the building.

The five days leading up to the trip is filled with stress, stress and more stress. Because of a certain Eliott Demaury only telling Lucas five days in advance, he has to make up shifts at work that he will be missing, cover two weeks of curriculum for University when he’ll be gone, and pack for a week away in Strasbourg. He also has to pack for a couple days of skiing, lucky him. Lucas has never been much of a skier. He always ends up eating it or nearly breaking something when his skis touch the snow. Eliott has always been really into snowboarding, and Lucas is sure that if they live closer to a mountain range Eliott would be up there every day.

On the day that they were to leave Lucas was last-minute packing (because he is a pro at doing everything at the last minute.) He actually finishes just in time because as soon as he zips his suitcase he gets a call from Eliott saying he is downstairs.

Lucas says his goodbyes to Manon and Mika before hobbling down the stairs with his two duffles and packed suitcase. When he walks out the door he’s met with a smiling Eliott and immediately runs up and gives him a hug.

“Hey, buddy,” Lucas laughs, “you’re awfully happy.”

Eliott pulls away just far enough to take a duffle bag and the suitcase from Lucas, “of course! I get to spend a week away with you in Strasbourg of all places! It’s literally the Noel capital of the world!”

Lucas laughs and shakes his head in disbelief as Eliott practically skips over to his car, “I can’t believe you have this much energy at six in the morning.”

“I only have this much energy for you, baby,” Eliott says with a wink.

Lucas laughs, “ookay, let’s put that away. Way too early for that.”

As soon as they are on the road Lucas passes out. He fades in and out of consciousness from time to time, mainly to Eliott singing along to horrid dubstep or Eliott was playing something from Netflix on his phone.

When he finally awakes fully, eyes still a little weighed-down from sleep, Eliott is humming along to songs on the radio and the highway around them isn’t familiar. Lucas swallows before croaking out, with his dry throat, “where are we?”

“Oh, you’re awake!” Eliott says and looks over at Lucas for a brief second before returning his eyes to the road, “we’re actually only an hour away. You’ve been sleeping like a log.”

“Oh, gosh, Eliott. I’m sorry, I said we could take turns driving. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were sleeping so peacefully. I didn’t want to wake you. Plus, you needed to catch up on sleep. You’ve been pushing yourself these past five days to prepare everything for this last minute trip. Letting you sleep is the least I could do,” Eliott says and squeezes Lucas’s hand-Wait.

It’s only then that Lucas realizes his hand is resting in Eliott’s next to the gear shift. Eliott’s thumb brushes small, slow circles on the back of Lucas’s hand. The motion nearly lulling Lucas back to sleep. When Eliott notices Lucas’s staring he says, “you were moving in your sleep a lot and hit me in the arm a couple times. I thought it was better I hold your hand than for you to physically abuse me,” he laughs.

Lucas laughs too and gives a tiny squeeze to Eliott’s hand, “sorry about that. I sometimes sleep talk too.”

“Oh, you did,” Eliott reassures, “it was gibberish really. Couldn’t make out anything you were saying.”

Lucas laughs again, the sound hurting his dry throat, “sorry about that too, then. So, what have you been up to while I’ve been passed out?”

“Listening to music a lot, dubstep of course,” Lucas rolls his eyes, “I’ve also been going through everything. Just making sure we covered all bases.”

“It’ll be fine, Eliott.”

“No, I know. I guess I’m more excited than anything.”

“Oh, why?”

“Well, I mean I never thought I would be bringing Lucas Lallemant anywhere as my boyfriend. The year back when I was in Terminale L and you were in Terminale S I had the fattest crush on you, I’m not sure if you remember that. I was still with Lucille at that time though, and I didn’t really want to take a chance and have it blow up in my face.”

Lucas feels like his throat is closing. This is too much to process. Eliott has a crush on him. Well, no. He HAD a crush on him. Which means, he doesn’t feel that way anymore. Which means, Lucas is stuck in an unrequited love and is acting as the guy’s boyfriend. A guy who he has no chance with. But once did. But he had no idea. He missed his chance.

“Fuck, I think I’m going to be sick. Pull over. Pull over.”

Eliott merges off the highway and Lucas doesn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before he’s hopping out of the car and kneeling in the grass. He coughs for a good few minutes before he realizes he isn’t really going to be sick, his stomach just feels like it’s being tossed and thrown around inside him.

“Lucas, Lucas, are you okay? Do you need to go to a Hospital?” Eliott asks frantically as he rubs soothing circles on Lucas’s back.

“I’m okay. Sorry. I think I just got a little carsick for a sec. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Because, Lucas, we don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling well. We can go back home.”

“No, Eliott, don’t be ridiculous. I think I just need something to eat. Is there anything close to here?” Lucas says and rubs his face.

“Lucas, look at me.”

Lucas turns to him without a second thought. Eliott takes his head in his hands, and continues to inspect him, “you look really pale, and you’re lips are chapped. I think you need some water. Let’s get back in the car and I can look up some place for us to stop.”

“Thanks, Eliott...sorry again.”

“Don’t apologize, Lucas, sorry you don’t feel well,” he places a soft kiss to Lucas’s forehead, “do you want help getting in the car?”

“I almost puked Eliott, I’m not dying.”

Eliott huffs an aggravated sigh, “okay, princess, whatever you say.”

So, they make a slight detour to grab Lucas some water. Eliott calls his parents. Then they are back on the road. The hour goes by a lot faster than Lucas would have liked, as he still wanted to mentally prepare himself, but before he knows it they are pulling up to Eliott’s parents cottage.

“Ready, baby?” Eliott asks with a wink.

Lucas breathes in deeply, “as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’re gonna do great.” He kisses the back of Lucas’s hand, quick and soft, “c’mon let’s go meet the family.”

“Eliott Demaury?! Is that you?!” a woman’s shrill voice is heard coming from the front door.

Eliott smiles, “that’s our cue,” he steps out of the car with a flourish, “hi, mama! It’s your favorite son!”

Lucas calms his nerves before opening his car door as well, and there is an audible gasp from mama Demaury as Lucas steps out of the car, “Lucas! It’s been so long, dear! We have so much to catch up on. Why don’t you two gather your bags and I’ll get some hot chocolate going for us. Your room is on the second floor, take a right and it’s all the way at the end of the hall,” without a second thought she closes the door.

“Well,” Eliott laughs, “that’s mama for you. Let’s get our bags. Also, it would probably look good if we walk up to the house holding hands. What do you think?”

Lucas nods, “that’s fair. Though I don’t know if I can carry everything AND hold your hand.”

Eliott grins, “I’ll help you carry your bags, what else are boyfriends for?”

Lucas’s stomach leaps at Eliott’s words, but he quickly silences the glimpse of hope he feels. Eliott ends up carrying one of Lucas’s duffle bags, along with his suitcase, and Lucas carries in his duffle bag and suitcase. As they walk up the pathway it feels almost natural to have the weight of Eliott’s hand in his. Eliott helps open the door, and Lucas isn’t entirely sure what he was expecting when he walked through the entryway, but it sure wasn’t a winter wonderland. The house looked like Christmas threw up in it. Everywhere they looked there was something Christmas or Santa Claus related, and it was almost horrific on the eyes. It was like the Demaury’s were trying to make a world record for largest collection of Christmas decorations.

“We’re inside!” Eliott yells as they walk further into the cottage. They make it all the way into the dining room before stumbling upon the family. There are five people sat around the table playing what seems to be a very rowdy game of Scrabble. There are two women sat opposite two men, who seem to be in a heated discussion about if they get a bonus or not, and at the head of the table is who Lucas can only guess is papa Demaury. He’s smoking a cigar, and something in his eyes light up when he sees Lucas and Eliott walk through the archway.

“You’re here!” papa Demaury exclaims, which gets the attention of the rest of the table. Lucas feels like he’s under a spotlight.

Suddenly everyone is clamoring to stand up and give them a hug. Eliott probably senses Lucas’s nerves because he gives Lucas’s hand a quick squeeze. Once everyone has gotten their turn for either a hug or a handshake, one of the girls says, “are you going to introduce us?” as her eyes flick between Lucas, Eliott, and their hands interlocked.

Eliott grins and bites his lip as he looks down at Lucas, “this is my boyfriend, Lucas.”

The girls squeal and the two guys give Eliott proud looks. “Lucas these are my sisters Emilie and Janine, these are their husbands, Thomas and Louis.”

“Pleasure to meet all of you,” Lucas says with a smile.

“And of course you know papa,” Eliott adds.

Papa Demaury makes his way through the crowd of four to give Lucas his signature bone-crushing hug, “it’s been too long, Lucas. We miss you around here.”

“University has kept me busy this past year. But I suppose Eliott has kept me busier.”

Papa Demaury laughs, “that’s my boy. Well, we will let you two get settled in your room. Holler if you need anything. By the way we are staying in for dinner, pajamas mandatory,” he says with a wink.

“Alright, papa, we’ll be back down in a bit.”

As they make their way out of the room one of the sisters yells, “use protection!”

To which Eliott replies, “fuck off!”

Lucas flops on the bed when they reach the room, giving the loudest sigh of his life. “I’m already tired. Do you think they would care if we just slept through dinner.”

Eliott rolls his eyes as he tucks his suitcase in the closet, “all you think about is sleep, huh?”

“Well, duh.”

“I mean I’m not saying no to sleep, but also my mom is making her signature pot roast and I don’t know if we want to sleep through that.”

“Fair point,” Lucas says and props himself up on his forearms, “question: do we actually have to wear pajamas to dinner? Cause I don’t know if I packed a pajama shirt…”

Eliott sighs, “of course you didn’t. This dinner is actually a tradition and we have to wear our cheesiest Christmas pajamas. I brought an extra pair cause I figured you probably didn’t have any,” he says and tosses Lucas the pants and shirt.

“Awe, thanks, boyfriend,” he says back in a mocking tone.

“Hey, you call me your boyfriend proudly, Lallemant.”

“Okay, boyfriend ,” Lucas teases as he goes to walk past Eliott to go use the bathroom. He did not, however, expect to the picked up and flipped over Eliott’s shoulder and tossed back onto the bed before tickled out of his mind. “Stop! Stop! Eliott-” Lucas is practically wheezing by the time Eliott actually let’s him breathe, “you asshole!” Lucas mumbles before flipping over so he has Eliott pinned to the bed. Eliott’s laugh when Lucas tickles him is like a song to his ears. It’s beautiful, and harmonic, and-and the only thing Lucas wants to do right now is lean down and capture Eliott’s lips in his.

As Eliott’s laughter dies down his hands come up to rest on Lucas’s waist, massaging his side. One hand leaves to comb a piece of Lucas’s hair from his face before cupping the side of Lucas’s face. “Hi,” Lucas says dumbly.

When Eliott responds he almost sounds breathless, “hi,” and then a moment later he adds, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Lucas feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest. He’s about to stop himself from leaning in before he realizes that Eliott is already coming in closer. It feels like they are breathing the same air when there’s a knock at the door. “Eliott, stop having s-e-x and get your butt out here! Dinner’s on the table.” That must be one of the sisters again.

Eliott groans, “we aren’t having s- yeah, okay we’ll be out in a sec,” he says and lets his head flop back down on the bed before rolling his eyes, which makes Lucas laugh.

“I should probably go get changed,” Lucas says when Eliott’s hands stay on his hips. He makes a move to leave, but Eliott’s grip tightens, “Elliot, I gotta change.”

“I’m not stopping you,” he says with faux innocence.

“Your hands say otherwise.” When Eliott just sends him a ‘i-dont-know-what-you’re-talking-about’ look Lucas huffs a, “fine,” before he’s pulling off his shirt and tossing it across the room. And he swears for a second he feels Eliott’s breath catch. Lucas then pulls the Christmas pajama shirt over his head. “You also have to get changed, mister,” Lucas says bops the end of Eliott’s nose. He feels Eliott’s hold loosen by just a bit and he takes the opportunity to wrench himself free.

Afterwards they both finish changing (the pajamas given to Lucas from Eliott are WAY too big, but it’s all he has so he goes with it) and make their way downstairs for dinner. Dinner goes by pretty well. Thankfully they don’t get interrogated in front of the whole family, but Lucas can feel it coming for sure. Lucas can barely keep up with the discussion at the table because Eliott decided it was a good idea to keep his hand resting on Lucas’s thigh, giving him a reassuring squeeze every now and then. All it did was completely distract Lucas from any conversation and made him instead focus on trying not to grow a boner in front of the whole family.

After plates grew empty, stomachs getting full, mama Demaury and one of the sisters, Lucas thinks her name is Emelie, Lucas gets up as well. “Let me help you with cleanup,” he offers and takes a few plates from mama Demaury’s arms.

She gives him a grateful smile, “thanks, dear, so kind of you.”

As they walk out of the room and towards the kitchen Lucas gives one last look over his shoulder and immediately locks eyes with Eliott. He gives Lucas a soft smile. Then, being the stupid romantic he is, blows a kiss across the room. No one else noticed it, it was such a minute action, so Lucas couldn’t help but wonder why he did it in the first place if no one except Lucas would notice him doing it.

“Lucas, honey, if you could just put the top back on the roast and place it in the fridge that would be very helpful,” mama Demaury says once Lucas steps foot in the kitchen.

“Of course,” he says and walks over to the roast, picking it up with both hands and carrying it over to the fridge, “your cooking was amazing as ever mama Demaury. I wish I had more room to eat.”

Mama Demaury laughs, “oh, sweetie, you don’t have to win me over with any compliments. I already love you and Eliott being together.”

Lucas nearly drops the roast as he places it in the fridge, “you do?”

“Of course! I thought it was just a matter of time before you two got together. The way you two look at each other, I have always known you love him, and that he, of course, loves you. Even just your friendship was priceless, and now that it’s blossomed into a relationship, well, I simply couldn’t be happier for you two.”

Lucas didn’t even know how to respond. He felt breathless and like he could combust from happiness and guilt all at once. So, he went with his heart, “I can’t tell you how much that means to me, mama Demaury. Eliott has always been such an important person throughout my life, and I can’t believe my luck that Eliott loves me or even wants me in his life. Your son is truly someone special, and I’m just glad he’s allowing me to stay by his side-” Lucas jumps when arms wrap around his waist and pull him back towards a warm chest. Emilie laughs at Lucas’s reaction before turning back to her task at hand.

Lucas nearly melts when Eliott gruff voice says softly in his ear, “you’ve been talking about me?”

Lucas hums and lets his head roll back on Eliott’s shoulder. He closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the domesticity of the moment, if even for just a second, “hm, all good things I can assure you.”

Eliott laughs, “I’m not sure I trust this little devil. Has he been saying good things, mama?”

Mama Demaury sends them a beaming smile, “I’m not sure… He has a pretty sharp tongue…”

Lucas’s eyes fly open, and he moves to take a step forward to defend himself, but Eliott’s hold on this waist tightens when he tries to move away, “I do not! I am an absolute angel I will have you all know.”

Emilie scoffs, “whatever you say.”

“I came out for a good time and I am honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

Eliott laughs and nuzzles his face into the crook of Lucas’s neck before turning back to his mom, “I think Lucas and I are going to go grab our coats before we head outside for papa’s mulled wine and dessert.”

“Oh, we are?” Lucas asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

Eliott hums and squeezes Lucas just a little tighter, “yup.”

With that they make their way out of the kitchen, but not before Emilie calls after them, “use protection!”

Eliott scoffs and yells back, “are you going to say that every time we walk out of a room?” Emilie’s laughter follows them all the way back to their room.

