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ivymarquis · 5 months

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Hi loves 💕💕 I saw requests are open so I figured I'd send one in! I absolutely love your work you're so talented and I binge read all of your fics!!

I would like to request fem reader x soap where Soaps wife adopted a dog she found on the streets and keeps her even though he hates the idea.( he has a cannon fear of dogs which I find a little funny) slowly but surely he warms up to the dog but not fully. While he's out on a mission there's a robbery and the dog protects the reader and scares off the intruder. Soap hears about this and is instantly is best friends with the dog because even though he hates dogs he loves that the pup will protect his wife (I also hc that mabey it's not a street dog but a retired k9 reader adopted to feel safe while he was gone and she just didn't tell him until he comes home and sees a dog. it's up to you what you pick💓)

Hello anon I appreciate your patience!! I did pick and choose a wee bit to make the fic make sense for me, I hope you like it!

The Exception to the Rule

Pairing| Soap x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 1.9K Content/Warnings| Housekeeping first- this fic is SFW so if you find it in the tags I won’t be bothered about minors reading it but I am an MDNI blog and I will block any minors or ageless blogs who follow me. Got it? Cool. The author is an American attempting to write a Scottish accent, likely inaccuracies about how military dogs in general or bomb dogs in specific work. Allusions to prior animal injury, allusion to potential dog choking (in the context of choking off a working dog who won’t release its quarry), allusion to home invasion, dog bites, Johnny is not happy, the author does not condone getting animals you know your partner has issues with (but the plot necessitates it so on we go!)

Soap knows his wife well enough to know when she’s taken a “ask for forgiveness rather than permission” course of action. It’s written all over her face when she accepts his FaceTime call and answers his greeting of “What did ya dae, hen?“ with a “Please don’t be mad.”

Now certain men might have to worry about their brides stepping out on them on deployment. Soap knows her well enough to not even entertain that notion, so the wheels start turning for what exactly she could have done that has her looking this guilty out the gate.

The answer comes very suddenly in the form of a bark on the other end of the screen.

John Soap MacTavish sputters, something he is not often inclined to do, “Is that a fuckin’ dog?” And not just a dog. That wasn’t a little yappy fluffball who can be picked up with two fingers if need be. It sounds like one of the damn bomb dogs always yapping over in the kennels.

“Please don’t be mad!” She pleads again.

“Well a’m not happy, that’s for sure. Where and why did ye git that thing?”

This is completely out of character for her. Soap’s disdain for dogs (and why) is well known. She bloody well knows. So what the hell?

“It’s not permanent! You said this deployment would be a long one, and there’s been break ins in the neighborhood and I got nervous and my friend told me about this rescue group that helps rehome retired military dogs.” Her explanation is all in one breath. “They approved us” (Us??) ”as a foster family. He’s already got applications in for a permanent home. It just feels,” she pauses to catch her breath, and Soap can feel himself softening ever so minisculely to the dog- as long as he’s on the other side of the world, away from it, “safer here, with him here since you’re gone. The break ins have been really scary, they haven’t caught the guy yet.”

Fucking hell how is he supposed to argue with that? Especially if there’s some prick on the loose breaking into houses.

“Cujo better nae be oan th’ bed wi’ ye,” he grouses, acquiescing while still making his displeasure known.

“His name is Kabar and I’ll have the bed freshly stripped when you’re due back I promise.”

Soap is a god damn sucker for those pleading doe eyes, giving a big exasperated sigh to signal he’s letting her off the hook. “Fine. Bit he better be gaen by th’ time I pull intae th’ driveway. Let’s see th’ damn thing then,” Christ he hopes it’s not a Belgian Malinois. He knows they’re popular for military dogs but his darling is not built to handle a maligator, retired or not.

“Okay hang on,” she replies, notably cheerier as she taps the screen.

It’s a German Shepherd, thank fuck (Johnny must be having a stroke to be grateful for the sight of a German Shepherd in his bed)

He knows as well as anyone else they can be intense, but they’re a step down from the Malinois at least.

The coloring is traditional, but Soap’s brain starts nudging him that something is wrong with the dog. It takes a moment to click before he realizes the problem.

The damn dog only has three legs. “Is he a tripod?” The question is out before he can stop himself because no he is not inquiring about the damn dog. It was just a thought that escaped.

“He is a disabled veteran!” His bride corrects cheekily, before much more solemnly adding “He was a bomb dog.”

Oh Christ. He did not need to know that. Doesn’t need to think about the damn animal waking up one day with four legs and clocking in to work with his handler before boom.

“A’m only entertaining this because of the break ins, hen, am ah clear?”

Maybe having that booming bark rattling the windows will keep any would-be intruders at bay. This is the worst part of the job- being stuck on what might as well be the other side of the world when she’s got something to deal with.

“Absolutely crystal clear!” She’s all too agreeable, pleased as hell to have her cake (the dog) and eat it too (Johnny tolerating it).

Somehow this is going to blow up in his face and he’s going to permanently end up with a fucking military dog he doesn’t want, he just knows it.

But there’s no fucking way he can tell her No. Absolutely not. He goes back today, with a potential threat lurking around the neighborhood. He’d never forgive himself.

The rest of the conversation is much more in line with what he usually anticipates with their phone calls being- He doesn’t much like talking about work off the clock although lets her know of any interesting shenanigans around the base, and listening with baited breath as she regails him of tales both extraordinary and, well, extra ordinary.

Usually their phone calls end when she passes out in bed, and they’re perfectly poised to continue that habit tonight also.

“Ye made sure all th’ doors and windows are locked, hen?” He asks as she starts snuggling into the bedding underneath her.

“Yeah Johnny, I,” she cuts herself off with a big yawn “-I double checked them.”

It’s a few minutes later that the phone slips from her hand, camera pointing at the ceiling as she drifts off.

Johnny can almost imagine he’s at home laying on his back, watching the rhythmic movements of the ceiling fan in time with his lovely girl snoring slightly in his ear (despite her verbose protests that no she doesn’t snore- okay. Whatever you say, gorgeous.)

It’s an incredibly comforting moment that lets him feel a bit closer to home that is ruined by the sound of snuffling by the speaker.

The dog’s nose appears on screen, the angle making him look like an aardvark as he sniffs the phone before laying down, presumably relishing in the fact there’s not a damn thing Soap can do about this situation.

“Ye better keep an eye oan my girl, Cujo.” Soap grumbles as he begrudgingly hangs up the phone.

The mission ends quicker than expected- substantially quicker- and as content as Soap is with getting home he also is annoyed.

The mission got cut so short, and it’s so damn late by the time Soap is driving home that he knows the fucking dog is still there. The agreed upon date has not yet passed, which means that fuck is lazing about on his side of the bed.

Not to mention the mere obstacle of convincing a former military dog he’s never met, in the middle of the night, that yes this is his fucking house and he’s the one paying the bills around here and yes that actually is his spot on the bed so kindly fuck off.

At a point during his drive home, a police car flies by him. Then another. Then another.

Must be the fucker that’s been breaking into homes. Hopefully he gets caught and that’s one less thing to worry about when Johnny leaves again.

Except the red and blue lights seem to be fucking honed in from the spot that he’s steadily driving to, and Johnny’s convinving himself that he’s seeing things. There is no way that those lights and sirens are stemming from his house, thank you very much.

Even still, he feels himself driving faster. The sooner to quiet his anxiety that’s brewing.

The anxiety doesn’t dissipate as he makes each turn to his home. If anything it gets worse.

Because all that noise and the flashing lights are stemming from his own fucking home. Johnny can barely get the thing in park before he’s flying out of the vehicle. He can hear screams and specifically her crying and in an instant Johnny’s beyond being keyed up.

One of the officers attempts to intercept Johnny- thinks he’s just some nosy fuck from who knows where- and it takes everything in him not to blow his top entirely as he cuts the man off with a stern “This is mah house ‘n she’s mah wife!”

The sound of his voice booming into the night is enough to catch her attention and bring her running to him. Johnny embraces her as she flings herself at him, crying into his shirt as he strokes her back and soothes her.

He can piece together the general what happened, although he’s completely unaware of the details.

One piece begins to fit into place as he starts to hear what all the screaming is. His initial attention completely fixated on ensuring his wife is whole and hale, now he can check that off the mental list he now has the bandwidth to listen to the bellowing.

“Git it aff me! Och Jesus, someone git it aff o' me!”

“Cannae git th’ damn thing tae release him,” Johnny hears one of the officers comment dryly.

“Can always choke him off if the owners can’t git him tae let go,” the other one supplies.

“Eh, ah guess,” the first one responds in a bored tone that makes it clear he has a this guy fucked around and now he’s finding out, and I don’t see a reason to hurry- the dog looks happy anyway, stance to the situation.

On the side of the house, face down in the grass is the man who presumably broke inside.

He is so incredibly lucky there are witnesses and a sobbing wife to curtail the dark, angry thoughts swirling around in Johnny’s brain. Otherwise all it would take would be one phone call to Laswell and this prick disappears forever.

Attached to the calf of that man is Cujo, happily laying on the ground with his tail wagging slowly like his teeth aren’t sunk inside a man’s flesh. If the dog gets too annoyed with the man’s wiggling he shakes him like a chew toy, starting up a fresh round of someone git this fucking dog aff o’ me! until he lays still.

The mention of choking the dog off the would-be intruder doesn’t slip past his darling in the slightest, looking up at him with wet, pleading eyes.

Damn it all, he’s always a sucker for that look.

“Johnny, do you know how to make him let go? I don’t want him choked!”

He decides she’s probably better off not being told how often that ends up having to happen, and that Cujo will be just fine minus a few brain cells if push comes to shove.

But he has spent enough time (against his will, mind) around the dogs that he’s learned the basic commands over the years through repeated exposure.

“No promises, hen, bit we’ll see.” The dog has never met him a day in his life- there’s no guarantee he’s going to listen to a man that’s a stranger barking orders at him, but Johnny gives the sharp German command anyway.

To his surprise, the dog lets go immediately and turns towards them, giving the skipping lope that a 3 legged dog does before placing himself in a heel at Soap’s side, eyes wide and head tilted.

Johnny doesn’t want to think about what could have happened tonight if it wasn’t for Cujo- Kabar- taking such an involved roll in apprehending the man stupid enough to break into his home.

And he’s most assuredly not magically over his aversion to dogs- especially military dogs- but he might be able to tolerate an exception if it means having some peace of mind that his wife is safe at home.

#john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #my writing

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miirohs · 10 months

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3:45 [b.c]

pairing: Prepper!Bang Chan x GN!Reader wc: 0.8k cw: n/a an: take this half assed shit and run guys <3 btw this is based off some apocalyptic au fanart i saw of skz!!!

Dogs were a hazard. At least that's what Chan thought.

It had been following you since his team had left the perimeter of the base. Slinking after you, it seemed unafraid of the threatening aura of the rest of the crew, tail wagging happily as you occasionally dropped a small bite for it on the walk.

It was yappy. Loud. Chan didn’t like that.

The others were aware of its presence, but didn’t seem to indulge the poor thing as much after getting yelled at for feeding it scraps.

The more days it seemed to follow you though, the closer you got to it. At times, it seemed like you were the only one who could get away with something like that.

You had settled down for the night, only a day away from the warehouse. Chan had made you promise you’d let her go, but it felt impossible.

“What if we called her Laika?”

Chan scoffed, readjusting the strap of his gun as he watched you seated on the ground, playing with the dirty little dog.

“Like the space dog?” He questioned, tone slightly snarky as you cooed at the dog.

As you played with her, he couldn’t help but sigh internally at the happiness written all over your face. This was the happiest he had seen you since the whole disaster had started.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You completely ignored his statement, picking up the dog and bringing it to him.

He sidestepped your attempt to show him the dog, hands up in front of his face as it reached out to give him a friendly lick. It wasn’t that he was squeamish, he just wasn’t trying to get attached.

“Say hi to your daddy Laika! Hi Chan!”

Chan glared at you from behind his hands, motioning for you to put it down with his eyes. Slowly, you put Laika down on the ground, stomach dropping as he grumbled under his breath.

“Baby.”

You stopped him, holding up your hands to him.

“Chan please. She doesn’t have a home, she’s a stray. Just like us?” You begged before he could even get another word out, pointing to Laika as she sat at your feet, staring curiously at Chan.

“Baby, you know the risk dogs pose. What if someone catches us because it won’t stop yapping like that?” He muttered, staring at his feet and kicking up dirt to avoid your pleading face. “It's a she, and Chan, please?” your voice got softer, reaching out to grab him, “we can’t just leave her here on her own. She’s just a baby. She can’t fend for herself.”

He was a grown man, and yet he couldn’t seem to control himself as you held his hand, running a finger over his gloves. His rough hand rose to your cheek, caressing your face as you leaned into his hand.

Heat rose up to his cheeks and he turned away, breathing heavily as his heart thumped.

“Fine. You explain to the base why we brought a dog back on the supply run,” He grunted, the way he pulled his hand away from your face was gentle in comparison to his tone. “Really?” you whispered, giddiness seeping into your tone despite how hard you tried to maintain a poke face.

It barked, almost as if it- no, she understood. Both of you were obviously happy at the arrangement.

Chan cringed slightly as you cooed at the dog, yet his heart slightly thumped at you talking to the puppy in your arms, disappearing into your shared tent.

“You let Y/n keep it? And you wouldn’t even let me or Han feed, you said it would be dangerous!” Changbin grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Chan. “Yeah well… it’s different. Laika is here to stay.” He grunted, staring in the direction of your tent for a brief second before laying down on the ground, arm covering his face in an attempt to sleep.

“And you named it too?!” Chan smirked slightly at Changins indignation. “That was entirely Y/n. Be mad at her.”

“Damn, he really is whipped for that girl. He’s always bringing her something back on his trips and this time he let her get an animal. I wonder how Lee Knows gonna take this when he realizes he isn’t the only one with animal privilege,” Han snickered from behind, before suddenly getting hit with a can.

Chan was staring at him, and although it was nothing serious it was quite intimidating.

“Her happiness is my happiness, and if that happiness is in the form of a dog, so be it,” Chan shrugged, shaking his head at the mischievous looks on their faces.

“Looks like someones whipped!”

Before he could tell them off, you peaked your head out from the tent, face slightly illuminated by the fire.

“Are you coming?! I have something to show you!”

Chan looked at Han and Changbin, a serious look on his face.

“If either of you mention a word of this to Y/n, i swear to god.”

“Aye aye captain, whatever you say!"

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gatalentan · 1 year

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who’s more whipped: melissa or barbara

ok so purely speaking from my own interpretation (and i WELCOME discussion, please!) is that while I do think they are both whipped in their own ways, my immediate instinct is to say obviously melissa is the most whipped, purely because we've seen it in action on screen, in the text, undeniable where she gets scolded and immediately folds, like the little yappy dog she is, multiple times:

if we're talking fanon over canon my answer is probably still her, because she's absolutely like, VISIBLY, on-screen besotted and delighted by basically everything barbara does...

...and that if shes still like this after 20-whatever years of friendship it means that it probably follows them into the relationship, right? i think at the slightest wink, this woman folds like a wet paper towel. turns to actual melted butter. fuckin' marshmallow. like, fully ruined. blushing and twirling her hair and squirming and shit. barb smiles and she's like well that's it for me, i'm done, i'm cooked, bye! invade france? sure, let me grab my bag. worships the ground she walks on. thinks she's literally perfect. can look past just about every conceivable flaw because she's so happy just to be near her.

but... and here's me drilling down probably further than you intended but its me so i can't help myself...

in a more canon-adjacent reading of there being more to their deal than what we see, my interpretation is that she's so whipped in-text due to being extremely hyperaware of the fact that if she pursued her attraction to barbara it would put barb into an unteneble situation because of gerald, and thus, like, doing whatever she has to do to not have barbara push her away because she knows the risk. barbara has the most to lose, sure, but that means she also holds the most cards.

melissa has some turbo insecurity/self esteem issues that she masks really hard with humour (👈this part isn't fanon, this is how LAW interprets/plays her, see: this podcast in the part where she's discussing Readathon). because of this I can't imagine her any other way than like constantly trying not to overstep that line, and doing whatever she has to do to stay in barbara's good graces and not lose her in her life because she's like, the One Good Thing she has. whipped as a defence mechanism. it's easy to replace someone when you're already married to the replacement, you know? so she has to make herself seem irreplaceable to barbara.

i think the fact that the only other person she felt she could talk to about starting the relationship with gary was fuckin' joe I think speaks to the fact she most likely has very, very few people in her circle - we hear about her family members but their dynamic seems pretty dysfunctional and arms-length, so the fact barbara has kept her in her life so long to her is like, world-altering shit. I think even in an AU where they got together... the fear of her leaving would always be in the back of her mind because of Joe. So she would basically move heaven and earth for her and whatever she says goes because she feels so lucky to have her, at least for right now, as long as she'll let her. She'll do whatever it takes. "I ain't killin' for any of you. Except Barbara."

Do I also think Barbara is whipped though? Yes. I think that's most evident in the way she's starting to take on more of Melissa's unsavoury characteristics to both make sure they can stay working together but also stay in her good graces (see: Delisha Sloss, see: being the one to suggest scamming the parents into coming to AVA Fest) even though it feels deeply unnatural.

You also see it in how, when her insecurities bubble up, she immediately is comforted by Melissa's words and takes them to heart instead of dismissing them (see: like fine wine, see: aging with dignity) and the tension she's held ALL DAY visibly unwinds near instantly.

If I look at her from a fanon context, this woman would literally be risking SO MUCH because of her attraction/love for this woman, her husband, her children, her church, literally upending her entire life, everything she's ever known, to risk being with Melissa. Just keeping her around is a huge risk because of the temptation, but she DOES keep her around. It's so fun to imagine the beginning stages of their friendship when they were much younger because of all this too, because they're so different, they have so many vastly different morals, (melissa has a rap sheet ffs!!) that it's like, even getting to KNOW her was a risk to barbara's moral character and image... but she did it anyway, over and over again, for twenty-whatever years, because she just finds Melissa that fucking delightful and charming and wonderful that she can't help herself. She's trained herself to look the other way as much as she can because the other parts of her are so worth it to her. She makes her laugh every day and she smiles when she sees her come in the room and she can't go one fucking lunch period without her sharing her table without having a Menty B. That's some fucking whippage.

#work wives #chatalentan

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silky-silks · 2 months

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Minty reminds me of a Minecraft sniffer, just as fluffy and cute :3

Well My Fellow Friend, I have to say

Minty is a Minecraft Sniffer

Well, a rejected one but I wont get too deep in that. Actually scratch that I will. Have a lore dump for you! (get your pen and paper ready because im literally about to spew 100 hours worth of pointless words)

Minty is a boy, he was part of a group of Sniffers I like to call "Sneezes."

(A group of Sniffers in my opinon is going to be called Sneeze.)

