#nobody could resist her charms w any of these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ casanova ✦

this chapter pairing; incubus!vernon x succubus!reader

genre&warnings; incubus!au, cocky!vernon, lots of banter, breathplay/choking, slight fingering, blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, namecalling, fucking in a public place 😗

notes; oh the way cocky vernon hits so different 🤤🥵 low-key I was imagining bad clue vernon for this one but then I was like mmm thats a little too dapper for this fic so instead my mind was like 🤤🤤🤤 fear era vernon~ Anyway~ oh! I'll make a notice probably tomorrow that I won’t be online this weekend(thurs-sun) at all, but I'll log in to post the last 3 monster mash fics! I’ll also be answering all the thirst posts/comments/etc. throughout the week once I get back! 💕 have a good day/night! all my socal bbys, stay safe! see u tomorrow! 💕🎃👻

word count; ~2600

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - x - x - x - x

i’m here lying on the bed of your tongue;

my heart listens to the sound of your war drum

steady tiptoeing to your neck of the woods;

i feel danger on your lips but it tastes good.

You take a seat at the bar, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this awful.” The bartender comments, sliding a drink across the countertop. “It’s, uh, on the house.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.” You mutter, graciously accepting the free drink.

Tonight should’ve been an easy night for you; just a quick visit to a few of your regular humans and you would’ve been easily sated. But for whatever reason, not a single of them provided you with any sort of satisfaction and you’d left out of boredom before they’d even gotten you to cum.

“You okay? You look... Like you’ve seen better days.” He laughs, leaning over the counter top. “It’s Halloween, you out of all people should be busy.” You quickly down the drink in one shot, passing Seungcheol the glass as he goes to fill it up again, back turned to you. “See, you’d think that. But it fuckin’ sucked. Dunno, nothing really satisfied my craving, I guess.”

“And what are you craving, princess?”

A voice from behind you has you spinning on your barstool as you come face to face with Vernon. “Ugh, it’s you.” He laughs lightly, taking a seat next to you as he shrugs his suit jacket off.

“Fuck you mean, ‘ugh’?” Vernon scoffs.

Seungcheol comes back with your drink and one for Vernon as well, sliding them to your side as he sighs. “Okay, why are you both here? Seriously, it’s Halloween! Feeding should be easy!” You roll your eyes, glass in hand as you stare Seungcheol down. “And what are you doing here, Seungcheol? Shouldn’t you be feeding?”

The male raises a brow at you, “What do you think I’m doing on my breaks? This place is crawling with humans trying to get caught up in the mix.”

Vernon sighs next to you, quietly taking a sip of his drink. “And you? Why are you here, Vernon?”

He places his glass down, half turned to face you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Seungcheol chuckles, hip propped up against the countertop as he butts in. “She said nobody is ‘satisfying’ her tonight.” Vernon’s expression falls into that of understanding as you groan.

“Ugh, ‘Cheol, go mind your business!” The said male backs off laughing, walking towards the other side of the bar to service other patrons.

“Nobody’s satisfying you, huh? And why’s that? All your regulars getting boring?” Vernon asks; a lazy smirk on his features.

“I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing, Vernon. Or is it that you can’t get it up maybe?” You tease.

The smirk falls from his face, eyes squinting at you. “Is that what you think? That I can’t get it up? And how about you? Is that pussy of yours scaring off all of your regulars? Or maybe their dicks are too small and can’t satisfy how fuckin’ much you want your cunt filled.”

You lean in at the same time he does, fingers looping into his necktie as you pull him in even closer.

“You talk like you can satisfy me.” “Are you tryna find out? ‘Cause I’m willing to let you. But don’t go crying when my cock’s too big for you.” Vernon grins.

“Prove it then, casanova. Show me you’re worth my time.”

Vernon pushes you into the employee restroom, Seungcheol shouting in the background as the door locks into place.

The red lights in the small space make it feel more intimate and sensual; the complete opposite of the way Vernon’s teeth clash with yours when he kisses you hard.

You moan into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair as he presses you into the door and he slots a leg between your own, letting you grind down onto his thigh as he smirks against your lips. It’s a battle for power between the two of you; neither of you willing to give up your natural dominant nature.

Vernon pulls away, eyes hazy and the same cocky smirk on his lips. “So fuckin’ desperate to get fucked, you’ll use my thigh too, huh?”

“Maybe that’s your only charm point?” You retort. He doesn’t take too kindly as he shakes your hands out of his hair and he drags you over to the countertop.

In the mirror, you take in your appearance, your own drunk eyes staring right back at you. “God, you talk so damn much, you know that?” He murmurs, nosing at your neck. His hands roam your body, hiking your dress further and further up until he can run his fingertips over your panties. He wastes no time, locating your clit through the material before he pinches it hard.

“O-oh, fuck!” You cry, eyes clamping shut at his rough touch. Your panties get wetter and wetter and you find yourself grinding your ass into his hardening cock.

Vernon kisses your skin, leaving small love bites in his wake as he continues to tease you through your panties. “Mmm, you’re getting so wet and all I’m doing is touching your ‘lil clit through your panties. Is that how easy you are? Just a little taste and you’re already putty in my hands.” He smirks against you, fingertips pulling your panties to the side.

“You say I talk too much? You fuckin’ talk too much, Vernon. Hurry up and finger me already!”

He laughs, running his fingers through your wetness before he sinks his index and middle fingers up to the knuckle in one fast movement.

A garbled moans floats past your lips as he starts fucking you with his fingers and you watch your own expression contort in pleasure at the way his fingers were already providing you with more satisfaction than anything else tonight. “Oh, g-god, fuck, that feels suh---so good…”

Vernon ruts into your ass, smoky eyes gazing into the mirror. “You’re so pretty getting drunk on my fingers fucking you open. How are you gonna look once it’s my cock inside of you?”

“G-god, we won’t g-get, ah, there if you don’t s-shut up!” He rolls his eyes, nipping at the junction of your neck.

Vernon lets you grind against his fingers for a moment, eating up the way you seem to forget about everything around you as you chase the pleasure. But he gets bored, pulling his fingers out of you almost just as quickly as he’d first sunk them in.

“H-hey!”

“Oh, baby, you can’t be the only one benefitting from this.” Vernon pulls away from you, uncaring that he uses his sticky, wet fingers to undo the button and zipper of his pants. “Hope you’re ready to take my cock. All those people that couldn’t fuck you right tonight were all just pregames ‘til now, huh?” He grins, wrapping a hand around his cock.

You can only see so much from the mirror’s reflection; watching as Vernon places a firm hand on your shoulder as he pushes your upper half further down onto the countertop. “Get comfy, princess. Wouldn’t want you to break a nail or something.”

“Just fuck me already, damn it!” Whining, you place your hands palm down on the mirror as you jut your ass out further. You watch with hazy eyes as he smirks at you in the mirror and you soon feel the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

“God, you are so lucky I’m just as impatient as you are.”

You’re about to complain about him taking too long again, but you’re quickly left breathless when he starts inching his cock into your wet pussy. “Fuh---fuck, oh, go---god you’re, ah, b-big!”

“Get used to it, you’ll be begging me for more.”

You choose to ignore his cocky comments as you focus on the way his cock stretches you out perfectly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he finally bottoms out. His cock taps against your cervix and you resist the urge to just start fucking yourself on his cock, impatience muddling everything else in your mind.

“Mmm, your pussy is so tight and warm around me, baby. Maybe it’s that personality of yours that scares off your regulars.” Vernon chuckles under his breath, but it’s immediately cut short when you clench around him hard. “Shit, fine, fine, I get it!” He grumbles.

Vernon draws his hips back before slamming his cock back into you and for a second, your clammy palms pressed up against the mirror almost lose their grip with how your body jerks forward. “God, yes, yes fuck me hard!” You cry, already meeting his harsh pace.

“So this is why they can’t do it for you, huh?” His hips snap into you; the sound of skin slapping getting drowned out by the loud music on the other side of the door. “You wanna be fucked like a little cumslut tonight and nobody wants to give it to you.”

“Ngh, y-yeah… s-so what’s y-your fuckin’, ah, d-deal?”

Vernon scoffs, “Maybe I just wanted to treat someone like my own ‘lil cockslut tonight and nobody was doin’ it for me either.” You grin in return, hazy eyes focused on yourself in the mirror.

“Guess t-this was where, ah, we were meant to be t-tonight.” You lick your lips, working your hips back as you start to chase your orgasm. “By the w-way, don’t--don’t cum, hah, inside m-me…” He slows his pace a little, leaning over your back as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “Oh? Why’s that? Don’t want people to know I fucked you in Seungcheol’s employee restroom? Or is it that you’re scared you’ll get addicted to me cumming inside your hot little cunt. Maybe you’ll even go home and fuck my cum deeper inside of yourself wishin’ it was still me and not your hands or your dumb little humans.”

His words are almost filthy enough to make you change your mind, but you harden your stare, crimson eyes meeting his in the mirror’s reflection. “Don’t g-get too cocky, Vernon. Just don’t fuckin’ cum i-in me. I’m s-still going out, mmh, after t-this…”

He shoots you an incredulous look, leaning away from you shoulder as he starts to double his pace. “Wow, fuckin’ bold of you to even go out after this. But okay, you’ll come crawling back to find me and I’ll be waiting at the bar for you. Maybe you’ll even be so fuckin’ desperate for my cock, I’ll even make you beg me. And beg for me to cum inside of you.” Vernon pauses, snaking his hand up your spine before he circles it around the column of your throat. “For now, you’re gonna cum on my cock, get it nice ‘n soaked. Then you’re gonna suck me off and I’m gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours.”

“F-fine…”

Vernon gently applies pressure to your throat, restricting your airways slightly as you start to get tighter around him. “Touch your clit, make yourself cum.” He commands.

You’re quick to take his lead, trailing a hand down your body until you can rub quick circles on your clit. “G-god, yes, fuck, ah, I’m gon---gonna cum, fuck! My pussy’s so fuckin’ full, I---mmph!” Vernon’s hand on your throat quickly travels up until his palm is pressed firmly against your lips, effectively muffling you.

He uses this as leverage, pushing you backwards until your back meets his clothed chest. Your body jerks in his hold as he fucks into you hard, cock slamming into your cervix with each thrust. “Fuck, you have such a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Everyone can probably hear what a little whore you are. But I bet that gets you off, doesn’t it? Letting everyone know how fuckin’ good you’re getting it.” He licks the shell of your ear, hips pistoning into you as you cum; moans and cries muffled by Vernon’s hand still over your mouth.

“That’s right, cum on my cock, baby. Your tight cunt feels so good around me.” Moaning, he slows down his thrusts, watching you through the mirror as you take your pleasure.

It doesn’t give you any energy like feeding from a human would, but the pleasure still feels good enough for shapes dance beneath your eyelids as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Shit, you really are pretty like this.” Vernon scoffs under his breath as he finally removes his hand from over your mouth. Your body slumps forward as you catch your breath; soft whimpers on your lips. “Now it’s my turn, baby. I expect you on your knees now~”

You groan in return, somewhat drained. This is why you never fucked with other incubus; there was no energy gain and it left you more tired than anything else.

But you only think it’s fair, so you drop to your knees, wincing slightly when the tile bites into your kneecaps. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, ready for Vernon to hurry up and cum down your throat.

“Hmm~ I think you’d be even prettier with my cum all over your face. Whaddya think?” He grins, eyes twinkling down at you.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to have your dick bitten off?” You growl.

Vernon takes the hint as he threads a hand loosely into your hair and you use a hand to wrap around his cock that’s already covered in your wetness.

You immediately sink your mouth down onto his cock; deepthroating him and hollowing out your cheeks around him. Tucking your hands underneath your thighs, you let Vernon use your mouth, moaning around him to help throw him over the edge.

He groans from above you, hips thrusting into your mouth as he feels his orgasm coming on, only a few minutes later. “Fuck, ‘m gonna, ah, c-cum. Swallow it all, baby. Show me what a good cumslut, hah, you a-are.”

Humming around him, you bask in the way his moans are clipped and stuttered with your teasing.

Vernon could be so easy too, despite his cocky nature.

You feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, the salty substance hitting the back of your throat as you aim to swallow it all down.

“Ngh, look at you. Not even a drop spilled. You’re a pro~” He quips; tugging you by the hair as you cough and sputter. A thread of cum and spit connect your lips to his cock and for a second, Vernon thinks he can get used to seeing you like this.

You move to stand, legs shaky as you rest your back against the countertop that he’d had you bent over, moments prior. “At least one of us is.” You smirk at him, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“God, you really just don’t quit, do you?”

“Hey, some of my humans like it, asshole.” You turn to face the mirror, taking in your disheveled appearance.

Vernon stands beside you, adjusting his clothes and hair as you do too. “Speaking of, are you really still heading out after this?”

Tugging your dress down, you check your appearance in the mirror one last time before you reach for the doorknob and unlock it.

“Yeah, ‘cause that drained me of any energy I had.” You pause, turning slightly to face Vernon who stands behind you. You bite the inside of your cheek and despite the snarky banter between the two of you; Vernon wasn’t half bad.

“Maybe once I get some of it back, I’ll meet you at the bar.”

His eyes flash a darker shade of red, lips ghosting across the shell of your ear when he leans in.

“I’ll be waiting on you, baby.”

#incubus!vernon #incubus!svt #vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #incubus!seventeen #vernon #svt fic #seventeen fic #monstermash!svt

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, mentions of alcohol, Bill and Charlie being brothers 🤗

Chapter 12

Charlie

William Weasley

This should be the right door. I lifted my hand to knock but stopped myself. Damn, this was hard. My heart was racing like crazy and I needed every muscle in my body not to run away.

I inhaled deeply and quickly knocked on the door not to change my mind. There was no sound on the other side. Great, he’s not here. I tried the doorknob and the door creaked open. I poked my head inside. There was nobody there.

I saw another door behind his desk and even though I probably shouldn’t be entering his office, I decided to check if he might be in the next room. I slowly made my way to it and knocked. Again no sound.

“Charlie, what the fuck?” I jumped in the air, all color leaving my face.

“Hi.” I turned around and waved at my brother.

I didn’t know what to make of his face. I obviously scared him. Of course, he didn’t expect anyone in his office, especially me.

“What are you doing here, Charles?” I winced when he used my full name.

He only did that when he was really mad, which made sense.

“I came to see you.” Every speech that I had prepared was gone instantly and left my head blank.

“To see me?” He scoffed. “Seriously? It’s been two years.”

“I know.” I whispered and bowed my head.

I tried getting closer to him. Merlin, did I miss him.

“What in bloody hell is going on with you, Charlie?” He leaned on his desk and I made my way to the front door just in case I would have to flee. “Mum told me you only came home for Easter last year. Have you gone mental?”

“That’s an understatement.” I said sarcastically.

Silence fell upon us. I could feel the distance between us. The tension. The awkwardness. I could sense how furious he was with me and I could see it on his face that he was trying hard not to start shouting.

“Look.” I swallowed hard. I was here for a reason and I can’t chicken out now. If I thought I missed him before, seeing him made me realize just how much I did and I need him back. “I came here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” He laughed. “This ought to be good. What are you apologizing for, Charles?”

“I…I…” I completely froze. The tone of his voice threw me off. He had all the right to be angry and I knew exactly what he was doing. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t a clue what you are trying to say.” He frowned at me.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you.” I started shaking.

This was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.

“And what was that?”

He did this every time he wanted me to admit I did something wrong. When he wanted me to say it out loud. For me to hear it. To feel regret and to admit my mistakes.

“I slept with Rhylee.” I blurted.

There, it’s out. Can the pain in my chest stop now?

“She said that she told you.”

“That’s right, Charlie. She told me.” He said through his teeth.

“I know, it should’ve been me but I just couldn’t, Bill.” I shook my head. “I felt horrible. I still do. I feel the guilt every day for how much I’ve hurt you.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” He bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes at me.