The rest of the evening goes by like a blur. When they meet the family outside (not actually outside, because the Demaurys have a covered porch in their backyard) Eliott and Lucas reserve a chair for them to cuddle. When Eliott pulls Lucas onto his lap, and nuzzles his face into Lucas’s neck, Lucas has to mentally tell himself that this is all fake . When Eliott presses a soft kiss to Lucas’s cheek, Lucas tells himself it’s fake. When Lucas jokes with Eliott’s family, and Eliott gives him a proud smile, telling him ‘I’m so proud that my boyfriend gets along with my family,’ Lucas tells himself it’s all fake . When Lucas practically falls asleep on Eliott’s shoulder, and Eliott excuses them to go put Lucas to bed, Lucas is too tired to tell himself that it’s fake. So in those couple minutes that it takes for Eliott to walk to their room, Lucas lets himself believe. Let’s himself snuggle in closer and bask in the feeling of Eliott’s arms carrying him to their bedroom.

After he’s tucked into bed, there are a couple moments of eerie silence before Eliott climbs in beside him. Lucas is too tired to register that sharing a bed is against one of their rules. Instead, he shifts closer and buries his face into Eliott’s chest.

Eliott laughs softly before running a hand through Lucas’s hair and moving closer as well, “got a little tired there, baby?”

Lucas nods slowly and hums in agreement.

“Goodnight, Lu.”

#skam france #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

Text

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: I know I said I was busy. And I am... I’m going to be at work when this posts. But, I got really into redoing it. And didn’t know if I’d have time after work. So...here we are! Part eight was queued up. As usual, feedback is always incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I for sure see it. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Sexual Tension. Upcoming smut.

Word Count: Roughly 3,700

“How's your shoulder?” Sam asked Dean when the oldest flinched lightly while climbing into the passenger seat.

“It's gonna need to be reset. Definitely dislocated.” He gritted out as he leaned his head back into the leather. Luckily, Dean didn't turn around. Your swollen lips, heated face, and lightly sin marked skin would have given you and Sam away in under two seconds. “How you holdin' up?”

“I'll be good.” You answered as the Impala pulled out of the clearing, moving down the small dirt road to get back to the motel. Removing the wrappers from the gauze. “Might take a little while to heal, but -”

“You should have Cas check it out.” Dean didn't hesitate. Jumping into protector mode. Despite the fact that he was injured, himself.

“It'll heal just fine on its own.” You stated simply. Using a half empty bottle of whiskey that was in the vehicle to soak the material in your hand. “No need to bug, Cas.” You paused for a second as you pressed the material into the wound. Hissing at the burn. “You know...” Gritted teeth didn't stop the path you'd decided to take, “unless you just miss him.”

Dean knew where you were going, “Don't-”

“Destiel.” You cooed mockingly. Wince be damned. A deep, pained sigh left Dean.

“You're never going to let that go, are you?” He grumbled. Crossing his arms in disgust as he pouted.

“Never.” The promise was easy to get out. He'd told you about the incident at a small Michigan high school to cheer you up the night of your nightmare. It hadn't worked well then, but it helped in that moment.

“You told her about that?” Sam shook his head. Snickering all the while. “Dude, you should know better than to fuel her. Look what I get.”

“Uh, yeah. Right here.” You huffed out in the back as you started working on covering your cleaned wound. The last thing you needed was a random person seeing a gouge out of your neck. “Also, pretty sure this can be stitched.”

“Cas could-”

“Dean... No.” You insisted again. Taping the edges of the clean gauze to your skin. “Castiel can't be using all of his grace on me.” The hunter opened his mouth to argue, but you weren't having it. “Now, drop it. Cas has his own shit going on. If he wants to pop in and visit? Fine.” Dean's mouth slammed shut. Teeth grinding at your answer. “But, we're not forcing him to rush over and use up all his grace just because of a scratch.”

“That's a scratch?” Sam interjected. Looking up into the mirror as if you were insane.

“Compared to the victims? Yeah. It's a scratch.” He snorted at your answer. You mocked the sound, muttering about him needing to mind his own business. Dean's lips quirked lightly at the sound. Any worry he'd had started to die down.

“She's stubborn, Sammy.” The oldest brother stated easily, getting more comfortable in his seat. “No one can go out of their way for her.”

“Not true-”

“So, why can't I call Cas up for you, again?” You didn't have a good answer. Simply sputtered some more nonsense about not harassing the angel, and that was that. “See what I mean?” He looked over at his brother in fake exasperation. “God save whoever is stupid enough to fall in love with her.” Sam chuckled at that. Already shaking his head for whoever the poor bastard would be.

“You're just so funny.” You fake laughed before reaching forward to swat at the older brother's spiked hair. “Jack ass.” Dean cackled, proud of his ability to annoy you. The more Sam looked, the more he only saw the sibling relations between you and Dean. Thank God, the thought landed before he could stop it, otherwise Dean would've killed me for today. “Don't look back here,” Your warning broke through his daydreams. Typical blood splatter might've been unnoticeable on the black clothing. However, the leakage from your neck matted down the cotton. Too obvious to risk. “These clothes are wrecked. Gotta change.”

“In the car?” Sam's voice cracked as he thought of the skin he'd just gotten to feel being exposed. It took all his willpower not to turn his head.

“I'm sure you and Dean have both done far worse in this very car.” You huffed out, pulling off your shirt. The stretching of the muscles pulled a bit at the wound and medical tape along your skin, making you grit your teeth. “I know I have.”

“You lech.” Your best friend teased. Already knowing what you were talking about. You’d borrowed the Impala for a day back before moving in.

“Only for the right people.” You grunted out, searching for a spare in the back. As your head popped back up, you caught some movement from the corner of your eye. Deep brown and gold eyes were glancing to the rear view mirror far more often than needed. The gaze connected with your E/C in the mirror. Making you freeze. You didn't move away until your phone sounded. Breaking the spell effectively. “Bane? Hey, what's up?”

“Hey, Y/N...” The slow drawl of your name grabbed your attention. “We, uh...we have some news.”

“Don't you dare tell me she's in labor.” You stated seriously. Unable to stand the thought of not being there for the birth. Being there for your family.

That caught the guys' attention. Dean spun around, only to connect his face with your palm. You shoved his head back forward and away from your half naked torso. Sam turned back to the road. Deciding it was better to keep his head forward after he swerved Baby.

“Not yet. She's going in for a c-section.” Bane answered, his voice shaking lightly. Still in shock.“The baby is going to be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, congratulations daddy. You get to see your baby girl tomorrow-”

“Boy!” Sam hollered loudly. Immediately, your face dropped into the bitchface he'd passed on to anyone in his vicinity. The familiar bickering made Bane chuckle.

“We'll be there in time.” The confirmation seemed to help. A sigh of relief sounded over the speaker. It would entail some speeding. However, if a cop pulled you over? You had no problem knocking them out and bailing. Nothing was going to slow you down.

A timer went off. Telling you he was cooking before the big day, “You guys finish up the hunt?”

The change of subject was nothing more than a way to get his mind off of his nerves. You didn't protest. Giving Bane something else to focus on.

“Yeah, just wrapped it up.” You answered readily.

Another glance up showed the deepening hazel gaze back on you. Reminding you of the fact that the rise and fall of your breasts' slopes were visible to Sam. Your tongue darted out. The immature action only earned a hint of those dimples while Dean fiddled with his radio.

“Any injuries?” Bane jumped straight to business.

“Nothing serious.” It was shrugged off. The action making you wince a bit. “Back to baby talk.”

“Meaning you were hit.” He sighed out. But, he'd been around long enough to know you weren't going there. “But fine, baby talk.” You smiled fondly at his response.

“Are you two getting excited?” Maneuvering yourself into the large, green plaid flannel while holding the phone was tricky. But, you managed it.

“We've been excited.” Came the laugh. “But, yeah. I can't wait to hold him or her.” Your heart went all fuzzy at the easy statement.

“How's Alice holding up knowing she's about to be split in half with a scalpel?” You questioned seriously. Worry shining through bright and strong.

You saw Sam's brow's rise quickly in the mirror at the statement while Dean turned back sharply, catching his shoulder in the process. A muttered curse left him at the sudden pain, before he could even realize you hadn't buttoned up the shirt you'd stolen.

“She's getting edgy.” He replied honestly. Lowering his voice so that his significant other couldn't hear the conversation. “She wants you there. Says she can't do it without you.”

“I said I'd be there, didn't I?”

“She wants you in the room.” That caught you off guard. You'd anticipated hours of sitting in the waiting room, bickering with Sam over the sex of the child. “She doesn't have a mom...you're the closest thing she has to a sister.”

“Give her a huge hug, and tell her I love her.” You finally got out, clearing the lump in your throat. “And that I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, “We love you, too.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I've gotta kick a couple of boys' asses into gear.” Another laugh sounded before he let you go. “You two hear that? We have to leave. ASAP.” The order was given without a second thought as you discarded your phone. Only moving to button up your shirt.

“Did he give a time?” Sam pressed on the gas a little harder. Not needing the prompting, after all.

“Some time afternoon. That's all I have.” You stated seriously. Pressing back down on the medical tape that was trying to pop up. “So, no after hunt party for us.”

All plans you'd been anticipating no longer mattered. There'd be no one night stand with the chauvinistic cowboy. No blacking out with booze. Instead, you leaned back in your seat. Brushing off a piece of lint that stuck to Sam's green shirt.

–

There'd been no sleep. Your eyes were heavy. The stitched up wound on your neck throbbed. And, yet? None of it bothered you as you sat on the couch.

“She's beautiful.” The infant in your arms yawned wide. Tired from the trauma of being born. Your finger stroked along the too soft cheek.

“Hey,” Sam's low voice broke the quiet as he walked in. Brother in tow. “Pink?” A tiny, yarn hat covered the baby's scalp. “It's a girl?”

“Ava Marie.” Alice spoke the name proudly from her bed. Softly smiling at the sight of you holding her child.

“Feel free to kiss my feet, and beg for my forgiveness.” You sniffed delicately. False offense in full form. “You completely discredited my intuition. Not for the first time.” Sam's eyes rolled in good nature. Not breaking the serenity in the small room.

“Let me see her,” Dean plopped beside you, peeking at the little girl's face. “She's got a lot of her mom in her.” He smiled lightly, reaching a finger out to the tiny hand that stretched out as a little squeak escaped tiny lips. A tiny piece of black escaped the confines of the hat. “Except that hair. That's all Bane.”

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked Alice, sitting down on the end of the bed. Checking in on the other main woman of the hour.

“Starting to get sore.” Her hand lightly ran over her stomach. Wincing a bit as she shifted. “But, it was worth it.” Bane kissed her forehead, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. Holding her in comfort.

“You're in for trouble, little miss.” You smiled down at the baby, letting your finger caress the silky skin again. Entranced by the tiny being. “You're going to grow up so loved, you won't know what to do with it all.” Forgetting about the other people in the room, you whispered gently. “Whenever you mess up? Someone will be right there to pick you up. Keep you safe...you just wait and see.” The oath was coupled with a tender kiss to the her little forehead. Earning a soft little sigh that melted your heart.

Sam turned his head your way. Letting himself absorb the words he'd caught. Realizing that you were promising everything that you'd grown up without. Security. Love. Loyalty.

Alice's eyes had watered up and welled over lightly at your words. Partially from the hormones, and from the sincerity in your voice. Not for the first time, he wondered what had all happened in your poor excuse of a childhood.

“Pass her up.” The younger Winchester slid over to the seat next to you. Making sure you didn't have a chance to think about what you'd said in front of everyone.

“No way. Get your own.” You moved closer to Dean. Trusting him to aid you in protecting the child from the ultimate prankster. Only to have her swiped into the older brother's arms. “What the hell? Traitor!”

“Get your own,” Came the repeated phrase. Your bottom lip slipped out, but it did no good. You'd been replaced for an eight pound little girl.“Heya, sweetheart.” His deep voice made her stir lightly in her sleep. “When are you going to let me see those eyes, huh?” The calloused hand of his bad arm stroked her cheek so gently it was criminal. Any grumbling had long been forgotten as you watched him interact with Ava.

You got to your feet, and moved over to sit next to Alice. Leaving the once gruff man to turn into pudding while his brother scooted closer. Your hand wrapped into hers in silent support. Not moving an inch, you let her head lean over to rest on your shoulder. Quiet exhaustion making itself known. Bane's arm snaked around, making contact with you and Alice. Holding his growing family together, again.

“Hey, beautiful.” You'd never heard such soft words leave Sam before that moment. “I'm you're Uncle Sam...” A low, shuddering breath left him when the baby's hand wrapped around one of his fingers. “You remember me?” All he got in return was a small grunt paired with lip smacking. But, it was more than enough.

His bright eyes met yours, and for the first time, he sent you a grin. An honest to god beam. Dimples curved into his cheeks. The brows bounced as his eyes lit up even more. You'd thought he was devastatingly handsome when angry, but in that moment? You got your first real glimpse at how it felt not to be despised by Sam Winchester.

Something that wouldn't last. Your face fell a bit at the reminder. You turned your eyes away from his. Cuddling more into Alice to chase away the feeling of being alone...

–

Before you knew it, Ava Marie was a month old. Smiling up at anyone who got too close. The happiest, gummiest child you'd ever seen. Each one stealing your heart all over again.

You'd moved in to help with the baby. Giving Alice time to heal. Taking care of the mundane chores so Bane could come home from work and immediately jump into the role of a doting father rather than maid.

Not only did it give you extra time with your goddaughter, but it also kept you away from Sam. Away from the tension that never seemed to leave since that damned kiss. It kept your sanity in tact. His visits were bad enough.

His eyes always let you know that he hadn't forgotten that foolish moment. That he still remembered seeing you afterwards. It didn't matter what you were doing, or how hard you'd avoided it, you still ended up catching the heat from his gaze. Every time, you were left squirming uncomfortably in your seat. Something that Sam seemed to enjoy far too much.

Dean wasn't clueless. Although he'd never even graduated high school, he was smart. More than you liked. Every look he caught, or hint of mischief on his brother's face? Led to nothing short of suspicion.

He hadn't seen you two around each other enough to put it together. Thankfully. But, the time would come where he would. And you dreaded it.

By the time you got home, they were long gone. Back to the lives of hunters. Not that you minded. In fact, the relief was incredible.

Sam's words had made you edgy, “We're not done.” You weren't prepared to handle the weight of them. Didn't know what it'd mean for life at the bunker.

You did it to yourself, you'd decided as you sprawled out on your bed for the first time since Ava had gone home. Unable to enjoy the give of your mattress, so lost in your own thoughts. You were the one who had instigated the sexual banter with your innuendos. You may not have given into it first, but you'd certainly been the one to not let him back out of the kiss.

And by doing so? You'd set yourself up. Not only for a long bought of sexually frustrated nights filled with images of the younger Winchester. But, he'd invaded your days. Your conscious mind swirled around it time and time again. It was maddening.

You sighed as you turned onto your stomach, letting your hand support your head. Trying to take your mind off of it wasn't working. But, the show Salem was twisted enough to assist. Just as it started working, your door crept open, and the moose himself walked in.

“I thought you two were gone?” You hated that he walked in without knocking, catching you off guard. Not nearly as clothed as you needed to be for the interaction. Only a green tank and matching pair of cheeksters covered you.

You felt more than a little exposed as you felt his gaze burning into your skin for the second time. But, you didn't let your eyes connect with his. They remained glued on the screen.

“Finished up early.” He replied, trying to focus more on your cool attitude than the bare skin that was exposed to him. It wasn't working so hot. Sam cleared his throat, turning the conversation to something a bit safer. “How's Alice?”

“Glowing with motherhood.” You didn't even glance at him. He'd be lying if he said his jaw didn't tick at the lack of response. “Where's Dean?”

“Left for a night out. Figured you'd still be over there until tomorrow, when Bane was off.” The bed dipped. Your body tensed as he made himself comfortable. Determined to make you notice him.

In your dreams, he would have pounced. Refusing to take even the slightest bit of disobedience. But, in real life? Sam was more subtle than that. His hand grazed the skin of your thigh as he got comfortable. No other contact with you. Just resting close enough to torture. To force you to be aware of just how close he was.

“What do you think you're doing?” Your voice was supposed to have a hard edge, but the effect was lost among the breath you released at the same time.