He was originally the smallest of the group until one day after randomly wandering around he finds a hanging hand parasite from oak tree. At first it had no name. Suddenly the hand parasite attached its body to Minty, casuing him to grow to a arrangment of teeth on his back as well as a awful red hue. The hand soon was able to speak, in a rather cheery and very yappy voice. Now its to note these two had no offcial name so Syrup and Minty just really didnt refer to each other as name. Also Minty cannot talk, only can make noises.

When the connection happens. Syrup explains to Minty how he got stuck in that tree. Minty surprisnly doesnt seem to mind Syrup as in his "Sneeze"no one really talked. He was interested so he kept Syrup around.

Personality

Syrup as usual is the talker of the duo while Minty is reserved in quiet. The share one thing is common and that is their curiosity. The only difference is Syrup can express his with words while Minty can only say "dum".

Goals:

One day walking through a village they saw a villager trading with someone. Syrup wanted to try it out but failed miserably as no one wanted their "good" (They didnt understand how worthy emeralds were) and couldnt really get info as the villagers became rather annoyed or scared if Syrup and Minty due to their weird looks. Determined to fit in with the group, they looked everywhere and met with other humans "Steve and Alex" to learn how to trade, along the way they discover mining and archelogy.

Other Lore Spooky Month (Oc Based)

They stay relatively the same in design for Spooky month, and I have shown a bit of then interacting with Nina and Grant

(characters belonging to ericvelseb666)

Their prescese was alarming to everyone there, literally everyone was like "WHO THE FUCK IS THAT".

Syruo became nervous and Minty grew protective of his friend. As he deliver bites and growls they were scared off by Jack and John until Stumbling across a holy site. Starry Night Bakery. Inside Syrup saw all the cool sweets, and with the little money they had at the time (more of stolen as some guy dropped their wallet and ran), they ordered a lot of Turnovers and snacks from Nina and Grant. Not understanding change they left a bit too much money and hurried off with their snacks.

(old art, this was a redone concept deisgn when I didnt know what I wanted to do with them yet)

It was the first time they felt truly accepted, and they did miss Nina and Grant as they didnt go all "Oh my god what is that?!" on them. Syrup wishes to work there but stays hidden for now. Until they heard she was hiring. And Well you get what happened next. They realize the lacked a proper name, so they gave themselves one. Well Syrup names Minty, "Minty" for his colors and Syrup names himself Syrup after eating pancakes some stranger left for them with the strange liquid on top.

Minus the Frank torture, Syrup and Minty were a grateful duo. They stuck close to Nina and Grant, and for the first time Minty became more "emotional". Always flapping his ears, sniffing and nose booping, even doing little stomps when he sees Grant. (He mistakes Grant for a sniffer for some god forsaken reason)

Syrup will bring Torchflowers for Nina whenever they can as a sign of "thanks" as they are very very grateful monsters.

WELCOME HOME

Not much content on this one as I am still working on a offical deisng for them. But Minty and Syrup are just trying to understand the universe and what is happening with HOME and the rest of the puppets.

Due to their odd looks, the neighborhood was quite questionable.

But for the meantime, Minty hates Frank for inspecting Syrup. Poor guy got Mauled.

Oh and they became uber drivers in the backrooms. Why? Dont know. Currently trying to shove them in Cuphead, so they may end up working for the devil BUT are saved by angels as they are just desperate for some work. Besides they suck at contracts, the devil himself got tired of them.

YOU CALLED AN UBER??????

CONCLUSION

Thats Minty and Syrup for ya! I know you didn't ask for all of this but hey i Wanted to treat you with some rather cool lore. So if ya choose to ignore all of this that's fine!

#minecraft sniffer #Welcome home Frank #nina velseb #grant hedony #frank frankly welcome home #oh my god #why did i write all of this at 11:pm?

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

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for your Alternate Headcanons challenge: what if madame lan was a good person

There was a knock at her door.

He Kexin went and opened it, knowing who it must be – and sure enough, it was Lan Qiren, looking distressed as ever.

Poor child, she thought fondly. He was the only one in the whole damn sect she liked, and not just because he’d always been kind to her in his own strange, distracted sort of way. He tried, quite genuinely, to live up to his sect’s rules in a way that so few of the others did…a genuinely righteous man, right when she’d been convinced that there was no such thing.

“What happened?” he blurted out, foregoing even a normal greeting. “You’re married? Did you want to be married? You didn’t even – I mean –”

You didn’t even like him that much, Lan Qiren meant. He was a blunt little thing with a fierce temper, reminding her of nothing more than a small yappy dog trying to defend its master.

“You should treat me with respect,” she teased gently. “I’m your sister-in-law now. Call me saozi.”

He just looked more upset, even though by all right he should be happy on his brother’s behalf – for the last few years, his brother had wanted nothing more than to marry her, distracting him from everything, and now he’d finally achieved his heart’s desire.

“I thought you were challenging the trial,” he said hoarsely, and He Kexin’s smile faded. “You didn’t – it wasn’t murder. You had a good reason for what you did!”

“There’s only my word for that,” she reminded him. “There’s no evidence one way or another, and against your old teacher, my reputation is far less savory… You’re the only one who believes me.”

She’d been a habitual liar, a bad habit formed in childhood; she preferred white lies or misdirections over confrontations. She’d never realized it would cost her so much.

Everyone thought she was just trying to save herself. Only little Lan Qiren…

“The rules say do not tell lies,” he said, visibly frustrated. “You aren’t lying! You wouldn’t!”

“I’m not,” He Kexin agreed. She wished that the world worked the way Lan Qiren wanted it to, but it didn’t. “This was my choice.”

“A coerced choice is no choice at all! They said that you’re going to have to stay in seclusion indefinitely!”

“Better than dying.”

“Is it?”

He Kexin faltered. She wasn’t too sure about that.

“I won’t be completely alone,” she pointed out. “I’ll meet with your brother regularly, and you’ll come to visit, I’m sure…”

“I’ll look for another way,” Lan Qiren said stubbornly. “There’s got to be something in the rules that will allow an exemption, some way out – something. And…even if there isn’t anything right now, then I’ll change the rules enough to give you a way to get out! It take years and years for even the sect leader to make a change, but it’s possible.”

“A lovely idea,” He Kexin said, smiling once again. “Pity you’re not sect leader.”

It wasn’t until Lan Qiren looked at her, something dark and miserable in his eyes, that He Kexin realized that the situation was far worse than she’d realized – that her new husband had taken advantage of the situation to renounce the dust of the world and focus on nothing but his cultivation, the way he’d always not-so-secretly wished he could…that the burden had now fallen all on Lan Qiren’s shoulders.

That that, too, was her fault.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean…I never meant for any of this.”

“It’s fine,” Lan Qiren said, even though it very obviously wasn’t. “The sect is my duty by birthright. You’re the victim here – it’s not fair.” His lip quivered. He was too young, she thought. Too young for all of this, barely more than a child himself. “It’s not fair!”

“No,” she said quietly. “It isn’t.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #madame lan #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons

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keerysquinn · 1 year

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Wherever You Point To I’ll Find ~ Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham

Nobody expected a budding romance between Steve and Chrissy when they were invited on this graduation road trip. But, as the two spend more and more time together away from the pressures their families, they just might find that they’re the perfect match.

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Tags: modern au, road trip, mutual pining, fluff, angst, discussion of mental health and body issues, eventual smut, adult themes and swearing throughout

Word Count: 8.7k

A/N: Perhaps the best part of writing this chapter was the bit that came afterwards when I got to hear @quinnkeerys read it out loud and react to it in real time. This chapter has some of my very favorite bits of the story in it, and I hope you all love it as much as I do <3

In the morning, the group ate a quick breakfast at the hotel before checking out and loading up the car. They had a long drive to Cincinnati ahead of them once they factored in the two hour detour to the World’s Largest Rocking Chair since Eddie insisted that it wasn’t a real road trip if they didn’t see the World’s Largest Something, and they wanted to get on the road as soon as possible so they could combine that detour with a stop for lunch.

Of course, getting Eddie out of bed early enough to stay on schedule meant that he was not ready to face the day when they got in the car. Soon enough, he was dozing off in the backseat, and Nancy fell asleep cuddled up next to him. The silence in the car was deafening, and it only left Chrissy to obsess over every little interaction she’d had with Steve.

It was bad enough that she'd fallen asleep on him the night before, and it only got worse when they'd left the hotel. Steve had put his arm on the back of Chrissy's seat when he'd turned to back out of their parking space, and she'd come close to swooning. She felt like a silly little school girl with a crush, and it was embarrassing. She'd just graduated. She should be over obsessing about this kind of thing by now.

But every time she'd talked herself down from the blushing mess that she'd become, Steve smiled at her as he offered her the aux cord or asked her if the air conditioning was too cold for her, and she was right back at square one again.

She was considering pretending to fall asleep just so she could avoid looking at him when he spoke up.

"So, Jason Carver, huh?"

And just like that, her butterflies were gone. Instead, she could feel the anxiety eating away at her. That horrible, gnawing feeling that appeared whenever anyone mentioned him or wanted her to talk about him. She'd gladly spend the rest of her days as a giggling idiot, embarrassing herself in front of everyone she met if it meant that she never had to hear that name ever again.

"I will literally give you every last cent in my account if you promise to never bring him up around me," she told him. She started picking at the frayed edge of her shorts and avoided looking away from her lap.

"Bad breakup?" he asked.

"Among other things."

"I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again."

"Don't be. It's not your fault . . . You know, he never had a nice thing to say about you."

Chrissy regretted bringing up Jason's opinions of Steve immediately. There was no reason for him to know about that, and now she was going to ruin any chance she had of things ever not being awkward between her and Steve all because she didn't know when to shut her mouth.

"I barely remember anything he said," she told him in an attempt to backtrack and erase her last statement. "I tended to tune him out when he got like that, and you're very obviously nothing like he said you were anyway. He just wasn't your biggest fan."

Steve huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

"He was always like one of those yappy little ankle-biting dogs," he told her. "Just loud and annoying and so desperate to make people pay attention to him. I never really liked the guy either, so whatever he said about me doesn't bother me. If he needed to try to bring me down to make himself feel better, it says a lot more about him than it does about me."

"So you're not mad at me for bringing it up?"

"Not even a little bit."

Chrissy was finally able to relax for a minute. She let out a sigh as she turned slightly to look out her window.

"I wish it was that easy for me to just not care about what other people thought of me."

She said it quietly enough that she didn't know if she was saying it to Steve or to herself, but he still heard her.

"It'll get easier for you now that you're hanging out with the right people."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

She offered up a small smile. Maybe he was right. Maybe being on this trip and spending her time with people who didn't expect a certain image from her was exactly what she needed to start brushing the harsh words off her back.

"Since talking about that is off the table, I have to ask," he started to break the silence. "How did you and Eddie start hanging out? I've come up with maybe half a dozen theories and none of them seem plausible."

"He never told you?"

"All he's ever said is that you were one of his little lost sheep, and you ended up being his favorite of the flock. Whatever that even means."

Chrissy stifled a laugh.

"That sounds like something he'd say," she replied. "And honestly, it's not even that inaccurate."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. It was maybe a little over a month into my freshman year, and auditions for the first play of the year were after school. I stayed after my last class ended and went to the drama room to get started on my English homework while I waited for auditions to start. Eddie came in and found me sitting on his throne with my nose buried in my copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream. He immediately pointed out that I was sitting in his spot and that most freshmen were smart enough to avoid the school freak. I was terrified."

"You were?" Steve asked. "I can't imagine being scared of him."

"Well yeah. That's because you're you, and you know him. I'd barely been at the school, I'd never met him before, and I'd already seen him give three speeches while standing on top of his table at lunch. He was the most intimidating of all the upperclassmen to me. So I'm just stammering and trying to explain that I didn't know it was his spot, and of course, he could tell that I was scared. When he really realized it, it was like a switch flipped. He sat down on the armrest and his whole demeanor changed. Made some comment about how I was shaking like a little bunny rabbit and asked me to scrunch up my nose so he could get the full effect. Used the overdramatics that I'd seen in the cafeteria to make me laugh until I was at ease around him. Once he could tell that I wasn't afraid of him anymore, he told me that he guessed it was okay if I sat on his throne for the time being, but if he ever caught me there again, he'd pick me up and move me himself.

"I didn't even realize that he was part of the drama club until auditions started. We were paired to read together a couple times during the auditions, and the director kept commenting about how we had this natural chemistry that she hadn't been expecting.

"When the auditions ended, I couldn't get a hold of either of my parents to come and pick me up, and none of my friends were in the drama club, so Eddie offered me a ride. After that, we were cast opposite each other as the sort of leads in the play, and the rest is history. We've been practically inseparable ever since."

“So, he essentially adopted you?” Steve asked.

“Kind of?” she said with a laugh. “Adoption feels like the right term. I consider him and his uncle as family at this point, and I’d like to think that they feel the same way. I know that our friendship makes no sense to anyone looking in on it from the outside. We’re so different, and we traveled in completely opposite social circles for the entirety of high school. On paper, this friendship shouldn’t work, but Eddie is the only person I’ve never felt like I had to hide the real me from. He’s the big brother I never wanted and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet. I’ll be sure to tease him relentlessly for it.”

“Be prepared for the most overly dramatic reaction you’ve ever seen from him then.”

“I don’t think he can get any more over the top than I’ve already seen him. You forget that I also spent four years in high school with him, and I saw many many lunchroom outbursts over the years.”

“Oh yeah? During the first play my junior year, one of the new freshmen assumed that Eddie and I were dating because of how attached at the hip we were all throughout rehearsals. After opening night, the kid asked him if he was going to take me out on a special date to celebrate our performance. When he asked the kid what he meant, his response was that obviously we needed to celebrate as a couple for putting on such a good show. He spent maybe fifteen minutes running around backstage making vomiting noises and moaning about how he could never date his sister. I was laughing so hard that I started crying, and Eddie yelled that the kid was tearing his family apart. It’s one of my favorite and most ridiculous memories from our friendship.”

“Wait. People actually thought you two were dating?”

“You know how Eddie is. Personal space has no meaning to him, so he’s always been an affectionate and physical best friend. Lots of hugs and sitting practically on top of each other and hanging off of each other for no reason. He was my ride home every day until I started driving, and even when other friends tried to make plans with either of us, Sunday afternoons were always specifically reserved for us to spend time together. It’s always been an unwritten rule of our friendship. Put all of that together, and I can maybe see why people thought that there was something more going on there. Plus, when he first started flirting with Nancy, I had to spell it out to her that we weren’t a couple, and he was actually into her. She was convinced we were seeing each other, and she’s maybe the smartest person I’ve ever met. And, for the record, half the school thought Robin was your girlfriend for similar reasons until one of the football players cornered her in the bandshell before one of the games and asked her how she bagged Harrington. She yelled that you two were platonic with a capital P, and then threatened to shove her trumpet up the nose of the next person who insinuated that you two were into each other.”

Steve choked on his laughter, and Chrissy felt a little sense of pride that she could get that reaction from him even if she was just repeating something that one of his friends had said. And with Steve laughing, she couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Their laughter woke up Eddie and Nancy, and the group decided that they were close enough to the World’s Largest Rocking Chair that they could find somewhere to stop off for lunch before finishing the last little bit of the drive there. Nancy pulled up an interesting looking diner up on her phone and directed Steve on which way to go.

It was only once they were inside the diner and being led to their table that Chrissy realized the seating dilemma. Up until this point, they’d sat at open tables or outside where she’d still have some semblance of personal space no matter who she was sitting beside. But this time, they were given a booth. Eddie slid in on one side and pulled Nancy to sit down beside him leaving Chrissy no other option than to sit beside Steve. Normally, this wouldn’t have been an issue for her. She could share a booth with a friend like that easily. She’d done it with Eddie anytime that they went out with the other drama club kids, and she’d done it with other cheerleaders during many different hangouts. But Steve was different. With the beginnings of a crush making her already feel so incredibly awkward around him, the idea of being trapped between him and the wall with no escape route both scared and excited her.

She slid into the open side of the booth, and Steve followed after her. Their knees bumped under the table as he took his seat, and Chrissy felt her heart skip a beat. She busied herself with staring at the menu in front of her in the hopes that finding a decent lunch option would be enough of a distraction from being this close to Steve that she could act normal.

She shouldn’t have been worried though. She was sitting across from Eddie, and her best friend was always up to something that would keep her from dwelling on whatever she was wrapped up in for too long. This time, he was very enthusiastically ordering a drink off of the kids’ menu and making sure that this was allowed even though he was in fact a twenty year old man and not a six year old.

“What’s so special about a Shark Attack?” Chrissy asked after their waitress had walked away with their menus to place their orders.

“You’ll see when it gets here,” Eddie told her.

She didn’t have to wait very long because the waitress returned shortly with their drinks. The only visual difference that she could see between her glass of ice water and the drink in front of Eddie was that his drink also had a tiny plastic shark sticking out of the ice and floating on top.

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “It comes with a toy and they make it look like it’s crashing out of the water.”

“That’s not the best part. Just watch.”

Nancy and Steve shared a look and an eye roll as Eddie carefully lifted the shark out of his glass and started softly singing the Jaws theme song, but Chrissy was captivated. Eddie plunged the shark headfirst into his drink as he made the accompanying shark attack noises, and the grenadine that was hidden in the shark’s mouth spilled out into the drink turning his Sprite red as if it were the ocean and the shark had just attacked someone and spilled blood.

As soon as she realized what was happening, Chrissy started giggling. She’d never been allowed to order anything like that when she was a child. Her mother always said that anything like that on the kids’ menu had too much sugar, so she had no idea that’s what was to expect from Eddie’s drink. The performance that he put on only enhanced the experience, so she couldn’t help but laugh.

Eddie was beaming at Chrissy, happy that he’d been able to pull such a reaction from her, and normally, Nancy’s attention would have been on the two of them as well. How could she not be paying attention to her boyfriend when he was making a spectacle of himself? This time, however, she found herself glancing over at Steve, and she found that he was entranced by Chrissy, too. He was just sitting there and watching her with this goofy smile on his face, and the inkling that she’d had the night before about there maybe being something starting between them only grew stronger.

Truthfully, it was the first time that Steve had looked at Chrissy that way. Maybe he didn’t notice it before because he was laughing just as hard as she was back in the car, but she was absolutely beautiful when she laughed. She scrunched up her nose, her shoulders shook, and her smile was maybe the biggest he’d ever seen it. If he could, he thought he’d maybe spend every moment with her trying to get her to look that happy for as long as he knew her.

He pulled himself away from those thoughts as quickly as he could though. She’d just implied that her last relationship wasn’t exactly the greatest, and from what she’d said when Eddie brought up making herself a dating profile, it didn’t seem like she was ready to get herself involved with anyone else right now. He didn’t even know if what he was feeling right now was attraction. All he knew was that the little voice in the back of his head was telling him that he’d never grow tired of seeing her smile.

After lunch, they made it the rest of the way to the World’s Largest Rocking Chair. Unfortunately for Eddie, there was no actual way for anyone to sit on the chair, so they had to be content with just taking photos of themselves posing in front of it.