“I’m so sorry, Bill. I should never have let it happen. I should’ve just stayed in my room and do the work there. But instead, we got drunk and I just…” I completely broke down.

The tears that were gathering in my eyes finally escaped. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. I didn’t want to. I felt so bad for years and it was even worse now, standing before him.

“I just couldn’t resist her.” I sobbed. “I know that’s not an excuse. I knew how much you liked her and I did it anyway. I just don’t know what came over me and I tried to back off, I really did.”

“You did a rather poor job.” He lifted his eyebrows.

“I know. I…I don’t know what to say. I know sorry doesn’t suffice and I will do anything to make you forgive me. I know I am a terrible person and what I did to you might just be the worst thing I have ever done and I was selfish for doing it.” I couldn’t stop talking.

Everything that I piled up, I just had to tell him.

“I was only thinking of myself. She intrigued me and she was so interesting and the way she was talking about dragons got me completely mesmerized and I promised myself that I would stay away because I saw where it was going but then she stayed behind too and I went to the kitchen to work and she came down and helped me and spent so much time working on it and then I brought out the Fire Whiskey and one thing led to another and…”

I stopped myself from talking. He didn’t have to know the details of that.

“I just…I crossed the line.” I continued after he didn’t say anything.

I didn’t even dare to look at him. I couldn’t.

“I didn’t try hard enough to stop it even though I knew how much you cared about her and I feel so bad about it. Trust me, Bill. I really do. I think about what I did to you every single day. And I know I’m a coward for not coming to see you sooner. I am sorry I needed so much time. I am sorry Rhylee was the one to tell you and not me. I’m sorry I have been neglecting my family because I was avoiding you. I came home last Easter just because I knew you wouldn’t be there, for fuck’s sake. What does that say about me?” I was hardly keeping it together.

I felt dizzy and I begged my legs to hold me.

“If I could take it back, I would. I would give everything to take it back. I felt bad before we even slept together. I don’t know what got over me. She was just so different and something was pulling me closer to her. I wanted to get to know her and I felt as if I knew her for years. I…” I shook my head.

I couldn’t talk anymore. I couldn’t even breathe.

I mustered the courage and looked up at him. He was still leaning on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, but his expression has softened.

“Just punch me in the nose. Break it. Get it over with. I know you want to and we both know I deserve it.” I wiped the tears off my face.

I had to look pathetic but I didn’t care. I just wanted to know what I can do so that he will start talking to me again. So that he will start sending me letters again and tell me all about his day and ask for my opinion on things. So that I can come and visit him and we can sit down and reminisce on our school days.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Charlie.” He breathed and pushed himself away from the desk.

He walked to me and pulled me in the tightest hug I have ever gotten from him.

What was he doing?

Didn’t he just hear everything I said?

Why was he hugging me?

I didn’t deserve his hug.

But damn did it feel good.

“I know you’re mad at me and you have all the right to be. Just tell me what I can do? Just tell me that there is hope that you’ll forgive me.” I sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Charlie.” He sighed and tightened the grip around me. “I’m disappointed.”

I pulled away and locked eyes with him. Of course, he was disappointed. I was an idiot.

“I knew I don’t stand a chance with Rhylee the second you two started talking about dragons.” He started to explain. “It’s true. I liked her a lot but it was obvious that you charmed her the second she sat down and I don’t blame you. You didn’t do it on purpose. We can’t control attraction.”

Was that a faint smile on his face?

“And thank you for blaming yourself for what happened between you two that night. I’m glad you didn’t put the blame on her even though she was the one who made the first move.” He winked at me.

“W-what?” I wasn’t sure I understood what he was saying.

“When she told me that you slept together, she told me that I shouldn’t blame you because she came on to you.” He explained.

She said that? She really said that?

“It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head. “I could still say no and I didn’t.”

“Would you want to say no if I didn’t like her?” He asked. “That’s beside the point, Bill.”

What kind of a question was that?

“I hurt you and it doesn’t matter if she made the first move or not. I didn’t consider your feelings. I know that now. I just wish…I just…I miss you so much, Bill. I miss my big brother and my best friend.” I bowed my head.

A tear ran down my face again and I wanted to hide it. I didn’t want to cry in front of him again.

“Then what in the bloody hell took you so long to talk to me?” I looked up at his frowning expression. “What did you think I was going to do to you? Hex you?”

“You can still do it, if it’ll make you feel better.” I wanted to smile but I didn’t know if I was allowed.

“I told you that I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed. Disappointed that you lost yourself so much in your guilt that you didn’t come to me immediately and tell me. Disappointed how you involved our whole family in this nonsense drama because you couldn’t face me. Disappointed that you thought that I would never talk to you again or whatever was going through your head.” He ruffled my hair.

I was dreaming of this moment. Thinking about it over and over. What he would say to me. How much he would shout. I imagined him punching me in the face. But none of it happened. He was so calm and so quick to accept my apology. How could he be so good?

“Did you think I stopped writing to you because I was mad at you? Because I didn’t want to talk to you?” He pushed me aside and walked over to his desk. “If you think so, then you’re delusional.”

He opened one of his desk drawers and took out what looked like a big pile of letters.

“You think I didn’t miss you? Miss talking to you? Spending time with you?” He pointed to the letters and I slowly made my way to the desk.

They were all addressed to me. There had to be more than 50 letters scattered all over the table. He wrote to me but never sent them out.

“I just wanted to push you to come and see me. To talk it out brother to brother. I didn’t know you would need 2 bloody years to do it.” He slammed a hand against his forehead.

“Family comes first, Charlie.” He said with a gentle voice. “I forgave you a long time ago, I just wish you came to me sooner and not torture yourself so much about it.”

I didn’t know what to say. He forgave me? I was left completely speechless, going through the letters. I wanted to sit down and read every single one of them.

“I just wanted to teach you a lesson.” His voice barely audible. “I wanted to let you know that what you did wasn’t right and yes you hurt me but you hurt me even more when you didn’t come and talk to me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I said under my breath.

I knew it was wrong of me for taking so much time to step forward.

“I wrote to you every time something big happened or when I really missed you.” He looked embarrassed now, picking up one of the letters. “You can take them home and read them.”

“Thank you for not sending them.” I looked up at him and he was smiling. He was actually smiling. Damn, it felt good to see him smile. “I’m sorry I took so long. I was just so confused and scared of what you’ll say to me and then it came so far and so much time passed that I just didn’t see a way out. I knew I was only making matters worse but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and…”

“Hey, stop.” He came to me and we both leaned on the desk. “It might have taken you forever but at least you’re here.” He grinned and I smiled back.

“Yeah, I think I reached a breaking point. I just came to the conclusion that I don’t care what happens to me or what you do to me if it means getting you back. I missed you so much Bill and so much has happened. Family comes first.” I nodded.

“I’m furious with myself that I forgot about that. But I know that now. It doesn’t matter how bad it is or what mistakes I make. It doesn’t matter how I feel about her or how she makes me feel. All it matters is that you and I are on speaking terms again and that you can look me in the eyes.” I took a deep breath.

I felt relief. I haven’t felt this good in a really long time.

“How you feel about her?” I turned my head at his question. “Feel as in present? Charlie, do you have feelings for her?” I felt my body going numb.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, Bill.” I shook my head.

It really doesn’t. If I could bottle my feelings for Rhylee for such a long time I can continue doing so and Bill doesn’t have to know about them.

“Yes, it does!” He raised his voice. “Look, can you stop feeling bad for what you did and just talk to me like nothing ever happened?” I blinked at him.

Was he mental? He can’t be serious? We can’t just go back as if nothing happened, can we? It can’t be that easy.

“Rhylee and I exchange a couple of letters per month. We’re still friends so I know she works with you.” He continued with a normal voice as I didn’t say anything. “I know that back then it couldn’t be anything because you barely knew each other but what is it now, Charlie?”

“It’s nothing.” I said quickly.

I wasn’t lying.

“But you have feelings for her?” I felt his eyes on me but the heat on my cheeks was too much for me to look at him.

I shook my head. I can’t talk to him about Rhylee even though that’s all I want to do.

“Charlie!” Bill raised his voice all-brotherly like.

“I’m in love with her, Bill.” I whispered, secretly hoping he couldn’t hear me. “I can’t help it.”

“And how does she feel?”

How could he be so calm?

I felt as if we were back at Hogwarts when I told him I had a crush on Emma.

“She doesn’t feel anything, Bill. She has a boyfriend.” I said coldly.

“Oh, please don’t tell me she’s still with Nick.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know about him?” I was baffled.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “The guy’s a prick.”

Great. How am I supposed to be happy for her now? Was that why she was crying the other day when I came over? Was she crying because of him? Because if he made her cry I will…

“He works here at Gringotts. He has been on her feet, begging her to go out with him for five months.” He started. “I still don’t know why she did it. She knew she was going to leave. It was either America or Romania. She got her letter from America and at first, she said that she’s going to take the job whichever letter comes first but she waited for her letter from Romania anyway. The second she got it, she was ecstatic. I have never seen her so happy as she was that day. We went out to celebrate and I joked that she should give you a beating for me.” I sucked in a breath at his last sentence.

“She knew I wasn’t mad anymore and got over it so it’s a joke, Charlie. Relax.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

I felt relief again. I think I will need some time to realize he forgave me.

“Anyways,” he continued, “the next day she told me and Lizzie that she’s going on a date with Nick. I was taken aback. It was all very sudden and she didn’t look that excited about it. I thought that they were going to stop seeing each other when she started working at the Reserve but apparently, she’s still blind.” Bill let out a sigh.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, really.” I shrugged my shoulders, hoping he would let it go now. “And I would rather know everything about you and Fleur.”

“Charlie…” I could see Bill’s cheeks turning red and I knew he wanted to talk about his girlfriend.

“Tell me about Fleur.” I insisted.

“Fine!” He playfully rolled his eyes. I loved how much he was enjoying this. “But just so you know, we are not done talking about you.” He pointed a finger at me and went to open one of his drawers again.

He brought out two glasses and a half-empty bottle of Fire Whiskey. How lucky was I that I got my brother back?

“You know her, you know.” He said while pouring us each a drink.

“What?” A confused look painted my face. “You remember the Triwizard Tournament? Fleur Delacour?” His face got red again, saying her name.

“Her?” I don’t think my eyes were ever so wide open. “You’re dating Fleur Delacour?”

He simply nodded. I couldn’t believe it! This was insane!

“She’s amazing, Bill! The way she handled her dragon and got the egg! Blimey!” I put down the glass he handed me and hugged him. “I am so happy for you, mate!”

I couldn’t see his face but I knew he was smiling.

“Even though she is totally out of your league.” I smirked and got punched in the shoulder for it.

It felt so good to tease him again.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t stop smiling.

He was so happy. It felt different this time. He was different about it.

“So, how did you meet?” I made a kissy face.

I will never stop! It was the best feeling ever to have fun like this with him again.

“She started working here when she finished school and immediately when we met officially I knew I have to ask her out. It was so different than it was with Rhylee. I wasn’t afraid or nervous. I just knew I had to do it. And I did and we went out for a date and then another one and another one and then I asked her to be my girlfriend and it was just so fitting.” I was staring at him, getting in every word he said.

I could listen to him all day long. He was so in love with her that it was cheesy.

I don’t think I ever saw him this happy before. His smile was reaching his ears and the color never left his cheeks since he started talking. He was absolutely adorable and I couldn’t wait to officially meet the girl that made him feel this way.

“It just felt so right and it got me thinking why did I need so long to ask Rhylee out, you know. Because with Fleur everything was so easy and it just fell into place. And it wasn’t because I knew she liked me back because I wasn’t certain if she did but there was something about her that just made me think that I can’t miss this opportunity – I can’t let her slip between my fingers and somehow I just knew that everything will be okay. I felt this connection between us that I can’t quite describe and I just knew I had to be with her.” He paused to breathe. “I know it sounds ridiculous but it’s true and now we’re together and…” He stopped as if remembering something. “…and Charlie she is so amazing.” I thought he was going to melt. “I just love her so much!”

That was obvious. I couldn’t stop smiling. Nothing made me happier than seeing him talk like this about a girl. I was so glad he was over Rhylee and that he found someone who returns his feelings and loves him as he deserves to be loved.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel strange. I couldn’t believe the way he described how he felt about Fleur. It was as if he was describing how I felt about Rhylee. That was it. That’s how I feel since that day we met at the Burrow.

My heart sank, knowing I will never get to have with Rhylee what he has with Fleur. I looked at Bill, smiling to himself like a drunk idiot. I smiled too. I was genuinely happy that at least one of us will get to experience how it is with the person for who you feel is made for you. I was glad it was him and not me. He deserves it more than anyone.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” Bill frowned at me.

I shook my head. I must’ve had a weird expression on my face.

“Nothing.” I smiled reassuringly. “I’m really happy for you, Bill. Words can’t express how much.” I picked up my glass, clank it against his, and gulped down what was left inside.

“Can you stop saying nothing? I’m your big brother, I know you more than anyone, now spill it!” He opened the bottle and poured me another glass.

“No. This is about you. About you and Fleur and I want you to tell me more about how cheesy you are.” I smirked.

“Look, I have another bottle in that drawer and I’m done with work for today, so I have all night to talk about just how much I’m in love.” He laughed but then his face got serious again. “Now, tell me what was that look about.”

“What you described…” I gulped. “How you felt about Fleur before you two started dating…that’s how I feel about her.”

I felt something in my chest rip again. I never said this out loud and even though it hurt, it felt good talking about it to Bill.

“That’s how you feel about her?” I turned to him and hummed in response. “Charlie, you have to tell her how you feel.”

“What?” I blinked at him.

His response caught me off guard.

He was mental! Didn’t we just go over the fact that she has a boyfriend and now he’s telling me to tell her how I feel? Where was this coming from?

“I know she’s with Nick.” He rolled his eyes. “Nobody cares about that.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I saw the way she was eyeing you at the Burrow. I don’t know how she feels now but when she told me she slept with you I could see that it meant more to her than just a one-night stand.”

“Get off it, Bill.” I shrugged my shoulders so he pulled his hands away. “I am not breaking anybody up! Wasn’t it enough that I hurt you?” I raised my voice for no reason. “I don’t care if he’s a prick. It’s her choice and there has to be something about him that she’s willing to stay.”

“I know it’s a tough situation but just think about it. Charlie, I know how it feels when you meet the right person. I was lucky at how smoothly it went between me and Fleur. Now I understand why you couldn’t resist sleeping with Rhylee. Did you feel this from the beginning?”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say.

“Blimey, Charlie.” He scratched his head. “I know it might seem like you lost her forever because she’s in a relationship but don’t lose hope just yet. I know you lose interest in girls if you don’t feel something special but you’re in love with her for Merlin’s sake. Don’t let go of that, Charlie.” He put his hands on my shoulders again.

“I don’t want to give you false hope but if you feel like that then I am sure she is not far behind. I know I sound insane telling you this but these type of feelings are rare and not everyone is lucky enough to find a person with whom to share it and the way she was looking at you those two days at the Burrow I would say that the feelings can’t be one-sided.” He pulled me into a hug.

How did he know that I needed one?

“You’ll be alright, Charlie.” He whispered, patted my back, and pulled away. He grabbed his glass and lifted it high in the air. “Now, how about we get hammered and talk about our feelings like we did when we were teenagers?” He laughed.

I lifted my glass and slammed it into his.

Have I mentioned how much respect I have for this man?

“Just don’t cry again, please. You might be handsome but you have an ugly crying face.” He teased and this time he was the one who got punched in the shoulder.

We were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in his office until the next morning. We were halfway through the other bottle of Fire Whiskey.