“This looks interesting. What is it?” He ignored your question. Another tiny, almost undetectable movement along your heightened skin made you shift. The touch just against your hip had you taking a deep breath. Reciting exorcisms in your head to block him out. “Well?” He didn't like being ignored. Another feather light touch was your punishment.

“Salem.” You huffed out, not so subtly pulling away. It didn't work. He simply followed. Getting more comfortable on your bed. Bastard.

“What's it about?” His voice was filled with husky undertones that made you shift lightly as you tried to ignore him.

The minute you looked into his eyes, you were a goner. You knew it. So, you resisted. Only, he grew more bold the more you didn't stop him. Ignored him. A bit more direct contact until his hand was resting just beneath your butt.

“Sam?” Your voice was unsteady, but hard enough to catch his attention a bit as you broke. “I don't want to play games...What are you doing?”

“Trying to get past the wall of ice you threw up.” His fingers pressed into your skin lightly. Causing a shiver to trace over your skin. “Is it working?”

“No.” You kept your voice as stern as you could, and he froze. Your eyes closed as you forced the words past your lips. “I'm all about no strings attached sex, Sam. Just not with you.”

“So, what the hell was that scene by the Impala?” Horny and confused was a dangerous combination. One you wanted to take advantage of. But, didn't dare.

“After hunt adrenaline rush.” You shrugged, still refusing to look at him. Using every bit of strength you possessed. “You started it, Sam...I just responded to the high.”

There was no doubt in either of your minds that you were lying. That's why you wouldn't meet his gaze. Why you refused to get too close.

“Got it,” He let his fingers tighten once more on your skin before getting up. Drawing a sharp in-drawn breath from you. “So, we go back to how things were? Act like it never happened?”

“Precisely.” The answer was too fast. Too breathy. A wry smile crossed Sam's face as he looked down at you. Noting the rigidness in your spine.

“If you insist.” His tone made your skin prickle. There was something in it that reminded you of just who you were dealing with. What all he had to get even for. “Night, Y/N.” Your name was a caress on his lips.

“Night, Samuel.” You retorted, as if your sass would be enough to protect you. The thrill of the challenge only increased the allure. And Sam was nothing if not willing to rise to it...

Part Nine

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @sasbb23 @nothinbuttrouble2 @baby-bunker-pie @neii3n @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #Sam Winchester #sam #sam winchester fanfiction #sam fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #Sam Winchester reader insert #sam reader insert #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam x y/n

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guccilan · 4 years

Text

Dimples Pt. 2

Part 2 of the “Lan Bros with dimples prompt” for @dutchcementmixer from discord

[Part 1]

[On AO3]

I headcanon LXC as a gremlin elder brother (who acts like a poised gentlemen in front of everyone else) who learned how to tease LWJ and cause mischief from their mother, you can’t change my mind.

***** The idea was this:

Lan Xichen and Lan Zhan look very similar + Lan Xichen has a dimple on his right cheek when he smiles a certain way = Lan Zhan has dimples.

The problem, Wei Wuxian realized as he scampered through the grounds in search of his husband, was that Lan Xichen had smiled rather widely before the dimples had appeared. Lan Zhan hardly ever smiled, and when he did so, it was the smallest upturn of his lips, warm and lovely as sunlight, as secret as the sunbeams filtering through the mists of the Cloud Recesses, a small flash just for him, love shining softly through eyes like colored glass and-

Wei Wuxian tripped.

So, he thought, smiling widely in thanks at a passing disciple who had attempted to help him up, Lan Zhan will have to smile widely.

Never mind the Xuanyu of Slaughter, his initial fall into the Burial Grounds, the Sunshot Campaign, living in the Burial Grounds or even everything after his rebirth. This was going to be his biggest challenge yet.

Attempt the impossible.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

*****

This was not fun.

Wei Wuxian had tried everything under the sun and stars to get Lan Zhan to smile widely.

He’d made every stupid joke he knew, had rolled around on the ground whining and teasing and had gained, at most, a “ridiculous” paired with a soft, warm gaze.

He’d even attempted to tickle his husband, but that had quickly led to…Distractions from his Mission.

At last, desperate and at the edge of losing all hope, Wei Wuxian had recounted every embarrassing story Lan Xichen had told him about Lan Zhan, hoping that such fun stories and his own joyful laughter would allow him a glimpse of the potential treasure he coveted.

Too late, Wei Wuxian remembered that he was rather unique in being able to laugh at himself and brush off most embarrassments shamelessly. Too late, he remembered Lan Zhan was a younger brother.

*****

Lan Wangji did not smile.

Lan Wangji, being a mature and self-assured adult, did not particularly feel embarrassed at stories of his childhood, recognizing that children are inherently prone to mistakes and silly behavior. However, for all that he was a mature adult, a war veteran, and a senior disciple of one of the great sects, he was also a younger brother, and he did not appreciate teasing from his elder brother, who clearly had too much time on his hands if he was telling embarrassing stories to Wangji’s husband.

(Nevermind that Wei Ying clearly adored hearing about his childhood antics, rolling around the ground in boisterous laughter. Nevermind that this gave him more fodder for teasing Wangji, which Wangji would deny liking with his last breath, treasuring it all the same.)

Between siblings, this was an act of war.

*****

So here they were.

Lan Zhan, having taken a break from sect duties, had joined Wei Wuxian and Lan Xichen for their daily tea together.

Lan Zhan glowered at his brother. His tea sat untouched in front of him.

Lan Xichen hid a smile behind his teacup, eyes twinkling.

Wei Wuxian fidgeted in his seat, chewing on a sweet.

Surely, this awkward atmosphere between the brothers would break soon?! Wei Wuxian didn’t know how much more he could handle.

Lan Zhan spoke.

“Brother, do you recall when you were ten, you walked into the class covered in mud?” he said, a triumphant light gleaming in his eyes.

Lan Xichen smiled gently, bloodlust gleaming in his.

“Yes,” he agreed, “I’d had to jump down an empty well during a storm after you, because you thought you’d seen a rabbit trapped in there. It turned out to be some fabric blown in by the wind, didn’t it?”

Lan Zhan twitched subtly in his seat.

Lan Xichen smiled and took another sip of tea.

Wei Wuxian slumped down. They’d been going back and forth like this for a good hour now, and Lan Zhan had gained no ground. Lan Xichen clearly held the advantage here.

Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Zhan, begging his husband with his eyes to concede defeat. This was a hopeless battle. Elder siblings always remembered more and had better ammunition. He would know. Jiang Yanli, when she was willing to shed her usual kind and sweet nature, had been a menace.

Lan Zhan stubbornly readied himself for another attempt.

Wei Wuxian, mouth dry with fear, took his first sip of the tea that had been sitting in front of him – and almost spat it right out. This was the blend from Qinghe? He’d have to send a message to Nie Huaisang – if the sect leader didn’t already know about the tea blend that was, no doubt, currently single-handedly destroying his region’s recovering and fragile reputation, someone had to inform him.

Lan Zhan made his move. “Hmm. Do you recall spending days in the healer’s hall because you consumed poisonous berries we had been taught to recognize?”

“Ah. Yes, that was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it? But how could I have resisted? You hadn’t been taught to recognize them yet, and had spent so long gathering them for me. How could I have resisted when you broke into such pitiful tears when I first refused?”

This was a massacre.

Lan Zhan could be stubborn, but this situation was beyond saving. Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to break into the battle, when he saw his savior approaching them.

Lan Qiren.

Wei Wuxian had never before felt overwhelming joy at seeing the elder, but today was a very strange day indeed. He smiled widely at his uncle-in-law and was completely ignored. That was alright. The brothers would behave in front of their uncle. He was saved.

They stood up to greet him, bowing in utmost propriety, and then sat back down.

Lan Qiren began asking Lan Zhan about the morning meetings, asking for Lan Xichen’s opinions and recommendations as they poured him a cup of tea. Wei Wuxian, having just tasted the travesty that tried to pass itself as tea, and currently feeling immense gratitude for the elder, opened his mouth to spare Lan Qiren what would surely be intense torture.

Lan Xichen glanced at him. His eyes promised death.

Wei Wuxian snapped his mouth closed and meekly sat back.

“Xichen, this isn’t the… tea that we tasted yesterday, is it?” Lan Qiren asked.

“No, Uncle,” said Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian stared at him. Lan Xichen met his eyes and hid a small grin behind his cup of tea, which – Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes as a breeze flowed over them. Lan Xichen’s tea smelled different from what he had served Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan, and now Lan Qiren.

Now, Lan Qiren was by no means a fool. He had not managed to cover up one of the Lan Clan’s biggest scandals, run the sect for years, and raise his nephews to be bright, talented, good, and hardworking men with only luck. Even now, he learned from his mistake, confirming that the tea was the sort safe for consumption, and not the disgusting concoction he’d had the misfortune of partaking in, a few days ago. Lan Qiren was not a fool. But he was ever trusting of his nephews, and therein lay his biggest mistake. He nodded and took a sip.

His eyes bugged out of his face.

His cheeks puffed, torn between spitting out the revolting tea and swallowing it to save face.

His face turned an alarming shade of red as he ceased breathing for a long, long moment.

Wei Wuxian could take it no more. He burst into manic laughter as Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji rushed to aid their uncle, who was slowly turning purple with stupefied horror and lack of air. He laughed as Lan Qiren finally lost the battle and spat out his tea over the front of his robes, Lan Xichen expressing his apologies because he must have mixed up the tea blends, he apologized deeply, Uncle. He laughed until tears streamed from his eyes as Lan Qiren excused himself and hurriedly left, coughing and glaring death at Wei Wuxian.

He was still hiccupping with laughter, coming down from the high, when the Lan brothers sat down and stared at each other. After a moment, Lan Xichen broke into bright laughter, tossing his head back, more carefree than anyone had seen him in many, long years.

Lan Wangji stared at his husband, who was hiccupping and holding his sides. He turned and stared at his brother, who was laughing bright and loud. And Wangji thought, for just a moment, that he could see the figure of a woman sitting by his two beloved people, giving him a teasing smile as his brother, finally quieting his laughter, and turning, gave him the exact same smile–

Wei Wuxian looked up and saw, just to the side of Lan Zhan’s now widely upturned lips, almost hidden in the curve of his right cheek, the smallest indentation he had ever seen.

Wei Wuxian had just caught his breath before he lost it again, seeing a dimple- a dimple- on his husband’s face, the widest smile that had ever graced Lan Zhan’s jade face nearly blinding him. It was as though the gods themselves, stunned and enamored as he was, had descended from the heavens to press a reverent hand to Lan Zhan’s radiant smile, leaving behind a dimple.

Wei Wuxian choked.

Wei Wuxian choked, and dimly heard Lan Xichen urging him to drink something as a cup was shoved into his hand. Too late, he heard the undercurrent of glee in his brother-in-law’s voice, and nearly choked again as he tasted that revolting drink, his eyes tearing as his body protested the substance. That was alright. He hardly registered the taste. He was stunned by beauty of that dimple, the beaming force of that wide smile that was still—that was still—on Lan Zhan’s face.

Lan Xichen had made him suffer a great many things today, from humiliation to drinking what must surely be poison, but as Wei Wuxian looked over at him, he hoped his eyes conveyed his gratitude. Lan Xichen, teasing smile softening in affection, nodded at him.

“Brother,” Lan Zhan said, getting up to leave, smile gone, but eyes warm and fond.

“Yes, Wangji?” Lan Xichen said cheerfully.

“Lying is forbidden. Please copy the rules once, in handstand.”

Lan Xichen’s laughter followed them all the way down the mountain.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #gdc #the untamed #cql #mdzs fic #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #my writing #prompt fic #ficlet #dimples

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softboyuris · 5 years

Text

We Will Always Have Us pt. 1

The Realization || Weeks 0-6

Words: 4.8k+

Summary: Roger and you have been friends for a little over a year and have spent most of the time harmlessly flirting. On the night of your 17th birthday, Roger finally makes a move. One reckless night of passion leads to some unwanted consequences that’ll test the strength of their friendship.

Warnings: teen pregnancy, implication of unprotected sex (wear protection folks!), slight language

{masterlist} {series masterpost}

[part 1] [...] [part 6]

⁂ 4 October 1966 ⁂

The car was cramped and humid but all you could focus on was the shirtless boy above you, leaving a trail of kisses up your body before settling on your mouth.

You hadn’t planned on this happening tonight, on your 17th birthday, or anytime soon for that matter. Hell, Roger wasn’t even your boyfriend, at least no officially. You two hung out quite a lot and were obscenely flirty with one another but you had never been out on a date before. Never kissed.

In fact you were pretty sure he had a girlfriend. But he was always changing up who he was “hanging out” with, as he put it. Every party there was always some new girl hanging onto every word he said and he was likely to end up with her at the end of the night. It would not be shocking if he hadn’t been with six girls since you last heard an update.

When Roger said he had left his present for you in his car, you wouldn’t’ve thought in a million years this was the present. But you had willingly followed him away from the party that your friends had so kindly thrown for you, to accompany him to his car.

You were just talking, really, about school and life in general. In all honesty you kind of spaced out, nodding every once in a while. But all you could focus on was how close he was to you. How his shirt was showing just a little too much of his shoulder, like someone had been tugging on it trying to get the fabric out of the way. And when he talked, all you saw were his lips. His lips where his tongue would dart out every once in a while before the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile or a smirk. Where his tongue would pull his lip in to settle between his teeth and it took nearly every ounce of your being not to moan at the sight.

You had never viewed him in such a light before. Literally. With the moon shining in through the window of his backseat, creating a slash of light across his face. He looked angelic. His long, or at least as long as the school permitted, slightly waved blonde hair perfectly framing his face. And how his whole face would smile when his lips turned up, and he let out a small laugh. In turn making you laugh.

You were mesmerized. You barely noticed when his hand landed on your thigh, staying in place at first and then slowly inching up, under your skirt. And then he was whispering tempting things in your ear, dirty things in your ear that sent shivers down your spine. His breath hitting your neck made you dizzy and you had to close your eyes. Your mind wondering what it would feel like to have his mouth somewhere else, somewhere lower.

And that’s when he kissed you. And you melted into it, kissing him back with more urgency. You never knew you were so needy until his hands were pushing on your hips, rearranging your position so he was hovering above you.

Your breath hitched at how absolutely perfect he looked in that moment, how divine. You weren’t sure what you did to be put in god’s good graces but lord did you thank heavens this was happening.

The kisses turned more needy and desperate before he started sucking on your neck and you could have sworn you would have fainted if he wasn’t grounding you there. Running your nails down his clothed back, you wished nothing more than for him to not have any clothes on at all.

So you pulled away. He was a little dazed and confused at first, thinking you were rejecting him until you propped yourself up and removed your shirt. The smile on his face grew, he couldn’t help but admire how perfect you looked, how perfect your boobs looked. Soon you were both naked. And there you were, lying beneath the hottest, most wanted boy in school, letting him take your virginity. And all you could do was smile.

In the following weeks, you hooked up occasionally. He would come over to your house to ‘study’ and then screw you so hard you were worn out for the rest of the day. You didn’t tell any of your friends. You knew they would just judge you for falling for his charm. And although it was true, you didn’t think you were like every other girl he hooked up with. You weren’t someone he was gonna fuck and forget. Cause even when he inevitably moved on, you would still remain friends. This wasn’t gonna get in the way of that.

When some random girl at school started throwing herself at him two weeks later, he very politely informed you he would be sleeping with her now. It was more the delivery of this information than the information itself that stung the most, which you made sure to make him aware of. You weren’t necessarily hurt, you knew this was bound to happen at some point, but your stomach still swooped when you saw him in the hallway with another girl.

Regardless, Roger was your friend, through and through, and him ditching you to be with another girl wasn’t going to change that. But something else definitely could.