“All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t have hurt anyone if you guys had let me try to climb up there myself,” Eddie pouted once they were back in the car.

“Except it would have hurt someone,” Nancy told him. “Specifically, you when you fell and broke every bone in your body, and I refuse to explain to your uncle why we had to cut our trip short and bring you home in a full body cast.”

Eddie didn’t have time to retort because it was at that moment that someone cut them off in traffic, and Steve had to slam on the breaks. Chrissy tensed up and braced herself for the yelling. Whenever anything like this happened when she was in the car with Jason, he spent the next five minutes honking his horn at the person who cut them off and yelling about how they needed to get their head out of their ass and learn to drive. The reaction to the offense always scared her more than anything else, and she was ready to fold in on herself until she could calm herself down from it.

But the yelling never came. There were no loud noises, and Steve didn’t lean on the horn for an extended period of time. His only reaction was to mutter something under his breath about the driver being a jackass before checking to make sure if everyone was okay. Nancy and Eddie were fine in the backseat, but when he glanced over at Chrissy, she was wide-eyed and stiff as a board.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

Chrissy nodded slightly.

“I thought you were going to yell,” she said barely above a whisper.

“I’m not gonna yell,” he said as he reached over and placed a comforting hand on her knee. “I promise.”

At first, she seemed to tense up even more under his touch, but after a moment, he felt her relax as the tension left her body.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked her again.

She nodded again, and he squeezed her knee slightly before withdrawing his hand.

“Thank you.”

Her voice sounded so tiny, and Steve couldn’t tell if it was because of the car that cut them off or whatever it was that was going on inside her head. He just knew that he never wanted her to look that scared around him ever again.

From the backseat, Nancy and Eddie shared a pointed look. They’d have to discuss this when they had a little more privacy. Neither of them could deny that there was some sort of electricity buzzing in the air between Steve and Chrissy, and Nancy was very interested in figuring out what was going on.

The rest of their drive to Cincinnati passed without any major incidents, and the group was able to enjoy their dinner at a normal hour. After they were done eating, Nancy mentioned something about them passing a cute little ice cream shop about five minutes before they made it to their dinner spot, and they should head back that way and get some dessert before heading to their hotel for the night.

Nobody was going to turn down ice cream - even Chrissy who could be content with a single scoop of plain vanilla if they didn’t have any low fat options - so they piled back into the car to head over there.

Once inside the ice cream shop, Eddie made a point of asking for samples of the six different flavors that he was interested in trying just so he could be sure that he chose the right flavor.

“What are you gonna get?” Steve asked Chrissy as he nudged her with his elbow.

“I don’t know. Probably just vanilla.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean nope?” she asked with a small giggle. “You can’t dictate my order.”

“Plain vanilla is too boring.”

“But I like plain vanilla.”

“C’mon, Chrissy. You’re on vacation. Live a little.”

Chrissy scanned the ice cream case in front of them. Nancy still had to order before it was her turn, so she had a little bit more time to change things up if she really wanted to. A few flavors stuck out to her, but she was a little overwhelmed by the options. Add in the fact that her mother would be losing her mind over her even thinking about choosing something so rich, and it was going to be a difficult decision to make.

“Okay, then what are you going to get if you know so much?”

“Mint chocolate chip. It’s superior to all other flavors.”

“You go before me then. Give me a little more time to decide since you’re forcing me to change my order.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything. I’m just trying to be a good influence and get you to enjoy your vacation to the fullest.”

Chrissy waited behind Steve as he ordered his double scoop cone of mint chocolate chip, and when it was her turn to order, she chose a single scoop of salted caramel pretzel in a cup. Steve was right. It was her vacation, and she was allowed to have a little treat if she wanted. They had so much planned for the next day that she’d burn off all the calories from this ice cream and then some, so there was no way her mother could get mad at her for a small indulgence.

“That’s not vanilla,” Eddie pointed out when Chrissy sat down at the table that he, Steve, and Nancy were already occupying.

“I know.”

“But you always get vanilla,” he continued. “I’ve never seen you get anything other than plain vanilla.”

“I’m on vacation,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. “I’m living a little.”

Steve smirked and nudged her with his elbow.

“Oh, you hush,” she said as she giggled and nudged him back.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just glad you listened to me is all.”

“You know,” Nancy started, “it makes sense that Steve would be the one to get you to try something new. He’s kind of an ice cream expert.”

“He is?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie continued. “He’s even got the little uniform to prove it.”

“What am I missing here?” Chrissy asked.

“You don’t know?” Nancy asked before turning her attention towards Eddie. “How have you never taken her there?”

“Completely slipped my mind. Usually, we just hang out at the trailer or the school. I’m only ever over there when I need to go to the music store or we’re bothering Steve. There’s no other reason to be there.”

Steve groaned. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

“Absolutely, we do,” Eddie replied. “I mean, we’re in an ice cream shop. I can’t think of a more appropriate place for us to be talking about this.”

“Can someone please fill me in on it then?”

Steve looked up at the ceiling and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Do you remember that ice cream shop in the mall?” he asked her.

“Kind of? I can’t say I’ve ever been there, but isn’t everything sailor themed with super dorky puns for the flavor names?”

“Scoops Ahoy. I kinda worked there for the last year.”

“Well, that explains why the other cheerleaders wanted to spend so much time there.”

“And you didn’t go with them?” Nancy asked.

“I don’t really eat a lot of sweets.” Chrissy stared down at her hands in her lap. “And I always figured that there was no point in going if I wasn’t going to be buying anything, so I skipped those hangouts.”

She neglected to add that the main reason she didn’t go to most of those hangouts was because of the things she’d heard from both her mother and Jason about spending time at the ice cream shop. Jason had always been more subtle in his cruelty, but whenever Chrissy had mentioned that the girls were planning on getting ice cream after a game, he’d always had something to say about how it was fine if the other girls wanted to do it, but questioned if Chrissy really wanted to have to have an extra work out session over something as silly as a little S. S. Butterscotch. Even if she had been thinking that it was maybe okay for her to get a treat, his comments always left her feeling undeserving.

Steve was too busy being grateful that Chrissy had never seen him in that goofy sailor getup to realize how quiet she’d just gotten. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed that he had worked there. He’d gotten over that a while ago. Now it was just some job that he’d had to suffer through and was glad to be rid of it now that he’d finished his last shift there. It was just easier for people to still think he was cool if they hadn’t seen him as an ice cream-slinging sailor, and part of him hoped that Chrissy thought he was maybe just a little bit cool.

Those hopes were dashed the second she spoke again.

“So, who has pictures of Steve in uniform, and when can I see them?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Steve replied. “You have to earn the right to see those pictures.”

“And how would one go about earning that right?”

“For starters, you could give me a taste of your ice cream,” he said as he reached for her cup. “Which only seems fair since I’m the one who convinced you to get something interesting.”

Chrissy moved to hold her ice cream out of his reach. “I don’t think so. If you wanted to try a new flavor, you could have gotten something other than mint chocolate chip.”

“But what if I wanted my favorite flavor and to try something new?”

“I mean, Eddie had like six different samples before he made his decision. You could have done that, too.”

“C’mon. Just one little taste and maybe I’ll let them show you one picture.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him on the bench seat that they were sharing in an attempt to be able to reach her ice cream better. Having him hold onto her like that caused her brain to short circuit, and by the time she realized what was happening, he’d already stuck a finger into her cup. Just before he was about to stick his finger in his mouth, she grabbed his wrist and accidentally made him swipe the ice cream across his own nose instead.

“I am so sorry,” she told him through her giggles. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

Part of her thought that maybe she should go and grab him some napkins or something, but she couldn’t will herself to move. His arm was still wrapped around her waist keeping her pressed up against his side, and the part of her that was harboring a crush on him wouldn’t allow her to get up.

Eddie started to say something, but he was cut off by Nancy gripping his thigh under the table. She shot him a look in an attempt to silently let him know that she wanted to see how this was going to all play out.

Across the table, Steve still had his arm wrapped around Chrissy, and neither of them were making any moves to do anything about the ice cream smeared on Steve's face. Chrissy could feel her face heating up from the intensity of the eye contact that they were making. It would have been so easy for her to just wipe it off his face herself, but she couldn't bring herself to cross that boundary. Which only made her start to think that she was being ridiculous. What boundary was left in this situation when he was still holding her so close? She was making things so awkward by not saying anything or moving, and surely, he was going to avoid her for the rest of the trip.

On the other hand, Steve was starting to think that Chrissy's silence meant that she was uncomfortable. He'd made things awkward by trying to steal her ice cream, and she was too polite to tell him off. She was probably sitting there thinking he looked like an idiot with that smear on his nose, and that's why she couldn't tear her gaze away from his face.

Steve's arm retracted from its spot around Chrissy's waist, but she didn't even have time to register that she missed it because he had chosen to wipe away the ice cream by lifting up the bottom of his shirt to use it as a napkin. Seeing the exposed skin of his chest had her thinking about him half-naked again, and she was trying very hard not to think about that as it was.

To keep herself from staring, Chrissy got up from her spot and went to grab some napkins. As he watched her rush away, Steve couldn't help but think she was desperate to put some space between them and the awkward situation he'd created.

But, when she came back to the table, she sat right back down next to him like she had been before. She handed him a couple napkins, and then produced a second spoon for her ice cream. She scooped up a little bite and held out the spoon for Steve.

"You really don't have to do that," he told her.

"I know. But I feel bad that I essentially shoved ice cream up your nose, so I think I can spare a little taste. Just this once."

Steve thanked her and took the spoon. As he ate what she offered, he promised himself that he'd do whatever it took to get Chrissy to joke around with him like that again.

"Can I ask you what's maybe a weird question?" Steve asked Eddie once they were alone in their hotel room for the night.

"Sure. What's up?"

"This morning, I brought up Jason in the car just trying to make conversation with Chrissy, and she was really vague and weird about it."

"That wasn't a question. That was a statement."

"I just wanna know why. She said it was more than just a bad break up, but she wouldn't go into detail about it. And then there was that whole thing in the car where she was afraid I was going to yell. I never wanna do anything that makes her look that terrified, you know? And I promised her that I wouldn't bring him up around her again, so I figured that I could maybe ask you about it instead."

Eddie paused in the middle of getting changed and let out a deep sigh.

"Listen," he said as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "I care about Chrissy more than I care about pretty much anyone else, and the last thing I want is for her to be scared or relive any of that bullshit, but it's not my story to tell. If she doesn't want to talk about Jason and her relationship with him, it's for a good reason, and you've gotta respect that."

"I just . . . I know you won't share all the details, but I just want to know if there's anything I can avoid doing to make her feel safe . . . Did he hurt her?"

"I told you. It's not my story to tell." Eddie got up from his spot on the bed and moved to lean against the bathroom door in an attempt to put some distance between them. He ran a hand over his face trying to wipe away the frustration he was feeling over whether he should tell Steve anything or not. On the one hand, if Chrissy hadn't wanted to talk about it with Steve, it was pretty clear to him that Steve didn't need to know the whole story. Nancy didn't even know the whole story, and Eddie typically told her everything. This was different though. He just couldn't break Chrissy's trust.

On the other hand, Eddie watched the way Steve and Chrissy played around together. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her laugh as hard as she did with Steve in the car that morning, and he could tell that these questions were coming from a place of genuine concern and not a need for gossip. So while he couldn't tell Steve the full story, he could talk about the details that he was involved in and hope that gets the point across.

"You remember how I always said that Jason was a Capital A Asshole? And how you always thought he was annoying and too focused on impressing the basketball guys over actually being a decent person? Well, take all of that and everything you assumed I was exaggerating about and make it at least fifty times shittier. He's worse than any of us ever imagined, and I didn't do anything about it because I made a promise to Chrissy that I'd stop fucking up my life on her behalf.

"So, when you ask me if he hurt her, all I can say is that I know he never laid a hand on her because if he did, I would have thrown that promise out the window, and Jason would have spent his senior year in a full body cast. But that doesn't mean he didn't put her through it, and that doesn't mean I didn't turn a blind eye to a lot of things because she told me that she could handle him on her own. And I really can't say anything more than that without betraying Chrissy's trust, and that's something I'll never do."

Steve stayed quiet after that. As much as he wanted to ask more about what Chrissy had gone through, he knew that he was dangerously close to overstepping a boundary, and he'd rather not piss off Eddie right before he was supposed to share a room with him. But he couldn't resist asking one more thing.

"So she wasn't scared of me in the car?"

"No. It wasn't you. I'm pretty sure it was just the situation. Besides, if she was scared of you, I don't think she'd have done whatever it is you two were doing with that ice cream."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Uh huh. Sure. 'Oh Chrissy, you have to let me try your ice cream. Let me just pull you up against me so you can feel how muscley my arms are.'" After impersonating Steve, Eddie switched positions and raised his voice in pitch to mimic Chrissy. "'Oh Steve, I'm ever so sorry that I turned your nose into a booger sundae. Let me sensually feed you a bite as an apology.'"

Steve grabbed a pillow from the bed that he was sitting on and hurled it at Eddie's head.

"That's not what happened and you know it. And it's not like there's anything between us anyway. We just met."

"Keep telling yourself that, Stevie," he said as he tossed the pillow back. "But I know what it looks like when you're into someone, and I definitely know what it looks like when she's into someone, so I'm pretty sure I can tell when the two of you are blatantly flirting in front of me. Do with that information what you will."

With that, Eddie ducked into the bathroom to leave Steve alone with his thoughts. He was certain that he hadn't been flirting with Chrissy. They were just a couple of buddies messing around with each other. That's all.

But no matter how much he wanted to believe that, he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that wanted to spend more time with her. That wanted to be the reason that she was smiling just like she had been earlier that evening. There was something special about her, and he was eager to learn more.

The first stop the next morning was the Newport Aquarium, and despite his best efforts, Steve was still fixated on what Eddie had said the night before. It didn't help that Eddie had dragged Nancy off to do their own thing the second that they were inside. He told himself that he was only going with Chrissy because it would be rude to leave her to wander the aquarium alone when they could easily walk around together. That was the only reason.

But then he saw the way that her face lit up when they walked into the jellyfish gallery. The lighting in the room bathed her in this purple glow, and he had to stop himself from staring at her while he was supposed to be watching the jellyfish.

That's what Chrissy was doing anyway. She wasn't gawking at Steve like an idiot the way he felt like he was staring at her. He pulled out his phone and took a few sneaky candids of her without her noticing. He knew that he was supposed to show her every photo that he took of her immediately. That was the deal they'd made anyway. She had to approve of every photo, or they had to be deleted. Those were the rules.

But he didn't want her to decide those pictures weren't worthy of saving. Not right now when he was in awe of how one person could be so beautiful. So he pulled Mister Fibbley out of his pocket and took a picture of the tiny squirrel with the jellyfish, pretending that he'd never been focused on Chrissy at all.

When he stepped around the same jellyfish enclosure that she was looking at, Chrissy waved at Steve through the glass before sticking her tongue out at him. He feigned offense before mimicking her expression, and he felt something grip inside his chest when she started giggling and making more funny faces at him. Who knew that Chrissy Cunningham was such a dork, and who knew that that was exactly Steve's type? Both of these were revelations to Steve, and he was starting to think that maybe what Eddie had said the night before wasn't as ridiculous as he'd originally thought.

He didn't know how to deal with that though. The last thing he wanted to do was make a move on her if that wasn't what she wanted and Eddie was wrong about her being interested in him. That would lead to the most uncomfortable road trip of his life, and he'd had enough of those with his parents over the years.

But he could talk to her and joke around with her. He could let her pull him around to the different exhibits and go at her pace to keep her company. He could just enjoy getting to spend time with her on her terms. And, if Eddie was right, and she was interested in him? Well, that was just a bonus.

When they'd made it through the aquarium, they separated to look around the gift shop. Steve had pretty much determined that there was nothing he wanted to buy there when he looked over at Chrissy and saw that she had the biggest smile on her face as she was looking at a small gator plushie and wiggling its paws back and forth. He watched her play with it a moment before she left it abandoned on the shelf.

The next thing Steve knew, he was at the checkout counter buying the plushie for her. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he thought that maybe he could express his interest in her in subtle ways like that, and if she was open to what he was doing, she could make the first move.

When they got back in the car, Steve passed his souvenir bag over to Chrissy.

"For you."

He watched as she pulled out the plushie and her face lit up again.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know, but I wanted to."

"Thank you. That was really sweet of you."

"Don't mention it."

He thought he could see a little bit of a blush starting to grow on her cheeks as she grinned down at the plush and wiggled its little paws again, and he smiled to himself. He thought that maybe he could be content with just being the one to make her look that happy. For now.

The next stop on Nancy's itinerary was Loveland Castle. She was hoping to explore a little, and Eddie figured he could use it as inspiration for a future campaign. Chrissy just wanted to find a shady spot to relax and enjoy how nice of a day it was, and Steve offered to keep her company. They planned on making the drive to West Virginia that night, and he figured he could take the time to relax since he'd be the one doing the late night drive.

The two found a tree to sit under, and Steve sprawled out in the grass with Chrissy sitting beside him. He just looked so peaceful laying there with his eyes closed and his arms back behind his head that she couldn't resist taking the opportunity to snap a couple candids for him.

As she was taking her last picture, Steve opened his eyes.

"Oh, are we taking candids now?" he asked.

"Just a couple. I hope that's okay."

"Doesn't bother me. It just means that I should probably take a couple of you."

"You don't have to do that. I don't need more pictures of myself."

"C'mon, Chrissy," he started as he sat up. "How are you ever gonna have a decent Bumble account if you don't have any pictures for it?"

"Fine. But I still get to choose which ones get deleted, okay?"

Steve nodded before pulling out his phone. He took his first picture a little too early and caught Chrissy mid-stretch.

"I wasn't ready yet!" Chrissy said as she moved her hands to cover her face. "You have to delete that one."

"They're not candids if you're posing for them though. Just trust the process. Relax and ignore the fact that I'm here."

So, that's what she did. She ignored Steve and played with her phone. She leaned back and looked off into the distance. She tried to be relaxed and calm and casual and cool and everything that she thought she should be in pictures. She let Steve work his magic.

But, with every picture that he took, Steve couldn't come up with a good reason why he was doing this. There was something special about Chrissy. She joked around with him and made goofy faces. She had the best smile, and she was so easy to talk to. She was beautiful, but she was so much more than that, and the idea of some other guy getting to experience all of that because of pictures he took made him sick. He wanted to be the one to make Chrissy blush, and with every picture he took, he felt a pang of jealousy echoing in his chest.

"Can I see them now?" Chrissy asked, biting down on her lower lip.

Steve hesitated. He hated that he did it, but he hesitated. Even in the photo where she was stretching, she was maybe the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He didn't want some other guy seeing these. He knew it was selfish and wrong of him the second he did it, but he lied to her.

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't think they turned out very good. They're kind of blurry. I just dont think I'm very good at catching just the right moment, you know? But we can try again later if you want."

"That's okay," she said as she stared at her lap. "I understand."