I don’t remember when was the last time I had so much fun with him or in general. I felt good about myself again. The guilt was gone and I had my best friend back. He told me more about Fleur and how it was like meeting her family for the first time. He told me how nervous he is to bring her home and how happy he is that I support him without even meeting her.

We made a plan for me to come back in a few weeks when I’ll be able to get time off so I could meet her. He even said that he is going to cook dinner even though it would be better if Fleur does it and I was saying that because I experienced his cooking.

I don’t even remember why we were laughing but one of us said something funny and I know we were slamming our fists against the floor, wiping tears of laughter. I don’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed. Nothing mattered more than having my brother back in my life. I felt so much better and I finally started to feel more like myself. The next thing on my list was definitely seeing my family more often.

Bill and I made a promise to never say anything to our parents or siblings about us not speaking for two years. I remember that we started talking about all his failed relationships while we were at Hogwarts and he teased me how he thought I will stay a virgin forever because all I could talk about were Dragons.

I told him about April and how my friends at the Reserve teased me all the time about her. I told him how they made me go talk to Rhylee and how I found out about her having a boyfriend. I felt relieved when I saw his reaction and I knew that I wasn’t crazy thinking she should’ve told me sooner.

I told him about all her friendly gestures and how she acts around me and he said that he is standing behind his words when he said that he thinks she feels the same way and that I should just be patient with her. I don’t know how to feel about that but who cares about all my worries now when there is still so much whiskey left to drink!

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

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vegalocity · 3 years

Text

The Interrim-Red Groom AU

So i’m diving backward into the ‘Dont worry about it’ pool after that finale

SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT YOU GUYS WHO’S UP FOR MORE PRINCESS BRIDE AU?

I had to make an entire scene up because for the Story to keep going Princess Bride Style Red Son needed to get fucked over one more time

Soon enough three days time had passed and Red Son was ready to make his escape. Due to the nature of his ruse against the prince he hadn't made any arrangements to set up a forge or workshop for his passions, so he didn't have much by way of equipment to make his escape, and every day the prince asked to join him for at least one meal, wherein he would 'politely' ask over Xiaotian, claiming to want to know a little about the man whom had stolen his groom right out from under him.

He said these things in jest and laughter, but Red Son was no fool and could easily see the flint behind his eyes, ready and willing to twist any information Red Son gave about Xiaotian against him, to try and convince him that his beloved wouldn't take him back. Willing to take whatever details he gave him and put them in some falsified letter of rejection in attempt to make him believe his love wanted him no more, so he wouldn't put up a fight any longer.

So he lied. He spoke of not the Inn that he'd met Xiaotian in, but implied he'd always been the lord of his mountain. How they hadn't been able to be engaged due to his parents having a letter of neutrality between his family and Xiaotian's own, and how he'd had to go on a perilous journey to nullify that arrangement, but they'd believed him dead. He told him Xiaotian favored poetry, and was in fact a gifted shapeshifter, preferring a more human appearance like himself as it made travel far easier when people underestimated you.

The prince had soon grown bored of his prattling, and Red Son found it almost ironic that for once he was not speaking of tinkering and his projects when his conversational partner stopped listening. After those meals scarce as they were, the prince ended up straightening his back primly and claimed he had a meeting of some sort with his macaque general, and left him to his devices.

So now here he was, ready to make his escape.

It took actually took the longest time to try and pare down an outfit from this place so that it would be inconspicuous enough to use for travel, but he'd managed, sneaking some nonperishable food and a spare dagger into his pack for preparation and extra protection had been easy. He just made it seem to the servants that he was still anticipating the response to a letter that was never sent, and eagerly awaiting for a letter that would not exist that stated his return to Xiaotian's mountain was expected, and thus was slowly yet steadily prepping for the journey. The pitying glances he could sense the servants shooting him definitely told that they were aware of the fact that he was being 'tricked'.

But Red Son paid them no mind, after all, he knew the prince was full of lies, and he was going to be gone before the night's end anyway.

But then Red Son was summoned for his usual meal with the prince, and he willed his nerves to freeze over. He couldn't let his plans slip, while he'd long since regained his strength form his injuries in the forest he was only one demon and there was a mountain of servants and guards that would be standing between him and making a break for it if he didn't have stealth on his side.

“Beloved.” The prince greeted him as he entered. “My messengers have returned from their trip.” In three days time? How oblivious did he take him for?

Nonetheless he perked up, did his best to look eager and excited. He was never quite sure if he looked convincing, but he just needed to pretend for a few more hours.

The letter was brought right over to him, and he quickly undid the seal to reveal a message that in no way was written by his love. Though they did a good job at pretending, claiming it was written by 'his mother'—Xiaotian had never spoken of his biological parents, and his adoptive ones were both men, but in his prattling Red Son had invented a mother for his fake backstory—and that she was writing in 'her Son's stead as he was too upset and angry to be able to make a readable response. Going on to say that Xiaotian had returned to 'their mountain' in tears and had sworn that this was one too many cruelties Red Son had delivered him, and that he never wanted to speak to someone so two faced he convinced him twice of their supposed love only to twice have his heart ground into the dirt by him ever again.

It was well phrased, he'd give the prince that. It even stung a little when the supposed 'mother' had regaled that 'Xiaotian' had bitterly given 'his blessing' to his impending marriage. The thought of his love, bitter and betrayed, felt so wrong his heart hurt just at the idea.

But he couldn't let himself linger on that lest he lose his courage.

“This cannot be...” he breathed, hoping beyond all hope his knowledge of the deception read as simply denial.

“Is there something wrong?” The Prince asked around his cup. “Surely your beloved made it home safely.”

“This cannot be...” he didn't know what else to say without possibly giving himself away, so he could only hope that it sounded like shock.

“Beloved?”

He stood, he had to get out of the prince's sight before he failed to properly mask his knowledge.

“This is a lie! She... She never approved of us!” Red Son hoped at least that gave his reaction plausible deniability.

“Didn't you recently just regale to me that Xiaotian's mother loved you as a suitor for her son?” He cursed internally, but before he could scramble to cover the lie the prince continued. “Beloved, I know it must be hard to hear, but we had an agreement. Xiaotian wants no more to repair what he believed you threw away, his mother;s missive reveals as much. You gave me your word that no matter his desire you would respect his choices. Don't be selfish, love.” Red Son would be lying yet more if he claimed that that didn't sting a little.

But he'd get to that bridge when he got to it, so he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The servants gave him a wide berth as he marched towards his rooms, face fierce but mind preoccupied with escape plans.

So preoccupied in fact he didn't notice a particular shadow following behind him.

Upon reaching his quarters he made sure to scare off any staff that would rat him out and began to scream, his fire coursing and bursting out from his body in waves, scorching the furniture around him and leaving piles of soot to build up atop his shoes. Soon enough the room had enough damage for word of his fury to have been carried to the prince, and the servants far too afraid to make their way in for quite some time. He'd have about an hour of being given a very wide berth before someone came in to check up on him.

Red Son darted for his bed and hidden among the luxurious blankets was his makeshift bag, he double checked the contents inside and nodded to himself when he came to the conclusion that everything was in order. Then he approached the writing desk and reached beneath it. Feeling around for a moment he grinned slightly to himself as he pulled out the small bottle. He'd always gotten praises in potion making, but this wasn't a potion that would make his tutors proud. He didn't NEED any magical properties in it, he just needed it to be flammable.

Which it was.

Just as he went over his plan one more time the shadows in the room seemed to flicker, and Red Son felt strikingly cold despite the amount of fire he'd just unleashed.

“I told him you were more clever than he was expecting out of you.” The voice startling him and nearly causing Red Son to drop the potion in his hands, he scrambled with the glass bottle and turned to the source of the noise.

The Six eared macaque had appeared in his room, how had he gotten in there without him noticing?

“Oh... I uhm...” He didn't have a lie prepared, Red Son's mind raced to try and come up with a plausible excuse but improvisation was never his strong suit, he would so quickly grow flustered and frustrated and usually do himself in so how could he be expected to lie convincingly on first bout?

“Don't waste a perfectly good lie trying to cover up what we both already know.” The macaque stated, a sort of boredom in his voice that made Red Son stiffen. “You know the letter was false, you know what the prince has planned for you.” The macaque took a step forward and Red Son prepared to fight him, but remembered after a beat the fire resistance charm he'd had on his person scant few days ago. He likely had it on him right now.

“I love it, he can't stand it, but I love it... Of course that also means his plans are a complete waste of your talents as far as I'm concerned. If he hadn't planned that whole 'spider queen and her ilk' situation Your lover wouldn't have found out until it was too late, and we probably could have convinced you to go to war if he'd just been a bit more patient.”

“You're talking an awful lot for someone who supposedly is on his side.”

“I'm on MY side, highness.” The macaque said easily. “The Prince is no one to sneeze at, but then again, neither are you. Tell me, should I endorse this little sneak about and help you escape? What would benefit me from not telling the prince about your little explosive and your plans?”

He racked his brain for a moment. “I can tell my parents of your assistance in enabling my escape, they'd no doubt give you the same power you have here, accompanied by my family's resources you'd find yourself with more force behind yourself than you'd know what to do with. Or if I told Xiaotian he could do the same at his own mountain, he's not exactly a nobody either-”

That second part was a mistake, by how the macaque's expression darkened. “Yes I know He's the 'New Monkey King'. Sun Wukong's Body double.” He stated simply. But before Red Son could take it back or just ensure alliance with his own family, he found his arms being restrained. A pair of clones made of shadow clung to his sides and while they dispersed quickly under his fire it was only for a moment.

Then there was a golden glow, and his arms all at once felt very heavy indeed as a cold pair of cuffs—the second set of wrist cuffs that the macaque had shown him- how had he forgotten about those?—activated and forced his wrists together. The magic quickly worked its way through his system again and he felt a cold shudder wrack up his spine.

“Your 'beloved' was quite loose lipped once I got him going on the machine. Don't hold it against him, highness, I haven't met a single man that could hold up against that level of pain.”

for a moment the words didn't process in his head, abut when they did any other thought flew right from his head.

There was only rage.

It was pathetic really, how quickly he'd been apprehended, how his fire had only a moment outside his body before once again being turned back round onto him, and his body—now remembering the pain he could do onto himself—forced his magic to cease. There was no instinctual blaze to shatter the cuffs this time, because he realized as more of the macaque's shadow clones pinned him down, that he didn't believe him.

There was no way that Xiaotian had been this monster's plaything. He had learned whatever it was he'd implied he'd learned through other methods, maybe as simple as recognizing Flower Fruit Mountain and Xiaotian had to explain the situation to him.

But If it was just his own escape the macaque was stopping then wouldn't he have not wasted the time in toying with him like that? Wouldn't he have just told the prince and been done with it? Put the cuffs on him without the monologue? Why would he waste his time in trying to trick Red son into believing him possible to sway?

Unless-

Unless he'd heard about Xiaotian planning on coming back for him himself

He almost wanted to laugh even as the clones forced him back to his feet and the Macaque crushed his liquid fireball in his hand. He was unsure if anything could make him as fearful or angry or whatever feeling it had been to make him break his restraints again as they did back in the forest, but it explained his knowledge of Xiaotian's identity, as well as his anger, and his attempt to trick Red Son. To test to see how far Red Son was willing to go to to defy the prince and follow his own heart.

But that didn't matter.

Xiaotian was coming for him.

It was a bitter medicine to take, to have to once again rely on his love to save him, rendered with naught but his intelligence on his side and left close to defenseless with these stupid cuffs back around his wrists, but He'd make it up to him.

For everything Xiaotian had done for him and how thoroughly Red Son had proved himself unworthy of such devotion, Red Son swore then to himself, that once this was all over, once he and Xiaotian were safe he'd make it all up to him. For every moment for the rest of their shared lives together.

Because when he saw him again he was never letting go.

–

“Captain I've heard rumors that the Monkey King is planning on killing my groom.’”

“My prince I've heard no such rumors-”

“Are you implying my spymaster lies to me?”

“Of- of course not my prince! What must be done to protect your groom before the wedding?”

“I'm currently having my beloved moved to a safer, more secure room in the palace to ensure no harm shall befall him before the wedding date, and we're moving the wedding itself up a few days. Go to the village and nearby forest, and the closest town, and round up all with former criminal histories. I want every possible hired gun behind bars by the time of my wedding in three days time.”

“Three days time your highness? Such a feat would require more men than we have at our disposal at the moment-”

“Then form a brute squad! You have my clearance! I want my prince safe from all harm! If He dies, then we'll have no choice but to go to war and we lack the men for such an insurgence against the Monkey King! I would have to go to his parents begging for assistance and that is not a bar I am willing to lower myself to!”

“Yes your highness!”

“Go! Waste no time!”

“Of course!”

–

Xiaojiao stared into the bottom of the jug of wine. Drained, just like all the others.

Her head was pleasantly fuzzy and the wine in her blood buzzed comfortably. It was a familiar state, she wasn't dependent on intoxication, but when she was at her lowest she would often find solace in the buzzed pleasantness of a good bender. Because here she was again.

No work, no leads, no friends.

Spider Queen had told her if they got separated that she should go back to where 'it started' i.e. The inn they'd gotten the job at. So she'd rented a room, and spent the next few days waiting, and when it became clear neither the Spider Queen, nor even Sandy were turning up, when Xiaojiao was made aware that she was well and truly alone, she blew most of her money on as much wine as she could get her hands on and began to chug.

She felt much like the scared twelve year old she once was, clinging to the handle of the Jade Sword and telling herself it didn't matter how terrified she was, as she HAD to fight. Her scar twinged at the memory.

At least no one would sell wine to a twelve year old. She didn't USED to be this pathetic when she was lonely and sad and on the verge of despair. She used to have other avenues to vent it all when it became too much.

Someone could storm right in right now with news on finding the Six Eared Macaque and Xiaojiao couldn't even be sure if she'd believe them for how despondent she felt.

“Long Xiaojiao?” A voice broke her reverie. Xiaojiao blinked blearily up at the tough looking fellow before her.

“Who wants to know?” she slurred.

“You've been arrested twice for assault and once for theft, as a security precaution all with criminal records are behind detained for the next three days by order of the prince.”

She scoffed. “I'd like to see you try, buddy.” Her fingers felt heavy but she lifted the sword easily.

Her form was off, her limbs felt loose and limp, but she still held her own against the brute's clumsy axe swings. It would be pathetic to lose to this chump.

But before the fight could be solved one way or another, a pair of blue hands wrapped around the brute's torso and lifted him into the air.

And Xiaojiao was met with a very familiar (if blurry through her impaired vision) red bearded smile.

“Sandy!”

“Xiaojiao! So nice to see you again!” Sandy set the brute down but kept hold of his torso. “This is the friend I told you about captain, she's far more dangerous alone than she is with me. I'll keep her out of trouble, I can promise you that!”

She loved watching Sandy loom. The aura around him making anyone who didn't know him reel back as every alarm in their brains fired off danger signs. His pleasant grin and tone didn't change but to the people around them that was more frightening than before.

“Just mark her name right off there and I can handle the rest!” Sandy chirped and the shaking brute did just that, stiffly turning and marching out of the inn.

“Sandy you old bastard.” She cooed delightedly as Sandy shifted his focus back onto her and she felt the cool blue hands wrap around her own torso before she was pulled into a hug.

“You smell like wine, Are you okay, Xiaojiao you don't drink unless...-” Sandy shot her a far too knowing look.

“I've been better buddy, I'll admit.”

“Well, If it helps I've heard a lot of rumors and seen a lot of things as part of this little 'brute squad' some things that might interest you.”

“Hm?” She leaned into Sandy's embrace, her friend really gave the absolute best hugs.

“I think I found the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaojiao wasn't sure if it was disbelief, shock, sudden crashing cresting hope, or just the wine, but she suddenly got very dizzy.

And then everything went black.