⁂ 15 November 1966 ⁂

You were late. Really late. It was 8:05 and school started at seven. It wasn’t your fault you had woken up late. You had a really bad stomach ache last night that left you curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor in fear that you would hurl all over your very nice bed.

Your mom had done what she thought was right and let you continue to sleep. You loved her but you could not miss anymore school. You had gotten in enough trouble already for skipping with Roger over the past few months.

The hallways were eerily quiet. A part of you enjoyed it and the other half absolutely hated it. School, in your experience, was always loud. Anyone who’s friends with Roger can certainly vouch for that. You hated that you could hear every step you took reverberate off the walls and how the students in class right now could probably hear your frantic footsteps as you hurriedly walked down the hallway.

Even though you were a whole hour late for class, you were hoping your first block teacher wouldn’t get too pissed at you. But he had a tendency to hate tardy students so you were walking as fast as you could but every step made you more and more dizzy until you had to lean against a locker to stabilize yourself.

You’d been having these fainting fits for roughly a week and you were starting to get tired of them. That and the constant hunger, yet not wanting to eat anything nearby, you constantly felt. It was super annoying. How could you be hungry and not want to eat anything at the same time?

Last night you were sure it would all come to fruition in the form of a stomach bug when it literally felt like your intestines were wringing themselves out inside you, but sadly no. You had to deal with period-like cramps for four hours before you managed to knock yourself out with some antihistamines.

You were pretty certain at this point it was nothing serious, playing it off as some weird hormonal imbalance before your period came. Some premenstrual cramping if you will.

When you could see straight again, you pushed yourself off the locker and pulled open the door to Mr. Irish’s class, your first class of the day that would be over shortly. He looks none too happy when he hands you a slip of paper, which excuses you to the attendance office to sign in late, before ushering you to your seat.

You turn to the class, expecting to find your seat at the front of the classroom empty, except it’s not. Someone took your spot and if you could see who it was through the spinning room, you would probably give them a glare. Instead, you find the one empty seat behind Roger who gives you a cheeky smile, which you of course return. His smile starts to fade as you get closer to him, melting into a look of worry.

“Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale?” He asks in a whispered tone, his hand reaching out to grab your forearm as you come to a halt in front of him.

You furrow your eyebrows, swallow and give a curt nod before you feel the cold tiled floor beneath your back and the world goes black.

⁂ a few moments later ⁂

The lights are too bright for your eyes before you even get them open and the ringing in your ears makes you want to pass out again, at least then it would stop. Through closed eyes, you can see the outline of someone kneeled down beside you and you already know it’s Roger before you hear his concerned voice calling your name.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, giving your temples a squeeze. “No need to freak out, Rog.” You run your hands over your face before squinting your eyes open, letting them adjust to the harsh fluorescents of the classroom lighting.

Roger is squatted down in front of you, a hand lying comfortingly on your upper arm. He gives you a reassuring smile before helping you sit up. “You sure about that?” He chuckles but there is definite worry laced in his words.

You open your mouth to answer but the movement of sitting up has your head, and stomach, spinning and before you can get to your feet, or better yet a trash can you’re spewing your breakfast on Roger’s lap.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“I really am sorry.” You say, probably for the hundredth time. Your teacher gave Roger and you permission to leave class. He strongly urged you to go to the nurse, as did Rog, but you insisted you were fine, you just wanted to help Roger out. “Really is a shitty way to start your day, huh?”

Roger is essentially nude, spare his boxers, and standing in front of the sinks in the girls bathroom, which you claimed as yours by locking the door. He’s desperately trying to get his clothes clean but you know it’s no use. “Not the most ideal way but it got me out of Mr. Irish’s boring lecture.”

“Just call me your saving grace,” You joke, fiddling with your hands.

“My sick little angel, that’s what you are.” He chuckles. You hate when he uses pet names with you. You love pet names, but when it comes from his mouth it makes your stomach swoon and you know he means it in an endearing way but all it does is remind you of the nights you had together when ‘baby’ and ‘love’ were words that slipped from hips lips as he filled you up. And he wasn’t even saying it in a pet name type way, but still. Your heart might’ve thumped a little harder in your chest.

“There’s no point you know, I think I ruined your perfectly planned outfit.” You tease. He had been wearing jeans, which to anyone else would have just been ordinary jeans but you had told him they made his ass look nice and now he wore them as often as was acceptable, and a simple band tee that you had actually given him on his birthday over the summer.

From where you’re standing, you can see Roger’s lips turn up in a smile. “You’re right. But I can’t bloody well go nude for the rest of the day.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” You smirk, eyeing him through the mirror.

Again, that smile, stretched even wider if possible. He turns off the running water, giving up and throwing his sopping mess of clothes into the trash can. “Wherever will I find clothes now.” He fake complains.

You but your lip, thinking through his options and landing on one that has a smirk adorning your features. Without a word, you spin on the ball of your foot and open the door, looking back only to make sure he was following you.

“No.” Roger states blatantly at the pair of sweats in your hands. You’re in the nurse’s office now, where there are always spare clothes kids leave behind at school. “No way am I wearing that.” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing you.

“It’s sweats or nude. Pick your poison.” You extend your arm more in his direction.

“I’d rather go nude, thank you.”

“Not if you don’t want to be sitting in detention this Saturday Mr. Taylor.” The principal, Mrs. Devon says as she passes by the door,

You momentarily look behind you, seeing the blur of your principal pass by and you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Roger quickly swipes the clothes from your hands and, with a bashful look and rosy cheeks, excuses himself to the bathroom to change.

“You owe me big time.” He comments as he steps out of the bathroom. The sweats don’t exactly fit him. The hoodie is way too big for his slim physique and the pants are just the slightest bit too small, leaving little to the imagination. “Stop staring at my junk.”

“I’m not gonna be the only one you say that to today.” You remark, looking back up into his eyes, your own glistening in pleasure. You sure are enjoying this.

Roger pinches your arm, something he does when he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to be teased anymore. “Hey! Not my fault it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Half the girls at our school don’t need an imagination to know what you got, I assure you.” You continue to poke fun at him, much to his dismay.

“You’re words don’t hurt me, in fact you’ve boosted my ego.” He puffs out his chest in order to further prove his point.

You sigh in faux dismay. “Oh whatever will I do? You can barely fit through the door with that ego of yours.” He shakes his head at you, pinching your arm again. You flinch back in response, prompting him to continue his shenanigans until he’s got you wrapped in his arms, your back pressed against him. You’re a laughing mess.

“I really am sorry though,” you say between gasps of air, trying to return your breathing to normal. Not something easily achieved with his arms wrapped so tightly around you. “I’ll buy you new jeans. The same ones.”

“They were my favorite.” He gives you one last squeeze before letting you go just to take your hand and walk you back to class. It’s a normal gesture. You guys may have only been friends for the past year but he somehow knew you like no else did. Understood you like no one else could.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

By the time lunch rolls around, it seems the whole school has heard about your fainting spell this morning and you could not hate the attention more. Some people come up to you concerned and ask repeatedly if you’re okay, if you’re feeling better. Your answer is always ‘I’m fine’. A majority, however, thinks it was all an act to get out of class and spend time with Roger. Which you find completely laughable because who would make themselves throw up, let alone on someone, just to spend time with said person. The rest just ignored you and you praised them for that.

On the other hand, your friends could have cared less. Although it sounds like a rude thing, it really isn’t. Your friends do care about you and your wellbeing but they know you’ve been getting a bit faint recently, convinced it’s because of the upcoming midterms that you always stress out about way too much. You’ll do fine, they all assure you. You know you’re smart. You know you get good marks but you’re still prone to stress about exams.

They pass it off as just another day and you’re beyond grateful. They do, however, tease you about Roger, a normal pass time for them. You’re the only one in your friend group that is good friends with him. Hell, you may be the only girl in school who is truly friends with him, not just a fun time. They always make fun of the two of you for flirting nonstop, half the time you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Like one time when he bought a cupcake from a bake sale but he didn’t want the icing so you licked it off without a second thought and he continued to eat like nothing had happened. That was a fun gossip day at school. All the girls went batshit over it and a part of you actually enjoyed having them get jealous over you.

Your friends still didn’t know that Roger had slept with you over a month ago, and on numerous occasions thereafter. It was something you kept between the two of you. Although you were quite certain a part of them knew. Their jokes started getting a little too real and you would get bashful and they would just tease you more. But maybe it was just because you got flustered over it and not because of the reason you were getting flustered, their jokes were so close to the truth sometimes it brought memories of Roger’s hands on you, places the public shouldn’t see and you would have to look away to conceal the bliss on your face.

“Come on, (y/n), could you not find anything else for him to wear?” You’re sitting outside under a tree with your four closest friends, save Roger who’s playing football with some of his mates in the field in front of you. Charlotte looks over at you, waiting on an answer. It’s the first time she’s looked away from Roger’s, well you know, since you got situated in the shade.

“Nope. There was simply nothing else that would do, unless you wanted him to flounce around in a skirt all day.” You joke, leaning back on your elbows as you watch Roger kick the ball to Ryan who kicks it past their makeshift goal.

“That would have been a sight to behold.”Comments Zach from behind you. He’s laying on his back, a book held over his eyes. You know he’s reading but a part of his attention is set on his friends conversation. He always does this. He is always reading but also observing and listening in on others conversations, giving one-liners every once in a while. It’s what drew you to him when he moved here three years ago.

You laugh silently, a smile spreading across your face. The mere image of Roger in a skirt… well you’d rather not think about that with your friends around. That was definitely an image you’d be saving for later though, in the comfort of your bedroom. “It would indeed,” you decided to respond.

A gust of chilled air blows over you and your friends. Winter is approaching and you could not be more excited. The holidays were your favorite time of year. You always spoiled your friends with too many presents, most of which they didn’t need. They loved you for it, your bank account didn’t but you could care less, you always put aside your paychecks in December for your gift-fund.

Charlotte shivers and your other friend Sam takes her jacket off and places it over Char’s shoulders. You can see Charlotte’s eyes glisten as a smile pulls at her lips. She pulls the jacket tighter around her, muttering a small ‘thanks’ under her breath so only Sam could hear, who is also smiling. God, were they flirty.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Sitting in your last class of the day, you could not be less bothered with the lecture your teacher was attempting to give. Half the class was dozing off and the other half was just not paying attention, throwing balls of paper and pencils across the room in an attempt to hit their friend, or the teacher.

You were sitting at the back of the room, next to Roger who was tapping his pencil against his desk rhythmically. You had been telling him he should stop trying to learn guitar and pick up a damn drumstick already but he always shushed you. His pass was guitar, or so he claimed. You had your hand resting on your cheek, fighting the exhaustion that was threatening to take over your body. Your bed sounded so sweet right now.

As if on cue, the bell finally rang, a sound akin to that of nails on a chalkboard to you, but a sound that also meant freedom. You were up and out of your seat within no time, slinging your bag over your shoulder and speed walking to the door. You liked being the first one out of the door so you could start your journey home, walking of course. You only lived a few short minutes from school but if you waited more than a millisecond, the masses came flooding out with you and that meant socializing which you were particularly not in the mood for.

Regardless, once you make it to the sidewalk well in front of any students who may be tempted to strike up a conversation with you, Roger falls into stride beside you. “Don’t you drive?” You ask the blonde, keeping your eyes on the bright sky in front of you, partly obscured by buildings that line the streets.

“Cars’ in the shop.” He answers simply, like you should know his cars’ in the shop. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, only one returning so he can put a cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with the same hand.

You let out a sigh, “How many times do I have to tell you smoking is bad for you?” You look over to him, watching as he takes a drag. A few seconds pass before he breathes out the smoke and answers you.

“However many times it takes to convince you of the same.” You shake your head, squinting your eyes at him. You know he’s right. On the rare, and I mean rare occasion he walked home with you, he always smoked. And you always ended up joining him. You didn’t understand the hype around it, it didn’t make you feel cool or different but you still did it. Maybe it was because it was something only Roger and you shared. He never shared his cigarette with anyone else, only you. That made you feel special.

“Oi, shut up.” You playfully push him to the side. He laughs, stumbling over his feat a bit before regaining his balance. He offers you the cigarette and you take it. But as you’re bringing it up to your lips, something in the back of your mind tells you no to. And you listen to it.

Roger gives you a concerned look, almost hurt look, as you hand it back without taking a drag. “Something wrong? We always share a smoke when we walk together.”

You put your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving a closed mouthed smile. “Not today. Just something’s telling me not to.” You add when he gives you a questioning look.

He puts his hands up in defense and the subject is dropped. The silence that flows between you is uncomfortable and awkward. At least to you. As far as you know, it’s having no effect on Roger as he continues to smoke and look around at the architecture surrounding the two of you. He looks angelic, a word you never thought you’d be using to describe infamous playboy Roger Taylor, but he does. The sun is starting to set on the horizon, sending out rays of sunlight that dance across his face. The wind slightly blows his hair around and he has his cigarette lying limply on the edge of his mouth, hands in his pockets.

He catches you looking at him and smiles. You break eye contact, looking away with warm cheeks. And all of a sudden you feel nauseous again. It hits you like a ton of bricks and you have to take a moment in your step to try and stop your head from swimming. Roger stops a few feet in front of you when he notices you aren’t beside him anymore and once agains he’s right by your side, uttering questions along the line of ‘are you okay’.

You shake your head, clearing away the black spots you see and straighten yourself up right. You mumble an ‘mmhmm’ before looking up at him, “I just forgot I needed to pick up something at the pharmacy. For my mom.” You added when his eyebrows furrowed in question.

“I can come with you.” He suggests, a hand on your upper arm. He looks so damn concerned and it hurts your heart to see the worry in his eyes. Since when has he cared so much about you?

You shake your head, “No. I’ll be fine. It’s just a little ways back and you’re so close to being home. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You turn around and start walking back towards the pharmacy before he can protest. It takes a lot not to turn around and makes sure he’s walking the other direction but you manage.

When you get home not ten minutes later, you make a beeline for the bathroom upstairs. Your mom welcomes you home and you send back a short, sweet response as you climb the stairs. You set down the brown paper bag on the counter and stare at it. It’s beyond wrinkled from you clenching and unclenching your hands on the walk back home, a motion that you continue to do as you pace back and forth in your bathroom.

When the nausea had swept over you, you came to a sudden realization of something you did not want to come to the realization of. It only caused your stomach to swim even more and with Roger so close to you, you could barely breathe so you made up an excuse about the pharmacy just to get a fresh breath of air. And then you realized you actually needed to go to the pharmacy.

You dreaded it.

Come on (y/n), just take the stupid test. You’re probably worrying for nothing and the test will tell you exactly that. You didn’t realize it but you were mumbling under your breath to no one but yourself. Stopping in front of the sink, you take the test out of the bag, practically ripping it out of its packaging.

When the time comes to wait three minutes, you’re panicking again. Your hands are getting clammy so you rub them on your jeans. Pressing your back against the cool plaster of the bathroom wall, you force yourself to breathe. Eyes closed, your mind drifts to thought of Roger and pretty soon your breathing is no longer under control. Roger. Shit.

Your little kitchen timer goes off, sending a loud buzzing sound knocking around the confined space. You jump. Now you’re down right scared. You don’t want to know the results. You should’ve let him come to the pharmacy with you and confided in what was now your biggest fear. Or told Charlotte she needed to come over. She would. She’s been your best friend since you were old enough to know what a best friend was. She would understand and she would know exactly what to say.

But no. You were alone. You were alone and afraid and you couldn’t help but think that you would be in the same position nine months from now, except there would be doctors rushing all around you and you would be in pain and hating everything and, oh my god, you were giving yourself a panic attack.

You closed your eyes again, got your breathing back down to a normal rate- at least as normal as it could be in this moment- and with shaking hands picked up the stick.

It’s only in your hands for a second before it clinks to the ground. You’re breathing erratically and tears are falling without care or notice down your cheeks. You’re a shaking and sobbing mess curled up in a ball on the floor when your mom walks in, concerned by all the noise. She sees it before you can hide it from her.