And maybe if Steve wasn't feeling so guilty about lying to her, he would have seen the way her face fell.

He might have said that the pictures were unusable because they were blurry, but in Chrissy's mind, she knew the real reason. She just didn't photograph well. She could hear her mother's voice in the back of her mind telling her that she didn't have any good angles, so there was no point in trying. No picture of her would ever be good enough, and Steve was too nice to tell her the truth. He only said they were blurry to protect her feelings.

As much as she hated those thoughts, they stayed with her, and she stayed quiet. As her mind played tricks on her and attacked the very little self-confidence she had, she didn't speak much throughout dinner, and she spaced out in the car afterwards.

Nancy and Eddie had fallen asleep in the back seat, and Steve was focused on the road, so that left her to stare out the window alone with her thoughts and the musical theater playlist that she'd convinced Steve to let her put on playing softly in the background.

"You're really quiet over there. What's on your mind?" Steve eventually asked her.

"Nothing."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She had pulled out her phone and flipped through her camera roll. With every single picture of herself that she saw, the voice in her head got louder as it pointed out every single imperfection - real or imagined. The voice in her head didn't care. It just wanted her to feel as small and insignificant as it knew she was.

Steve glanced over at her and noticed what she was doing. He also noticed that she looked close to tears, and that nearly broke him. He didn't know what was going on in her head, but he knew it couldn't be good from the look on her face. He wasn't stupid. He noticed how quiet she got after he'd taken her picture earlier, and he noticed how quiet that she'd been since then. More quiet than she usually was. And he had a feeling that it was probably his fault. The guilt from earlier resurfaced, and he knew that he had to do something to keep her from crying. So, he did the only thing he could think of. He unlocked his phone and passed it over to her.

"Open my camera roll and then open the favorites tab," he told her without looking away from the road.

Chrissy was hesitant, but she followed his instructions and was surprised to find that all of his recent favorites were of her. There were a handful of the photos that he'd taken outside of the castle, but there were also a bunch of photos she hadn't realized he'd taken. Ones of her all throughout the aquarium. One of her laughing at one of Eddie's stupid jokes. Just a bunch of tiny moments that he'd wanted to preserve.

"If it isn't already obvious, I lied earlier," he told her. "There was nothing wrong with any of the photos I took of you, and I'm sorry for whatever my lies made you think. I just hated the idea of you asking me to delete them, and I really couldn't stand the idea of another guy seeing them. That doesn't justify what I did, but you deserved to know the truth. It was a dick move, and I'm really sorry. You can text whichever ones that you like to yourself and delete them off my phone if you want. And you don't have to save your number or anything if you think I'm a jerk. I'll understand if you don't really wanna talk to me anymore after that."

Chrissy stayed quiet as she flipped back through Steve's favorites folder again. She tried to see herself the way that he did, and while it didn't fully quiet her mother's voice, the fact that Steve liked the way she looked enough to consider pictures of her his favorites helped to make it a little quieter.

"So you don't think I look terrible?" she asked.

"Terrible? How could anyone ever think you look terrible?" he asked. "You're beautiful, Chrissy, and anyone who's ever made you feel otherwise is clearly blind."

"For the record, I don't think it was a dick move," she said after a moment. "It's actually kind of sweet."

"Oh yeah? Does that mean you've got a bunch of photos of me that you haven't shared yet?"

He glanced over at her and noticed that she'd started blushing again. He'd never get tired of having that effect on her.

"It's fine," he told her. "Keep them to yourself if you like. I'm starting to think that maybe dating apps aren't really my thing."

"It's the same for me. Who needs 'em?"

"Yeah, who needs 'em?"

The pair shared a smile before Steve turned his full attention back towards the road, and Chrissy went back to looking at Steve's camera roll. She sent herself every single picture that Steve had saved of her. Maybe if she looked at herself through Steve's eyes, it might be a little easier for her.

She was about to tell him that she was saving her number in his contacts when she realized he was softly singing along to the song that was playing - "Her Voice" from the Little Mermaid stage musical - and she whipped her head around to face him.

"How do you know this song?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"You're singing. And maybe this is me making a silly assumption, but I really didn't think that the Steve Harrington was a musical theater guy. Especially a musical theater guy who knows a song that only appears in the stage adaptation of a Disney classic."

"I had this nanny as a kid who was really into musicals. I don't remember most of the stuff she played for me, but she was really into The Little Mermaid, and I guess this one song just kind of stuck? It just sounds nice." He shrugged. "Maybe a more important question, but why don't you ever sing along? Someone who's passionate enough about musicals to have created their own musical theater playlist definitely seems like the kind of person to sing along to said playlist in the car."

"Oh, I'm not much of a singer. I love musicals, but I'm not really the kind of person to be in them."

From the tone of her voice, he could tell there was something else going on there, but he didn't want to press her any further. He could ask her more about that another time.

When they finally made it to the hotel, they woke Nancy and Eddie up, and the group made their way into their separate rooms.

Nancy was back asleep almost as soon as she climbed into bed, but Chrissy stayed up for just a little bit longer. She found herself scrolling through the photos that Steve had taken of her again, and she couldn't help but smile. She picked her favorite of the ones that he'd taken at the castle earlier, and she posted it to her instagram account. No long and wordy captions. Just a single smiling emoji surrounded by hearts.

Just as she was about to set her phone down, her screen lit up with two notifications. The first let her know that she'd been followed by the account of one Steve Harrington, and the second let her know that he was the first to like her photo. She bit her lip in a smile as she sunk down into her pillows, and she fell asleep thinking that maybe the little voice in her head was wrong. Maybe she really was beautiful.

#cheerscoops #harringham #steve x chrissy #chrissy x steve #my writing #wyptif

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jeusschrist2005 · 2 years

Text

Let Your Heart Be Light|| Pierre Bezukhov x femme!Reader

Word count: 5900

Summary: Count Bezukhov enchants you at a Christmas Ball

Warnings/tags: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv sex, princess!reader

Characters: Pyotr “Pierre” Kirillich Bezukhov, Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, Vasily “Vaska” Denisov, Andrei Nikolayevich Bolkonsky, Elisabeta (“Lise”/“Liza”/ “little princess”) Bolkonskaya, many other mentioned characters

Authors note: sorry

The woman prattled on, pinching your rosy, windburned cheeks as she complimented your beauty, your youth. You took it in stride and played it off as though you recognized the strange woman who was all over your personal space.

“You are such a doll,” she continued her cheerful speech, “you’re the prettiest girl at the party. By far.” You could smell the alcohol on her breath. Her face was inches from yours and it was almost laughable.

You smiled widely. As you were about to make your modest reply, a young voice interrupted.

“That’s not quite twue,” he said, his heavy lisp as endearing as you remembered. “She can’t be the pwettiest girl at the party — that title is weserved for you.”

The woman laughed haughtily, “Oh, Vaska, you flatter me so!” She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him square on the nose.

Vasily Denisov, as young and dashing as ever, turned to face you. “It’s a pleasure to see you,” he said timidly.

“It’s been too long,” you agreed, and greeted him with an awkward embrace. He was around five years younger than you; a fine gentleman, and handsome in the face yet wiry in the body. He acted as an adult, and you were amused by his frankness. He whisked away from you and the woman — who’s name you still could not remember, even though you really should — after a few short minutes of small talk.

The woman — you silently prayed for someone to reveal her name — was only tipsy enough to make a fool of herself and still remember it the next day. She leaned against you slightly, and you didn’t mind much because she was so inviting. On the few occasions you’d crossed her before, she was always at her best, ever a great guest. She was loved and respected even in her buffoonery.

“Why don’t we sit down?” You offered and begin leading her to a velvet chaise in a less busy corner of the great ballroom. She followed along.

You sat silently for a minute, soaking in the moments of peace that you got when nobody talked.

The crowd shifted busily. The sheer amount of people was overwhelming, especially considering you hadn’t gone out in years. But the women were graceful, beautiful, and letting themselves drink in attention from boys without fear of judgment. They chatted, and flirted, and drank and ate. The men stood tall and proud, the older ones telling stories nobody wanted to hear, and the younger engaging in playful (and obnoxious) banter. You took joy in seeing their joy. You were happy too, even talking to a woman who you sparsely remembered. The Christmas spirit was high, and most everyone’s face was ruddy with glee.

The decor was elegant, not too understated and not too tacky either. The curtains were open to allow the delicately crafted high windows to pour moonlight over guests. The simple silver accents lent a glimmer to the evening. The lighting was just the right amount of romantic and practical. You felt enlightened, and as you looked to the little crucifix that hung above the grand entrance, you smiled, feeling He was there with you tonight, guiding your heart and your head.

“What a lovely evening,” Lisa Bolkonskaya said as she took a slow, careful seat on the arm of the chaise. You turned in surprise and greeted, then smothered her with a kiss on each cheek.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.” You smiled honestly. It was always a joy to see the little princess, as giggly and yappy as she could be. She was beautiful, young, with just a sheen of tragedy hidden underneath her carefree composure.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” remarked Princess Bolkonskaya.

“I am. It’s so nice to be out.”

“I'm beginning to think someone slipped something in your drink, you’re acting so out of the ordinary,” the older woman budged in, and the girls both laughed.

“Marya!” Liza chastised and in a mannish gesture stooped down to kiss the middle-aged woman’s knuckles.

Marya! How could you forget Marya Dmitrievna?

You scoped out the people while Marya and Liza chatted (and Marya sure could chat). You recognized a few people, but not enough to go up and chat with them. You were closest to the Bolkonskys, and you found no company in any other aristocratic family. They were, for the most part, stuck up and snobbish, but you’d found friends in Marya Bolkonskaya (who was absent) and her aloof sister in law who you were currently chatting with.

Towards the center of the room you found the younger generation: Denisov, Natasha, Nikolay, Sonya, and a few others that you couldn’t quite name. Boris Drubetskoy was somewhere away from the rest of the younger generation — he was a boy who was more reserved. You swept the room, wondering if the sweet boy had attended at all (and also seeking the nonchalant Prince Andrei, who you loved like a brother). You saw the lovely Princess Hélène Kuragina leading a group composed of mainly handsome women, Old Count Ilya Rostov (our host) stood in a larger circle including his wife and a few honorable older society members, a rowdier group led by Anatole Kuragin, and various small groups like the one you were in.

You glanced up through the crowds of people whisking about when somebody caught your eye. Dressed in a high collared shirt and rich black trousers stood a man you couldn’t quite place. His wide, obtrusive stance confirmed that he was someone of importance — or maybe just someone stupid enough to think so. He was chatting excitedly with Prince Andrei Bolkonsky — wild gestures and urgent voice. You could hear him when you focused on him; his voice carried through the din like a hot knife through butter. Normally, it would annoy you, but his ignorance of social rule seemed to be a quirk of his character rather than a genuine flaw.

You turned to find Marya Dmitrievna gone, and Liza coming onto the cushion to take her place. Upon seeing your confused look Lise said, “She recognized someone across the room.”

“Oh,” you said quietly.

Without a third person, your conversation turned much more intimate. You and Liza talked of theatre and books, prayer and outings, but most importantly: men. You were single, and had been for years, and Liza was of course married to the esteemed Prince Andrei Bolkonsky. She hopelessly adored him, and a cloud rose over her thin brow when you mentioned her pregnancy. She quickly averted the topic of discussion.

“Andrei is perfect — my baby is healthy as far as the doctors say, and I… Well, I don’t want to think about being left because of war and fighting.”

“Andrei couldn’t have found a better, prettier wife than you, dear Lise, he will make sure you’re safe. And by my word he shall be safe.” You embraced the small girl tenderly. After pulling away, and seeing how her thin lip trembled, the princess whispered a thanks, then shook her head to rid her troubling thoughts. She put on that usual plastic smile. Your heart broke on her behalf.

“There are lots of bachelors here tonight,” the little princess began, righting herself, “who do you fancy?”

“I haven’t had a chance to look,” you laughed awkwardly. All the men were quite the same: bald and dull elderly men, young obnoxious boys, and boisterous gentlemen who had no interest in anyone but themselves. “And I would not ‘fancy’ any of them.”

“You've set your standards too high. Or perhaps too low!” Lise said cheerfully. She stood slowly and you jumped up to support her. She turned you out to look at the crowd with her. “Go, go on and have a drink. Socialize!” She encouraged you with a gentle push.

You stumbled and turned back around to her.

“I will not make a fool of myself, Lise.” You said harshly and took your seat on the chaise again. Lise had already sat back down. “You’re a good helper, but no. That is too forward.”

Lise looked at you in feigned sadness. You smiled in amusement at her face.

“The only way you’ll embarrass yourself is by being awkward and fretful, like you are now!” Lise said, in her normal happy tone. She pulled your hand away from where it picked at your laced bodice. “Have some manners, sit up tall. And tell me, truthfully now, who is it that you fancy?”

“Who’s put the idea in your head that I fancy anyone?”

“I get this feeling…” Lise trailed off and surveyed the room. Her eyes landed on the beautiful Hélène, who was draped elegantly over her chair and talking to her brother, Anatole. He was quite handsome, and his languid attitude enticed you (it enticed most high-society women, though none would admit it). Even still, there was something off about the Kuragins. Lise began to speak again, “You look sunnier than ever…there’s something in the eyes. Who’s caught your attention?”

You glanced over to Anatole briefly, then at Prince Andrei, wondering when he would save you from this increasingly perilous conversation with his gossipy wife.

“Say,” you began, and pointed with your glass to the foolish man you had spotted earlier. You’d been itching to find out who he was. “Who is that man with your husband?”

“You’re kidding,” Lise laughed lightly, “that’s Pierre Bezukhov.”

“As in Count Bezukhov?”

“Yes, the talk of the town. How dont you know him?” said Lise in a hushed tone.

“You know him?”

“Of course. He’s Andrei’s best friend. Sometimes he feels more like his wife than I do,” Lise laughed. “Oh, they’re such fools together.” She reminisced. Then in an incredulous tone: “Do you like Pierre?”

“No! I haven’t even spoken to the man,” you shook your head but your flushed cheeks gave you away.

“Let’s introduce you to him,” Lise said and cut you off when you went to deny the offer, “He’s a very nice man. Kind-hearted and all. But I must warn you he’s no good morally — really, it’s a wonder he showed up at all after last time.”

“Last time?” You asked. Lise either ignored you or didn’t hear you. She scoured the crowd, found her husband and met eyes with him and beckoned him over.

Andrei strode through the crowd to his poor wife and kissed her briefly on the cheek before having a hushed conversation with her; one which you dared not intrude on. Andrei pulled back from his wife’s ear, a disconcerted expression gracing his stony face. He bowed to you, and you to him.

Pierre stood awkwardly trailing behind his friend as if awaiting instruction. You glanced at him over Andrei’s shoulder. He was already looking at you. He shot you a sheepish grin and you looked down at your hands abashedly.

Prince Bolkonsky pushed Pierre forward with significant strength, and Pierre stumbled awkwardly into your view. You stood to greet him, seeing that he was more afraid of you than you were of him — that, and the circumstances had hardly been explained to him.

Pierre looked over your shoulder at Princess Bolkonskaya for assistance, then at her husband, before finally looking over his spectacles at you. Lise introduced you to Pierre.

“It’s an honor to meet you, madame,” Pierre said, taking your extended hand and pressing his dry lips to it.

“Likewise, Monsieur Pierre,” you smiled, “I’ve heard much about you.”

“Nothing too embarrassing, I hope,” said Pierre, flushing all the way to his ears and glancing at Andrei. Pierre was renowned for his poor social skills; many people blamed it on his education abroad and the undoing that came from that, but he was always an awkward young thing, and about as stubborn as a mule.

“Nonsense,” you smiled, your white teeth gleaming in the low, warm light. Pierre smiled a close-mouthed smile, characteristically ungainly yet endearing.

Wanting to change the subject and break the awkward silence between you four (Lise and Andrei watching you and Pierre exchanging shy glances), Lise broke in: “Do you have a partner to dance with, Monsieur Pierre.”

Pierre shook his head hastily but looked over at pretty Hélène, who was all sparkling smiles and perfect golden hair.

You looked up at Andrei, who smiled down at you almost encouragingly. It was obvious he knew something that you did not, and you sent him a wary look. In this silence, Pierre had grown fidgety and tense.

Lise went on: “Why don’t you go dance together?”

The little princess clasped her husband's hand in her tiny ones and looked between you and Pierre as if this was the brightest idea she’d had in ages.

Pierre looked to you in alarm and your face mirrored his own panic. It might’ve been comical if you weren’t placed in one of the most uncomfortable situations of your life. Regaining composure, and with an uncomfortable laugh, you said: “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Lise.”

“I don’t see why not,” Pierre jumped in before Lise could answer to you. His objection came unexpected to you. He was obviously obsessed with someone else — why should he dance with you?

“Go on with him,” smiled Lise. You looked to Andrei, who was hardly listening. Lise followed your gaze. “The doctors say I shouldn’t dance, though I wish Andrei and I could join you. Don’t let me stop you from having a good time.”

“What do you say, princess?” Pierre ejected.

You felt cornered. Had you any choice? You collected yourself, smoothing the folds of your blue satin gown.

“I think it would be splendid,” you smiled. “I’ll dance with you, Monsieur Pierre, when it’s next appropriate.”

Pierre smiled, showing a row of slightly crooked teeth; it was the kind of smile that could brighten a room of utmost depression. Even Andrei, who was perpetually drained, had the beginnings of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth upon seeing his happy friend. You sat on the chaise next to Lise and waited expectantly for the two men to do something (go away, you hoped. You were awfully embarrassed and dying for a conversation with your dear friend).

Andrei kept standing over his wife. Pierre shuffled and sat at the edge of the chaise, just too close to you that it demonstrated his social ineptitude . He let his long, stout legs spread open mannishly. You almost scoffed. His unawareness was at once sweet and bothersome.

“I’m no good at meeting new people,” (he said this to you as if it were one of his deepest secrets, looking at you in earnest), “I never fail to make a fool of myself. I hope you understand I don’t mean to offend you… or be at odds with you. I understand perfectly if you don’t want to dance.”

“Oh, heavens no. You’re perfect.” You squeezed his bicep in reassurance, though maybe it was a step too far. “I’m just as out of practice as you are.”

“I highly doubt that,” he said leaning closer to your ear, “I could see from across the room how graceful you are.”

“You’d be mistaken. I have as much grace as a newborn fawn.”

“Nonsense. You’re as lithe and as beautiful as a ballerina,” he said.

You blushed, and brushed your hair out of your face. Pierre was about a head taller than you. He naturally talked quite softly, leaning towards the ear of the people he talked to — you’d seen him moments earlier doing it with Andrei — and it added to his friendly, intimate character.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” He quickly tried to back out of his statement, grabbing both your hands and forcing you to look at his sincere worried expression. It only made your heart pound harder. You shook your head.

“You’ve been a perfect gentleman, Pierre.”

Pierre smiled, and looked down at your hands which he still gripped. You wore indigo satin evening gloves which matched your dress. You allowed him to examine your gloves, and then his eyes sweeped your gown.