#Monkie kid #LMK #Princess Bride AU #Red groom AU #MK Red Son #Six eared macaque #Long Xiaojiao #MK Sandy #Vega writes stories too #-shuffling Season 2 thoughts under the rug-#it's fine it's fine who wants some princess bride as a distraction?#it's fine it's fine #spicynoodleshipping

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lost-in-sokovia · 4 years

Text

toxic - chapter 7

i thought this gif would be appropriate since it’s your time to shine with the fam. anyway, enjoy this really chaotic chapter because it is all over the place. (may contain spoilers to Knives Out)

You woke up the morning of Thanksgiving with a knot in your stomach.

You’re telling me you had to go back and deal with Ransom’s chaotic ass family? No thank you!

You decided on a pair of black leggings, a maroon long sleeved shirt, a gray cardigan, and brown low cut boots for this particular event. You didn’t exactly know how everyone there would be dressed, but if you were going to be uncomfortable you might as well be uncomfortable in comfortable clothing.

You sighed as you finished curling your hair and applying some neutral eyeshadow and mascara. You heard a knock at the door and hurried out of the bathroom.

“(Y/N), can’t hide in there forever,” Ransom called. You pulled on your boots before opening the door and blinking in surprise.

He wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a gray sweater with black converse. His hair was combed back and his blue eyes shined brightly.

“Converse, Mr. Drysdale?” You complimented and winked at him. He shrugged as the two of you began to walk downstairs.

“Eh, they were in the back of my closet and I thought ‘this seems like the holiday of trying new things,” he explained with dramatic hand motions. You giggled.

It was a day much like the rest, cloudy, damp, cold, and windy. You shivered as you climbed into the BMW and buckled up. Ransom climbed in next to you and started the engine.

As the two of you took off you began talking.

“So... what should I be expecting?” You asked with a small smile. Ransom smiled back as he kept his eyes on the road.

“Picture your first day with them but closer, more political, longer, and more awkward,” he explained. You scoffed and looked up.

“So it doesn’t get any better?” You said flatly. He chuckled.

“It just goes down hill sweetheart,” he replied with slight pity. Your heart jumped.

Sweetheart, goddammit.

~•~•~

When the two of you made it back to the gorgeous estate, your nerves worked up even more as Ransom parked. He unbuckled and turned to look at you. You were shaking slightly (from cold or nerves, neither of you could tell) and had a forced smile plastered on your face.

“You’re nervous,” he observed flatly.

“You’re crazy,” you shot bsck. He raised his eyebrows.

“(Y/N) I swear you’ll make it through. Look, Joni is going to get tipsy, my parents are going to gossip in the corner, Marta- well I don’t really pay attention to her, Jacob will be on his phone the whole time, Meg-“

“Okay I know you’re trying to help but I think we should just go in,” you cut him off quickly. He stared at you for a moment and saw the urgency in your eyes and shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” He climbed out and you followed. You walked faster to catch up with him and pulled your cardigan around you tighter. You took a deep inhale and exhale as you entered the warm house and smelled lots of different food you were surely excited to eat.

“Marta!” You exclaimed. The nurse caught your eye and smiled, waving. You looked next to you and Ransom had already left your side, making his way to the kitchen and breezing past his family. You frowned briefly but looked back at Marta. “How are you?” You asked. She glanced around the room.

“It’s another Thrombey holiday, one of the few days a year I have to put up with them all at once,” she retorted. You smiled and patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m here this year and I’m always willing to help a girl out.” You smiled. She nodded before being called in the other room and leaving to answer. You looked around at the castle house, as you liked to call it. The upside was that you got to spend all day in this beautiful home of a kind man. The downside was that you also had to deal with his all over the place family.

“(Y/N)!” A female voice exclaimed. Joni walked towards you smiling with a glass of champagne in her hand. “Here you are again, how are things with Ransom?” She asked as she surveyed your appearance. She made it seem like the two of you were close gal pals who hadn’t seen each other since college back in ‘87. Maybe this was just her persona... But it was weird.

“Oh, everything is nice,” you replied politely and nodded. She smiled and hummed a soft “mhm,” before regaining eye contact.

“Look, so I was reading your horoscope and-“

“How do you know when my birthday is?”

“Oh easy I found one of your article on Twitter and I just looked you up and-“

“(Y/N)!” Another voice said. You resisted the urge to groan in annoyance and roll your eyes. Is it possible to get tired of hearing your own name?

You looked over and shuddered when you saw Richard walking towards you and smiling. He walked up and put an arm around you and warnings were going off in your head.

“Joni leave the poor girl alone, go have a drink,” Richard shooed her away. Joni rolled her eyes and walked away as her high heels went click click on the wood floor. That left just you and Richard.

“How are ya kiddo?” He asked in a (little too) friendly tone. You smiled nervously and tried to inch a bit out of his grip.

“Oh, wonderfully,” you said through gritted teeth. You looked around for a possible outing but Ransom was nowhere in sight.

“Good, good, listen,” Richard cleared his throat and pointed a finger. “Linda and I were talking and we thought it would be nice for you and Ransom to maybe spend a night with us, you know? I mean we’d like to get to know you too,” He explained. Your head felt light and you were just trying to get away by this point, but his grip around you was too strong.

“Oh, I-I don’t know, Ransom and I seem to be doing just fine-“

“We would love to have you, sincerely! I-“

“Hey perv, let her go.” You heard a stern voice say. You looked up and Meg was standing right in front of you, glaring at her uncle. Richard furrowed his brows and huffed.

“Meg come on-“

“No get off you slimy perv!” She restated firmly and yanked you away from him. You stood trembling with your wrist grasped by her hand and watched Richard storm off. She turned to face you, her naturally-sad green eyes looking you up and down. “Are you alright?” She asked. You sighed and nodded.

“Y-Yeah, I am now. Thanks so much,” you breathed. She hugged you and held your hand.

“Look if he ever comes up to you again just mention something you’ve written at your job. I know you and your work and what you write about is an absolute way to piss him off.” She winked. You smiled and nodded. She gave you a smile before slowly walking off to find something to do.

You pulled yourself back together and started to slowly walk around, hoping you’d run into Ransom somewhere. While passing by a few chairs, Ransom’s cousin Jacob sat quietly on his phone.

“So why are you here?” He asked without skipping a beat. You halted in your tracks and looked down at him.

“Hm?” You replied in confusion.

“Why are you here? Nobody just visits Ransom to visit Ransom,” he said shortly without looking up. You scoffed in disbelief and crossed your arms.

“Uhm, Ransom and I used to be super close. This is just me revisiting an old friend,” you said curtly. Jacob rolled his eyes and put down his phone to actually look at you.

“Look, I don’t know if someone like you would understand,” he began. You did a double take. Someone like me? What the hell kid! “But Ransom always has a play. And since the two of you are so close, I would’ve expected you to-“

“Hey short stack,” Ransom suddenly appeared next to you, cutting Jacob off. “How about you stick to spewing crap through your phone, yeah?” Ransom retorted and drove you away from him. You blinked a couple times. What the hell was happening? You’d only been here for fifteen minutes and you were getting so many mixed signals.

“Ransom what the hell,” you said. He shook his head.

“Don’t mind him, he’s literally insane- Fran!” Ransom called and snapped his fingers above your head as the maid passed by. She stopped and glared at him. “She would like a drink.” Ransom pointed down at you. Fran chuckled and continued to walk away.

“Welcome to the family, kid,” she muttered.

~•~•~•~•~

Later that evening after getting to know Marta and having a quite pleasant conversation with Harlan, it was time for dinner. The family sat at a huge table with Harlan to your right and Ransom to your left. Harlan insisted you sit near the head of the table with him because of your “charm and pleasantness.” It made you blush whenever he said that.

After dinner was served and everyone was eating, Harlan took this as an opportunity for everyone to learn more about you.

“So tell me my darling (Y/N), what’s your life like back home?” He asked. You glanced around with wide eyes as everyone slowly turned their attention to you. You cleared your throat.

“W-Well, I live in an apartment in New York and I work at The New York Times,” you began slowly. Harlan nodded with an intrigued expression as you continued. “I-I have a best friend, Claire, and we normally work together on our articles...” You gestured to Marta. “Claire is Latina too, so I’m really blessed to-“

“Makes sense,” Jacob muttered. Richard cleared his throat and leaned forward and held his hands on the table.

“Ah, so an immigrant friend! What’s that like (Y/N)?” he asked. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be racist or not, but you furrowed your eyebrows.

“What do you mean? She grew up in-“

“Oh please Richard leave the girl alone,” Linda scolded. All of a sudden the table was roaring with stern chatter. Ransom sat there and laughed, glancing at how idiotic his family looked. Harlan rubbed his temples and gently touched one of your hands, glancing at you with an “I’m sorry” expression. You slowly sat back down as you glanced around at everyone talking about immigration and politics. You took a sip of wine and sighed.

~•~•~•~•~

“I’m just saying that if women are working the same jobs as men how can they not be getting paid the same?!” Richard said from the couch. The conversation that night had shifted from immigration to feminism. Linda, Richard, Joni, Meg, and Jacob all sat in chairs or couches around the fireplace. Your head was resting on the doorframe as your eyes drooped with boredom and exhaustion. You gently swished around the dark red alcohol in your glass, occasionally taking a sip out of it.

“Oh my god Richard! Obviously if that was the case we wouldn’t need feminism!” Joni explained in annoyance.

“But Joni it would be unreasonable for something like that to happen! Studies show-“

“Richard not all jobs have the same ethics-“

“Shut it Meg you’re still in college,” Jacob said flatly. Meg glared at him and gave him a swift slap on the arm.

“Here, you know what, (Y/N)!” Richard called. You perked your head up and slowly walked into their conversation as Linda scolded her husband and Joni complained. “(Y/N), dear, how are you getting paid at your job?”

You took a sip of wine.

~•~•~

While you were getting quizzed on your job and beliefs, Harlan had called Ransom into his study to talk about you.

“Well my dear boy,” Harlan said. Ransom looked at him blankly.

“Hm?” He asked. Harlan tapped his finger against the desk.

“A fine young girl isn’t she?” Harlan asked. Ransom nodded. “She’s both intelligent and beautiful, how’d you manage to be friends with her in the first place?” Harlan teased. Ransom smiled and shook his head.

“Yeah, she’s really something.”

“What are you planning to do with the next few days you have with her left?” Harlan asked. Ransom looked up for a moment.

“Oh you know, just what we’ve done the last couple days,” Ransom replied casually. Harlan cocked an eyebrow.

“You know, I’d hate for you to lose her somehow,” Harlan replied. Ransom’s insides halted, but he played it cool on the outside. Harlan knew his grandson, he knew there was some sort of scheme he was up to.

“Grandfather what do you mean?” Ransom asked. Harlan leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

“I feel as though the two of you reconnected for a reason, and I just hope it was for something good. And I hope it stays,” Harlan told his grandson. Ransom stared at him blankly for a moment before Harlan chuckled and patted his hand. “Go out there my boy.” He laughed.

Ransom stood up slowly and walked out, shutting the door gently behind him. Somehow his grandfather had made it into his mind and flipped some sort of switch. Did Ransom have feelings for you?

“(Y/N)!” Ransom called. You turned around to see him walking up quickly towards you as you stood in the middle of Joni and Richard, whose tones and volumes were beginning to rise. You sighed in relief.

“Ransom I’m ready to go,” you muttered. He nodded and the two of you quickly walked towards the door.

“(Y/N) and I are leaving!” He yelled. You stood next to the door as Ransom pulled on his jacket quickly. He opened the door and gestured for you to walk out. You walked out into the brisk night air in a small hurry. You could hear confused chatter and people trying to say goodbye as Ransom and you quickly climbed into the BMW. You felt horrible for not saying goodbye to Meg, Marta, and Harlan, but you knew you’d make it up somehow. Ransom was tired of his family. He wanted to go home and spend as much time with you as he could, hoping to figure out some things of his own.

Harlan watched all this through a window in his office. He chuckled as he watched as you and his grandson left in such a hurry. Harlan wasn’t hurt you didn’t say goodbye, he knew you would be back at sometime. Marta looked up from the book she was reading.

“What?” She asked with a smile. Harlan turned to face her.

“She’ll be back,” he said. Marta shrugged and looked back down at her book.

~•~•~

“That was really something,” you sighed as the two of you drove home in the night.

“I was quite surprised how nicely you handled everyone there,” Ransom complimented.

“Yeah well I’m just a good actress I guess, because I was nervous and awkward the whole time,” you laughed. He smiled and was silent for a moment, thinking about everything Harlan had told him.

“You know Harlan really likes you,” Ransom said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Did you two boys talk about me?” You asked playfully. Ransom shrugged.

“He said he thought you and I reconnected for a reason,” he explained. You thought about it for a moment.

“I mean I guess,” you replied in agreeance.

The BMW pulled into the driveway and parked. The two of you got out and you shivered. You were tired and ready to go to bed. You walked into and the two of you took off your coats and shoes as you pulled your curls up into a bun.

You walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water to make sure you were hydrated since you felt just the tiniest bit tipsy. Ransom followed and turned on a few lights. You hopped up and sat on the counter as you drank your water and Ransom looked over at you. Sure you looked tired but still you managed to impress him.

You began to tell him about your take on the whole night. He laughed, agreed, and told you some crazy stories about his family. Neither of you noticed how close he came up to you. He was right in front of you, and the two of you locked eyes. His eyes roamed your face and body and you exhaled slowly, staring at his lips.

The two of you leaned in slowly as ever and you slightly hesitated right before connecting your lips to his. You closed your eyes and his hand reached up to caress your cheek. The kiss was gentle, not like anything you had expected from him.

When the two of you pulled away you smiled and giggled. He grinned and looked down.

“Shit, how do you do this to me?” He asked in astonishment with himself. You blushed and bit your lip.

“Oh come on,” you replied playfully. Without missing a beat his lips were back on yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Ransom had fallen victim to his feelings; he loved you. How quickly he had realized that astounded him. All Ransom knew was Harlan somehow knew and pushed the stimulation. All you knew was the remainder of that night was a wonderful blur.

*cries in hormonal teenager* god i was fangirling just WRITING that! i really hope you enjoyed, chapter 8 will be out soon!🤍

taglist:

@heyiamthatbitch @mcuclintasha @captainsmallassrogers @fangirlinacoffeeshopweshare @anisiamoisa @awesomelittledemarco03 @aletteredaffair @castellandiangelo @theangrylizard @frencchfries @takemetooneverlanddd @sp2900 @smilexcaptainx @monpetitcoin21 @marymoon18 @mccunted @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @chuuulip @sweetlittlegingy @lookalivefrosty @brookebradford @patzammit @stucky-is-life-thank-you @bval-1 @need-more-time @blowfishevans @polarcrystall @little-dark-empress @rosalynshields @asianbuttcheek @dailythotdotcom @topstory21 @canny1902 @alexxcorona113 @what-inspirational-name @summer-may @abbyalee @littlefiercequeen @stardancerluv @oncemorewithfeelingg @sophiealiice @snowxbarryxendgame @lilwickedred

#ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x you #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out #knives out fanfic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction

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treatian · 3 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 33: Interrogation Techniques

He was going to kill Snow White's Prince Charming if it was the last thing he did.

He regretted making a deal with him to run this investigation "his way." Some part of him had known he would from the very moment he'd felt the magic binding them in their accord, but still, he'd made the deal out of desperation. And where had it gotten him? A front-row seat to observation after observation of people who didn't want to help, didn't know anything, or couldn't be bothered. David was nearly as useless as Maurice had been, just on a larger scale.

He approached everyone who owned a business on Main Street, starting with his shop, since he assumed that's where she would have been most comfortable, and working his way down. Sarah Fischer, formerly known as the Ice Queen, in the shop closest to his, hadn't seen her, though the pair of them stared at each other with a sort of understanding that promised to stay out of one another's business. Enemy or not, he felt oddly comfortable in the resolution that she was not the one who had taken his Belle. They tried others. The people in Mary Margaret's flat, the garden center, the mechanic, the vet who worked at David's shelter, half the staff at La Tandoor, all the staff at Modern Fashion. So far, there was no luck, though he wasn't always allowed to make that judgment for himself.