You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant and there’s only one person who could be the father. And boy were you not looking forward to that conversation at all.

378 notes · View notes

jflashandclash · 5 years

Text

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Twenty-Three: Thalia

Rabbits with Ratbbitude

Axel must have lost his mind. And not in the “a god drove me mad and now I’m trying to kill my loved ones” kind of way. In the “I finally cracked and see the white rabbit” kind of way.

At least, that was the only conclusion Thalia could come to when Axel started berating the rabbit she and Reyna caught.

Fortunately, they found a rabbit quickly after leaving Axel and Calex to their heart-to-heart. This must have been a gift from Tyche, since Thalia didn’t want to stray too far from the river and the boys, and she also didn’t want to walk in awkward silence near Reyna for too long.

After a tree branch caught Reyna’s breastplate and made a sound worthy of a horror movie, Thalia had Argentum and Reyna fan out to the side, to scare animals towards Thalia instead of away. After all, praetorian armor and shiny dogs weren’t exactly designed for stealth. They had more of the “look at me; I’m important” ring to them.

They weren’t gone for long before the praetor and hound helped corner a rabbit straight into Thalia’s net.

“Not bad for a praetor.” Thalia grinned. Reyna might need some stealth work to become a huntress—if she’d ever have interest—but definitely not bad. When Thalia thought of how easy Reyna had escaped Thalia and the huntresses’ confines before, Thalia should have expected no less.

Argentum held his head high with pride, his tail darting back in forth happily. Thalia wondered how often Reyna’s guard dogs got to hunt and whether or not Reyna would want to set up a doggy play date with the wolf pack. Although Thalia knew Reyna did the whole bath house things with her female comrades, she felt like Reyna didn’t spend nearly enough time with the girls.

As they walked back, no longer having the hunt as an excuse for silence, Thalia debated on all the questions she wanted to ask Reyna. Things still felt kind of weird with the whole Axel-threatening-her-with-Mayan-love-poetry-thing. (Axel was SO weird.) But she got the vibe Reyna didn’t care, didn’t feel threatened, or was amused by the whole thing.

If anyone was acting awkward, Thalia figured it was her; despite the love potion, Thalia felt guilty having thoughts about any boy, never mind it being Axel. With Euna, Thalia hadn’t known if there might have been a loophole in her huntress vows, but the Boys Have Cooties Rule was pretty well established.

Which bought Thalia to the things she was really worried about: one boy in particular and her huntresses.

“How were the huntresses before you left? And how was the camp?” Thalia asked. “Eminent destruction still on hold for the day?”

With all the time Thalia spent on the hunt, Jason often, shamefully, slipped her mind. With everything that happened between Axel and Pax, she was passively worried about him. He was powerful, but she didn’t want a god taking her little brother from her again. Er—he was her big brother now, right? Being a huntress was confusing and made aging stupid. Major downside to immortality: no more birthday parties.

Thalia also felt guilty for encouraging two huntresses to leave their pursuit of the Teusmessian fox against Artemis’ direct order to continue, and Artemis wasn’t always known as a forgiving goddess. Thalia wondered if Artemis and her sisters were still locked in a challenge they could never win, like catching the Energizer bunny.

“Lesedi and Christiana were still scouting for the camp when I left. No contact from the gods, as support or enemies, other than the ‘near-Death’ experience that Calex had.” Reyna shuddered and Thalia thought about what it must have been like for Calex to race Death. While they had been going through the jungle, the Brit had been double checking everyone else’s movements, like he was scared they were going to grade his forest-traversing skills on grace and coolness. Despite his insecurities, she had to give him some kudos for racing death and winning. Grace and coolness points earned regardless of jungle-traversing skills.

“That rabbit looks… strange,” Reyna said, changing the subject and making Thalia wonder if Reyna was also nervous thinking about her own troops in the upper world.

Once the rabbit froze up in Thalia’s net, she stopped paying it much attention. Thalia held her net up to peer at the tiny mammal in the turquoise lighting.

He was a cute little thing. For some reason, she strongly felt it a “he.” His ears were long, twice as long as the average rabbit in the United States, except maybe the jackrabbits Thalia had hunted in the desert. His fur was the color of the desert, a light brown. Admittedly, Thalia—in her years as a huntress—had never seen a rabbit look so annoyed and put upon. This rabbit combined both expressions flawlessly. It was like Nico in tiny rabbit form.

Then she noticed the weird thing: this rabbit had a long, curled-up tail, like that of a chinchilla.

“I really hope this is a rabbit,” Thalia grumbled, lowering her net so she could more easily dodge around hanging vines and would-be snakes.

“How do you think this rabbit is going to get us across the river?” Reyna asked.

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Like I have any idea what Cat Breath is thinking. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with instructions. He didn’t even specify dead or alive.”

“One is slightly more amendable than the other,” Reyna muttered. She used her spear to push away a snake dangling in Thalia’s path.

Thalia really didn’t want this quest to go from “hunt the rabbit” to “rabbit resurrection,” so she had to agree. “We should name him,” Thalia said, carefully hopping over a tree root that poked up from the soil.

Argentum made a soft clang when he jumped to the other side alongside his owner.

“He doesn’t look like a Cottontail,” Reyna snorted at the rabbit’s long appendage.

“What about Bugs?” Thalia said. The sound of the blood river was getting closer. They would meet up with the boys soon. She held her net up again to see if the rabbit reacted to the name.

He glared at her apathetically.

“And what are you going to do if Axel needs to kill Bugs?” Reyna asked, the humor thinly veiled in her voice.

Although Thalia had hunted down and killed plenty of animals, beasts, and monsters during her time as a huntress, these wide, black, vaguely irritated eyes suddenly felt a bit too personable, like he was a little punk rabbit. Thalia heard stories of the augury readings at Camp Jupiter, where they sacrificed stuffed animals for various ceremonies.

With her spare hand, she made a tiny spark. “He can try.”

They laughed as the forest broke to reveal the shoreline, where Axel and Calex were still seated.

“Axel,” Thalia held up their catch, “You can’t hurt Mr. Bugs.”

For a moment, no one moved but the dogs. Aurum sat up, alert, then rose to join Argentum at Reyna’s side. From the way Axel’s jaguar ears were flattened into his hairline, and the way Calex smirked, Thalia got the impression that Axel just shushed Calex. Ugh, boys, Thalia thought.

Axel closed his eyes and exhaled. His ears twitched up, seeming to contradict the forlorn expression. “Thalia… I’m sorry.”

The mire in Thalia’s chest died. “What?” She held Bugs up higher and realized, with horror, what he was talking about.

“I’m going to have to cut out and eat his heart,” Axel said.

Calex’s jaw dropped. “Are you bloody serious?”[1]

Queasiness overtook Thalia. Had Axel eaten rabbit hearts before? Had she given someone mouth-to-mouth that had eaten a raw bunny heart before?!

“Gross!” she said. Thalia glanced to Reyna, to see if Reyna would support finding another way across the river and, maybe, sympathize over her mortification of exchanging saliva with this guy.

Reyna’s face was twisted up, like she could barely repress a laugh.

Axel’s serious face cracked into a smile.

“Augh.” Thalia rolled her eyes. “Could you at least pretend at something less gross next time?”

Axel rose. He dusted the dirt off his leather pteruges and the pants under and then stood straight. He coughed into the back of his hand. “Thalia, let me see Bugs.”

Calex stood up beside him, picking his golden bow up from the ground. He reached up, like he wanted to grab the black scarf he usually wore around his neck, only to remember he’d put it in his bag, since it was way too hot down here for winter wear. “Mate, you’re not actually going to eat his heart, right?”

Axel tried to give Calex a blank stare, but couldn’t quite manage to repress his smile. “Give me the rabbit.” He walked over to remove Bugs from the net.

That was when he held the rabbit at eye level by the scruff of its neck.

And shouted at it.

Everyone jumped. Aurum and Argentum growled. Without realizing it, the four of them had been speaking hushed voices, only slightly raised to keep over the slurp of the river. Axel’s yell was so unexpected and loud, Thalia feared whatever monsters lived here—or those Lords of Xibalba—would show up to complain about noise code violations.[2]

He didn’t stop. In some staccato, foreign tongue, he snapped at the rabbit.

The rabbit, if possible, looked more annoyed.

“Axel, what the Hades?!” Thalia said.

“You’re giving away our position to anyone within this underworld and the next three over!” Reyna snarled.

Axel waved them off with his free hand without breaking eye contact with the rabbit.

Calex blinked in confusion. “Axel, have you gone mental? I don’t think the hare cares. Leti antal t’u’ul—”[3]

“You can understand him?” Reyna asked.

Calex’s confusion turned towards them. “Of course—Right.” He seemed to realize Thalia and Reyna were in the dark about his I apparently speak obscure languages thing. “Yea, ‘love speaks all languages.’ It’s an Eros thing. He’s repeating himself a lot. Let’s have a look see…”

Axel hadn’t paused in ridiculing this poor bunny, and Thalia had a suspicion he might bore the tiny thing to death. If pushed, it might break and jump for the blood river. Maybe that was Axel’s plan: to force autosacrifice the way teachers induced sleep during horrible lectures.

“Uh, he started something with… giving this rabbit lots of titles. They’re a bit posh. ‘Father of all Hares,’ ‘Child of None,’ and the likes. Then something about, ‘To you, one who stole my father’s boat, one who stole my uncle’s boat, thief of my family’s property,’ and ‘then, you shall undo it therefore, it shall be returned again,’ else…”

Calex tilted his ear to the side, and began to translate, at almost the same time Axel was moving his lips to shout,

“’I will pull it,

I will rip it off,

The way our fathers did before me,

And their grandfathers before them,

Ending the tail of the taleless rabbit,

Beginning the tale of the tailless rabbit.’”

Thalia’s head spun at that last verse. This reminded her of stories about the sphinx, though she heard they had upgraded from riddles to pop quizzes.

The rabbit rolled its eyes. “Okay, fine. Would you just stop? No one has talked like that for, like, a thousand years,” the rabbit said.

“Okay, fine. Would you just stop—” Calex started to repeat.

“The rabbit spoke in English,” Reyna told Calex, her eyes wide.

Axel and Calex seemed as shocked that the rabbit spoke in English as Thalia and Reyna were that it spoke at all.

All of them stared at the fluffy bunny.

Thalia had met plenty of talking monsters, though, she suddenly realized, very few talking animals. Thalia wasn’t ready for her little Bugs to speak and braced for a, “What’s up, doc?”

Its accent was a bit too Hispanic to pull the typical Bugs Bunny voice, though she assumed there was some Spanish Looney Tunes voiceover.

“You’re not supposed to be able to speak,” Axel said, “Your flesh was condemned to be devoured and homes be left to wander, thus spat by the Framer and the Shaper, by She Who Has Borne Children and He Who Has Begotten Sons, because you could not worship them with words.”

Thalia glanced over to Calex, who shrugged. “No idea.”

“Holy K’an Ti! Do people still address the creators like that?” the rabbit asked. “We other animals may not be as longwinded as man, air bag, but we got words.”[4]

“Santiago and Frasco’s boat…?” Axel growled. “The boat—”

The rabbit shuddered. “Please, just don’t start talking with repetition again. I’d rather you rip off my tail. I’ll get Frasco and Santiago’s boat. I’ll talk to my friends for help. Augh, you sound like my great-times-one-thousand grandpa. Now, let me go.”

Axel glared, then gently set the rabbit down.

Bugs shook himself out, used his back leg to itch behind his ear, then examined Axel. “What jackass told you to address us like that anyway?”

Axel’s entire body tensed. Thalia had taken more notice of his muscles at Lemnos Resort than she was willing to admit, and she was happy he hadn’t done that motion while they were under the love potion. His knuckles went white around his sword hilt.

“The boat,” Reyna reminded the tiny rabbit.

Bugs snorted and hopped off into the jungle, this time along the shoreline.

Aurum and Argentum watched his movement like they were barely resisting another hunt.

Reyna made a whistling noise, and they dematerialized. Thalia really needed to ask what happened when they did that. Did Reyna carry a spare Pokeball around that none of them had noticed?

“So,” Thalia said, “Your family has a boat.” Although watching the rabbit berate Axel was fun, she was mad. “You couldn’t just tell us that we were crossing on a boat, instead of freaking us all out like a jerk?”

Axel’s muscles slowly relaxed. He released his sword hilt and raised an eyebrow at Thalia. “Huntress, if I’d have told you I needed you to catch a rabbit with a tail, so I could yell at him until he fetched my uncle and Santiago’s boat, when all of you already think I’m lost geographically and losing my mind, how would you have reacted?”

Thalia crossed her arms. Earlier, she’d removed her parka and stuffed it into her backpack, so she could feel the cool touch of her Aegis bracelet. “I would have caught the rabbit.” That previous urge to hit him across that dumb goatee returned.[5]

“Lieutenant,” Reyna said.

Calex stared at her.

Thalia didn’t realize until then that her fingers had sparked.

Calex cleared his throat. “Right. So, chatting with rabbits..? How did you learn to chat with a rabbit like some old chap? That uh, family business? Typical Pax tradition?” He sounded eager to avoid a fight.

Axel tilted his head towards Thalia in confusion, like he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

In Thalia’s rulebook, openness with the team and trust were necessities. Although Luke would have never wanted to worry Annabeth or the others at Camp Half-Blood, Thalia often wondered if things would have been different if he’d voice his opinions more openly, if he could have gotten help.

They needed to get across the river and work as a team to get to Euna, but Thalia sparked her fingers one last time, for good measure and to remind Axel she was here to keep him in line.

“Axel,” Calex said.

Axel sighed and nodded to Thalia. “I underestimated you, huntress, and for that I am sorry.”

“The rabbit is right,” Thalia said, almost more annoyed he apologized, “You speak like the representative of an ancient geriatrics ward.”

Reyna choked on a laugh. Calex let his escape.

Axel sighed and shook his head, smiling softly.

He turned to Calex before remembering that Calex’s question had also revolved around how he couldn’t talk like a person from the 20th or 21st century. Thinking that meant a lot from Thalia: some of the girls she hung out with referred to Jesus as “that youthful upstart.”

“Uncle Frasco told me to talk to the rabbits like that if I ever ended up in Xibalba,” Axel said. His lip twitched, like he couldn’t decide to smile or frown. “He was kind of like… a more willful Ajax—”

“So willing to jeopardize people’s lives for a practical joke,” Calex said.

Axel decided on a cross between the two expressions: a sad smile. “Still pranking me from the afterlife.”

Reyna took a step forward to touch Axel’s shoulder.

Without looking at Reyna (or, if Thalia had to guess, thinking through any consequences) he slipped a hand up to enlace their fingers.

“Hey, praetor, huntress.”

Reyna almost kicked the rabbit that seemed to materialize at her feet. Reyna and Axel released their hands to go for their weapons.

Bugs itched behind his ear with his foot, careless of his potential incoming obliteration. “Come on. We got his boat ready for you.”

Reyna and Thalia exchanged a look.

“For us?” Reyna asked.

Like Hades Thalia was hopping onto some ancient Mayan boat to cross a river of blood without their guide.

“I mean, Prince Longwinded and the Yoruba pup can come along, but you two are the ones who captured me. It could have saved you a mouthful and me a headache if you would have just asked for the boat instead of Prince Longwinded.”

Calex grinned. “Cat Breath, Prince Longwinded. You’re acquiring quite the list of titles, mate.”

Axel sighed. His smile turned crooked as he bowed to Thalia and Reyna and swept a hand towards the shoreline. “Ladies first.”

Thalia rolled her eyes. Reyna snorted. They took the lead after the rabbit, Calex and Axel keeping their eye out for attacks from behind.[6]

Bugs hopped into the jungle bordering the river. His path paralleled the banks from the safety of the canopy. Thalia had seen other animals do this: a safer way for typical prey to travel.