“Your gown — it’s spectacular. And your hair, it’s plaited so finely.”

You turned your head to the side to hide your embarrassment. “You’re too kind,” you said coyly.

“I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you… I don’t mean to impose. You’re just so darling that I can’t help but tell you so.”

“You’re all right. I can’t say I don’t like how you talk to me.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled widely.

You felt as though you were flying in Pierre’s strong grip. The waltz was slow and romantic, something you hadn’t expected for a holiday event, but you were thankful for it. You starved for romance, and this is the closest you’d gotten in all your years. The girls around you with their handsome partners carried all the grace in the world, but you (and Pierre, though you didn’t know it) felt like a fumbling idiot. Pierre led you dutifully.

You looked over to you right and saw young Natasha dancing with Denisov. They laughed happily, and Natasha, with so much grace for such a young woman, danced beautifully. She reminded you of a ballerina in a jewelry box. You couldn’t help but admire her for her skills; skills which you lacked. In some way you felt proud, yet in another way you felt defeat.

Pierre squeezed your hand and you turned your head to look at him.

“You are far away,” he noted. “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, I was just admiring the other dancers. Everyone is so light on their feet… I feel foolish.”

Pierre smiled at your bashfulness. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re the best dance partner I’ve had.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.” He took your entwined hands and kissed yours. You blushed.

“That’s a loaded compliment.”

“It’s the truth,” he laughed. “I’ve never enjoyed myself so much while dancing. I can’t help but think it has something to do with you.”

You smiled. You couldn’t take his onslaught of compliments. It made your stomach tense and your palms sweat. You felt you didn’t deserve the niceties from someone so noble.

“You’re very humble for such high status,” you said instead of accepting his compliment. “I like that about you. You don’t put on airs.”

“My status isn’t high,” Pierre corrected you.

“You’re doing it now, Count Bezukhov!” you teased him.

“Is that why you agreed to dance with me?” Pierre retorted. He left it at that and you didn’t pry, only smiling politely as he spun you around the room.

You couldn’t help but feel dizzy with happiness. You felt like you could go home and write in your diary about Pierre, like a dumb teen. You could almost imagine yourself jumping and jittering at the thought of him, praying to God at night that He would give you just one kiss with Pierre.

The song soon came to an end, and Pierre ended the dance with a joyful flourish. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment and laughed. You clapped gently for him and he bowed to you.

“You’re an energetic dancer!” you told him.

He laughed dryly. “I have two left feet, and I am already out of breath,” he said and swiped a hand through his now matted, sweaty hair.”it’s awful hot in here. Will you excuse me to the washroom?”

For a few stressful minutes, you walked the ballroom looking for Lise, who might save you from the embarrassment of being alone. You could not find her in the main room, and took it upon yourself to search the mansion on your own.

You creaked open the door to a multitude of rooms, all of which were empty or held servants doing chores. One maid had explained to you that she had seen two young girls going into the winter garden, just past the master’s bed chamber (Count Bezukhov, as you would have it, was generously allowing Count Rostov to host the Annual Christmas Ball at his mansion in Petersburg).

After leaving that servant, you kept walking down the hallways, looking outside every once in a while to try to catch a glimpse at the garden, but to no avail. From the hall you could see that there was a room that would give you a good view of the entire courtyard. You pushed the door open.

Pierre started when you burst through the door, embarrassment instantly written across your face. He was toweling his own face, which he had splashed with cold water.

“Were you looking for me?” Pierre asked a bit playfully.

“No,” you said plainly. You stood in uncomfortable silence as you drank Pierre in for the umpteenth time that evening. You let your eyes track down his body — solid and strong.

“You forget yourself,” he teased you.

“I can’t help myself,” you admitted, and in seconds the regret hit like a ton of bricks. Sure, you had been searching for Liza’s comfort, but some part of you had been hoping you’d find Pierre in the expansive halls of the mansion.

Pierre’s cheeks flushed red. His tiny mouth clamped shut. With a practiced hand he slid his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose, and with the air of a elderly man titled his chin towards his chest to peer at you over the top of them. He smiled then said: “Really?”

Your first impulse was to say no, run out of the room, and send for a cab home. Instead, you stayed in the room (which, embarrassingly, was Pierre’s own bed chamber; the corner was furnished with a tiny basin (which drained out into a bucket on the floor) with a mirror above it, a well hidden chamber pot, a velvet armchair, and various toiletries— all of it separated from the main area by a room divider) and locked eyes with Pierre.

“I haven’t ever had such fun at a ball.” you blurted, land never have I been so besotted with a man.”

Pierre stared at you with a slight gape (he often would have his mouth slightly open when he was thinking of a response). His eyes were tender while they gazed upon you. The candle light flickered but it darent go out, for it would leave the two of you in complete darkness. You prayed it would not go out.

“I adore you,” was all Pierre could manage to say. His voice dropped with lust. He stayed standing as if he were a lost child. Pierre’s pupils were dilated in the dim light, and he looked so pretty. His high ruffled collar made his round face even softer and more inviting. His expressive brow, high cheekbones, and soft brown hair were exemplified in the incandescent candle light. He looked especially attractive in the blue light filtering in from the window, causing a solemn, gentle, and soft beauty on his face.

“You do?” You asked — not in disbelief, but as a means of testing the man.

“I do,” said Pierre and took a cautious step in your direction before stopping again and playing at the cuff of his shirtsleeve.

You took slow steps toward him. The only sound was the howl of the wind outside and Pierre’s uneven breathing. Once within a foot of him you took his hand in yours, pressed it to your cheek, and said: “Show me.”

Pierre took his spectacles off and set them on a chair that sat in the corner near the bathtub. With two gentle fingers he turned your chin up to briefly meet his glittering eyes before leaning in for a chaste, gentle kiss. And then another, deeper one. He held your face in his hands for a moment after — lips slightly open and slick — just to look at you.

The candle flickered dangerously as you pulled him for another kiss and you two were encased in pale-white moonlight. The room was cold, but pulled so close to Pierre you were warm enough.

You pushed into the prolonged kiss hastily and greedily. Pierre, spineless though he was, commandeered you into a slow, sensual pace. You put your open palms on his wide chest and he let his wide hands roam over your back. You pressed your body into him, trying to get impossibly closer to the count. The kiss grew heated, and soon the two of you were panting and groaning like fumbling adolescents.

Pierre walked you backwards to the washbasin, never letting go of you once along the way. He spun you by the hips to turn you around, catching you off gaurd. You cling to the edge of the basin to regain your balance. You asked nervously: “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” said Pierre, and his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you in place. He rested his chin on your shoulder, then pressed his hips into the soft skin of your bottom. You could feel that he was hard, and the gasp you let out caused a smug smile to unfurl across his lips.

“Pierre,” you breathed, excited byhis forwardness, but anxious all at once.

“I want to make you mine…” Pierre breathed huskily into the nape of your neck, and bit playfully at your ear lobe. You peered into the looking glass at your disheveled self — hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes wide and love drunk — and to think all you had done so far was kiss and be held. You were desperate for Pierre.

He noticed you looking in the mirror and held eye contact with you through it. He took your chin into his grip and positioned your gaze in the mirror to be on his, the other hand resting low on your abdomen.

“Do you see how debauched you look? I could take your right here, over the basin.”

“You devil,” you said as you squirmed in his grip, but his hands only tightened on your hips, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“I would,” said Pierre, “I would if you’d let me.”

“You make me ache, Pierre. I need you,” you replied in an attempt to stall.

“Will you let me have you?” Pierre asked and planted a ticklish kiss just under your ear lobe. You pushed into his touch. His and your faces were flushed in a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. You nodded, blushing harder with shame, and half-whimpered out a “yes”.

Pierre’s calloused, bear-like hands settled on your hips and pulled you flush to his. Through his britches you felt his stiffness against you, a new sensation which flinted sparks up your spine. He pushed your hips flush against the cold porcelain of the sink. Slowly, he lifted up your skirt and underskirt, to expose your bloomers and garters. His hand slipped between your inner thighs.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” Pierre hummed lowly. You shook your head; he kissed your shoulder again. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes please,” you whispered. His fingers traced along the front of your thighs, then, gently through your underwear, along the crease between your thigh and your sex, before brushing along your slit. He brushed over your clit. You jolted.

“Are you okay?” Pierre asked.

“Yes,” you nodded, embarrassed at your response. “Keep going, please.”

He shed his gloves then continued his ministration along your vagina. He continued to tease at your clit, then dipped two fingers gently into the slick that gathered there. He prodded gently at your hole, which was begging for his long, slender fingers. He checked your face in the mirror — seeing it anxious and flushed, then brought his hand away.

“Why don’t we lie down? You’re shaking.”

You nodded your agreement. Pierre stepped away from you and you moved from your place over the sink. You flattened the folds of your dress, then awkwardly walked over to Pierre’s mattress and sat on it. He followed you, and with unprecedented abruptness, leaned down to kiss you. He missed and planted a sloppy kiss on your nose tip.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling happily, then pecking your nose again. “I can’t help myself.”

“I need you,” you said softly. You loved him in that moment — truly and fully, with every ounce of your being — and you felt that you needed to become one with him, whatever that meant.

“I need you too,” Pierre breathed, “lie back. I must have you.”

“Take me,” you said, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. You situated yourself on the bed better. Pierre pulled up your skirts a bit, spread your plush thighs with his large hands, and nudged his head underneath them. He slid your underwear to the side, then tongued at your folds. Instinctively, you closed your thighs around his head.

“Relax,” Pierre said, muffled by your many layers, “Let me get you wet for me.”

You laid back and allowed him to explore you, finding pleasure in the way he licked, kissed, and sucked at you. The little whimpers you let out seemed to encourage Pierre, as he ate you out, moaning in pleasure himself. By his undoubted skill and little noises, it was obvious that it made him feel just as good as you did.

All too soon, Pierre extracted himself.

“Turn around,” Pierre said and nudged your shoulder. He unlaced the back of your dress and the bodice of it fell off your shoulders. You shimmied your gown off and were left only in your undergarments. Your chemise and corset came off easily with assistance from Pierre and his nimble fingers (which surprised you due to their fatness). Then you slipped down your stockings, garters, and were left with your breasts exposed and nipples peaked in only your bloomers in the impossibly cold room. Pierre still had most of his clothes on, only having removed his expensive brown coat.

“You’re ravishing,” uttered Pierre as he drank in your nakedness. His moon-eyes wandered over your body, and with a curious innocence, Pierre dragged his finger tips ticklishly across your rib cage. Goosebumps rose along your skin.

You let Pierre look at you, watching him silently explore you. You led his hand up to cup your breast and with similar curiosity Pierre thumbed your nipple, watching entranced as he did. Your body's reactions seemed to enthrall him.

Pierre palmed at his crotch in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that was growing there. You sat up a bit as you curiously watched Pierre undo the buttons of his pants.

“Can I?” You asked, hands hovering above his crotch. He nodded his assent. You clumsily unbuttoned his trousers , then reached into his tented drawers to feel his swollen cock. You marveled at it for a second — having never been intimate with a man before — delighting in the warmth of it, the stiffness; the pinkish, leaking tip. Experimentally, you moved your fist over his erection in a pumping motion. Pierre’s little huffs reassured you that you were doing okay. You spread the tiny bit of precum leaking from the tip along his shaft and he hissed from the sensitivity of it.

“Feels good,” Pierre praised, “you’re doing so well.”

You blushed, feeling childish under his approving words. You let go of his cock. You asked impatiently, and partly to hide your shame, “Can we move on?”

“Of course,” Pierre said and brushed your hair out of your face, “are you sure you’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready all night,” you said dreamily, looking down at your hand, which Pierre intertwined with his. Pierre kissed your cheek.

Much like Pierre assisted you in the removal of your dress, you assisted Pierre. Once both left only in your undergarments, the discomfort in your stomach dissolved. Although it was strange to see Pierre without his pretty ruffle-collared shirt on, it felt right to be vulnerable with him. You laid back on the bed and Pierre moved to hover over you. Together you slipped down your underwear, and he his. He went between your legs. Pierre was being especially slow and careful with you — as if you were some delicate thing — and you loved it. You did feel delicate underneath him, but he felt as if he too were made of glass.

Pierre kissed you again as he finally began to make a move, just fingering at your now soaked cunt to prepare you — or perhaps prepare him. He slid one long finger inside easily, then another, and curled against the spongy area/spot inside you that made you twitch. You could feel him smile against your lips.

“Tell me how you feel,” commanded Pierre.

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, overwhelmed with the sensation and emotions that the young count pulled from within you. “I need you.”

“I’m right here, my sweetness.”

At long last, Pierre positioned himself above you so that he could penetrate you. He teased at your clit with the head of his penis, driving you up the wall in agitating anticipation. He thrust against you, just rubbing against your core and enjoying the sensation of being close to you.

It wasn’t long before he positioned his tip against your hole. He slid slowly inside you. Once fully encased, he started up a slow pace, which was slightly uncomfortable at first, but quickly became pleasant. You were satisfied to go slow with him and delighted in the way you fit together like a puzzle piece; you were satisfied to hold him; satisfied to look at him; satisfied to hear his quiet grunts as he thrust into you.

“Are you good?”

“Yes,” you half-squeaked. “You can go a little harder.”

He listened to you, putting more pressure into his thrusts and brushing up against your g-spot, rubbing you in just the right way. Your fluids gathered around the base of his cock.

“So good,” Pierre praised you, “you’re doing so good. Look so pretty like this.”

His face was red and sticky with sweat. You brushed his hair back from his face and forced him down for a kiss — you were too overwhelmed by the way he looked; he was gorgeous even looking a mess. He nuzzled your chest as he thrust erratically into you, then kissed down it and took one of your nipples into his mouth, nipping and suckling it. The added sensation caused you to clench around him, and he groaned beautifully against your breast. You could feel the pressure in your cunt growing as Pierre continued to rub against you perfectly.

“Are you close?” Pierre asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes, cmon,” you sputtered out. Your mind was someplace else — someplace heavenly. Pierre rubbed circles against your clitoris as you hit your peak, fluid spilling over his aching cock. Your orgasm was white hot and blissful. You felt sedated as Pierre continued to push into your spent hole. A few seconds later, Pierre spilled his seed inside of you with a strangled grunt.

“I love you,” Pierre panted as he slumped down and rested his head against your shoulder.

His words caught you off guard — for how could he love you after one night? How could he love you as you love him? It was impossible. You felt his cum spilling out stickily on your thighs and cringed at it, then smiled over it — he had made his claim on you, just as he’d made his claim on your heart. You planted a kiss atop his head.

#paul dano #paul dano x reader #danonation #war and peace #pierre bezukhov #pierre bezukhov x reader

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

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Hello, I absolutely love your head cannons. For my request, I was wondering if you had any headcannons about Izzy being super protective of his s/o? Him just sort of channeling that “small yappy dog” energy he embodies.

Izzy Hands is an ankle biter.

Izzy Hands being Protective Headcanons:

Izzy is protective over the people he cares about (so...you and Ed and that's about it).

That protectiveness mixed with his love language being acts of service means that he would probably do anything for you, and he definitely doesn't need to be asked.

Would he kill for you? Without hesitation and without question.

Say the word and their dead...not that you really have to ask...it's more like you need to stop him from killing anyone.

He's protective over the big things but also the tiniest of things.

Somebody threatens you? They're dead. You'll have to pull him away kicking and screaming if you want to avoid bloodshed.

Somebody disrespects you? They're about to get an earful about how to show respect, with plenty of threats against their life or wellbeing of course.

A member of the crew is trying to get you to do one of their tasks for them? Izzy is right there, snapping at them for their laziness. Still, normally you laugh it off and offer your assistance if you have the time.

Izzy may not be the tallest man, no even close among the crew, but he's always looming behind you when new people are around. He's not trusting of others in the slightest but he knows the crew isn't going to harm you, random strangers though? That's a whole different story. He lets them know to mind their step around you before anyone has even spoke.

You know that this man is fully in love with you and devoted to you when he protects you against Blackbeard.

Whatever the situation might be, perhaps Stede and Ed got into an argument and Ed's in a bad mood. All he has to do is snap at you for a task you haven't tended too yet and Izzy is by your side, telling the infamous Blackbeard to back down and take a breath.

Should Blackbeard actually threaten you? Well, Izzy may just be ready to duel him right then and there even if he believes he would lose.

The first time Izzy does the slightest thing to protect you against Ed, no matter how small, the shift is obvious to everyone one on the ship.

Well, that was all pretty serious.

Izzy can be a little...dramatic, which means that he's always ready to argue for you.

The crew is on land and you've gone to the pub for some leisure time.

If the bartender is ignoring you, Izzy is slamming his fist against the bar and barking your drink of choice at them.

Some drunk is bothering? Don't worry, they already have Izzy's knife to their throat.

You don't get to spend time on land often but you and Izzy have been kicked out of plenty of establishments for fights.

When on land Izzy is already on edge, so he's always close on your heel. The perfect guard dog, which the crew had referred to him as more than once.

He's attached to your hip at all times, already ready to come to your defence.

The crew might not be very scared of him anymore but they know that the threat of violence was very much real if somebody crossed you. Plus, they kind of admired his devotion to you since you were their friend, and at least they could trust him to never let anything happen to you.

#izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd #our flag means death

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lgbtqasacrew · 2 days

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Izzy x reader nsfw pls?

Summary: After constantly being at each others throats, you and Izzy settle your differences in the bedroom

Relationships: Izzy/gn!reader

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: 🔞NSFW minors dni 🔞

A/N: Sorry this took so long for me to get out, I hope it’s what you were thinking of

Ever since Izzy had joined the ship, you two have never got along. Constantly at each other’s throats about anything and everything. Which is why it’s surprising, or maybe it’s really not, that one night you find yourself pressed up against the wall of Izzy’s room with the first mate’s tongue down your throat. “This doesn’t mean anything” he growls as he pulls away.

“Just shut up for once” you retort pulling him back in for a searing kiss, you’re fed up of hearing his voice, always barking orders, telling you you’re not good enough, this is much better you think as you deepen the kiss.

Oh how he was easier to deal with when he’s not talking, and he’s a decent kisser. You’d half expected him to be a biter, but that might just be because he reminded you of a small yappy dog nipping at your heels. You watch as he begins to undress, untying the cravat around his neck, carefully folding it with the golden ring and placing it safely on his desk. You’d always been intrigued by that ring, you’d never have pinned him as sentimental, it must really be something really special to him. Not that you’d ever ask, not that he’d ever tell you if you did ask.

Izzy’s furious at himself, how had he let this happen. One minute he was berating you about how annoying you are, how you never listen to a thing he says. Now you’re in his room unbuttoning your shirt whilst he removes his own clothes. What had you done to him, he hated you, you were constantly getting under his skin, maybe he’s sick, yeah that must be it.

You’ll both get it out of your system and then everything will just go back to normal, he’ll give you orders and you’ll tell him to fuck off. You’re a decent pirate, which is as much of a compliment as he’ll ever give you, but your incessant need to talk back is grating. If you just listened to a simple instruction maybe he wouldn’t find you half as irritating.