Oh, he let David do the talking, just as their deal required, but when he was able, he stayed close, listened to the conversations, watched the faces of those who were interviewed. There were more than a few times though, when people eyed him suspiciously or told David they wouldn't talk with him around. In those cases, David ended up sending him elsewhere, behind a wall, outside a store, or even across the street…as he was standing now.

David was making inquiries with a man, a young man, who appeared to have gotten a flat on Main Street and was just now repairing it. He wasn't a store owner, but the repairs meant he'd been there for long enough to see something, and David had asked before he looked between the pair of them. "I'm not talking to you, man," he stated before he'd barely gotten a question out. He knew the tone well enough by now, and without being asked, he turned to walk across the street.

He hated these interviews. Mostly because they were useless and because each time this happened, it made him nervous and excited and anxious all over again. Were these people sending him away because they'd seen something, and they didn't want him to retaliate? So far, the answer was no. But he couldn't help the thought from passing each time it happened.

Finally, David appeared to say goodbye to the individual, crossed the street, and approached him again. He held his breath in anticipation. Was this the one? Had the boy seen something? Belle?

"Do you remember turning a butcher into a pig?" David asked with frustration. The question caught him off guard. It wasn't something he'd expected in the midst of this. Turning a butcher into a pig certainly sounded like something he might have done, but the memory didn't particularly stick out. And he didn't see why it would have been important now. Unless, of course, that man had intelligence that the butcher was now human again, and they'd taken Belle as revenge! Belle alone with a butcher and a sharp blade…his stomach churned at the thought.

"Can't say that I do. Why?"

"Well, he does. Apparently, it was his father!" he snapped, pushing the drawing of Belle into his chest and taking off down Main Street. "I'm beginning to understand why nobody wants to help you."

He understood now. The boy wasn't a witness; he was an enemy, someone who hated him even if he couldn't remember hurting him or his butcher-father. This was why he didn't want Belle out here alone. In his long life, he'd made too many enemies; they were lurking around every damn corner, it seemed!

"W-well has he seen Belle?" he asked as he struggled to keep up with him.

"Afraid not."

"Okay, so what's next?"

"Granny's," he answered. "We can see who else you terrorized there."

Many people. He suspected the answer would be nearly all of them, including Widow Lucas herself. Oh, he hated the idea that Belle was out here around these people, that they might figure out who she was, what she meant to him. He hated that they might tell her about his past before he did. Not that he made any progress on that. He'd liked to believe he would have told her about Bae when they went to the cabin next weekend, but…he couldn't even tell her when she'd asked this morning.

He glanced at David. His secret that he was David and not James, how had he managed to get up the courage to tell Snow when it would have put so much on the line for him, risked so much! How did he do it?

"Look, uh…can I ask you a question? A-about you and Mary Margaret?" The words were out of his mouth before he'd given them permission to be. David stopped and turned to him. "H-how…how does that work?"

The look on his face was suspicious, and he instantly regretted the question. Suddenly he wondered why the truth about Bae couldn't have done that too. If it had, then maybe he and Belle could be at home right now enjoying an honest conversation over breakfast.

"Are you asking dating advice?"

"Dating Advice"?! Him?! Hell no. He and Belle were so far beyond "dating," and this…this had nothing to do with dating or wooing. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure what it was about either. It was a stupid question.

"Course not, no."

David took a breath, looked around, and then sighed as he turned back to him. "Honesty," he answered with a shrug as if it were all obvious. "That's how we did it. Hard work and being honest with one another."

"Well…" he huffed to himself as David, and he turned to stride down the sidewalk again. "I don't lie."

He hadn't meant to respond to David so much as he'd thought the words out loud. But David heard them. Every word.

"There's a difference between literal truth and honesty of the heart. Nothing taught me that more than this curse…"

He opened his mouth to respond, but just like with Belle, nothing seemed to want to come out. It was understandable. David hadn't told him anything he didn't already know, and he certainly didn't give him an answer. He wanted to be honest with Belle, truly he did. He just didn't understand how to make the words come out, where the courage to say it all came from. Maybe he should have taken the deal she'd proposed weeks ago, left the entire thing up to magic. Maybe he should take a truth serum still in his pocket when he found her and let her question him. It might be easier than finding the courage he'd never been able to summon up even when he'd been human.

The moment they came through the diner door, Granny's sharp eyes were on him as they hadn't been in years. It was a reminder that he hadn't been back to this place since before the Curse had broken, and this was the first time they were face to face since he'd banished her away to deal with Regina. The history of their first and only encounter lay between them, yet another thing that Belle didn't know, and he doubted she'd want to hear. He suspected that was why it was so difficult to tell her things, if she knew about his past, about what he'd done to dear Granny, for instance, she'd have left him anyway.

"What can I get you?" Ruby asked cautiously, her eyes moving between him and her grandmother.

David ignored the look as Granny disappeared into the back. He pulled the picture he'd been holding free from his hands and gave it to the she-wolf.

"We're looking for this girl, goes by the name Belle. Maybe you saw her in here or out on the street…?"

Ruby looked over at the picture, and he grew giddy as he heard her heart suddenly beat faster. That was the first time that had happened since they started questioning people. Why, he wondered.

"Belle, huh?" the girl smiled awkwardly, glancing back and forth between David and him. It made his chest squeeze as he heard her heart begin to beat even faster than before. "Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."

Lie. But despite the fact that he wanted to step forward and say something about it, magic wrapped around him and kept him in place. Damn the deal they'd made. He wanted to snarl, yell, and use magic to do what he did best and call her out for her lies. But he remained where he was. And David…

Fortunately for him, David caught Ruby's apprehension. He could tell by the way he glanced back over his shoulder at him before stepping closer to the she-wolf. She-wolf…the full moon would be coming up soon, the thought of Belle out in the world alone when a creature like Ruby would have her magic back…her cloak had once been in his store. He'd sold it when he'd been Mr. Gold. Who had bought it? If returning it to her meant Belle was kept safe, he'd buy it back in a heartbeat. Better yet, he'd happily trade it to her or make a brand new one if it meant she'd exchange the information she had for it.

"Ruby, listen to me," David whispered, lowering his voice so that a human would have had trouble hearing. But he was the Dark One, a simple turn of the head and a bit of magic had him listening to their every word.

"If you've come across her, you've got to tell me. I'll make sure nothing bad happens."

"Yeah, but what about him?"

"I've got him! Trust me."

A pause had him holding his breath. "She was in earlier," the girl finally admitted. He moved his eyes back to her immediately. Belle was here. She'd been in this diner. With someone or by herself? "She was looking for a job. I pointed her in the direction of the library."

He swallowed. She'd been looking for a job? The library was right across the street from his shop. It was perfect for her, he'd thought so himself the first time he'd beheld it after his eyes had been opened. And Belle…she'd find it hard to resist the temptation of a book. But they'd been in that direction, and they hadn't seen her.

"Well, you think she went there?"

"Don't know," Ruby answered. "But, when you find her…" the girl walked back around the counter and pulled something from the back, setting it on the counter between them, "give her this. She left it in her booth."

"Well, that's mine," he swallowed, reaching for it.

"This" was a gray sweater that he recognized. It was one of the items that his magic had made for Belle up in the cabin. He'd liked it because it was warm; she'd liked it because it was soft. She was fond of wearing it outside. But apparently, in her haste to go to the library, she'd…

Suddenly he was aware of Ruby and David looking at him, aware of how solemn he must have looked staring down at it.

"She didn't have anything for the cold," he explained needlessly. He tried to pretend that wasn't the reason they were staring and focused his energy instead on keeping his blush at bay.

"You sure you'll watch out for her?" Ruby asked David after a moment of sheer awkwardness, at least on his part.

"Yes. Why?"

"I think…I think I can find her."

He glanced up at Ruby to find her eyes lingering on him for far longer than they ever had. The sympathy he saw in them made the Dark Ones in his mind frenzy and the beast in his chest claw to the surface. But the part of him that loved Belle, the human part of him…it crushed all of those to the side. Though her look made him feel naked before her, he felt hope. She could find her? Ruby could get him back to Belle? He'd do anything for that.

"Lately, since things changed, I've been, uh, a little more sensitive to odors."

"What, you can smell her?" he translated with shock and horror.

The girl didn't answer, not directly. Instead, she held out her hand for the sweater in his hand. Automatically he handed it over to her once more, and Ruby smirked.

"I guess it's cause of the wolf thing," she explained. Then she brought the sweater to her nose and inhaled.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Belle #David Nolan #Prince Charming #mary margaret blanchard #Snow White #Snowing #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic #Ruby #Little Red Riding Hood #Snow Queen #Ingrid

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mapleandgingeroatmeal · 3 years

Text

CR2E97- The Fancy and The Fooled

Its hard to imagine what it must have been like to experience this episode live. It was so climactic and game-changing. The feedback loop of 3,000 people reacting to the Essek reveal all together? I feel like my brain would have exploded.

First of all, the little detail of Matt giving Marius this subtle character arc as the Nien influence him? Sublime. This man has been having such a crazy shake-up to his life recently, he could honestly support his own story. And of course Orly is always incredible.

Matt being so completely bitter about the ship’s name will never not be funny. I have a meme in my brain about that actually, hope I can make it bf I forget. Note to self, make a meme.

I was actually under the impression that Essek willingly confessed his crimes to the Nien somehow. I didn’t realize they discovered an confronted him the way they do here. Man I wish I hadn’t been spoiled on that point, it would’ve been such a crazy surprise.

This is a small point but Caduceus was talking about something (wish I could remember what) and pointed out that they all have issues. He included himself in that, which I find kinda fascinating. He’s the type to include himself to be gentle, so maybe i’m reading into things, but I hope it was a moment of growth for him? acknowledging that he may be just as broken and traumatized as the rest of the Nien would be good for him.

Yasha getting all flustered about Jester was adorable. Literally nobody in the world is able to resist this woman’s charms.

The idea of Luc inheriting Jester’s place as this little demon-child running around The Chateau and getting in trouble made me so happy. And I’m so glad Matt made a point of hinting at how close/comfortable Yeza and Marion have gotten. When he came in he was tossing out some comment about groceries. wtf thats so cute and domestic. I wanna see more of their friendship!

Ok I have to add to my list of Things-I’ve-Seen-In-Fandom-That-I-Never-Expected-To-Be-Canon: Marion totally thinks Polynien is a thing omg. It’s funny how much her comfort w sex stuff extends to how she treats/feels about her daughter. And wtf does she think happened to Nott? Is anybody ever going to explain this to her. Does she STILL think all the m9 are together????

And we’ve got Caleb’s first I Love You, as well as I believe the first personal I-Love-Yous between any members of the cast not directed at the group at large. (They were also the first true kiss between any characters )

I’m very bittersweet about reaching this point in the story in a way I didn’t expect to be? Nott/Veth is my favorite character, and even though I know she’s really the same, it does feel like losing something a bit. There’s never gonna be new episodes with everyone using the name Nott. I’ve listened to everything that exists with that particular version of the character. (Veth is just as good, dgmw! I will miss the little goblin girl in some ways, though.)

One of the things I love about Nott is how unapologetically horny and sexual she can be. This is a thing with the other female pcs too, but one difference that leaves me interesting questions is that Nott is played by a man. When Marisha makes a point of having all those one-night-stands, she is aware of the controversy of such things and the ways she is playing with fire and expectations by being a woman unafraid of sex. But I know that Sam is someone thats gonna make sex jokes and things like that regardless of who he’s playing, because thats just who he is. So I wonder of he realizes how refreshing and unusual he’s being with Nott? Is he making a deliberate choice to defy expectations and cultural standards with how he plays her, or is he just playing a woman and then making all the choices he’s already make? I like to think he’s aware of what he’s doing, and the end result is the same either way. But it’s an interesting question.

THE OUTFITS. I love how seriously Laura and Taliesin were taking all that. It was cute to watch them plan and whisper that whole time. and the end results were fantastic.

This was such a long one! I have a lot to say but I gotta go get dinner. More coming later!

#critical role #cr3e97 #cr catch-up

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

Full story. Bakudeku AU w/smut. 11k words. Happy Birthday Bakugou!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630008

Bakugou Katsuki is a playboy rockstar with a bad attitude. He’s got everything, top hits, fans, and any girl or guy he wants... Or does he. At an industry party he meets the one person who sends him on a new path that ultimately saves his career and truly makes him shine.

“Ha!” Katsuki Bakugou kicks back in his chair as he slaps the report and tosses it onto his managers desk. “Number one yet again on the charts! Damn I’m fucking awesome!” And it was true, the seasoned singer known to the world as Shockwave was still going strong 4 years after starting off in this industry.

“Yes, yes,” the man picks up the paper and files it away. “That’s the fifth single release in a row to debut at number one on the Billboard as well as Spotify.” Shouto Todoroki was Katsuki’s manager and he had to admit, he never expected his client to rise this quickly. While he’s only been doing this job officially for the last seven years, he’d grown up in the industry and had seen enough to know what works and what doesn’t.

The singers blended style of Pop with Alternative and Rock grabbed audiences’ attentions, not to mention his performances were full of energy, and his personality was vivacious to say it nicely. But off stage, the man was a handful. Having a feeling about how Katsuki would behave, Shouto’s boss stuck him with blonde hot head as soon as the man signed, because he knew that his cool, level-headed, no nonsense manner would be able to handle it. Things worked out for the most part. Their PR department handled most of the headaches dealing with the man’s antics caught on social media. But as they say, good or bad, news sells, and so far, the singer was able to weather most of the crazy scandals that had arisen. Fan’s ate up all the juicy gossip and Katsuki fed them on the daily.

Arguments in clubs were a common occurrence with the singer, with the occasional fight turning into an actual brawl. Most of those ended quickly with bouncers, used to Katsuki’s notoriety breaking things up and sending the combatants packing. His love life and lifestyle were another gasoline on the social media flames. With Katsuki, the term playboy was too classy for him and this pansexual had a love ‘em and leave ‘em, one-night stand attitude that never seemed to curtail the amount of partners willing to go to bed with him. As far as Shouto knew, no one had ever turned the singer down.

Shouto sits forward in his chair and lets his arms rest along the desk. “Next on the agenda. The album release part where your latest video will also be unveiled is next week. I assume you’ll have a date?”

“Tch, course I will,” the blonde grows smug as if the question was unnecessary, “and whoever he or she is I’ll make sure is dressed to impress.”

“I’d expect no less,” is all the manager responds with. “The limo will pick you up at 6pm on the dot, so be ready.”

The night of the party started off without a hitch with many industry insiders in attendance. Shockwaves music blared, expensive drinks flowed, and delicious amuse bouche were served by the wait staff. Guests were happy and satiated, mingling with friends and acquaintances as one might see at any high-end party. The schedule was a lax one and mostly just an occasion to gather and enjoy. So, after his latest music video was played and his newest album unveiled, they popped champagned to celebrate and party the rest of the night away.

Things were running so smoothly, that by 9pm Shouto felt relaxed enough to let the bodyguards keep an eye on Katsuki, while he could mingle with the guests unimpeded. You could never tell just how Katsuki would behave, so he savored the moments of peace. The singer had been too preoccupied with the red headed twin’s he’d brought as guests, one on each arm to fuss and that worked for him.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight and there’ll be nothing more than pictures of a party to hit the news tomorrow,” PR lead for Shockwave, Momo Yaoyorozu notes to her co-worker as they grab refills at the bar.

“I never hold my breath,” Shouto responds. “But if that’s the case, I’ll be supremely happy.”