“So you’re trying to get to Tartarus,” Bugs said as he hopped along. With the way he faced away from them and the slurping din of the river, his voice sounded small.

Thalia frowned, trying to remember if she and Reyna had discussed Tartarus around the rabbit.

Reyna resumed using her spear to push extra foliage and vines out of the way. “You were following us before we captured you,” she guessed.

“The forest has ears,” he said. “I’m getting the boat to shut up Prince Longwinded—”

Axel grunted behind them. Thalia almost hoped he’d speak up in protest and further prove Bugs’ point.

“But, you never asked anything in return for releasing me and christening me with the name, ‘Bugs.’”

“You’re keeping the name?” Reyna asked in surprise. She shoved some wisps of stray, black hair out of her face. Sweat stuck the pieces she missed to her cheek. She must have been boiling in her praetorian cloak.

The rabbit paused to glance back at them with what Thalia could swear was an incredulous look. “Of course,” he said. “How am I supposed to know what to be called if I’ve never been named?”

“The longer we stay here,” Calex muttered from behind, likely to Axel. “The more you and that dodgy prick of a brother make sense.”

Ahead, Thalia could see something long, narrow, and colorful through the trees. There was movement around it, and the closer they got, Thalia could make out four deer. Their fur was a chestnut brown-red, except for a grayish portion near the heads. Their front legs looked shorter than the typical deer Thalia had hunted in North America or Artemis’ sacred stag. The single stag present had horns that protruded backwards, like a gazelle’s, instead of branching out into a network, like an elaborate keyholder.

Similar to the rabbit, Thalia blinked to realize these deer had long, red tails that curled into a question mark behind them.

Thalia clenched her bow, wondering if Calex was doing the same. Yes, these were just deer, but deer could trample an unwary hunter, and maybe Xibalba deer liked to nibble on trespassing demigod flesh to prepare for winter. This could have been a trap. How would that look on a gravestone: death by startled deer.

“Free advice in exchange for releasing me,” the rabbit said, “Different underworlds often exist in one place at one time. It can just depend on who is guiding you as to what the underworld looks like, and how you make it from one underworld to another.”

As they got closer, Thalia thought she could hear a conversation happening ahead. When Reyna’s armor clanked softly, the conversation abruptly halted. The deer all froze, staring directly at them.

For a disorienting moment, Thalia had to wonder if all animals could talk, including animals in the upstairs world, and if their feigned silence was the best orchestrated hoax of the mythological world.

Bugs didn’t mind the deer’s attention. He continued hopping forward. “You will not make it across the Red River. No one has. The Lords of Xibalba don’t make it so easy to dodge the Houses of Torment. The Pax princes before Prince Longwinded, they didn’t make it across. Just ask Lord Santiago how he hurt his leg.”

Thalia could hear Axel puff up his cheeks and pop them. One more piece of information to beat out of Axel later.

“You’re close to the heart of Xibalba, which means you’re close to the heart of Tartarus. If you want to get to Tartarus, you need to be the one that takes charge.”[7] Bugs’ ears twitched towards Thalia.

The deer bolted further down the shoreline.

“Why me?” Thalia asked, wiping some sweat off her brow. She was glad they weren’t going to be lunch for a pack of ravenous deer.

“The Mayan prince can get you there, assuming everything goes right. But, if he panics, his homeland will grab him and hold him here, as he will be fighting against his nature to leave this place. I’m unsure the Yoruba pup has an afterlife or how strongly the Orisha would pull him. Praetor, you have a similar chance to the Yoruba pup, since I don’t know if you have any remnant connection to Coaybay and the op’a from your Taino descent.”[8]

Thalia glanced to Reyna. The praetor looked as confused as she felt.

She could hear Calex gulp behind them.

“You, huntress, are almost full Greek. If you come to a place of in-betweens, a place where the worlds converge, and you take the lead, you will naturally find your way home,” he said.

“To Tartarus,” Thalia corrected, uncomfortable with the assertion that Greek Hell was home. If she was about to come upon some new property, she would need to do some major redecorating.

“Whatever,” the rabbit said, hopping through the break in the trees onto the bank.

The long, narrow object the deer had clustered around was a canoe. It must have been carved from one tree, as there were no seam lines signifying separate pieces of wood. Along the exterior, there were colorful depictions of warriors and animals dancing. The bottom, unfortunately, was stained with blood. Here and there, jade, obsidian, and pearl were imbedded into the decorations. There were perfectly four paddles waiting to be used.

“She’s beautiful,” Axel muttered.

When Thalia glanced back, she saw Axel’s expression had gone slack. He puffed up his cheeks and popped them wistfully. For some reason, the reaction gave her the uncomfortable feeling that their guide had never been here before.

A rabbit giving directions and a guide who had never been to the place they were leading them through. Great, Thalia thought.

“Yea, your dad and uncle put a lot of hard work into carving and painting this thing. Why do you think we had to steal it from them?” Bugs asked. He stopped hopping beside the boat, and sniffed the exterior.

Axel scowled. “Rabbit, I was only half-joking about eating your heart.”

“Yea, yea. I heard your friends. They don’t have the gut for you to do it. Yellow-livered colonizers.”[9]

“Are you complaining that our presence is keeping you alive?” Calex asked.

The rabbit didn’t respond to him. Bugs turned and hopped back towards the jungle, like something had spooked him. “Just uh, when you fall in, don’t drown.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy and I hope you have an awesome New Year’s Eve!

Footnotes:

[1] I resisted ALL the jokes I could have made with the Britishism. It was difficult…. But I persevered. Though Calex is mad they need to cross that bloody river.

[2] Little does Thalia know, this is what happens in the real Popol Vuh.

[3] Yea, the grammar is awful in this one, and I really need to actually sit down and study again, but it is supposed to say, “He’s a rabbit.”

[4] “If we couldn’t talk, then the louse couldn’t have delivered a message to Hunahpu and Xbalanque from their chiich.” “Who?” “Eh, you’ll read about it in Jack’s stand alone novel. Don’t worry. It’ll be a lot less confusing when you get the whole story.”

[5] Get in line, Thalia.

[6] Between his years of crushing on Reyna and his recent interest in Thalia, I think it dangerous to expect Axel to focus on their surroundings if he’s bringing up the rear.

[7] Mel’s betacomment: “Wait… is the underworld… racist?”

Jack: huh…. Apparently? XD

[8] Because our lovely lady is from Puerto Rico.

[9] What’s something that Romans, Greeks, and Brits all have in common? XD

#Traitors of Olympus #Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #fanfiction #PJO #hoo #thalia #axel #Calex #Reyna #Bugs #The ultimate bunny #A bunny that is so ultimate #you have to repeat it #In Mayan poetic style

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crownoyami · 5 years

Text

New Work!

Title: Unexpected Change Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Supernatural Relationship: Gabriel/Dean Winchester Characters: Gabriel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Mentions of Polygamy Part 20 of the Gabriel Monthly Challenge 2018 series Part 2 of the Flock series Summary: While watching Doctor Sexy together in Dean's room, Gabriel makes a suggestion on how Dean can unwind, only to find out that his friend may want more from their relationship than what they have.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16632338

@gabriel-monthly-challenge, @archangelgabriellives, @ttttrickster, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @warlockwriter, @archangelsanonymous, @revwinchester

Authors Note: This is the second part of the Flock series AND the second submission for the Gabriel Monthly Challenge. In case you were wondering Flock will have 4 parts in total! Now we get to see some Debriel though, something I feel is seriously lacking!

Enjoy ^^

Prompts Used:

AU/Trope:

Friends to Lovers

~This has been beta’d by QueenOfHearts! Huge thanks to her!

Unexpected Change

It didn’t take long for Gabriel to become one of the many people living at the bunker. While it was a drastic change from the seclusion and isolation he had expected from the last time he stayed there, it was just what he needed. The constant flow of people allowed him to socialize, something he had missed since he was taken by Asmodeus. He laughed and drank, helped when he could, and flirted with the hunters who came through the doors. Before long he found his place amongst the chaos; more surprising was the way he found a home with Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack.

Through hard work, he had finally been included in their small group. It was the trivial things that earned him Dean’s approval. How he would use his still-recovering grace when someone came in close to death, how he would help Sam sleep. That was something else that changed between them. Instead of brushing away his offers of help, both Sam and Dean were willing to let him do what he could.

“You know,” said Gabriel one day while chilling with Dean watching Doctor Sexy. It was something they did every Thursday when there wasn’t an ongoing case that demanded their attention. “I have enough mojo now I could probably snap him up for you if you wanted to give that a go.” He had meant for it to be casual, a way to thank Dean for how he had been so accepting recently. They had changed from being enemies and acquaintances enough that Gabriel now considered Dean a friend, one of the few he had. It had been too long since he had someone to call a friend. The last one he had was Loki, and now he was once again alone hiding from the gods he had previously called family and living with a group of people who made it their job to kill his former friends and family.

Somehow he found a way to ignore the casual mention of hunting monsters. Those who used the bunker knew who Gabriel was. It was impossible to hide his healing abilities, and his name was a giveaway. Still, they didn’t think to the censor when talking about hunts. Thankfully they hadn’t caught anyone that he knew, or at least anyone that he knew well. Dean brought him back to the present when the man snorted and shook his head. “What the hell, man? Why would I want to meet Doctor Sexy again? I mean, sure it would be cool, but it would just be an illusion, right?”

Rolling his eyes, Gabriel leaned back on the bed they were sharing to watch the show in Dean’s room. It was always too busy to watch it in what used to be the lounge room. With so many people Dean had decided to keep to himself more often than not, something Gabriel couldn’t fault him on. As soon as the man had somewhere to call his home, just him and his family, it was invaded by a hoard of people. Dean always shrugged it off, but unlike Sam who chose to ignore how it was making Dean feel, unable to stop the progress they made, Gabriel could understand where the older Winchester was coming from.

“Yeah, but don’t you remember the first time we met? It may be fake, but it’ll feel real. Trust me.”

Dean must have just caught on to what Gabriel was offering. His eyes widened, and he looked at Gabriel in shock with no small amount of curiosity. “Dude,” before Dean could continue Gabriel sighed and raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re about to spit some bullshit about not being at least a little bit bi, I’m not going to believe you. Remember, I was Doctor Sexy when you were in TV Land. I could tell then that if I asked you to turn around and bend over the nearest flat surface you would have.”

This time it was Dean’s turn to raise an eyebrow at Gabriel. “I wasn’t about to say I was straight man; I’ve, on occasion, liked dick since I was sixteen and Dad nearly caught me behind the motel with Billy Chapman. No, I was going to say that if I’m going to bang someone I want it to be real. No offense but I’ve had enough monsters making me think it’s real when it's not. Once was more than enough for me, thanks.”

Nodding, Gabriel didn't want to drop the subject. There was something that had been bugging him since he managed to find his way back to the Winchesters. “You know I’ve meant to ask, when was the last time you got laid? I mean I’ve been back for a while and while I don't think Sammy is the type, you typically would want to bring some girl home each time you're on a hunt. Unless you're doing them in the bathroom at the bar it’s been at least three months. What gives?”

When he first came to the bunker, Dean had brought one girl back to the motel, but other than then he hadn’t seen the man pick anyone up. A blush rose on those freckled cheeks of the hunter’s and Gabriel couldn't help but lean forward as if it would make Dean speak what was on his mind. “I dunno, man. I just haven't been feeling it.” Leaning on his side, propped up so that he was facing Dean, Gabriel waited for more; he wasn’t disappointed. “I kind of have my eye on someone. The girl I brought to the motel was the last one; she didn’t like me calling out someone else's name, you know? I mean I could probably find someone who wouldn't mind, but it wouldn't be right.”

Not expecting Dean having at least a crush on someone as an answer, Gabriel went through the faces of those living at the bunker in his mind. There wasn't much for Dean to pick from. While they were all attractive, they didn't seem Dean’s type, at least for more than a fling. “Do I know them? I mean if you got it bad enough to swear off sex you have to know them pretty well, right?” Dean’s cheeks brightened farther, and Gabriel watched as the human turned his attention back to the screen instead of looking at him. Oh, it was the only thought running through Gabriel’s head when he saw how Dean reacted.

Their friendship was one of the few things Gabriel had to hold onto. But would it change with Dean wanting more from him? Deciding to test the waters, Gabriel leaned forward a bit more, so his face was hovering just over Dean’s. “You know, we could see if it would work? I thought for sure you had the hots for Cassie though?” It was something everyone at the bunker believed, that Dean and Cas were together even if neither said so. Dean locked those green eyes on his, and Gabriel didn't care if Dean liked Castiel as well, though the human refused to answer and instead slotted their mouths together.

A large hand came to the back of Gabriel’s head and held him in place, not that he was going anywhere while plump lips pressed against his. Dean’s kiss was sweeter than Gabriel was expecting. He had been waiting for heat and passion, and while he could get lost in the other’s touch, it was more exploring than raw desire. Shifting so they were laying beside each other, Dean rolled to his side, and they kept kissing. Soft brushes above their clothing was more than Gabriel thought he would ever have with Dean. It wasn’t that he had been pining for the man, but now that the chance was in front of him, he wasn't going to let it go.

“You sure about this, Deano?” asked Gabriel as the hunter shifted so that he could remove his shirt. Placing his hand on the smooth skin, Gabriel explored the bit of hair that was sparing over his chest. The surface was rough with scars, from moments when Castiel hadn't been able to heal or when the human refused the help leaving its mark, and Gabriel wanted to explore every one. Leaning down at the other’s nod, Gabriel licked a stripe along one of the more massive scars while Dean closed his eyes for a moment, relishing someone touching him.

With licks and kisses, Gabriel turned Dean onto his back, straddling the man before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on the bud. The way Dean hissed and ran a hand through Gabriel's hair made the archangel want to see what other sounds the human could make. It was liberating being able to touch the man like this, in a way he didn't think the other would ever allow. What was surprising was how Dean didn't seem in a rush to take control from the archangel. Dean was almost passive, arching up when Gabriel hit the spot on his neck that he liked or dipped his tongue into the hunter’s belly button, but otherwise, he didn't seem to want run the show.

Fingering the thick leather belt holding on Dean’s jeans, Gabriel looked up at the hunter who shifted so that he was half sitting up, leaning on his elbows to watch. Slowly, in case Dean wanted to stop him, Gabriel unbuckled and pulled the belt out its loops before working on the zipper. Dean’s breath became a bit heavy, wide green eyes watching while Gabriel reached inside the harsh jeans and pulled the man out of the clothing. Dean’s dick was something that deserved praise. It wasn't too big, though not small, it fit perfectly in his hand with a bit more girth than Gabriel was used to.

With Dean’s help, Gabriel removed the man's pants, socks, and boxers until they were thrown off the side of the bed. Returning to between Dean’s legs, Gabriel licked his lips before diving in. Not wanting to take it slow, the archangel held the base of Dean’s cock in one hand while he swallowed around the length, taking as much as he could into his mouth before pulling back and licking the tip. Over and over he took Dean into his mouth, pumping his hand when he pulled back and took more of the man until the head of Dean’s cock was hitting the back of his throat.

Dean cursed as Gabriel took him into his mouth, a hand tangling in blond locks and hips thrusting into the hot mouth. Gabriel enjoyed the noises almost as much as the taste of his new lover. It wasn’t long. Dean had gone too long with only his hand, and Gabriel was too impatient to take things slowly. Before either wanted, the hunter was grunting his release into Gabriel’s mouth who happily accepted the offering, his eyes flashing golden for a moment before he pulled back and licked the softening cock. Dean tugged on his hair, urging Gabriel to move until they could kiss, the human seeming to not mind the taste of himself on Gabriel’s tongue.

“Fuck, Gabe, want me to return the favor?”