He’s taken out of his thoughts by your naked torso, he must’ve seen it before, when you’ve gotten too hot on deck or when Bonnet made the whole crew have a beach day. But here in the close confines of his room, under the dim light of the candle burning on his desk, it’s something else. He has the sudden need to run his hand over your chest, what’s wrong with him, he really must be sick.

Managing to pull his gaze away from you, wouldn’t want you to think he was into you or anything, he takes his own clothes off, folding them neatly into a pile on his desk.

“Is that really necessary?” You quip, why did you always have such a problem with everything little thing he did.

“Yes” is all he replies before stepping towards you until you’re face to face “if you have a problem with that you can get out”

You put your hands up in mock surrender, which he uses to his advantage, taking your hands and holding them above your head as he pins you against the wall, his prick pressing into your thigh.

“Someone’s eager” you tease.

“Shut up” he growls before kissing you with fervour, just needing you to stop talking for once in your life.

Your lips remain connected as he slowly guides you away from the wall and towards the small bed that sits in the corner, pushing you onto it and straddling your thighs, his prick flush between you. He finds himself grinding against you like some sort of desperate animal, he feels pathetic but he can’t stop.

You can feel his prick against your stomach as he continues to grind against you. Taking a small vial from his bedside table, pouring some onto your fingers, you take his prick into your hand, it’s bigger than you’d expected.

He’s moaning into your mouth just from the small touch “mm you’re so desperate aren’t you?”

“Fuck off” he growls

“Fine guess I’ll just stop then” you remove your hand, sure you hear a small whimper from the loss.

“Not what I fuckin’ meant”

“Well you better be careful with what you say, don’t want me to get the wrong idea”

“Just fuckin’ get on with it” he grumbles

“Ask nicely” you demand, laughing internally at the scowl he gives you in return, that man thinks he’s so intimidating, but he never has been to you.

“I’m not-“

“Ask nicely, or I’ll go” you don’t think you actually would at this point but it would be nice to see him be polite to you just once in his life

“Please” he says through gritted teeth

“Good boy” you praise, delighting when you see a dusting of blush on his cheeks, so he likes praise, you shouldn’t be surprised really.

You can feel him shiver as you move your hand up and down his length, enjoying the weight in your palm. You trail kisses down his neck, brushing along the swallow tattoo before sucking on the gentle skin above his collarbone.

Izzy hadn’t felt this good in so long, he told himself it was nothing to do with you, nothing to do with the way you touch him, or kiss his neck as if he was something precious. No, it had just been a while since he’d had another person’s touch, he’s just extra sensitive that’s all.

Your touch was firm but with a gentleness he hadn’t expected but appreciates nonetheless, you weren’t rushing just to get it over with. You were taking your time as if you actually cared about his pleasure, but he must be mistaken, he knows you only view this as a quick exchange, one that neither of you will mention again.

Before he even knows what’s happening, you’re manoeuvring him off your lap and laying him on his back. “I want you inside me Izzy, is that what you want too?” you purr, sending a rush of heat through him, he finds himself nodding eagerly.

“Good” he watches as you lower yourself “Izzy you feel so good” he can feel his face getting warmer at your praise, what is wrong with him.

As if you know what effect it’s having on him, you continue to praise him “you’re doing so well Izzy, you feel so good” he’s getting close just from the praise alone, he feels pathetic, but also, he feels good, better than he’s felt in a long time.

With a couple more shifts of your hips, he releases inside you, collapsing into the mattress as intense pleasure courses through him. Barely noticing as you reach your own orgasm, collapsing beside him in your own haze of pleasure.

When he eventually comes back to himself, he feels good, more than good even, but he also feels a little disappointed, he knows that when he opens his eyes you’ll be gone. He should feel relieved, you’ve both got out of this what you wanted and now you can just go back to your lives. So why does part of him wish you’d stayed, wished that for once that someone had stayed, but more importantly that that person was you.

He almost yelps when he hears rustling in his room, opening his eyes to find you standing there in your underwear holding a cloth, you freeze as if he had caught you doing something wrong. “Sorry I just thought maybe you’d like to clean up, but I’ll go” dropping the cloth on the desk beside you and heading for the door.

But Izzy catches you both by surprise “It’s fine” he wants to say so much more, that he’s glad you’re still here, that the fact you care enough about him to want to clean him up is thawing his cold heart, but he can’t get any more words out.

Luckily those two words are enough for you, he watches with a small smile on his lips as you retrieve the cloth and gently clean him up. As you place the cloth back on the desk, he’s worried you’ll leave again, a small “stay?” manages to pass his lips, part question, part plea. Now he knows what it’s like to have something, he’s scared to let it go in case he never has it again.

You nod, climbing in wordlessly beside him, trying to keep a small distance between you despite the small size of the bed, as if you’re still scared he’ll chuck you out despite him being the one to invite you. He counts to sixty trying to find the courage to hold you like you deserve, it’s purely selfish really, a deep need to feel you in his arms.

Slowly wrapping his arms around you, giving you the chance to pull away if you please, but you don’t, you lean into the warmth, his chest now flush with your back. In that moment you both knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

#ofmd fanfic #fanfic request #izzy hands x reader #izzy x reader #ofmd izzy #ofmd x reader

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prince-of-pages · 1 month

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another writing update maybe

okay, it's been a bit but i've been bip boppin around doing a few things.

i'm about two and a half chapters into my story, and even though it started off a little rough (i haven't written in a few years so i'm a bit rusty) but i think it is going pretty well for right now. it def could be better but i have been keeping notes on what i would want to change for my next draft so it is going to be a lot better.

i also got a bit of writiers block, mostly because i wrote like 2k words in one day and i think i def fried my own brain. but in the meantime i played the sims and did other slightly creative stuff like makeup and small things like that to stay in the creative mood. it kinda sounds stupid but i think it helped me keep the motivation to want to continue to write.

next! i started reading flawless by elsie silver to stay on the southern/country/cowpoke romance vibe. it's pretty good, though i'm only on chapter like 13 but i do enjoy it so far.

i'm almost done yappiing, it's just been a bit. but i think once my first draft is mostly written i could explain more of the plot/synopsis on here so i know fully of what is going on. Thanks for listening to my yap lmao

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tackytigerfic · 2 years

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I just love your fics. so much.

I don't even have the words. Thanks so much for sharing your gifts with all of us. <3

Anon 😭 I don't know what prompted this but I am so touched by your message. Thank you. I should say that it's really me who should be grateful - I never thought I'd be able to do anything creative, or have friends with the same (very specific, niche, queer wizard-related 😂) interest. Being in fandom and having people like you say nice things about my writing has brought me so much pleasure, given me a new confidence, and allowed me to explore a creative side of myself i never knew i had. I'm very grateful for your kindness. I wasn't able to write a little something to say thank you but here's a little snip of something I will be working on after my current project is done!

There wasn’t much notice before the hitwizards arrived.

It was the dog, that stupid yappy little pup of Dudley’s, that tipped Draco off. If it weren’t for the dog, they’d probably all be dead.

Finnegan was standing by the big double doors to the garden, and the dog was lolling at his feet, tail swishing along the floor and tongue hanging from its mouth. Then the dog’s ears pricked up and it scrambled to its feet, little paws clicking frantically at the glass as it leapt at the French doors.

Harry’s cousin—that useless sack of meat, Draco wanted to hurt him—was the one who cinched it for Draco. Because while everyone else was watching the dog, Draco was watching Dudley, and he could see by Dudley's face that the dog wasn't acting normal. That got Draco moving.

The others weren’t far behind, in fairness to them. Finnegan was sharp as a tack, and for all his messing around, he was highly trained and swift to react. Ginny Weasley never hung about in the face of action—she may not have even known what was happening, but the second she saw the look on Draco’s face she was moving, swinging into defensive stance, pulling Luna along behind her. Longbottom looked slow and steady, but he was deadly when he was pissed off, and anyway, surely nothing could be quite as terrifying as a massive man-eating magical snake, and Longbottom had taken care of that fairly briskly at seventeen. A little ambush probably didn’t faze him.

Draco swallowed down his own sick terror, and wished yet again that he wasn’t such a coward; he fucking hated the fighting part, and especially now that he had so much to lose. He wondered if it was partly because he was frightened of who they might send after him. He was pretty certain that if his father was at the other end of a wand, he still wouldn’t be able to bring himself to kill him. Though he’d try very fucking hard, at least he could be sure of that.

“Get upstairs, Dudley,” Harry said briskly, “and take your mum with you. Hide, if you can.” He didn’t bother watching Dudley slinking out of the room, powerful shoulders rippling as he hung his head. All Harry's focus was on the garden; he was in fighting mode, and that made Draco feel a tiny bit better. Harry had never let him die before, chances were he wasn’t going to start now.

“They’ll come in from front and back.” Harry was at the curtain, eyes narrowed as he peered into the garden. There was still no sign of them, but here and there Draco could see a shimmer of something, like a ripple against the privet hedge and the rose bush and the big magnolia tree. “They’d be stupid not to take advantage of the house. We’re like rats in a cage here. The good news is that they probably don’t know there are so many of us here. Draco, how did they track us down?”

“Could be anything,” Draco said queasily. “I didn’t think to check anything like that. Fucking stupid. We’ll need to run some scans, later. If… if we…”

Harry looked around at him from the window, wand hand flexing as he drew from his holster. He smiled, that heartbreaker of a thing that made Draco want to fight for him.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he said. “When we get out of here, we’ll do that.”

#unedited obvs #reluctant husbands #hey harry guess what you have to marry this guy you hate or you will die #oh also turns out he might be a dickhead but he's on our side #and we need him so you better be nice to him #i queue #enemies to husbands my beloved #wip snip #lovely people being lovely #asked and answered #rowing and chatting #drarry

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sunstone-smiles · 11 months

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Exuberant Ecosystem - Chapter 1

Author’s Note: After working on and off on this project for nearly a year (more so off because life got a bit busy), the first chapter of my original series is finally finished!!! Thank you to everyone who helped me reach (over) 100 followers. I’ve said this before—but I’ll say it again—I’m so glad that so many of you have enjoyed my fun, little stories. Seeing the interactions with them and the joy that they’ve brought warms my heart, and I hope to be able to continue delivering that same joy in the future. So, without further ado, I give you the start of Exuberant Ecosystem!

Exuberant Ecosystem is an original series created by Sunstone-Smiles. Please don’t repost, but likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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Chapter 1: Peculiar Findings

Word count: 5,813 (Approx. 14 pages)

The beating of a creature’s wings disturbs the low resting leaves. The foliage shakes as a flash of blue darts past, weaving in and out of the trunks of the closely aligned trees. The sun barely peers through the shadowy canopy of green. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. A new predator has appeared, one that can swipe down trees to make them come crashing to the ground. Seclusion should keep their home from danger, yet it’s come. A little heart pumps faster than its wings can. The flying creature looks behind their shoulder to spot any sign of the menace, until they slam head first into an unseen tree trunk.

***

The canopy shades the leaf piled ground below as a silver stake pole is pounded into the soft dirt. Metal dings with every swing from a sledge hammer, causing the nearby birds and their songs to rustle within the trees. Similar to the yappy canine, the heat in the state of Chihuahua in the country of Mexico nips at the air, but doesn’t bite down hard enough to disturb the visitors of the forest.

“Pull it a little more to the left,” Tate signals with his free hand while the other holds on to a sledge hammer. The rounded tent shifts in the desired direction. “That’s good,” Tate communicates with an open palm and hammers the steak down, until only the hook-like top is sticking out of the dirt.

“There we go,” Tate dusts off his hands after leaning the hammer on the tent. He stands, readjusts his blue and black paracord survival bracelet, then retucks the upper half of his uniform—which consists of a blue, long sleeved shirt beneath a shorter sleeved, beige cargo shirt—into his green cargo pants with a matching belt secured at the waist. The bangs of his brown hair flow off the side of his lightly, freckled face like three waves. “One out of three tents done.”

Tate’s uniformed co-worker lifts himself from behind the tent and dusts off his clothes with his olive toned hands. He wears the same colored cargo shirt, pants, and belt as Tate, except with a leaf green colored, long sleeve turtleneck beneath. His dark hair that falls just below his ears is spiked with tips of dark green, like the spines of a bearded dragon. “We would be done faster if we had our third person to help.” He throws the empty tent bags into the back of their open top jeep.

“Come on, Gareth. You and I both know that she was excited to get out here.” Tate walks around the other flattened tents, like deflated balloons, in his hiking boots. He reaches their outdoor desk, where they perched a water cooler at its legs.

“She couldn’t have waited to explore until after we finished setting up the tents?”

Tate chuckles. He pulls out a bag of grapes, the color of miniature limes, from the cooler and places the sealed fruit on the desk above before gaining access to his and Gareth’s water bottles. “I guess not,” he hands the other container to his friend and they both take sips from their bottles.

The I.S.S.E.C Corporation, also known as the International Study and Save the Ecosystem Conservation Corporation, relies on plenty of field research to learn about different types of habitats for plants and animals. Tate Pallder (zoologist), Gareth Bargmy, (wildlife biologist), and their third partner and friend, Phoebe Lilona (ecologist) all work for the corporation as indicated by the embroidery of an earth and shield, with the corporation’s abbreviations across it, nesting in a bed of leaves above the left pocket of their uniforms. Their job this time is located in the forests of Chihuahua in Mexico, where they are tasked with further studying how animals in this environment interact with the plant life, specifically, species of bats.

“Guys!” a female voice yelling from within the trees draws their attention. A woman dashes towards their camp with gloved hands cupped in front of her. Her braid of purple hair trails behind her, along with a hair pin decorated with green and blue lilac feathers that holds tightly to the side of her head. Her golden-bronze face has a look of alarm, as if it wasn’t apparent already from her vivid amber eyes. She wears the same beige cargo shirt and green cargo pants as the two men, but her long sleeved undershirt has a striking purple, a bit lighter in color than her hair.

“Phoebe?” Tate places his bottle on the desk and runs up to her with Gareth following close behind.

“Phoebe, what’s wrong?” Gareth asks when the three reach each other.

Phoebe looks up from her hands, the worry in her eyes already telling half of the story. “I was gathering samples from below one of the trees and found this little guy down there with them.” She holds out her yellow gloved hands, like those that are usually seen for gardening.

Cupped in her palms, a bat with sky blue fur that resembles a shaggy children’s puppet, lies still against the contrast of dim yellow. The creature's eyes are closed and its head is slightly turned to the side, resting on one of its pointed ears. The faint push of air in its chest reveals some sign of life.

“Here, put him down on the desk,” Tate says with haste and clears a spot. Phoebe carefully slides the bat onto the table, while Tate pulls on a pair of his own rubber gloves. It’s clear that this creature is a bat, but what kind or what dangers it may carry are unknown.

With Phoebe hovering over, and Gareth able to see a few steps back due to his taller height, Tate gently examines the little creature. He outstretches the bat’s wing and carefully runs his fingers over the joints to check for any broken bones. The prominent blue coloration of the bat is already unusual, but the skin of the wing is layered with pink fuzz that, by looks, shares the same texture as a decorative feather boa.

“Is it okay?” Phoebe asks over Tate’s shoulder.

Tate inspects the bat’s other wing, repeating the same movements. “He doesn’t seem to have anything broken.” Tate then checks the little bat’s head and runs a thumb over their three tufts of cowlicked fur, also comforting the creature. “Just a little bump on the head.” He pauses to move his hand away and observe the bat’s notable features. “Look at his coloration though. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Gareth steps forward to take a closer look. “Maybe it’s a genetic mutation.”

“Possibly. It wouldn’t be a shock if a new species originated from a mutation,” Tate responds and removes his gloves, “I’m just surprised by the drastic difference. What would cause this bat to mutate from usual darker fur, like blacks and browns that help it camouflage, to a light blue? Not to mention the pink fur around and on the edge of the wings.”

Attentively watching the creature for any sign of movement, Phoebe sees the bat’s ear twitch. “Guys, look,” Phoebe whispers. The bat’s ear twitches again. Its head starts to lift from the desk. “I think it’s waking up.”

As predicted, the little creature's eyes begin to flutter open, revealing two large pupils of green. The three researchers stand completely still as the bat fully awakens.

The little creature stretches his limbs as he regains consciousness. He rolls back his shoulders and fluffs out his wings. When he notices the monster-sized strangers, however, the creature squeaks in terror and scrambles itself under the shadow of a backpack lying on the desk. It curls into a ball with its wings tightened to its sides, staring at the strangers with shaking emerald eyes and folded down ears.

Tate puts his hands up to show his empty palms. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says in a soft voice. “Gareth, grab me one of those grapes.”

Gareth nods. Without any sudden movements to avoid startling the small creature, he slowly opens the bag of fruit and reaches in, then hands the zoologist a green grape into his palm.

Tate holds the grape out to the shivering creature. “Here,” his blue eyes, like a soothing mist from a waterfall, reach the creature’s level, “You can have it.”

The little bat glances up at him, then to the grape, then back to Tate. With caution, the bat pokes his head out from his curled up state and crawls from underneath the bag’s shadow to approach the rounded fruit. To make sure it isn’t a trap, the bat sniffs the grape. He warily takes a small bite, tearing the soft flesh of the fruit with his small, rounded fangs. Sensing that the food is safe, the bat takes another bite. He then grabs the rounded fruit into its own lap to nibble on it, lapping up the sweet juice with his tongue after every bite.

The three researchers relax once they see the bat become more at ease. “Luckily, this one is a fruit eater,” Tate says with a breath of relief.

“Aww!” Phoebe takes a step closer to the desk. “He’s so cute! You know, when he’s not unconscious.”

“He’s oddly trusting regarding he just met us, don’t you think?” Gareth questions.

“Any trust is a good sign,” Tate replies. He looks at the bat and puts his hand on the desk. “Are you feeling better little guy?”

The bat places his half-eaten grape down on the surface and crawls over to Tate’s hand, sniffing it curiously. Tate stays completely still so he doesn’t frighten the creature, but the bat instead frightens him when it suddenly jumps up his arm.

“Whoa!” Tate takes a few steps back from the abrupt action of the bat scurrying up and around his body with surprisingly fast movements. The bat then hops onto his shoulder and nuzzles his fluffy head right above the collar of Tate’s uniform, acting much more friendly than it was a few seconds ago.

“Hey!” Tate carefully lifts his shoulders to defend himself from the creature’s feather soft fur grazing against his neck. A smile tugs at the corner of Tate’s mouth. “That…that tickles!” the zoologist lets out a few giggles at the bat’s shenanigans. The bat instantly perks his ears up, as if he heard a recognizable sound. With a little grin showing the bat’s fangs, the peculiar creature squeaks and nuzzles his head at Tate’s neck again like he’s purposely trying to elicit more laughter out of him.

Tate gasps and scrunches up his shoulders again, careful not to hurt the little creature who seems to be playing by his neck. The zoologist’s giggles increase when the bat skitters from shoulder to shoulder, honing in on any available space to nuzzle. “A little help plehehease!” Tate calls for assistance from his research partners.