“Me too,” she chuckles, “it means less headaches for me. Right now, the article going into tomorrow’s UA Metro entertainment section is about album sales starting this weekend.”

“Thanks,” he pats the woman on the shoulder, “you guys always do an amazing job.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles back before walking away.

While the singer drank and danced the night away, Shouto takes a seat on one of the couches with his own guest who’d been waiting patiently for him. Not that his guest was left alone, the man also knew many others in this field to stay occupied. But now he got to enjoy the party instead only focusing on managing it. Chances were high that within another couple of hours, Katsuki would take off to bed the twins or some other willing partner and he would be free to wrap up this event.

And he was right on the money. Four years of managing the man’s career, and he was pretty accurate on when his client would fold. It was just under midnight, when a very drunk Katsuki unceremoniously drops onto the couch and shoves himself between the manager and his guest, But Shouto looks around and notices something was missing. He clears his throat, already annoyed by the type of intrusion as well as the growing discomfort of his guest. “Bakugou, where are your guests?”

Don’t know, don’t care,” he slurs while focusing in on his managers guest. “Who’s yer friend Todo?” Truth was, the twins were trying to get him to leave with them, when he’d noticed the cute green-haired man next to his manager and sauntered over.

Shouto rolls his eyes at the nickname. His guest’s eyes were wide and slightly panicked with the popstar practically hanging over him, so he pulls Katsuki away to give his guest some space. “This is my friend Izuku Midoriya. Izuku, this is my client Katsuki Bakugou.”

Despite his discomfort, the green haired, freckle faced man smiles sweetly, doing his best to be nice since this was his friend’s client. “H-Hi, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Bakugou. I think your music is great.”

“What the fuck man, don’t call me mister and make me sound old! But yeah, of course you like my music,” Katsuki grins, “everybody loves my damn music.” He moves back closer to Izuku, trailing his hand against the man’s arm before Shouto can stop him. “Bet you think I’m sexy too.”

Izuku blushes in embarrassment but shrinks away from the man’s touch. The singer was being way too brazen and upfront for the shy man. “Eh, heh, yeah, you are very nice to look at.”

Shouto once again pulls his client away, “please don’t make my guest uncomfortable Katsuki, clearly he’s not interested.”

But the singer furiously rips his arm away from his manager, “I ain’t doin’ that! Izu here loves me, don’t ya mouse?” He wraps an arm around the man and pulls him flush against his body. “Nobody can resist this package.”

His body goes stiff at the tight hold Katsuki has of him. “Um… actually I do…” Izuku blurts out with a tremor to his tone. “You’re a little intimidating to me,” he whispers. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Katsuki was the most handsome guy he’s ever laid eyes on, but the man’s personality was just too rough. They were completely opposite in that way from what he knew through Shouto and what he’s seen in the news. Plus, Katsuki was his friend’s client and he wouldn’t want to cause any potential problems if a relationship were to go south.

“Tch.” Undeterred, Katsuki grips the man’s chin hard and tips it up, letting his lips hover over Izuku’s. “Do I really now? But I bet I could make those fears melt away in my bed.” Then slightly brushing his lips against the man’s, “the things I would do to this sweet ass of yours would have you begging for more.”

Izuku gulps hard. A small part of him was turned on by Katsuki’s charms, but the bigger portion was screaming to run. “I-I’m not gonna sleep with you after a first meeting,” he whines, “I’m not that kind of guy.”

“What the fuck!” Katsuki snaps and shoves Izuku away so hard he almost slips off the couch. “You dare to reject me?! ME?!! Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now!” His blood was boiling and whatever high he’d had from the alcohol was burning off rapidly from the surge in adrenaline.

Shouto grabs Katsuki by both arms as his guest pushes himself further away on the couch. Izuku wraps his arms around himself in shock from the outburst, this singer really was a brute! He’s seen it on social media but to be the subject of the man’s wrath was a totally different feeling.

The problems was, while taller than him, Katsuki outweighed Shouto, and he struggled to keep the man from lunging at Izuku. But hearing the sudden commotion, other guests and Katsuki’s bodyguards rush over, grabbing the singer, pinning and holding him back from going after Izuku. With the bigger men now holding his client in place, Shouto helps his friend to his feet. Izuku is so shocked, he buries his face in his friend’s chest to hide away from the bull of a singer, and on instinct, Shouto wraps his arms protectively around Izuku.

But seeing the dynamics between the two men sets Katsuki off even more. “You bastard, is that why you won’t sleep with me, cause you’re Shouto’s bitch?!” He spits out the words. “Stupid losers!”

The manager narrows his eyes at his client, “that’s uncalled for when you’re the one who assaulted him Katsuki.”

“Fuck you!”

“You’re drunk.” Shouto states and looks at the bodyguards. “Please take him home and don’t let him leave until he sleeps this off.”

“Let me go you, fucktards!” Katsuki yanks as hard as he can at his restrainers, cussing and straining their hold. “Don’t you tell me what to do! This ain’t over yet! I will make him mine!” He screams and growls as they drag him away. “Let me go ya assholes! You hear me Izuku! I will make you mine!!!”

With Katsuki gone, Shouto turns his attention back to his guest. “Are you okay?” He sits the man down on the couch. “Would you like some water or anything?”

Izuku shakes his head. “You warned me about him but… he is really something. I-I don’t know how you put up with it.”

The manager just shrugs, “I just don’t let him take me down too and get under my skin. Katsuki is like a spoiled child, so I treat him that way most of the time.” He pat’s his friend’s shoulder. “Just stay here while I close out this party, then I’ll take you home.”

“Okay,” Izuku cracks a pained smile. It was the first time he’s ever been assaulted since primary school. He hangs his head and avoids any eye contact, even as exiting guests try to cheer him up. Being bullied as a quiet, nerdy little kid is a sore spot from his childhood memories and why he was a little shier as an adult. He tried to stay positive regardless, but it may take a few days for the edge to come down from this event.

When it was clear to Katsuki that his bodyguards slash babysitters weren’t going to let up on him, he sat back in the limo and brooded all the way to his penthouse apartment. He’d meant what he said back at that party. Fucking Todoroki, he didn’t care if daddy was the CEO, he was going to find a way to make his life miserable now! And that Izuku guy. No one’s dared to turn him down before! Why would they, it was crazy! He was Shockwave, whose prowess on stage could only be topped in the bedroom. ‘That damn mouse!’ Was he so fucking shy and stupid that he really couldn’t handle him?!

As Katsuki paces his living room floor, visions of Izuku’s green hair and cute smile keep assaulting him. But the worst part of all this, was he was sober, horny as fuck, and they’d dragged him out of there with no one to screw! “ARGH!” Why was a mouse of man getting under his skin so damn much?! Maybe because he did love a good prey beneath him begging for mercy. Tugging that green hair of his, ‘and I’d bet Izu would look even sweeter,’ Katsuki licks his lips just thinking about the naked man, ‘ass up and flushed while I’m pummeling him…’

“Ahhhh!!! Fucking bitch!” he storms away to take a long, hot shower and relieve some of the tension.

The morning after the album release party may have brought a sober Katsuki, but a no less still fuming one. After shooting off a ‘fuck you’ text to his manager, he set about digging into the man known as Izuku Midoriya. He didn’t care if Shouto denied they were in a relationship, because based on what he saw for himself, ‘just friends my ass!’ There had to be more to the story, but when he’d lucked out on the typical social media accounts, his anger only grew. Both men’s Instagram accounts were locked as private, and Izuku didn’t appear to have a Twitter of Snapchat.

He’d always thought that his manager was straight considering he and the PR lady have been casually dating for a short time now, and that was the only relationship he’d ever noticed. Katsuki throws himself onto his couch running his contacts through his mind. Who did he know that knew Shouto well and would be willing to give up the goods on him? ‘Ha! Eijiro!’ Shouto used him a lot as a music producer, plus the guy was one of his on again, off again flings when they were in need. Eijiro Kirishima was one of the few people Katsuki didn’t mind having normal conversations with, so he might be willing to talk. He didn’t care if that meant bedding the man for a night in return for information since the guy was a lot of fun between the sheets.

A week later, the music producer joins Katsuki for a few beers at his apartment. Up till now, Katsuki’s been avoiding his manager and calling up other acquaintances to gain any little information he could find. It wasn’t much considering Midoriya didn’t truly travel in his world.

“Why do you wanna know so bad?” Eijiro takes another swig of his beer and relaxes back onto the couch. “The guy isn’t even a part of the industry.”

“Just call me curious who my manager is dicking around with.”

“You’ve never cared before.”

Katsuki sits forward with a glare. “Look, are you gonna tell me or not Eijiro?”

“I’ll tell ya,” Kirishima laughs, “I’m just curious why you’re so enamored with this.”

“Because the fucker turned me down, that’s why!” Katsuki clenches his fists, “How the hell could he be more interested in Shouto than me?! The guy is like talking to an emotionless rock!”

“Dude, he’s not,” Eijiro laughs. “They just dated a few times, and I never even heard they made it to 3rdbase. Shouto mentioned once, they were better off as friends, that’s all they are, just close friends.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Look, Midoriya is a really soft guy, so sweet I swear he could give you a tooth ache if you’re around him for too long.”

“Weak man.”

“Whatever, says the guy obsessing over here,” Eijiro chuckles. “You know if I didn’t know better…. I think you are jealous Katsuki.”

The blonde crosses his arms, holding back the growing desire to throttle his friend, “I am not fucking jealous of a mouse like that!”

“Not of Izuku, of Shouto.”

That struck a nerve. “I AM NOT JEALOUS OF THAT BASTARD!” Katsuki jumps off the couch and grabs Eijiro by the shirt. “You know what, get the fuck out of my house!!”

Eijiro shoves the man off, “Fine!” He straightens his shirt. “Can’t take the truth, why am I not surprised. By the way, good luck with your new album,” he snickers as he slams the front door behind him.

“Fuck you! My album is doin’ just fine!” Katsuki screams back to the closed door. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?!’ His singles all did extraordinarily well, so it was only a given the album sales would do to. “My fucking album is fine,” he drops back onto the couch with a harrumph. Not that he’d been checking, just assumed it was like every other album he’s put out.

At least before the argument he’d gained some delicious insight into Midoriya. The man was nothing more than a second-generation florist who was taking over the shop that his mother started. According to Kirishima, he was hired by many companies, including those in their industry because of his gift in creating elaborate floral pieces tailored for events. It was how he and Shouto had met.

“Tch, what a sap story.” It wasn’t surprising the guy would have such a soft and gentle type job that matched his personality perfectly. Could you imagine Katsuki doing anything like that, not in your life.

But as he visualized walking into the florist shop and being greeted by a sunny smile… Katsuki growls at the way his heart flutters. This wasn’t about falling for the guy, dammit! He just didn’t like the idea of not getting what he wanted and right now, the one person who turned him down was what he fucking wanted! And as far as he was concerned, Shouto Todoroki seemed to be in the way.

The next day, Katsuki marches into his managers office ready to demand that he be given a new agent, or he’ll find another firm, contract be damned.

But Shouto doesn’t even bat an eye. He too had enough of the man’s childish antics. “I would love to do that, but it appears no one else would want you.”

“Tch, you don’t fucking know that,” the hot-headed blonde crosses his arms and stands menacingly next to Shouto’s desk. “Why wouldn’t anyone want to have a money-making star?! Has the whole world gone mad?!”

His eyebrow twitches at the superfluous posturing. “You’re attitude,” Shouto tosses a newspaper on the desk chair next to Katsuki. “That’s the UA Metro entertainment section. They were at the party, saw, andtook photos of your attack on Midoriya.” The man leans back in his chair as he continues. “Up until now, your fights were with sketchy individuals, but this time you picked on someone who not only is smaller, weaker, but is popular with a lot of the big companies in this city, including record labels.”

The frustrated manager sighs and pinches his brow. “There comes a point when even the biggest stars become too much of a liability. I’ve been getting calls or messages daily from contacts all over the industry. Producers are concerned with working with you, other agents, even DJ’s are sending me condolences for being stuck as your agent. I can’t say I blame them. So, yes, if I could pawn you off on someone else I would, but it’s either me, or the street.” Shouto leans forward, “and by the way, your album sales are half the volume they were of your last three at the same point in time. Nobody stays at the top forever. Your star is falling Katsuki, and there’s no one else you can blame but yourself.”

For the first time in their working relationship, it was the first time Shouto had seen Katsuki go silent during an argument. The normally competitive man would be cussing, screaming, or denying everything by now, but he was completely mute, just standing there gawking and turning white. He could pity the man for being foolish, but he just wasn’t in the mood. Katsuki had simply gone too far this time.

Shouto gestures to the open door. “Now if you’ll excuse yourself, I need to clean up after your mess.” Without any more fanfare, he simply goes back to working on what he had been doing before the singer showed up.

A full minute later as if Katsuki had finally finished processing the gravity of the situation, his personality rears its ugly head. “T-This is fucked up!” He slams his fist on the managers desk. “I don’t care what some stupid media says! My fans are what matter and they love me!”

“Not according to your album sales,” Shouto responds without even the courtesy of looking up. “Maybe they’re tired of your antics too. Look,” he huffs, “for your self-interests, go home Katsuki, stay there, and keep a low profile until things blow over. And for god-sakes, no ranting on social media! Now go, before I call in the guards to escort you again.”

It was the first time in Katsuki’s whole life that he’s felt the entire world crash on top of him. He was so used to being on top, the popular one, even from a young age, but his music career had sent an already swollen ego into overdrive. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he put his mind to it, but maybe he’s pushed his luck a little too far this time. ‘All because of a scrawny mouse!’

“F-Fine!” Katsuki does his best to save face. “Yeah, you do your damn job and deal with the vultures! I’m goin’ home!” He storms out of the office and heads to the elevator. Though he screws an indignant expression onto his face, it’s only a mask to those he passes by. Inside, he was screaming with all the hellfire of a man being stabbed to death.

‘Say what you will,’ his conscious chimes up during the short elevator ride. ‘But that scrawny mouse didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘Tch!’

‘And, regardless of what you say, it seems you like what you saw in that mouse.’

‘Can you shut the fuck up! Where was this voice of reason at the party?!’

‘Locked up, where you normally keep me.’

‘yeah, well go back to your cell…’

Ding.

The elevator opens and all Katsuki can see is a mass of flowers being held by someone blocking the way, so many it completely encompasses their upper body. “Oi! Move it idiot!” he snaps.

“Eek! S-Sorry,” the mass moves to the side to allow Katsuki plenty of space to pass.

But the singer immediately recognizes the voice. “What the fuck are you doing her Midoriya?!”

The flowers being held by the smaller man begin to shake. “I-I’m just delivering an order to Mr. Mic for his client Jirou’s birthday.”

Son-of-A! He knew he’d smelled food when he passed the conference room. “There’s a fucking party isn’t there?!”

“I-I think so…”

“Yes, there is,” a harsh male voice responds to the question. At that moment, Shouto walks out from the second elevator and comes across the two men. He pushes Izuku even further away from Katsuki. “But you are not invited, so leave.” Without any more information than that tidbit, he prompts the florist towards the second elevator. He was sure the fuming singer was boring holes in his back, but he didn’t care.

“Whatever!” Katsuki snaps as they are getting in. “I wouldn’t wanna go to her stupid party anyways!”

But it was a ruse. With his heart barely holding on to life, the singer beelines it for the parking garage before anyone else could see the pain racking his grimaced face. Everything hurt and he didn’t know how to handle the rush of negative emotions. Anger is something he could understand, but despair, it was as foreign as a dead language to him. It felt like all eyes were on him as he passed by employees and visitors alike, and for once he hated being in the spotlight.

The moment he gets into his car, the dam breaks and a gush of tears pour free. He grips onto the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white and rests his forehead against it. This was something he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. To fall from such a height, his heart literally shattered at the sound of those elevator doors closing. He wanted to scream because of how weak he felt. He cried because what Shouto had said to him truly hurt!