He wanted nothing more than to have Dean wrap his lips around him, but there was something to be said about not asking anything of his lover for once. “Nah, I wouldn’t mind your hand though if you’re up for it.” With a snap Gabriel was naked, and Dean wrapped those calloused fingers around his cock, pumping and taking the time to swipe his thumb along the head in a way which made Gabriel buck into his hold. Kissing the human, Gabriel moaned into Dean’s mouth, rocking his hips into Dean’s hand and letting himself lose his control for a bit.

Less than five minutes later he was coming into Dean’s palm, the hunter keeping their bodies close and touching along Gabriel’s hair and face with his unsoiled hand. Gabriel sighed into the kiss, humming at the back of his throat while Dean stroked him. With another snap, they were clean, though still naked. Crawling under the covers with Dean seemed natural, something Gabriel could grow used to. As the human wrapped an arm around him, they went back to watching their show, which was thankfully a rerun so they didn’t miss anything.

“Just to be clear, if you ever get the urge to try something new, I wouldn't mind snapping someone up for you so long as I get to watch.” Anyone he snapped up wouldn't be real, and though he could feel Dean tense, Gabriel pressed his leg against the hunters, hooking it around Dean’s thigh so that they were even closer. “I don't plan on snapping anyone up myself, but it could be fun later if you wanted. No real people mean that they disappear once you're done, no messy feelings.”

The hand which had been playing with his hair stopped for a second before resuming its gentle caress. “Yeah, maybe in a few months. Right now, I want to see what makes you tick before we add someone else to our bed, even someone fake.” Humming his agreement, Gabriel returned his attention to the show while basking in the afterglow of having someone surrounding him. He would enjoy having Dean in his bed as long as the human allowed him. It didn't escape Gabriel's attention that Dean never did answer if he had the hots for Castiel.

P.S. If you want to keep up to date on my writing add me to Facebook, Tumbler, Twitter or Instagram as CrowNoYami ;-) Also, if you want to see what I’m reading (I always review so you know what you’re getting into) I’m on Goodreads as well, the same name as always.

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weaselle · 6 years

Note

Ant post???

hmmm, not sure which what or how to take this, but in case it is a request let me address the two most likely -A: I am probably not going to get a chance to write much in the next few weeks because after more than a year of no steady work I have just accepted a 50 hour a week job in restaurant management and tomorrow, when I get my first paycheck, I am going to be focusing on converting my recently acquired minivan into a stealth camper so I can stop living in this crappy tent. Big lols at everyone I work with who thinks I’m a normal person doing normal things with my life.A2: WHEN I DO put up some more writing, I will definitely be doing some more of the insect Cthulhu stuff, because it has generated a lot of interest. Also, I have sort of promised a certain @queensairai that I would consider doing something involving bees next, which frankly sounds fascinating and I’ve already learned a lot about bees in preparation. Only now do I know how very much I don’t know about bees. Did you know there is a metallic species of bee in South America that is collecting poisons? like it lands on houses that have been freshly sprayed with bug poison and loads up it’s smell collecting pockets (oh yeah, it’s from a group of bees that collects smells to impress each other) with enough poison to kill the average honey bee 50 times over and just, flies around with it? We don’t know why. Any way, ants AND bees, coming at you as soon as I get some other shit squared away.B: Here’s everything I’ve written about it so far, in response to probablybadrpgideas and 20thcenturyvole who said, respectively “if Cthulhu can be summoned by humans who are so far beneath it, why can’t humans be summoned by ants?The answer is they should be.”and“Well if a bunch of ants formed a circle in my house I’d certainly notice, try to figure out where they’d all come from, and possibly wreak destruction there.“(and I was later inspired to write the last installment by littlesons, who said, oh I can’t find it rn but they were very nice and said something like they loved it and wanted to know how it ended)Anyway, here’s everything I’ve got so far:_______________________________________________________________________That’s why knowing and correctly pronouncing the true name is so important to the ritual. Imagine how impossible it would be to not go take a look if the circle of ants started chanting your name.And they’re like, you can’t leave because we drew a line made of tiny crystals - now you have to do us a favor.And you’re like, let’s just see where this goes “yup, you got me… what’s the favor?”and usually the favor is like, “kill this one ant for us” or “give me a pile of sugar” and you’re like… okay? and you do, because why not, it isn’t hard for you and boy is this going to be a fucking story to tell, these fucking ants chanting your name and wanting a spoonful of sugar or whatever.And SOMEtimes you get asked for things you can’t really do, one of them, she’s like, “I love this ant but she won’t pay any attention to me, make me important to her” and you’re like… um? how? So you just kill every ant in the colony except the two of them, ta-da! problem solved! and the first ant is like *horrified whisper* “what have I done” ….Meanwhile another colony of ants invades your house, and evidently that last ant has gotten some of them to join her in a circle and taught them the ritual because you’re coming out of the bathroom one day and you hear the ants singing your name. Sure enough it’s that ant, but she’s dark and fucked up now, and she’s like, “kill the queen. I will rule this colony” and you’re like, sure, I guess I kinda owe her, and you do it. And she manages to become queen, and they worship you. Which is cool, you’re not, you know, very important in the human world, but to these ants you’re practically all-powerful. You can’t be just, doing everything a bunch of ants tell you to, though, when would you watch netflx? So you tend to only show up for super important ants; you teach them some extra words and when hear them you go see what’s up. Usually. Also just to your name, if you’re bored. And, sometimes some of the ants are like, tell us more human names, and you’re kind of jealous of the idea of some other human diluting your private godhood, so you refuse. Your roommate Greg is like, yo, that’s fucking awesome, I want ant worshipers! But whenever he approaches any, they run away, because it turns out that the illusion of control from the named summoning is what makes them feel safe around you. That’s great, because Greg is a dick who never does the dishes, and one day you decide to teach Greg a lesson.So you show up at the colony, and you’re like, “yo, witch queen, did you think there would be no price for all these things? Your colony must do something for me, go to the Room of the Housemate, I will meet you there.” And you go sit on the couch and play Overwatch for a while. You’re like, right there, you can clearly see the ants all marching along the wall to Greg’s room, but to them you’re not even there, you’re so far away they can’t see you. It takes them, like, an ant week to make the journey. They have to figure out ways to get over and around things. Some of them drown, or get stepped on by the dog, or whatever. You win a game, you lose a game, you look over, and they’re trying to get through some cobwebs… looks like they’re mostly going to live, you keep playing, you look over, okay they’re all in there, and you stand up and walk over and by the time they’ve chanted your name once, you’re there. “right, hold on” and you look around and you see a twelve-pack of Greg’s precious fucking soda, that he keeps in his room and refuses to ever share, even though it’s a communal food household and you share your hot chocolate with him all the time. So you gather the ants unto you, and you poke a little hole in each of the sodas and you leave the room to the sound of the ants rejoicing. Greg will suspect of course, but he’ll never be able to prove the ants didn’t chew holes in the plastic and steal his stupid drinks. But later, while you’re at work, Greg destroys most of the colony in a rage, and you come home to find the witch queen gasping her last “the Dew of the Mountain, which you had us steal, was cursed - and so I lay my curse on you” and then she dies.Well first of all, you don’t really believe in curses, but last month you didn’t believe ants could know your name, so that’s unsettling. And second of all, you feel kind of bad. You know, not SUPER bad, cause she’s like, an ant. But still. And most importantly, third of all, Greg must pay.But Greg has done more than kill a bunch of the colony. As you wait for eggs and pupae to replenish the ant population, you discover he has found some ants that didn’t go on the Mountain Dew raid, and he’s spared them, told them his name, and made himself a good sized cult in YOUR fucking ant queendom.Greg has started locking his door. So now you NEED the ants. Once again you direct the ants loyal to you to journey to Greg’s room. You meet them at the door. A locked door means nothing to the ants, they don’t even know there is a door, and can barely perceive the difference between it being open and shut - either passing the threshold on the floor regardless, or being on its surface no matter the position. But you need them to get inside. You’re going to put itching powder in his underwear drawer and leave a raw fish under his bed. So you instruct the leading party of ants how to go into the Cave of Keyhole, and position the Magic Megaliths inside just right to enable the opening of the Great Door and allow you to pass into the Realm of Housemate.Crouched by the door, you can hear when your ants are met by a party of Greg Cultists, who insist that if the Great Door is opened, the colony will be doomed. There is fighting. Your ants prevail, the lock tumblers are moved into place, and you swing the door open…To find Greg! In his room all along! It’s a trap! His cultists attack you! I mean, they can’t do much real harm, but it kind of hurts and it’s super annoying. You order your ants to attack him, and they do, but he storms over and pours bleach down the colony entrance.Now you and Greg are at war, and you both understand the unspoken rules to your fight. You can’t do things directly to each other, why, that would be assault. But anything you can get your ants to do is fine, because “she told the ants to do it to me” isn’t going to get very far with any authority figures that get involved. Later, nursing your anger, you confer with your few remaining ants and stare moodily at your new prize, the ant farm that came in the mail. Bullet ants don’t usually get along with sugar ants, but you’re betting they will if a god tells them to. Meanwhile, you’ve got a laptop schematic to go over with your high priestess. It’s finals week, and if you time it right, he’ll lose everything.…You look down into the summoning ritual. The current high priestess, Zé, is an ant of great influence and personality - you quite like her, inso far as a human can be friends with an ant that worships them. You thought the new queen would become the next high priestess, but according to Zé the queens don’t like to come out of the colony after they shed their wings. Plus they are very busy laying eggs and supervising the care of their ant larvae. Zé says it’s a better deal for you, this way your high priestess can have the time and energy to really serve your interests, and wield an authority among the colony that is purely yours - no conflict of interest, and no baby making duties. It’s really just what’s best for both you and the colony queen to have her as high priestess, she informs you, making you laugh at her flattery-wrapped ambition.There’s no laughing this evening though. It’s serious business on the docket tonight.“O wise and ancient entity of power, you grace us with your presence!” and for formality’s sake, she intones the additional ritual greeting from their holy books “You Look Fantastic, Have You Done Something New With Your Hair?” Ants don’t really understand hair. You respond as you have become accustomed “Thank You, Yes.” It’s just easier. They mean well. Mystic greeting complete, Zé and the rest of the dark clergy move straight to business. Several 10s of them line up in formation, creating a diagram of the apartment complex. You had to coach them into how to make it, as far as they are concerned it’s a complex sigil that conveys knowledge to you - for creatures that traverse the building in long journeys along the pipes in the walls and in the spaces between the lower ceiling and upper floor, it looks nothing like the apartment complex as they know it. Zé claims to understand it, but secretly you suspect she’s just mostly cementing her authority among the clergy. She has, usefully, memorized which parts of the sigil correspond with what parts of the building, and that’s good enough for your purposes.“O mighty being, we have done as instructed. Our scouts had to search wide for them, but we have left the corpses of many termites in all the locations you specified, every night this week.“Very good,” you assure them, “and the Greggorites?”“Our spies among them have learned of their next attack. We should be able to influence their timing somewhat.”“Good. And..” your eyes narrow, “the other thing?”“Ah, yes.” Zé’s antennae wave and dip in that way you know means she is uncomfortable. “to the best of our ability to find out, the… Antifreeze initiative was entirely conceived of by the Demon Lord Greg.”“Just Greg,” you tell Zé with bitter hatred as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Greg is not a lord, just a fucking prick who’s going to get what’s coming to him. I swear by all of creation he will.”“Is there…” Zé trailed off and tried again. “O Deity of my heart, far be it from me to question Your Exaltedness, but help your poor servant to understand… your plans have become, they seem perhaps, I am sure I am wrong, they seem, overly audacious? Your recent change in demeanor has made some, not me!”she interjects hastily, “but some of the less devout among my sistren, have become concerned…”Your fists clench. “I don’t expect you to get it. I’m pretty certain none of you could possibly understand.” Your voice breaks. You clench your teeth. You won’t, you won’t cry in front of your ant worshipers. You lean down and say in the strangled half whisper that is the only way you can force the words past the lump in your throat, “He killed my dog, Zé…”The ants flee the sound of your terrible wailing.The great Finals Erasure had worked to more devastating effect than you had anticipated, and things had… escalated. Then Greg proved himself to be less human that the ants that had turned out to be such surprising little beings. You strongly suspected, of course. Now you know. And so, there are things that have to be done. You call the ants back out of hiding, and get to work.In the end, it was easier than you thought it would be. You talk to all the neighbors, without Greg. You hide the relevant pieces of mail. You have the scuba gear and the stuff from the sex shop shipped to a friend’s house. You ensure your spies among the Greggorites have escape plans, though Zé assures you they are ready to sacrifice themselves to the cause. “I’m not that kind of Deity,” you tell her.The night before, your ants slip a double dose of tylenol p.m. into Greg’s milkshake. You almost laugh; all your efforts to make sure there is only soup to make for dinner, and he comes home with Burger King.He sleeps so soundly that he never comes close to waking the whole time you are attaching the padded bondage equipment to his limbs and hiding with him in the closet. The walk through by the company inspectors that morning is a tense moment, but as you suspect, they don’t open the closets. After they leave to do their work outside, you finish your work inside, tying Greg to his bed. By the time he starts to wake up, you are sitting in a chair in the doorway to his bedroom, with your mask on. The air is beginning to thicken and discolor. Greg coughs around his ball gag and opens his eyes. You feel curiously calm and empty.“Hi, Greg.” Your voice is muffled, “You like my dive mask?” Greg makes an angry questioning noise, spread eagled to the full extension of his limbs. “Oh, yeah, that must be uncomfortable. Can’t give you enough slack to jerk against the ropes, though, or you might leave tell-tale bruises through the padding.” More angry noises, coughing. “Hhhmm? Oh, did I forget to tell you? It’s termite day, Greg, they’ve tented the house. That’s Sulfuryl Fluoride you’re breathing. You’ll have trouble breathing, you’ll throw up, and your heart will stop.” He’s thrashing around as much as the ropes will allow, which isn’t a lot. He’s pretty energetic about it, though; maybe he can’t hear you over his efforts. “You shouldn’t have meddled around with godhood, it didn’t suit you. Power compromised your judgement. You definitely shouldn’t have fucking killed my dog, Greg” You’re suddenly filled with rage. You need to know he hears you. You stride over to the bed and grab him by the throat. Not too hard, you try to remember through your anger, no bruises. The grip is enough to make Greg stop thrashing and look at you with wide wide eyes. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING KILLED NAYA YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHY? WHY? HOW COULD YOU!? SHE NEVER DID ANYTHING TO YOU!” Just as suddenly, your anger is gone. You feel tired. You look down at him and shake your head.”Time to die, Greg.” You cross the room and sit back down in your chair in the doorway.Watching him die isn’t easy, but it’s not as hard as watching Naya suffer through acute kidney failure. Afterwards, you take off all the bondage gear, throw it in a duffel bag. You leave through the back, rolling out from under the fumigation tent against the back fence, and packing the scuba gear into the duffel before you climb into the neighbors yard.A month later, you’re moving from town to town. The colony has become so large you’re going to need a bigger truck full of clay for them to live in. Maybe an old Uhaul.The ants bring you a newspaper. They bring you everything now, food, money, information. Word of how you value the life of each individual ant has spread through the colony, and reports brought back from the apartment by scouts confirming your status as a godslayer has …elevated… their worship of you. You open the newspaper to find Greg’s death has made the papers. No suspicion of foul play despite the exterminator company lawyers insisting on an autopsy. Tylenol p.m. in his system accounted for his presence in the building, it was decided, and the failure of the inspectors to notice Greg in bed during their walk through was settled out of court, covered by their insurance. The ants bring you a conga line of grapes, peeling them for you while you stare off into space. You’re going to have to teach them how to disable cameras - the leaked security footage of hundred dollar bills slipping themselves out under the bank doors has caused a bit of a stir on some parts of the internet… you eat another grape, and count your money. As usual you put half of it in an envelope, uncapping a sharpie to write “From Naya” on it. The ants will slip it under the door of the local animal shelter for you tonight.