Phoebe giggles and makes her way over to Tate and the squeaking bat. “Alright, come here little guy,” she carefully reaches over, scoops the creature in her gloved hands, and tries to gently pry them off, but the little bat clings on tighter than expected to Tate’s collar.

“You’re a strong little guy, aren’t ya?” Phoebe observes. “Come on,” she delicately wraps a hand around the bat’s middle and squeezes his side. The small creature lets out a high-pitched squeak, followed by other melodious chirps that sound like their own tiny giggles. The bat unhooks from Tate’s shoulder and Phoebe successfully pulls the bat off into her arms.

“Oh! Sorry little guy,” Phoebe repositions her hands to hold below the bat’s wings, realizing why the bat was releasing squeaky giggles. “I guess you must be ticklish too.”

“Thanks, Phoebe,” Tate rubs the side of his neck. As a precaution, Gareth slides on his gloves and inspects Tate’s neck for any injuries during the unexpected scuffle. “What was all that about?” the zoologist shrugs.

“I’m not sure,” Gareth responds as he finishes his examination, “But he didn’t leave a mark on you. No scratches, no bites. Like he was purposely being careful not to hurt you.” He then removes his gloves as quickly as he had put them on.

“Like the bat just wanted to snuggle,” Tate jokes.

“Maybe that’s what we should name him then!” Phoebe chimes in with a different topic, “Snuggles!”

The little bat squeaks in approval.

Gareth shakes his head. “Snuggles? Really?”

“I don’t see you coming up with anything better, Mr. Wildlife Biologist,” Phoebe smiles to throw the tease his way, “Besides, I think he likes it.”

The little creature gives another approving squeak in her arms.

“What about you, Tate?” Phoebe continues, “Do you like the name?”

The zoologist chuckles, “It does fit him pretty well.”

Gareth rolls his eyes and walks over to Phoebe. “More importantly, we need to figure out what species of bat he is, or if he really is a new species.” He glances down at the bat staring up at him with a big-eyed expression, like a small puppy excited to be with new friends. Gareth sighs. “Alright…but I will admit he is pretty cute.”

“Yay! Gareth approves!” Phoebe cheers, “Snuggles it is then!”

“What? I didn’t say that,” Gareth argues back.

Snuggles glances at the two humans about to verbally clash, then wriggles in Phoebe's hold.

The woman grins at Gareth, “You implied it.”

“I did not!”

In that moment, Snuggles pops out of Phoebe’s hands and takes off flying down the open path of the forest.

“Hey! Wait little guy!” Phoebe yanks her gloves off and tosses them to the desk, now running after the creature.

“Phoebe!” Tate yells and chases after her, with Gareth running right behind him.

The three dash through the trees of the forest. Leaves and twigs crush beneath their boots as they follow the flash of the little blue creature through the foliage. The bat takes a sharp right and heads into an entrance of a rocky cave. Without losing speed, Phoebe drifts on her feet and turns the corner to make the same sharp right into the cave. Tate almost trips when he turns for the entrance, but Gareth saves his balance by catching his arm by the sleeve so they both can keep the pace with the two in front of them.

Faint light from the entrance helps the researchers dodge the large protrusions of rock from the ground so they can catch up with the bat flapping ahead. But the deeper they go, the less light that reaches the unknown. The flying animal pulls forward, fading into the dark and out of the researchers’ view. By the time the three catch up to where the bat should be, a large wall of rock greets them instead.

“A dead end?!” Gareth catches his breath from the chase.

Phoebe scans the area around her. “Where did he go then?”

A squeak as if to respond to the researchers echoes from nearby. Following the source of the noise with his eyes, Tate quickly spots a tunnel that’s barely peering out from behind a large rock.

“I think it’s coming from this way! Come on!” Tate takes the lead and starts down the hidden path with his other two partners behind him. This path is much darker than where they just were, but a sliver of light protrudes at the end through strips of foliage covering the exit. Tate speeds ahead and pushes past the screen of leaves, running into a bright field that momentarily blinds him. He slows down to a stop and uses his hand as a visor to adjust his eyes to the light. Blurs of green and yellow take over his vision, until he can focus on the area revealed to him. His eyes fill with wonder.

Phoebe and Gareth come out of the exit soon after, also stopping with wonder-filled eyes when they see the reality of the area around them.

The forest canopy has a beauty that’s only seen in dreams. The leaves are yellow-green, but a pink hue surrounds the edges with fluff like cotton candy. Multicolored parrots create single file curves through the sky before swooping into the branches of the trees. Sprays of mist glide over the back of the researchers' ears from a rushing waterfall behind them as it splashes into a nearby basin.

The three of them keep their eyes on the trees—awestruck. “Wow…” Tate speaks after absorbing the view, “What kind of trees are they?”

Phoebe steps forward, her sight mesmerized by the splendor of the patterns. She shakes her head. “I don’t know…”

Gareth notices some movement beneath the trees at the forest floor, draped in yellow-green grass. A deer, with antlers that circle downward like gentle arms that could carry a baby, plays with a rabbit who has ears that splay out like bird wings.

“Look,” Gareth signals to his partners without taking his vision off the creatures, “there are animals over there too.”

Tate rotates his body to see the rest of his surroundings, taking in the magnificence from every angle. “Everything here feels so…vibrant.”

Phoebe kneels down to a patch of blue flowers specked in pink. Grains of what look to be reflective rock are infused inside of the petals to give the pink blemishes a sparkle.

“These flowers have a vibrant coloring too…” she says as she touches the blanket smooth petals. A flicker of weakened color then catches her eye. She gently pushes a flower to the side and finds another plant—wilting, dry, and crumbling at the edges. It’s drained of what nutrients that made it as dazzling as the other flowers around it.

“Strange…” Phoebe reaches out to examine it, but a familiar squeak diverts her attention back towards Tate and Gareth.

“Whoa!” Tate flinches back when Snuggles swoops in close to his face, flapping his feathery wings. “Hey, it’s the bat!”

“It’s Snuggles!” Phoebe calls out in excitement and walks over to them.

Gareth narrows his eyes at her. “You’re really sticking to that name, aren’t you?”

Phoebe smiles at him, “I know it’s growing on you, Gareth.”

Snuggles squeaks again to show his fangs, wings still flapping to keep him in the air. He tilts his head multiple times towards the direction of the rest of the forest.

Tate pauses for a moment to observe the creature’s actions. “I think Snuggles wants us to follow him.”

Snuggles lets out another squeak, then flaps his way towards the forest path. The three researchers look at one another. They can’t believe what they are seeing, but they each silently agree they should follow the creature who wants to guide them through this peculiar environment.

They’re led through more yellow-green grass with specks of pink that cover the forest floor. The trees are nearly parallel to one another on each side of the path as the environment brims with life. New creatures, also with unusual features, appear among the flora as the three researchers continue walking. Two coatis, an animal that has a similar body type to raccoons, playfully wrestle in a patch of flowers. Their tails that are usually thin like a lemur’s are instead puffed and rounded like a feather duster with purple rings of fur. Peach and cream dotted woodpeckers with red crests tap tap tap on tree bark. Small lizards of geckoes and green anoles, both with feather-tipped tails, scatter across the grounded leaves. An iguana is perched on top of a rock to sunbathe in the crisp light; where its spines should be are instead made out of pointed feathers. All of these creatures appear to coexist with one another in this strange area of land.

“I still can’t believe this was part of the forest we were in,” Phoebe marvels at her surroundings while following the path. “I know separate sections of the forest are expected to have a few differences, but this feels like we stepped foot into a whole other world.”

“It’s possible that geographic isolation is still occurring,” Gareth suggests. “The small cave we entered from and the clifftop location seem to keep this place secluded enough to where this ecosystem could have evolved huge differences. That would explain many of the mutations into these likely new species as well.”

“Speaking of mutations…” Tate stops walking and arches his neck to stare upwards. Phoebe and Gareth stall next to him, their mouths agape.

Horizontal waves of dark reds, browns, and pale pinks make up the bark of a large tree, standing tall like a leader. Its leaves puff from their branches like a green cloud on a stick. Each color of the bark is layered on top of one another like neapolitan ice cream, separated by a thin wave of marble white in between each layer. On the bark’s surface, nearly transparent, pink mushrooms grow across the trunk. This is only one tree in a grove of many that reside behind it. Snuggles flaps around the big tree in a spiral to signal that this is what he wants them to see. The researchers soak in the reality of the specimen with astonishment.

Snuggles swoops back toward the three humans. He flaps around and behind Tate before coming in for a landing on the zoologist’s shoulder. Then, he waddles over to rub his fluffy head into Tate’s neck again.

Tate snaps out of his awestruck daze into another fit of giggles. “Hehey!” Tate lifts his shoulders to shield his neck, but he and his co-workers flinch back when the mushrooms on the tree begin to glow a soft red.

“That’s definitely not what trees are supposed to do!” Gareth exclaims almost in fright at the unusual specimen. The light that was once captured in the mushrooms fades, as if its power source has gone out. Snuggles flaps off of Tate’s shoulder to go elsewhere.

With cautious steps, Phoebe approaches the tree, observing its strange design. “Wait a minute…I’ve seen this pattern before.”

“You have?” Tate asks.

“Yeah. My grandma has a gemstone with this same pattern that’s usually found in this area of Mexico. She uses it to decorate her centerpieces with. What were they called again? Crazy…Crazy ace? No…” she mumbles to herself with a finger to her chin. Her face suddenly lights up with a flash of remembrance. “Ah ha! It’s crazy lace agate!”

“How does a gemstone explain what we just saw?” Gareth inquires, trying to come to terms with his disbelief.

“Well, crazy lace agate has another name,” Phoebe explains, “It’s also known…as the laughter stone.”

What Phoebe is implying clicks for Tate. He moves closer to the tree. “So are you saying the mushrooms on the tree reacted…because I laughed?”

“Maybe. Some plants do have the ability to sense different vibrations from sound. Maybe these bioluminescent mushrooms reacted to the vibrations of your laughter.”

“You said that this area of Mexico is where crazy lace agate can be found, right?” Gareth ponders, “What if the presence of the gemstone in the environment is one of the factors that made this entire ecosystem evolve the way it did?”

“Exactly,” Phoebe agrees. “How it all came to be is only a hypothesis for now, but the fact that all these species evolved new traits is still an amazing discovery!” The woman overflows with excitement. She turns back to the tree to observe its details closer, wanting to know every secret that it holds right away.

“Yeah it is!” Tate shouts, then bashfully reels himself in from his delighted exclamation about their findings. Gareth lets out a small chuckle at his partners’ reactions, also experiencing his own internal excitement.

While trying to celebrate their discovery, the sound of quiet, squeaky chatter from behind catches Gareth’s and Tate’s ears. Unsure of the cause of the noise, the boys turn around to investigate. They immediately gasp and take small steps back towards the protection of the tree.

“Ph-Phoebe?” Tate stutters to warn her of the approaching situation. Phoebe is still silently mesmerized by the tree.

“Phoebe!” Gareth exclaims louder to get her attention.

“Yeah?” she finally turns around and inhales a startled gasp.

A crowd of animals have created a half-circle to surround them. The furry mammals of rabbits, coatis, and deers cautiously approach. The vibrant parrots and woodpeckers tilt their heads to get a glimpse. The feather tailed reptiles of iguanas, geckos, and anoles blink at the three strangers.

“No need to panic,” Tate says quietly as he takes another step back from the unknown creatures. “Most of these animal species aren’t known for doing harm.”

“But we don’t know what these species can do,” Gareth whispers. He’s right. Though the creatures may share similar features with already known species, those from an unknown environment could bring certain risks of their own.

Snuggles flaps through the crowd of animals and towards the researchers. All the eyes of the surrounding creatures lock on to Snuggles as he, for a third time, latches onto Tate's shoulder and nuzzles into the side of his neck.

“Hehey!” Despite the current possibility of danger, Tate can’t hold in his giggles, “Cohohome on!”

Reacting to the sound, the mushrooms on the tree light up behind them. When Snuggles stops and Tate refocuses on the situation, the zoologist tenses up after seeing all of the animals' intrigued expressions. If he’s reading the creatures’ behaviors correctly, he has a feeling he knows why Snuggles decided to do that again.

Tate takes another step back. “Uh oh-”

In an instant, a few of the wing-eared rabbits and fluffy tailed coatis pounce onto him.

“Whoa!” Tate stumbles back as the creatures race around his body—the rabbits climb onto his belt to press their ears into his sides, while a coati slips into his shirt to glide its tail across Tate’s skin.

“Ah-Hehehey! Wahahait a mihihihinute!” Tate breaks out into full blown laughter with a big smile illuminating his freckled face as the animals deliver a full on tickle attack. Even Snuggles joins in again with head nuzzles to his neck. Before Tate knows it, he’s giggling up a storm; the mushrooms behind him glow even brighter than before.

“Aww!” Phoebe clasps her hands together, “They’re all tickling him! How cute!”

“Are we sure that’s necessarily a good thing in this case?!” Gareth responds in a frantic tone, like he was watching someone getting mauled by tickling.

Unable to keep his balance any longer, Tate falls to the ground, still giggling as the creatures tickle him silly.

“Oh, Tate!” Phoebe exclaims in concern when he falls, but she lets out a shriek when a deer throws its antlers around her like a hug from behind and rubs its fluffy snout into her neck. Her own giggles follow soon after as she tries to scrunch up her shoulders. As if on cue, her laughter summons parrots and woodpeckers to flutter from the ground, flock around her, and attack her with tickles.

“AH! Nohohot mehehehehe!” she holds her hands out in a futile attempt at defense. The parrots use their curved beaks to gently scratch at her ribs, while the woodpeckers cling onto her shirt to use their own beaks like fingers that were delivering pokes to her sides. Through her laughter, she slides down to the forest floor, meeting the same outcome as Tate.

“Phoebe!” Gareth calls out to her, but he jolts from the sudden feeling of scaly toe pads and tiny lizard claws crawling up the outside of his pant legs and towards his body. Some of the reptiles quickly reach the top of his shoulders and sneak down the collar of his shirt, causing him to twitch from each poke from their unexpectedly fuzzy claws. A wobbly smile forms on Gareth’s face as he tries to hold in his laughter, purposely not giving the animals what they're hunting for, but a large iguana wrapping around his middle aims to change that. The iguana looks Gareth directly in the eye and sticks its forked tongue out at him like a child planning some mischief. Gareth growls through his teeth, having a standoff with the iguana.

“Gotcha!” Gareth quickly swings his arms down to catch it, “Huh?!” but the iguana avoids capture by running a lap around his middle, before coming back around and hopping into an opening at the bottom of his cargo shirt. “Ahack!” Gareth yelps when the feather-spined iguana finds a way under his turtleneck and wiggles their feathery tail across his stomach. “Ohohoho nohohoho!” Gareth bursts into deep laughter alongside his other two teammates and wraps his arms around himself, “Gehehet ohohout of thehehere!”

Due to his squirming, Gareth leans forward and eventually collapses to his knees. He props himself on one arm while the other stays wrapped around his torso as the reptiles make swift work of releasing his laughter.

Behind the three giggling researchers, the rest of the trees in the grove with mushrooms growing from their bark begin to glow. Each one gradually lights up the space around them, like the spotlights of a stage bringing focus to the star of the show. The dark shade produced by the canopy of the trees is dyed by the pink hue.

When they see how healthy the vitality of the trees’ glowing are, the animals halt their attack on the researchers and cheer with squeaks, chatters, and chirps.

The furry mammals hop off of Tate so he can sit up, the deer carefully removes its antlers from around Phoebe while the birds perch by her side, and the feathered reptiles climb out of Gareth’s clothes so that the creatures allow their new friends a rest. As the three researchers catch their breath, the animals they had previously been ambushed by now cuddle close to comfort them.

Gareth is the first to speak. He repositions himself to take a seat on the ground, still with an arm clutched around his tummy. “That was a…warm welcome.”

“So the animals weren’t trying to hurt us,” Tate says and pets a gentle coati leaning on his thigh, “They were just playing.”

Noticing glittering pink light in their field of vision, the researchers turn and see the rows of trees behind them still illuminated.

Phoebe’s expression eases to a warm glow. “It may sound strange, but it looks like laughter is one of the energy sources of this ecosystem. The plants, the animals, the environment…all of it thrives because of laughter.”

Gareth glances down at the reptiles gathered around him. “That could also explain the animals’ behavior to make us laugh, as well as the traits they evolved, like feathers or extra tufts of fur, to reach that goal. They were just doing their part in the ecosystem.”

The woman nods. “Meaning that there are so many more mysteries to uncover here.”

Tate turns to Snuggles, who is perched on his shoulder. The little bat squeaks at him with his two little fangs showing a smile, just like when they were first united earlier in the day.

The zoologist looks at his teammates with a gaze of confidence. “So what do you say, team? Should we move our research into a new direction?” Tate asks his partners, but he already knows their answers.

“Are you kidding? Of course!” Phoebe’s voice rises with joy. “There’s no way we can miss this opportunity!”

Gareth shrugs. “Well, if you two are doing it, then I’m in too. We’re a team after all,” he ends his sentence with a soft smile, showing that he was in from the start.

“Then it’s settled!” Tate finalizes his team’s unanimous decision.

All the animals around them cheer again in celebration, as if they knew what the three were saying by the excited tone of their voices. The researchers chuckle at the creatures’ reactions. They’re sure to expect a handful from these new species during their research for this ecosystem.

Snuggles shows Tate, Gareth, and Phoebe a second way out of the exuberant section of the secluded forest, guiding them between two walls of thick foliage with enough room that the researchers can still easily maneuver their equipment through. When they return to their campsite, Tate makes a call to the I.S.S.E.C Corporation about the team’s findings. Although the corporation is skeptical at first hearing about an ecosystem fueled by a gemstone and laughter, the team gains their approval to switch their research towards a new objective. They repack their half-made campsite, hop in the jeep, then head down the same path lined to the sides with trees and past the cave that had originally shown them to an unexpected world.

When they reach their destination, they unload all of their equipment and place it in a small pile right outside the second hidden entrance. Afterwards, Gareth securely parks the vehicle in between two trees to the side of the main path.

Tate places a bag in the pile and rests his arms for a moment. “Alright, that should be the last of them.” He leans over to pick up their equipment again to carry it through the veil of foliage, but a faint thump in the distance draws his attention. He turns his head towards the sound, which came from the end of the main path. Another faint thump is heard in the same direction. Curious of the source, Tate walks towards the end of the path. Snuggles joins as his companion by landing on his shoulder.

“Tate?” Phoebe asks after seeing him walk by her, like he was focused on searching for something. She looks to Gareth, who has the same worry on his face after seeing Tate wordlessly pass him while he finished securing a protective cover for their vehicle. Concerned about their friend, the other two researchers stop what they're doing and follow Tate.