He hammers at the wheel, “AHHHHH!!!! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!!!!!!!” ‘I’m such a fucking dumbass!!!!! How’d I let shit spiral so out of control!’ If his manager was ready to toss him onto the street, that meant the agency had already approved it. And if Shouto was telling the truth about the other firms… it meant he would struggle to find a new one. ‘They’d probably give me a crappy contract.’ Being blackballed like that meant producers, DJ’s, and others would cold-shoulder him as well.

And what about his album sales? Why were the numbers so low? Katsuki knew that physical copy sales had been on a downward trend, but digital copies usually made up for the difference. “Argh!” Katsuki closes his eyes, “but how do I fix this?” he mumbles to nobody but himself. Everything hitting at the same time was overloading his mind. He didn’t want to admit that what he’s been for much of his life was the bully. ‘This must be what it feels like on the other side of the line.’ It sucked, and now he felt like a complete asshole who deserved to be tossed to the gutter like street trash.

After delivering the flowers, Midoriya goes back to his delivery van in the parking garage where he notices someone sitting in their car. Not a very big deal, but he can see that their head is resting against the steering wheel. The closer he gets to the car; he sees the tell-tale blonde hair and realizes it was Katsuki. He hesitates with his first inclinations to turn around and pretend like he never saw anything for fear of being hurt again. But the longer he watches, he can see that the man wasn’t just upset, but possibly crying. Now that came as a shock. From everything he’s been told, Katsuki Bakugou didn’t come across as the type to ever cry, at least not in public. Against his better judgment, Midoriya walks over to the man’s driver side window and lightly taps on the window.

“Are you okay Mr. Bakugou?”

The sudden intrusion snaps Katsuki to attention. He quickly wipes at his face and turns to see who would dare to approach his car, because if it was a fan, he really wasn’t in the mood for it. His shoulders slump, of course it would be Midoriya. He cracks the ignition and rolls down his window. “What do you want mouse?”

Midoriya nervously scratches the back of his neck and musters a smile in the hopes of breaking the tension. “I’m sorry to disturb you Mr. Bakugou, but you seemed upset, so I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine dweeb,” the singer responds in a monotone reflecting very little emotion.

“Oh-Okay… B-but you were crying.”

Damn this guy really was annoyingly sweet. Couldn’t he see that he just wasn’t in the mood to be bothered. “Tch!” Katsuki turns his head away. “What do you care?”

“Well, you see” he fidgets with his fingers, “I just don’t like seeing people upset… and I know it must have something to do with that party, so I feel bad.”

“Well you shouldn’t,” Katsuki maintains a level tone trying not to show his annoyance, “cause you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” ‘Shit, I was the prick idiot.’

“Mr. Bakugou?”

Okay he was really getting tired of the mister part. He rolls his eyes and stares forward away from the man, ‘Ugh,’ “What is it?”

“I’d like to start over, if that’s okay…. And maybe be friends?”

After everything he put the man through, he was still willing to be friends with him?! Katsuki’s head whips back to face the man standing outside his door. “Why? Is this a trick?” His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Did Shouto put you up to this?!” He just couldn’t fathom, with the world turning against him, that Midoriya wanted to give him a second chance. “This better not be a trick or something, cause I’ve had enough bad news for one day…”

“N-No, No!” Midoriya waves his hands in front of himself frantically. “No trick, I swear! Shouto doesn’t know I’m talking to you. He’d probably kill me if he knew!”

“Tch, you guys are still seeing each other aren’t you, just keeping it hushed up?”

“What?!” The man stiffens up. “No! He’s not really my type,” Midoriya blushes bright red. “He just worries because I get emotional really easily.” He fidgets with his fingers, “S-so, would you like to be friends?”

Katsuki thinks for a moment. This could be the saving grace he was hoping for. “Yeah sure, why not.”

They exchange contact information and agree to meet for lunch in a couple of days. Katsuki watches Midoriya walk away, and for the first time in days, a small smile registers on his face. It’s been a long time since he’s had such a normal interaction that it felt a little weird… but nice for a change. Who knew? Katsuki chuckles and drives home. Maybe there really was a way to dig himself out of this mess after all.

Their first luncheon went quietly without any problems, leaving both men with a sense of starting off fresh. The singer actually felt good at the end, like a small high without the need for chemical substances. But by the next day, they were thrown back into the spotlight when a blogger caught a photo of them together and blasted social media with it. Oh, was the singer pissed! Katsuki wanted to go after the man for spinning rumors of a new affair with the florist that made Midoriya look like some kind of whore.

Luckily Shouto had caught him before he could react, and with the help of the PR department convinced him to let them handle it. A journalist for UA Metro did a follow up story and interviewed Midoriya. The sweet natured florist sold the truth and confirmed the luncheon was nothing more than an innocent lunch to bury the hatchet, and by the time it had ended they were on the road to being friends. Shouto had been irritated about being caught off guard with the news and the fact that they’d met up, but he also couldn’t stay upset when in the end it helped to bolster Katsuki’s broken image just a little.

It was awkward and rough for the first few weeks despite the initial meeting going well. Over time, Midoriya’s positive and sweet disposition appeared to be rubbing off on Katsuki much to Shouto’s relief. His client needed all the help he could get to turn things around.

On the professional side, having Midoriya in his corner was thawing relations with the industry, but album sales were another story. Consumer polls hinted that the slight shift in the style of music from pop/alternative, to more of a hard rock style may have something to do with it. Fans liked Shockwave’s semi-edgy music, but at least the pop angle broadened his reach. By leaning too heavily into one genre, they may have lost some of the fan base. It was okay, they still had options in boosting sales such as putting out remixes to add back in the pop feel. In the meantime, working on rebuilding his personal image may also help sway the fans.

In reality, the covetous nature Katsuki had felt in the beginning was turning into an obsession. And the question now became, how far would he go to keep it from slipping through his fingers a second time? Now he understood his managers desire to protect. He wanted to keep Midoriya happy because of the warm, fuzzy embers it stirred in him.

The singer was a lot nicer now, but that didn’t mean he’d lost all of his bravado. Katsuki still craved attention and would do anything to keep it. At the same time, he wasn’t an idiot. Staying out of trouble and Midoriya’s friendship were the sources of the turnaround, so he showed his appreciation in the only way he knew how. Meals, movies, tickets to anything that interested the man, Katsuki would lavish gifts upon him. He put up with whatever the man was willing to give just to keep him happy, and if he was being honest with himself, simply cuddling on the couch wasn’t that bad after all.

By the sixth month into their friendship, Katsuki would spend every last dime if that’s what it would take to make Midoriya his.

Katsuki was happier than he’s ever been. His music career was back on track, and the last several months, all the relationships he had in his life were mending well. Instead of being combative, he’d turned into an easy client for Shouto to manage. No more arguments about direction or the need to micromanage the writers that had created great lyrics for him all along. There were a few minor set back’s whenever he’d had a little too much to drink in a club, but nowhere near the explosive episodes he would reach in the past.

Izuku on the other hand wasn’t faring as well. He wanted to believe that deep down Katsuki wasn’t a bad person, he was almost sure of it. The rockers lifestyle had created an incredible vain and arrogant man or at least turned a proud man into an even bigger narcissist. And while over the past few months, he’s seen some changes for the better, the singer struggled with his vices. Izuku wasn’t even sure if the singer realized his failings.

When it came to the singer’s music or staying in shape, Katsuki worked hard, but in more other things the less effort he had to put in the better. The man would rather eat out than cook, be driven than drive himself, and cleaning, well… that was the maid’s job. Izuku wondered how much the man even paid attention to his own finances, or did he just let his financial manger deal with it? Out of sight, out of mind. All Katsuki wanted to focus on was enjoying life his way. But Izuku knew better of the world, and this worried him.

His fondness of the singer had grown tremendously, and it pained him to think that they were just too different to make anything work. Izuku wanted some stability, wanted to know that this life wouldn’t come crashing down someday, leaving him broken with nothing to show for it. It scared him a little. After grappling with his decision, Izuku realized that it wasn’t fair to continue this way. He couldn’t even define the type of relationship there was between them.

“But I thought things were fucking fine with us!”

“Katsuki I’m not another fanboy or some trophy hanging off your arm to display to the press.”

The blonde growls, “I never said you were.”

Izuku sighs, “it’s how you make me feel. You’re a lot of fun to hang out with, but I want a real relationship. Someone who I feel like I can grow old with, who loves me for who I am, that will do the right things to make sure this,” he gestures to the apartment as a metaphor, “life will last, and we wouldn’t end up broke and destitute one day.” Moisture brims just below the surface as he stands to leave. “I’m sorry Katsuki…”

“N-No, you can’t fucking just leave like that!” Katsuki couldn’t believe they were going through this again. “I’ve been behaving for you! I buy you anything you’d want! ��What more do you want from me?!”

“Kacchan, all the gifts are nice, but I don’t require material things. And yes,” Izuku smiles softly and places his hand against the blonde’s cheek, “I could almost fall in love with this nicer version.” A tear trickles down, “but you aren’t ready to settle down yet, and I’m not gonna force you to.”

Katsuki’s heart seizes up at the use of the pet name. He’d hated it at first, but now… It was like being back in his car in that garage all over again. His voice falters as the tears catch in his throat, “I’ll do whatever it takes Izu, just don’t give up on me, please?”

“I’m not. We can still be friends and hang out sometimes.”

Just friends… like how Shouto was relegated to the friendzone. Katsuki’s heart wanted to stop right then and there. He couldn’t even respond, didn’t know how to.

Izuku places a kiss on Katsuki’s cheek. “Goodbye, Kacchan.”

The blonde just watches Midoriya leave unable to move from the couch. He felt like a piece of lead or as if someone had taken adhesive and glued his feet to the floor. Nine months ago, Katsuki would have raged, probably thrown things, hit something but the ache was different this time. He wanted to curl up in a ball or maybe jump off a cliff. Would anyone miss him if he dove out of his sixteenth-floor window right now? The answer was probably not, and that was the reason he couldn’t move. No one that mattered would miss him…

‘That’s not true.’

‘Welcome back bitch,’ Katsuki snaps at himself. ‘You’ve been quiet for months.’

‘You didn’t need me for once. And stop being such a pussy and get off the damn couch. Are you too stupid to realize it’s not over yet?’

“Fuck off.”

It was the first time since high school that Katsuki actually wanted only one person. He’d gone a little crazy with all the access and choices to satiate his libido, but hell, he hasn’t had sex in five months because all he’s been craving was Izuku. If staying celibate for such a long period in his history didn’t show just how enamored he was with the freckle-faced mouse, he didn’t know what would.

And what did he mean about doing the right thing? Was Midoriya saying he wasn’t responsible enough to trust? Okay, that part may have some truth to it, but it’s never been something Katsuki ever thought about. As he looks around his apartment, he assumes the man was looking towards the future. Music paid for all of this, but what happens when things die down? He was pretty sure that money was being tucked away for his retirement, but he wasn’t sure since it was all in the hands of his manager.

‘That’s the point,’ his conscious chimes in. ‘You should stop focusing on just partying all the time and actually grow up.’

“Ugh!” he couldn’t argue with that. But how will he convince Midoriya that he can change? He didn’t really have any friends to turn to, and there was no way in hell that he was calling his mother for love advice. Katsuki groans and whips out his phone dialing a number.

“Hello?”

“Shouto… I’ll be dropping by your office in the morning…”

As the singer walked in that morning to his office, Shouto Todoroki was a little taken aback by the man’s appearance. He wouldn’t call Katsuki stylish per se except in his own way, but at least the man maintained a put together look whenever in public. But not today. The man slumped in the chair before him looked like a totally different person. His hair was unkempt like he’d just rolled out of bed, clothes were thrown on, wrinkled, and didn’t even match.

“So, what did you need to talk to me about Katsuki?”

The blonde averts his eyes to the window, “it’s about Izuku…”

Shouto quickly sits forward, “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Katsuki shifts in the seat and stares at the manager. He could have been angry about the insinuation, but, “Wait, so he didn’t talk to you?! I kinda assumed he would.”

“No, I haven’t spoken to him in a few days. Now are you gonna tell me what is going on?”

Katsuki deflates further into the armchair. “To be honest, I don’t know how to explain. Whatever there is between Izu and I, he called off last night. Said, he’s looking for a real relationship and doesn’t think I’m ready for one.”

“Well, are you? It’s a simple question Katsuki, and to be brutally honest, I don’t think you are.”

Leave it to mister ice man to lay it in bluntly. The Blonde groans and covers his face with his hands. “For once I can’t disagree. But, for him… I’m willing to try.”

He wanted to call the man a liar, but based on Katsuki’s disposition, for one he actually believed him. Shout’s eyebrow raises. “You do see how it’s difficult for anyone to believe that, right? You are by far, one of the worst playboys I have ever met who didn’t even care what sex it was as long as they gave you what you wanted, and you’ve been this way for years. Can you really change in just a few short months?”

Ouch. Turn of the knife. “Hey, I haven’t had sex in months, thank you very much. Just haven’t been interested in anyone else, ya know.”

“Except Izuku?”

“Yeah…”

“Wow, you really are serious…”

Katsuki sits up, “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO PROVE!” then slumps back in his chair. “Come on man, you know him well, what can I do?!”

The manager leans back and crosses his arms, contemplating what to say next. A part of him wanted to push this separation further to protect Izuku from going back to the singer. But if Katsuki was being honest, who was he to separate two grown men from love. The singer didn’t know, but Izuku had confided in him that he was falling in love with Katsuki and that it scared the hell out him. That fear must have been what pushed Izuku to make this latest decision. He sighs, “All I can say is you’ll have to somehow show him that you are being forthcoming about how you feel. Unless he believes he can trust you, you’ll never convince him that you’re being genuine.”

“Ugh…” it was the truth, but that still didn’t help him figure out what to do.

“Go home, clean yourself up, cause you look like shit, and come up with a plan Katsuki. Oh, and regarding your birthday next month, is there anything specific you’d like to do?”

“The usual, I guess. Just the typical industry party and make sure all the dignitaries are there so I can thank them for sticking by me.” Not that he felt like celebrating, but this was more for showing face.

“Done. Now go home and meditate on what I said. If you want him back, bare yourself to him and figure out a way to earn it.”

Katsuki nods, “yeah.” He stands up and walks to the door, then pauses at the threshold. With his head slightly turned in the man’s direction. “Thanks, Shouto.”

Shocked but happy by his client’s progress, Shouto smiles. “You’re welcome.” Maybe Izuku really was the best thing for the singer after all.

The days leading up until his birthday dragged by like a never-ending winter storm. It was cold, lonely, miserable, and the emptiness Katsuki felt only drove home how pitiful his seemingly ‘perfect’ life had truly been. He missed the light that Izuku had brought into his world, and if it wasn’t for the chance of seeing the man again, Katsuki would have gladly stayed home from the party.

And as he walked into that hotel’s small ballroom, a sense of dreaded déjà vu hits him. He swore under his breath that Shouto rented the same room as the last party in order to torture him. The furniture and décor were moved around since the last one, but he could still recognize the pieces. His eyes zero in on the dreaded couch that started it all. ‘Nope,’ he changes course and heads over to the standing bar. Things may had gotten better, but that couch had too many bad memories attached to it.

He’d spent the entire 27 days trying to figure out what he could do to win Izuku over, and of those, 8 of them were in convincing the man to attend this party. After swearing on a non-existent bible that he would stay clean and sober through the event, Izu finally relented. So, with his beer to nurse in hand, Katsuki takes a seat near the entrance and waits for the man to arrive. He’d never admit it, but the singer felt like a happy and expectant puppy waiting for their owner to arrive home.