#writing #cthulhu ants

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vlkwsouthpens · 4 years

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I hope this post finds you all well and taking care of each other and just as importantly-taking care of yourself. This week we see signs of re-awakening as some restrictions are beginning to be relaxed. It feels like spring is arriving after a long hard winter. But remember to be cautious, and take it a bit at a time. And that will still give you plenty of time to read. Which brings us to our guest author…

. r. e. joyce writes Epic Fantasy and all books can be found through Draft2Digital worldwide

Stories by r.e.joyce I write to express the joys and adventures I have found in this world. Most come from the grace of being chosen to guide two beautiful souls through the adventure of growing up. It is my children, Stephanie and Bill, who make this life worth living. The grandbabies are a marvelous recreation of the joys I experienced without the diaper changes – such a fabulous gift! Do you want to have a taste of the worlds my mind creates? Come and Join in the fun: https://books2read.com/ap/KnAMpn/R-E-Joyce

Why Write? They say that reading fosters the urge to write and experience chooses the genre.

As to the first, I can attest. My world in the 1970s and 1980s consisted of work-centered travel. My last job in New York was a one-hour-forty-minute commute into the Big Apple if all connections were properly made. It gave me time to read and I ordered the Franklin Library Book of the Month Club Classics for the train ride, promising to read each one before I picked up a dime store novel. Month after month I would struggle through Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain or Homer’s Iliad awaiting the day I could call it read and pick up Stephen R. Donaldson, Ursula K. LeGuin, David Eddings, Terry Brooks and of course C.S. Lewis and JRR Tolkien. It was in the fantasy worlds of these great writers that I found a place for my mind to take flight. For four-and-one-half years I clickety-clacked down the tracks and let these fantastic worlds open within my mind allowing me to become part of so many epic adventures. Then the urge took hold. I could write one of these epic fantasies! The scolding of my English teachers and the wanton grades they scratched into my report cards could not deter the building desire to put words together and go on my own adventure. The writing bug bit and I was destined for the torment and elation I never expected in life. We will get back to the swings of emotion later. For now, with pen in hand (soon turned to computer keyboard) I used the spare minutes of my life to write—catapulting me into the wonderful world of epic fantasty

Meanings The explanation of my life is Grand Poobah-dum. I have no timeless words of wisdom beyond those that guide my life. Live to serve and serve until it feels good. The world will be better for it.

I, like Tevye, wish for a little wealth. I promise to pray more if…

I, like Joseph, find strength in quiet support of family.

I, like Don Quixote, always seek the windmill over the easy path.

It started as an urge and took root in the rich soil of familial love. The experiential writings made spirituality all the more real for me and touched a life of one or two along the way. The honing of skills hardened my resolve until I allowed myself to stand before all as I am. The wayward critics seek to mold me in their image. I choose the one that is God-given and life affirmed. I am a story teller and if you have a moment I will share with you worlds that can enchant and even make you dream. If you need proper grammar I have some teachers I can recommend. If you want to touch life, I believe I have some ready for you.

Where do you get your inspiration? There are experiences directly related to my feeble first attempts. Stephanie came to me with skinned knee and turtle tears, clutching her pink unicorn. Holding her, I whispered if she would allow me to clean her boo-boo, I would write her a story about a unicorn. Oh, did I fail to mention that God graced me with two of the most beautiful gifts a man could ask for. To give this justice, we would need to consider a longer story format. For now, I will affirm their epic effect on my life. Stephanie came into the world pink and beautiful and when the nurse placed her in my hands a fear, beyond anything ever imagined came over me. How could a lumbering old fool like me ever care for such a precious princess? She seemed to fit within the palm of my hands, and my trembling left others to wonder about my joy. Nothing can ever exceed the gift I held that day and that I continue to embrace as she explores her own world. Now Bill, having arrived three years later almost to the day, bounced out and the now trained hands of a father gathered him up, placing my hereditary standard on the boy with the quiet soul. He has been more than and continues to amaze me with the deep-seated love he shows the world around him. We will have an epitaph written or imagined at the end of our stay here on earth. Mine will contain the blessing from God of these two souls. If nothing else graces the journey of my life, I am fulfilled.

Back to the story… The boo-boo healed and the little girl grew up and the scratching of a novice writer found its way to the page.

My mission in life:

To write is to place love in the hands of generations to come. The rest of my day is giving to helping others…

Seven Stars of Midnight The Finding

You can connect with r.e. joyce at Vision Management Publishing and find his books at books2read.

I leave you tonight with r.e.joyce’s beautiful covers to look at and be inspired…

Meet r.e.joyce I hope this post finds you all well and taking care of each other and just as importantly-taking care of yourself.

#books #inspiration #life #work #writing

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devilsknotrp · 5 years

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Congratulations, Cee! You have been accepted for the role of Zeke Hawker (FC: Jack Dylan Grazer). This was another really tough decision, and we truly thank the both of you for your applications! We love how deeply you got into his mind, his likes and dislikes, his snarkiness balanced with a touch of insecurity and a dash of healthy egotism. He’ll be a delight to have running around town! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Cee Age: 20 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+10 Activity estimation: I’m currently studying full-time again, so I should be able to post IC every 2-3 days easily, depending on my muse. Even if I’m not writing, I’m usually able to be around to plot almost every day! When I know I’ll be pressed for time due to deadlines or exams, I’ll request a semi- or full hiatus. Triggers: N/A

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Ezekiel “Zeke” Hawker Age (DD/MM/YYY): 13 (07/01/1983); Capricorn sun, Gemini moon, Libra rising Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: N/A Occupation: Student Connection to Victim: Brian was one of them. He has no idea how such a quiet kid managed to weave his way so easily into an already tight-knit group, but it happened. Zeke wonders if it was because of him being in the same baseball team introduced Brian to the group. Whatever it was, he’s never found himself doubting whether Brian could be part of the friendship – and he doubts plenty of things. Alibi: Zeke was watching the other baseball games. With his game finished (and most of it spent sulking on the bench with Brian reluctantly lending an ear), he’d chosen to stay a while longer that afternoon. Sometime between the matches, he’d made a quick trip down to the Piggly Wiggly with ten dollars he’d mooched off Abel for candy and chips with a few other kids on his team who were still around. At around four-thirty he picked up his bag, shrugged on a crewneck and walked home from the pitch. A teammate’s parent offered him a ride home, and he gratefully took it. He was dropped off at the front doorstep and went straight inside. Faceclaim: Jack Dylan Grazer

WRITING SAMPLE

“Nope. That’s not it.”

Dust motes float languidly around him in the muted daylight that spills from the attic window, stagnant in mid-July air. A hand retreats from the cardboard box he’d finished rifling through, a messy stack of books and trinkets set back in their rightful place. To find a hint, anything about his parents, shouldn’t have been this hard to find. This was a trope of every movie; people kept unwanted things in the attic, not the basement. Too predictable. He thinks so, anyway and although this was real life and not some Spielberg blockbuster, it was close enough. Zeke had forgotten about the graze from another failed skating attempt that spans the base of his knee when he kneels down to store it away. A slight wince crinkling his face, he pushes it back to the spot on the boarding that’s a stark brown against the thin grey that covers the floor. Like nobody would know he’s ever been there. He dusts his hands on his shorts, but not before he’s rubbed his face and splutters from a cobweb across his nose. “Gross.”

Over cereal that morning, he’d asked again. Over a sugary bowl of whole milk-laden Cheerios, Abel consumed by today’s newspaper and soft radio masking the quiet that settled over the house, he wondered if there was anything else to be told about his mother or father. And just as his grandfather always did, it was a stock-standard answer of no, not really, there’s nothing remarkable to tell. As if he hadn’t missed out on the ordinary things already. And besides, isn’t it much more worthwhile to focus on the present?

“Focus on the present, my ass,” Zeke mutters to himself now, free arm outstretched to tear away a frayed edge of packing tape run across cardboard. In heavy marker, the next box is labelled 1971. A good decade before he’d come into existence, kicking and screaming. “Huh.” With limited options for company, it’d become nothing short of normal to talk to himself. Small comments of wonderment as he came across a particularly impressive fact in a book.

Backhanded remarks as he resigned himself to watching The Bold and the Beautiful when nothing exciting was on television. Once, while they watched television after school, Josh had said he bugged out for doing that, laughter mingling with the taunt. Whatever. You try living in a giant house with just your grandpa, Zeke retorted. The Sunday visits Josh came along for were far different from living there week in, week out. Sundays were warm and bright. Cheerful, even. Once that rolled past, it fell back into the same monotony of school and baseball and homework, all tied together neatly with a rigid lights-out by nine sharp. To focus on the present was a joke.

A soft tug pulls the tape away easily. It’s left crumpled up beside him, gathered together in his fist before being dropped to the floor. He’s hasty to uncover the contents. Just like the last one, it’s packed meticulously. Like Tetris. The cover of the top photo album is worn in one spot, thumbed over by countless hands. He’s careful when he lifts it out and sets it on his lap, even more gentle with the plastic covers that run over the already faded photos.

So he sets to work. He’s learned to search out that face, the same way he skim-reads the chapter of a book assigned for reading he’s put off until the night before. Even if the only reference he relies on is faded, the photograph tattered and dog-eared in one corner from being stuffed in his jacket pocket to show his friends, the features are clear as day when Zeke pores over the images one by one. The disappointment’s sour in his mouth when he’s gone through it with no luck. The photos are beautiful, filled with smiling memories and yet, all devoid of his parents.

Beads of sweat across his upper lip, cotton shirt glued to the spot between his shoulder blades, another hour passes of searching through the storage boxes. He gives up eventually, when he’s graced with that same unpleasant taste. Mingled with that, though, is something else. An idea that perhaps there’re better places to look than right under the nose.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Zeke equates knowledge with adulthood. Maturity. Being a grown-up with a monotonous office job, fibre cereal and the drone of a television. Or used to. Brian’s disappearance has confirmed his suspicions – that it isn’t quite the case. The cops figured out who snuffed Phillip Silverman all those years ago pretty quickly, right? Or so some of them claimed. So, why’s it so hard to put a finger on who kidnapped Brian? The manhunts have gone on drearily, ended with no real certainty. Nobody’s a step closer to finding his friend. All grown-ups seem to do about it is croon in gossip over a diner booth table or spare an infinitesimal glance at the Crime Stoppers posters plastered on each utility pole downtown. He’s become distrusting, and quick. Whatever valiant spearheading people take up of the manhunt and the newfangled mystery of Brian appears self-serving. That there’s a few brownie points to score for next Sunday’s service, or a nice spot on the front page to print their mug across for stumbling across the next clue. If grown-ups cared, what reason is there to be so hush-hush when he asks questions? Zeke doesn’t want to think only the worst will happen. But if the adults are getting nowhere, he’s brought it up in hushed conversation with his friends that maybe, maybe, there’s a better chance of them getting to the bottom of it.

It’s well-known that Zeke isn’t great at making friends. Scratch that – he’s awful at it. Was his father, with all those vices, like that as well? It isn’t that kids don’t want to be friends with him because of his admittedly unconventional family. Whose only parent is their grandpa? But that’s never been so strange to set him apart far enough to be the black sheep. Jealousy has kept him from making friends. Until he reconciles with the fact, he supposes there’ll always be a quiet anger simmering at the back of his throat. It’s an uncomfortable sensation that makes its home in his chest, knowing that he won’t have a mom or dad to take (somewhat reluctant) photos of him on a birthday, on the first day of school or at a family gathering with a scowl plastered to his face. Those are things he’ll never be able to replicate, with Abel occupied by work and the belief that rules in place of his company are enough to raise a kid. He’s long become familiar with that yucky twinge when kids mention their families. He’s never had the luxury of saying My mom took me to go watch Independence Day in Lansing last weekend, or Hey, my dad came to see me score in little league, isn’t that cool! No, it’s been quiet admissions of frustration to Andrew when Abel has skirted a question on his father with the same lacklustre, manufactured answer journalists get when they shove a microphone in his face for the millionth time. To have answers is an itch he constantly finds himself having to scratch.

Apparently, his name means “God will strengthen”. Impressive. Except he despises going to church, enough to almost call himself an atheist, though he’s uttered a prayer or two in the last week when the worry really gets to him. Please, God, find Brian. Keep him safe, bring him home. It’s a nice way to swallow the nerves down, but not much else. He’s more interested in picking up a science book rather than the Bible, adamant about his excuses to weasel his way out of Sunday service but the effort is often pipped every time. Elaborate stories are quickly becoming his new forte. They’re just not quite good enough to get him out of that scratchy button-down and slacks too short at the ankle from his last growth spurt. At least he doesn’t have to go to those prayer groups Abel attends. While he can chalk it down to tradition and old habits, he’s never quite understood why Abel’s put much of his time and energy into it. He’s funny about it, too. Not funny as in it’s an innocent hobby, but funnyfunny. Funny where, if Zeke holds him up with a badly-timed question right as he’s about to step out the door or makes an offhand (and most definitely deliberate) remark that he might as well live at the church with the group, his face becomes stony. While he has quietened down about it, as far as his grandfather’s concerned, he’s determined to ask around elsewhere.

Sometimes, Zeke entertains the idea of asking if he can live at Ken and Aisha’s house. It makes sense. Their car often rumbles in the driveway to pick him up for school or to take him to a county fair. It feels much more familial. He worries that he’s a burden on Abel, that he’ll never properly connect with him as a son should. He’s come home with a busted lip and bruised pride from smart-mouthing bullies enough times to make anyone sigh with exasperation rather than concern. It’s not as if resisting the status quo at home, rules laid down like the law, helps his case either. His uncle and aunt’s home is welcoming. Smaller and cosier and warmer, always filled with chatter or laughter or radio. Abel’s house is huge. Silent, most of the time. When bad weather’s in, the windows rattle and wind shrieks around the corners, making it feel far emptier than it already is, which is no easy feat. To busy himself, Zeke got into the habit of reading and video games. Once he’d mowed his way through the fiction in the reading room, he quickly became hooked on non-fiction. There’s a haphazard stack of books on his bedside table at all times, switched out every week or so. He didn’t mind playing Actua Soccer for a while, until it reminded him of just how terrible he is at sport. Zeke likes to pick up new hobbies. It’s given him a wealth of new knowledge; new facts to ring off. Or when he needs to prove a point. He even tried to skate for a while. Eventually, he got sick of the bruises and grazed knees and Andrew’s bemused remarks. From stargazing to photography to origami, it’s a good way to pass the time.

When it comes to music, he’s pretentious. Zeke considers himself an indie aficionado – he’ll go for an underground station rather than the commercial pop garbage that plays on the radio. Most of his mixtapes are painstakingly curated, filled to the brim with Pavement, Mazzy Star, The Cure, Soul Coughing. Weird stuff. It’s made him consider picking up music, save for the fact that he can’t carry a tune to save himself. Tone deaf, that’s it. He won’t dare admit that he doesn’t understand half of the songs, lacking the life experience to even do so, but he’ll certainly make it seem like he does.

He has no idea why he keeps on with baseball. Most of his time at practice and games is spent cracking jokes and trading interests with Brian on the bench, ignoring the tinny sound of a bat and the shuffle of feet, the cheers from onlookers. Coach says he’d be good at the game, only if he paid attention. Deep down, Zeke has an urge to master everything. It distracts him easily. New things pop up to command his attention and in the blink of an eye, he’s moved on. He’s not scatterbrained, though. Just selective. He knows where to allocate his time. Ideally, he wants to be a jack of all trades, well-rounded and good at school and sports and small talk, though he hasn’t gotten any of them down pat. Too much of a smartass for teachers to really like him, too clumsy with his motor skills that he drops the ball half the time, enough lip and a tendency to curse that makes most kids reel, his friends included. But he’s trying to be better. It’s a quiet effort; one that won’t happen overnight. He cares about his friends deeply, even if it is masked by a habitual urge to squabble and brazen ideas that elicit eye rolls rather than impressed gasps. One day, though, he’ll come up with something good. Something spectacular.

#dkaccepted #accepted #zeke hawker

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