The end of the forest path, only a few steps away from the second entrance of the newly discovered ecosystem, leads to a grassy cliff. Tate is unmoving as he looks over the edge. When Gareth and Phoebe come to his sides, they suddenly share the same shocked stiffness.

Phoebe puts her hands up to her mouth and gasps in silence. “Oh no…”

Below the cliff, what once were grand sections of green forest trees and grass have been stripped from the earth’s floor. A large patch of rocky dirt, like a pulled off strip of wax removal for flora, remains from where grass once grew. The trees that created a canopy before are chopped, leaving only a stump in its place. Yellow construction machines lurk motionless by freshly dug dirt nearby the soulless, leftovers of the trees.

Snuggles lets out a shaky squeak and cowers behind Tate’s collar. The three researchers silently stare out at the destruction. One thing is clear: they’re not the only ones who are looking for something in this forest.

#Sunstone's OCs #Exuberant Ecosystem #Tate Pallder #Phoebe Lilona #Gareth Bargmy #Snuggles the bat #original series #original character #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle community #sfw tickling #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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graysongraysoff · 2 years

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Title: Three Unspoken Messages and Three Words Left Unsaid (AO3) Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs Characters: Sakunosuke Oda, Osamu Dazai Relationships: Dazai & Oda, Dazai/Chuuya (Soukoku), Dazai & Ougai Mori Warnings: Major Character Death, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Words Left Unsaid, Alcohol Words: 1,078

“An arrogant enemy who feels invincible is the most vulnerable opponent of all.”

“Got an early start,” Sakunosuke Oda commented, sitting in his usual place beside the young Osamu Dazai, whose empty beer glass was being replaced with a fresh one. Bar Lupin’s bartender had Oda’s coffee ready in another few seconds, without Oda even raising his hand.

“Is it early?” Dazai asked with characteristic breeziness, watching the bubbles floating to the top of his glass before taking a generous swig. Someone who didn’t know him as well might not have noticed, but to Oda, Dazai seemed… off, somehow. He couldn’t quite place what it was, but this was not everyday, run-of-the-mill Dazai, if such words could even be applied to the eccentric teenager. He proceeded with caution, knowing his friend would only clam up if he got the sense he was being pried at.

“Early for you,” Oda shrugged. “Was sure I’d beat you here tonight.” He nudged him lightly with his elbow. “Hard day at the office?”

Dazai grinned, and there was something off about that, too. It wasn’t that it was insincere — Oda knew Dazai well enough by now to know most of his smiles were insincere — but rather that insincerity seemed to sit differently on his face today, as if it were slightly askew.

“Not at all, not at all!” Dazai crowed cheerily. “Actually, quite the opposite; today was an exceptionally good day! You see, I started early ’cause I’m celebrating,” he said, raising his glass. “That yappy little sheep dog Nakahara Chuuya is finally dead.”

“Dead?” A bolt of shock shot through Oda’s chest. Oda hadn’t known Chuuya well himself, but he had listened to Dazai talk about him, had heard the way they sniped at each other over radio comms.

He had known they were close.

“As a doornail,” Dazai chirped, reaching in front of Oda to clink his glass to Oda’s mug when Oda didn’t move to return his toast. He took another deep drink of his beer. “And it took some doing, let me tell you. I mean, he was a detestable little slug with shit for brains, but it can’t be denied that his ability made him quite the force of nature.” He heaved a theatrical sigh. “Even so, up against some of Europe’s most powerful gifted, and without me there to bring him down from Corruption…”

He spread his hands and shrugged, still wearing an easy air, but Oda didn’t miss the brief flicker of guilt that ran through his facade.

“You weren’t there?” Oda asked.

Dazai shrugged again. “It was supposed to be something he could handle on his own,” he explained, “but it seems that we were misinformed as far as that went. You know, speaking of that, I was really hoping Ango would show up tonight. I have some questions for him about that information. And its source.”

Bitterness crept into his voice for the first time as he said this. He polished off his beer and signaled the bartender for another.

“What are you saying?” Oda asked. “You think Chuuya was set up?”

Dazai didn’t answer right away. The bartender poured him another glass, and Dazai immediately brought it to his lips. Oda noticed that one of the boy’s knees was bouncing under the bar, and a realization hit him like a bullet: Dazai was scared.

“I know he was set up,” Dazai said quietly, his insincere smile giving way to a flat expression that made the quick-minded kid look eerily hollow. “And I know who did it, too. Not that it matters, of course. He’ll have been very thorough, making it impossible to prove.”

“Dazai.” Oda placed a hand on his bony shoulder, turning him slightly on his stool to make him meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

Dazai choked out a brittle laugh. “Come on, Odasaku, you haven’t figured it out?” he teased. “Why else would I want to bend Ango’s ear?”

The way he said it sounded more like he wanted to wring Ango’s neck.

“An inside job?” Oda asked.

“As inside as it gets,” Dazai said with a cold smile. “The boss needed the Europeans dealt with, and they were. But he also had a message to get across.” His knuckles were white around his beer glass. “A message for me.”

Oda’s heart twisted in his chest as the pieces came together. Dazai had become a Port Mafia executive at the age of 16. He was ambitious and cunning, qualities that were good to have in a subordinate — provided they stayed your subordinate. If Mori felt Dazai was becoming a bit big for his breeches, having Chuuya killed was an effective way to address it. It sent not one message, in fact, but three: This is how easily I can dispose of someone, even someone as powerful as Chuuya. This is what happens to the people you care about when you forget your place. And, perhaps worst of all, Pretending you don’t care about someone will not fool me.

Dazai was not an easy person to rattle, but he was shaking beneath Oda’s hand.

“I’ll have to kill him, of course,” Dazai said, trying to reclaim some of his earlier irreverence. Oda’s head jerked up to look for the bartender, but he seemed to have done the smart thing and disappeared for the moment. “That goes without saying. It’s going to be tougher than I thought it would be, but now that I have a better idea of what I’m up against I can —”

“Dazai.” Oda cut him off softly, squeezing his shoulder. Dazai looked up at him, and Oda’s heart clenched when he saw that every layer of insincerity with which Dazai usually insulated himself had fallen away, leaving in his unbandaged left eye a roiling mixture of fear and anger and grief. More than ever before, he actually looked like the child he was.

“I never got to tell him,” Dazai whispered as tears began to slide down one cheek. “Fucking — Mori knew, but I never got to say it. I never got to tell him — I never got to tell Chuuya I —”

The words he never got to say remained unsaid as Dazai lost the rest of the sentence to sobs. Oda tugged the boy off his stool and into a tight hug, pushing a hand up into his unruly brown curls to gently guide his head down to his shoulder. He held Dazai there for a long time, saying nothing and letting him soak his jacket with tears.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #oda sakunosuke #osamu dazai #nakahara chuuya #sakunosuke oda #fanfic #bsd fanfic #skk

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romanstheory · 2 years

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A Request with Reigns and his wife with her being on RAW and one night he surprises her when she’s having an in-ring segment with Seth and Becky who are trying to attack her but they end up kicking both their a**es & later celebrate. ;)

Niceeeee

Word Count : 746

18 +

Tonight I have a match against Becky Lynch, one of my long time rivals. We're prepping for a title match at the next big event. We're set for a normal singles match, and I can't wait to get my hands on her. Not only is she mouthy but she's disrespectful, and I don't tolerate disrespect very well. She's always got her loud mouth husband Seth Rollins talking shit backstage for her. He's like a yappy chihuahua that just wont shut up. I'm married to Roman Reigns, who is on smackdown so we sometimes go a little while without seeing each other. Being on different brands is hard, and I hate it but that's what comes with the business.

I'm stretching before my match and getting my last minute jitters out when Seth Rolling approaches me. "What do you want Seth?" I say stretching my arms. "Just wanted to tell you to watch your back tonight" Seth says cackling "Make sure you've got eyes in the back of your head". I roll my eyes and ignore him before walking out to the ring to do my trash talk before my match with Becky. I am handed a mic, the crowd is settling down. "Becky Becky Becky, I know you're shaking in your boots back there just waiting for this ass whooping you're about to get. I've waited so long for this opportunity and tonight is juts going to be a little taste of what you've got coming." I say

"In a few weeks i'm going to beat your ass so bad that you'll be laying in a hospital bed with your noble lap dog Seth Rollins crying by you side" I say confidently as the crowd roars. Becky's music hit and she and Seth come running out. I'm prepared to fight when Seth uses all of his strength to hold me back while Becky attempts to punch me. Just as she's about to punch me, Roman's music begins to play. I'm just as shocked as everyone else including Seth and Becky. Roman come running out full speed, Becky runs out of the ring and Seth releases me. I step to the side as Roman spears Seth full speed, leaving his body seemingly lifeless. I leave the ring, grabbing Becky by the hair as she tries to run backstage. I slam her to the ground punching her with no remorse.

Later that night Roman and I are back in our hotel room. "That was a nice surprise tonight" I say laughing. "I figured you'd appreciate it. I came originally to surprise you but then those two clowns pulled what they did" Roman says laying next to me on the bed. "I'm thinking we should celebrate a little" Roman says looking me up and down. "I love celebrations" I say pulling him in for a kiss. His big hands explore my body as he grabs and squeezes on my ass. We undress, and I get on top of him. Slowly grinding our bodies together, teasing him with my touch. He kisses on my neck, trailing down to my breasts as he massages them. I grab his member, pushing it into my vagina. He glides into me perfectly, and I begin rocking my hips back and fourth.

Already filling with pleasure, I begin bouncing as Roman struggles to keep my soft breast in his mouth. The sensation of his tongue on my breast and his length pounding away in me drove me crazy. "Mmmh I missed you" I say breathy. "Fuck I missed you too" Roman says putting his hands on my hips, looking down to see himself go in and out of my body. I lean back, putting my arms on his thighs and continue bounding and grinding on his long length. "Oh shit! Keep doing that" Roman growls. "You like that?" I say picking up the pace. "Oh my god!" Roman groans, throwing his head back. I slow my pace, pushing myself down on him deep moving my hips back and fourth.

My clit rubbing against his warm body was more than enough for me to reach my peak. "Oh! Oh my god! Fuck" I say as my legs begin to shake. Roman grabs my hips again, slamming me down on him "Oh shit I'm close" He groans "Cum in me" I say eyes dark with lust. Roman groans one more time before filling me with his warm cream. "Damn I missed that" He says out of breath.

#roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x reader #wwe #wwe smut #wwe x female reader

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Idea/prompt if you are so inclined: injured villain rejecting help and shelter from hero. Hero thinking it's from stubbornness and pride, berates them until realizing it's actually fear and distrust in villain's eyes. Cue trauma and trust issues reveal *.+

love ur writing btw keep it up <3

Ohh I love this one so much! It has so much potential. I really hope I did it justice, though halfway through writing this I had another idea and I almost regret not writing it, now. But, I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Thank you for your wonderful prompts. I always delight seeing you in my inbox.

CW//Injuries, strong language

“Stop! Dammit, stop! You’re going to get hit by a car if you aren’t careful!”

Hero expended just about every last ounce of their breath on the words, but as soon as the air left their lips, it was whisked away by the same hurtling wind that bit at their nose like a particularly yappy little dog. The rest of the air in their lungs was similarly spent, fueling their legs as they dashed around a street corner, nearly losing their balance on a particularly slippery patch of ice.

Though cold threatened to burn their gaze, the hero lifted their head, keeping their eyes ahead. If they lost their target, they’d lose the chase-- and they’d lose any opportunity to sleep that night. Especially if their target got hurt on their watch.

“Please, stop! I don’t want to hurt you!”

In the distance, through gusts of winter fog, however, that very target was threatening to slip away. They were little more than a black spot against an ocean of white, now. They weren’t even dressed for the weather!

And, then, they were gone. As though they had never been there at all. Dust swept away by the heavy wind. Gritting their teeth, Hero continued their trek. Their target couldn’t have simply disappeared out of nowhere!

They only stopped upon reaching the location where they’d seen the chasee last. It was only a moment before all hope seemed lost that a great clattering sounded. Hero whirled around to the side, spotting- How had they not seen that alleyway there before?

Now, they most certainly saw it. And, more than that, they saw the stack of boxes and trash bags piled at the end of it. More importantly, they saw the clambering figure, attempting to make their way up those bags.

Attempting, and failing.

Hero hesitated at the sight. It would be taking a risk, certainly. In any circumstance, they would’ve helped without thought, but now?

This was a villain. A cornered villain was a scared villain, and a scared villain was a dangerous villain. Add injury on top of that, and one had a certain recipe for disaster.

On the other hand, they simply couldn’t handle the pathetic sight. The villain crawled forth on their hands and knees, struggling over bags before falling back again. With how much they were destroying the pile, it’d be gone before they could use it to climb anywhere. More than that, they were already half-buried in garbage, and in desperate need of a bath. Or five.

No, Hero simply couldn’t allow this to go on. This villain didn’t get to die of their injuries just because they were stubborn and prideful.

“Stop!”

They moved into the front of the alleyway, blocking its exit with their wide shoulders. Startled, the villain at the end of the street emerged from their quicksand-esque pile of trash bags.

The poor thing looked terrible. Frostbite had turned dark brown skin ashy and almost blue, while the tips of their ears and nose had begun to flush a nasty red. That wasn’t to mention their wounds-- Wounds that Hero hated to think they had inflicted upon the villain themself. That was how they’d ended up here, after all. A fight.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The hero spoke firmly, advancing into the alleyway. They extended one hand, a lack of gloves or mittens showing their own dark skin, marred by cold in its own right.

The villain narrowed their eyes in disbelief.

“You’re already hurt.” They advanced another step. Their foe scrambled back in turn, but only found themself tumbling onto a half-shattered crate. “I have a car. We’re going to the damn hospital, now. You should’ve been there half an hour ago!”

Their foe replied only with narrowed eyes, and a renewed ferocity in their struggles. If they got just a little higher, they would be on the roof of the adjacent building. And, not long after, gone into the night.

Hero lunged forward, grabbing their foe by the ankle and yanking them down, off the pile of trash and other assorted thrown-aways. The villain snapped at them, yanking their leg away and scrambling back to their feet.

“Asshole!”

“One of us has three broken ribs. The other doesn’t.” Hero bit in reply. “Just because you lost a damn fight doesn’t mean you get to die out here in the cold. You can be a stubborn ass once you’re discharged.”

“Being stubborn is suiting me just fine, now, actually.”

The villain turned, moving towards the roof once more, but was held back by a hand gripped around their wrist.

“Not so fast. I said, you’re going to the hospital.”

And, for an instant, there was a glimmer of... Something. A glimmer of something in the villain’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, certainly not. Fear? But that wasn’t all of it.

“Not going to the hospital.” They spat.

Hero gritted their teeth. Just a moment ago, they had fully intended to drag the villain all the way to the ER, kicking and screaming. That flash in their eyes, however- That had made them reconsider.

“Okay.” They sighed. “No hospital. But I have some bandages and antiseptic back at my own house. And, at least there, there’s heating.”

Another frantic shake. Another attempt at escape.

“I’m not letting you go, no matter how much you tug at me like a kid who wants to go to a candy store.” Hero bit. “Fine, then. You want to stand out here in the cold? Then we stand out here in the cold, and you look at me, and we talk like civil people.”

The villain grimaced at the thought. Yet, much to the hero’s surprise, their foe turned to face them.

“Fine.” They crossed their arms as soon as Hero released their wrist. “We talk.”

“Y’know, most villains around here are a little more established.” Hero began. “When the bank is being robbed, usually, it’s an old face. But you’re new around here.”

“Yeah.”

“Care to explain?”

“No.”

“Well... How about your name, at least?”

A raised brow.

“Yours first.”

“Hero.”

“Villain.”

“You are new, then. I’ve never heard that one before.” They furrowed their brow. “It almost sounds familiar, though. Are you-”

“Who I am is a very busy person with a train to catch.” Villain whipped around.

“And what’s got you in such a hurry?”

“I’m on the run, dumbass!”

The tone in which Villain spoke went beyond fury. Beyond hate. No, it was an expression of pure exhaustion. Of emotions pent up over an incalculable amount of time, now bursting through the floodgates. Floodgates weakened by pain and cold.

“You’re-”

“I came from the North. Another city. Where I’m going is none of your business.”

Another flicker in Villain’s eyes. It stayed longer, this time. Far longer. Deep, brown irises, almost threatening to burst to tears. It was clear that this wasn’t spontaneous. These were emotions that had been building up for days, if not weeks.

“From up North.” Hero repeated. “You aren’t new to this business, are you?”

Villain averted their gaze.

“Come to think of it, you fight like a hero.”

“Not anymore. I fight like- Like whatever I am.”

“Someone’s missing from that city up North.” Hero’s voice grew firm, refusing to give Villain an inch of verbal wiggle room. “A hero. It’s all over the news.”

“I know.”

“They’re looking for you.”

“I know!”

“They say you’re a traitor.” Hero took a step forward, hands balled to fists. Was this villain even worse than they’d thought. “That you turned your coat, sided with the villains.”

“I didn’t! And I’m not a traitor!”

Villain’s hands swung upwards to cover their ears, as though it would block out the echo of Hero’s words.

“You don’t get it.” The villain growled under their breath. Hero stumbled a few frantic feet back.

“What don’t I get? If I don’t get it, explain it to me!”

Villain looked upwards sharply, only just daring to drop their hands.

“When I signed up to be a hero-” They began to advance towards their foe, pointed finger jabbing accusingly on every other word. “I signed up to be a hero. Not a murderer. I’ll hurt. I’ll fight. But I will never kill.”

Hero’s eyes widened.

“Who did they want you to kill?”

“Someone who deserved it.” Villain’s shoulders slumped as they dropped their hand. “A supervillain.”

“And you let them go.”

“I even covered for them.”

“And now you’re-”

“A traitor.” They imitated Hero’s own tone. “I’ve turned my coat, sided with the villains.”

A pause.

“Do you think you did the right thing?”

“I don’t know.” They shook their head. “But, as I said, I have a train to catch.”

“No, you don’t.”

Hero reached out once more, grabbing them by the wrist.

“You’re coming with me. You’re coming to my house, and I’m popping your ribs back in place, and you’re going to get under some blankets and drink a nice hot cup of cocoa.”

“I’m going to the train station.”

“I’ll buy you a new ticket.” Hero snapped hastily. “But you’ll catch your death out here.”

Villain looked back. This time, there was a new emotion mixed into their gaze. Was it- Hope?

“You really want to help me?”

“I really do.”

“Just the night. Then I get on the first train to leave in the morning.”

Hero nodded their agreement. But, truly, they knew that wasn’t going to happen. Or, at the very least, they hoped it wouldn’t. Getting Villain out of the cold was one thing. Turning them back to the good side would be the next. And, maybe, they wouldn’t have to be a fugitive any longer.

All the way back to the car, however, Hero couldn’t help but wonder:

Was this traitorous, too?

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #whump #whumper #whumpee #environmental whump #whump writing #whump scenario #hero x villain #hero villain whump #hero villain writing #hero villain trope #hero villain prompt #whump prompt #whump ask

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