“Hi…”

Katsuki hears the soft voice and feels the tap on his shoulder and turns around to a jaw dropping sight. Izuku was dressed in a stylish, forest green faux leather blazer, white button-down collared shirt, slacks to match, and brightened by the glow on his face. “Happy birthday, Kacchan,” he holds out a small neatly wrapped gift.

But instead of immediately taking the gift, he pulls the smaller man in and wraps his arms around him in a hug, taking in the fresh floral scents that clung to the man that he’d come to love. Katsuki buries his face in the surprised man’s neck, “thank you for coming, it means a lot to me.”

Izuku recovers quickly from the unexpected hug and reciprocates, smiling even though the man couldn’t see it. It felt good to see the singer again. “You’re welcome Kacchan.”

To hear that nickname after a month of absence was so much better than any music to his ears. His eyes cloud up and he squeezes them shut to hide it. Damn he felt weak, but at that moment, Katsuki didn’t care. He didn’t want to let go but knew it would be awkward to stay that way, so after a few more second, he lets Izuku go. Katsuki accepts the gift and gestures over to an area where they can sit. “Would you like a drink? I’ll go grab you one.”

Again, Izuku is a bit surprised by the question, but shoves his euphoria down. “Um, sure, something light would be great.”

Katsuki grabs the drink for his friend and returns, taking a seat next to Izuku. “Thank you,” the man smiles in acceptance.

Throughout the evening other guests come and go, dropping by the pair to say hi or chat for a while. It was nice, relaxing, and though the temptations were there, Katsuki never took them. He was even able to convince Izuku to dance with him for a couple of slower songs, but other than that, seemed content to stay put on that couch.

It was completely out of the ordinary for the singer, but no one was upset about the change, least of all Izuku. All night, no outbursts, sipping on the same drink, and being a perfect gentleman. His heart was soaring despite the lingering fears. Will this last? Can Katsuki really change? Oh, how he wanted to believe it!

The party was going great and soon enough the halfway point had come. Shouto drags Katsuki up to the stage for a birthday cake, over the man’s protestations of them singing him happy birthday.

“Just shut up and deal with it, then you can execute your plan,” Shouto whispers.

“Fine,” Katsuki growls.

As the crowd of half inebriated adults sings an out of tune version of the birthday song, the singer fumbles nervously with something in his pocket at the thought of giving a speech when this was over. It takes a couple of the longest minutes of his life, but soon enough the DJ cuts the music and he’s free once more. Katsuki gives the DJ a signal to play a specific instrumental song at lower volume, and Shouto hands him the microphone.

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight, hope you guys are having a good time. I also want to say how much I appreciate all of you for putting up with me until now.” Nerves kick in and singer feels a bout of stage fright kicking in. “But I have an announcement to make.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his manager waving at their friend to come up. “Izuku, would you please join us on the stage?”

“Wh-what?!” Izuku deadpans but rises to his feet and cautiously makes his way to the stage. It was a new experience to be centerstage like this. Every fiber of his being wanted to bolt.

Katsuki takes hold of his hand and squeezes, whispering off mic that everything would be okay. Shouto too, gives him a wink… Okay, now that was really strange, Izuku realized, the two men were in collusion.

“I’m sure everyone in this room know the man standing next to me, whether by profession or the photo’s leaked in the media. It was in this very room at my album unveiling that we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.” Snickers are heard through the room. “But we were able to get past that and I’d like to say we’ve become friends?” He turns to Izuku, who smiles nervously but nods in agreement.

Katsuki squeezes his hand, then releases it so he can pull the box from his pocket. “He is the reason I am the person standing before you today. I’m not completely rehabilitated,” he chuckles and even gains a chortle from Izuku for the crack, “but as you can see, even a tiger can change its stripes.”

Despite his nerves, the sweet words coming from Katsuki brings a smile to Izuku’s face and he could almost forget the fact he was standing in front of a crowd of people.

“But what I don’t think even he realizes is his true effect on me.” Katsuki now turns to face Izuku completely instead of the guests and hands the microphone back to Shouto. “You were right, for a long time I wasn’t ready to settle down, but when someone special comes into your life, the dumbest mistake would be not to recognize it.” He opens the box and holds it up as Izuku’s eyes expand. “This is my promise to you, Izuku, if you’ll have me as your boyfriend. To show you that I will do anything in this world to make you happy for the rest of your life.”

“Oh my god,” Izuku’s hands fly up to his mouth, covering it in shock. “Kacchan, t-this isn’t…”

“No,” Katsuki chuckles and takes the man’s right hand into his own, “they’re promise rings… for now, until I’ve proven myself worthy to ask for you hand. You’re my balance Izu, and I love you for it.”

The roar of the guests from the unfolding scene is barely heard as the two men’s gazes are locked onto each other’s.

Tears pour down Izuku’s face as can only nod his acceptance, too flustered and tongue tied to do anything more than just allow Katsuki to place the ring on his right ring finger. “I love you too Kacchan,” he beams and wipes away some of the tears trailing down his cheek.

After placing a ring on his own finger, Katsuki raises the back of Izu’s hand and places a light kiss on it. He grins wide, caressing the man’s face and smoothing away more of the tears. “Only happy tears from now. I love you mouse.”

Tours were great for exposure and fan support, but they could be such a taxing experience. Months on the road moving from city to city or sometimes country to country. In the past it wasn’t a big deal to Katsuki because it was like one long party. But not anymore. The married man was itching to get back home to his husband of three years. Izuku had joined him for the first leg of the tour, but with the holiday season starting up, the florist industry was just too busy for him to leave it all in his mom’s hands. And besides, the woman just couldn’t do the types of piece’s her son had mastered.

But it was finally November and Katsuki had just finished his last performance. He was practically foaming at the mouth at the prospect of seeing his husband in just a few more hours.

‘I’ll be waiting *wink emoji*’ Izuku replies. ‘And don’t worry dinner will be ready by the time you get home.’

‘Fuck dinner, I’m just happy to see you.’

‘trust me Kacchan, youre gonna like tonights dinner *kissy face emoji*’

After arriving back at their hometown, the limo takes the singer straight to his apartment. He was almost dead on his feet upon arrival and the only thing fueling his steps forward was seeing his man. Katsuki drags his suitcases in and leaves them by the front door for the next morning.

“Babe, I’m home!”

“In here!” Katsuki hears his husband’s voice calling from the bedroom.

As he walks through the apartment, he notices there’s nothing cooking, and no delicious smells coming from the kitchen. How odd, if Izuku says he’s doing something, the man always does it. Where he was a mess, his husband was the glue that kept them balanced.

“Hey babe, I thought you said dinner…” when Katsuki walks into the bedroom, the words die away on his tongue.

“is served,” a cheeky Izuku giggles and finishes the sentence.

“Holy… mother…”

There his blushing husband sat on his shins in the middle of their bed that is just covered in yellow green rose petals. Izuku was clothed in a red silk robe, with his green hair tousled, and the robe front opened slightly to reveal the pale milky skin beneath it. God damn he looked like a Christmas present that Katsuki was all but happy to open.

Izuku giggles even more at his husband’s gawking and sways the ends of his robe’s sash to break the stare. Because of the tour schedule, this had been the longest time they’d spent apart since their relationship began, and he just wanted to do something special. Okay, that was a partial truth.

“Go take a quick shower Kacchan, and I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

“Hell yes!” Well no one had to tell him twice, as shoes and clothing were stripped and tossed on his quick exit towards the bathroom. The blonde whipped through a shower in probably 5 minutes, drying himself off and walking back out buck naked. Katsuki really had no shame what-so-ever.

He grins at his sweet little mouse on the bed, who still sat in the same position toying with the sash. “Need help with that,” he teases, gaining a coquettish smile and nod. Katsuki climbs over the mattress, sitting in front of Izuku, and takes hold of the ends, “yeah we don’t need this anymore,” he pulls and tosses the sash aside for maybe later. Next, he runs his hands under the edges of the robes opening, sliding them up against Izuku’s chest until they reach the man’s shoulders and slowly slips the silken fabric down his arms.

With the robe added to the spattering of discarded clothing, Katsuki moves in, peppering his husband’s skin with kisses. He pulls the man up till they’re both on their knees, with the smaller man’s legs constrained between his thighs. Their bodies pressed up against one another, he continues covering Izuku’s neck with light little nips and pressured kisses, suckling, teasing every inch as his tongue eases its way up to the man’s jaw, and pulling delicious tender mewls from the mouse.

Katsuki never would have thought that such soft and tender love making would appeal to him, but his husband opened him up to a whole new world of pleasure. He loved the sensual acts and making Izuku purr with each new touch, or moan from every delectation he provided gave a boost to his ego that a million screaming fans couldn’t even hold a candle to. It was a powerful high for the Rockstar that had him hooked like a drug.

Izuku weaves his hands around his husband, stroking long strides up and down the skin. He trails the muscular ridges and seams, teasing little rivulets of quivers along the plane, then rounds Katsuki’s rear end, giving the firm flesh a good squeeze. His fingers travel lower, just enough and pulse the middle ground between the man’s ass and balls, rubbing strong tight circles over the convergence of nerves.

The blonde freezes and moans at the contact. “Don’t,” he growls and bites Izu’s ear, “my way, tonight.” Katsuki has a plan and it involves torture of a different kind.

The smaller man whines but gives in to his husband’s demand… for now. Turn out being a minx was a kink he’d come to enjoy being, at least in bed.

As one hand manipulates his husbands throat, the other snakes it’s way behind his back. Katsuki trails his nails along the spine, creating little ripples of the muscles in response, and shivers threading through Izuku’s frame. When it reaches the lower back, he flattens his palm over the skin, pressuring the hips to move forward. He couples the move with a grind of his own pelvis, earning a deeper moan from his love at the friction of their cocks writhing against each other.

Skin to skin, their bodies grind in a slow rhythm of music only known to themselves. Izuku tries to take hold of his husband’s cock but is rebuffed and reprimanded with another, sharper prick of Katsuki’s canines against his bare throat.

“Not yet,” the blonde murmurs while still teasing kisses. “I’ll tie your hands if you keep being a brat.”

“But you must be tired,” his husband whimpers, “I wanna help too.”

“Never tired for you, mouse.”

“Please,” Izuku makes another move to grab Katsuki’s dick, but is thwarted when the man simply grabs him by the forearms and lifts them up.

Using gravity to his advantage, Katsuki pushes the man onto his back and pins his hips down with his own. He grabs the discarded robe sash and binds Izuku’s wrists, keeping them above his head. “I warned you,” he grins, happy to enjoy the view. His husband wriggles and pulls slightly at the bindings, but cannot compete against the larger, heavier man who has him pinned. “I bet you did that on purpose,” Katsuki chuckles.

“Maybe…” Izuku smirks. His preference was for the sensual, but after months of only self-pleasure to sustain him, he was hungrier than usual.

“I know,” Katsuki kisses his lips, long and hard. “I was lonely too, all the more reason I want this to last.”

While still holding Izuku down with one hand, Katsuki lifts up his midsection to shift leg positions from the outside to the inside. His husband happily obliges and spreads his legs apart. Once fixed between the man’s thighs, he lets his weight settle and pin down pelvis on pelvis.

Izuku wraps his legs around Katsuki’s, cinching in a hold with his feet below the ass cheeks. It was about all he could control. He uses the leverage to help him grind harder against the man’s cock and bring himself some relief in the process. It was painful how hard he was. He could feel the sheen of sweat from the heat swirling in the area lubricating his movements.

The truth was, Katsuki could have kept Izuku from moving around, but instead allowed the man to keep up the grinding while he focused on other areas. He was having too much fun teasing the pale flesh of his husband’s throat and leaving flushed red reminders of his progress. It made him feel like an animal, laying their claim. But he muses to himself, there were definitely going to be bruises in the morning, he smiles between the kisses. He pulls Izuku’s nipple into his mouth, rimming the pert little button with his tongue, and vexing the sensitive skin through his teeth.

“Kacc—han…”

His husband reacts with a high-pitched rasp and arching of his body to ply the blonde’s mouth deeper. In response, Katsuki sucks harder on the nipple and gains another garbled version of his name. Yes! These were the sounds he wanted to hear! He moves on to the other nipple, giving it the same rough treatment and earning his rewards. Back and forth he tortures his delectable little mouse, until the man is panting and fighting hard against his restraints.

“Please…” Izuku begs through his gasps and rocks his hips firmly against his husbands. The desperation to be filled by Katsuki and feel the heat of his cock driven deep within him was making him delirious. All the oral ministrations were amazing, but they were driving him insane! “Please,” he whimpers again when Katsuki sits up to gauge his next move.

Seeing Izuku so flushed and feverish sent a pang straight to Katsuki’s groin. The man was covered in a sheen of moisture and precum was leaching out of his dick. He trails his tongue along the seam of his lips. Izu’s eyes were half-lidded and looking up at him with such wanton desire that he couldn’t help but finally give in… at least partially.

After three years he knew that look. Like a switch being triggered on the blonde. Realizing that Katsuki was ready to give him what he wanted, Izuku relaxes his legs to give the man room to move. He stays still, with his arms compliantly above his head, just motioning to the bottle of lubricant he’d placed next to the pillow earlier.

The blonde growls a favorable sonant and grabs the lube. He shifts his husband’s hips up, but when he reaches under to ply the man’s entrance with the lubricant, he discovers something else the man had prepared. “Damn,” Katsuki grabs the small handle of the plug, “you really wanted to be ready for me huh mouse?”

“Are you upset?” Izuku winces. “I just really missed you.”

“Hell nah, I ain’t mad,” Katsuki caresses the man’s backside and leans down slightly as he plants a quick kiss on his husband’s lips. “Relax,” he whispers as he sits back up and starts to pull.

Izuku does as he’s told, relaxing his muscles so his husband can easily remove the plug. He then waits with abated breath, watching in heady anticipation as Katsuki slathers his dick and then Izuku’s entrance with the lubricant. His eyes roll back at just the barest of stimulation. The sensation of the man’s fingers toying with his ready flesh, then feeling something press up ready to enter him was all he’d been craving for.

No talking… No sound… Just the pressure of being filled as Katsuki pushed through at a leisurely pace. When Izuku cracks a peak to see just why, he sees his husband staring down with the widest grin, just watching his dick slowly disappear. The man was utterly enjoying the view and somehow that made Izuku glow, knowing how much this man loved being with him.

Fully seated in his husband, Katsuki rocks leisurely, just once along the full length, observing Izuku’s anguish at how gingerly he was toying with him. Another slow and agonizing thrust again pulls a pained sigh. He grins and continues for a few more rounds, all the while watching the man’s silent thirst multiple. Sensual didn’t have to mean boring, oh no, Katsuki has learned, it could be pure and unadulterated torture.

The blonde shifts positions back to missionary and once prone and plugging his husband, Katsuki covets Izuku’s mouth, plying his tongue with his own. His hands apply pressure, forcing the man’s hips down as he grind upwards. He counsels every moan or whimper and tampers it down with a dance of his tongue.

In response, Izuku wraps his legs around Katsuki’s thighs and arches his back into a different angle. His gasping squeals are swallowed by the blonde after each buried thrust, and the friction… heavenly skin to skin grinding against one another, melding together in a slow rhythm. He could feel his cock squished been their bodies, and every time Katsuki moved, it rubbed along the length as if it were being caressed by his hand. Not that it matter much, Izuku’s mind was being pulled in several directions, and his body pleasured in more ways than one. His senses were saturated by the mixture of heat, starry images behind his eyelids, and the scent of their love making filling the room.

But every time Katsuki could feel the building climax, he slowed his movements to a crawl, or stayed deeply rooted as he doles out sloppy kisses over other areas of his husband’s skin. “I fucking love you so much mouse,” he murmurs unexpectedly, before adding more nibbles along the man’s neck.

“Mmmm… I love you too… Kacchan…” he purrs back.

“Mmm,” Katsuki hums in response.

The hums vibrations and breath fanning over Izuku’s skin sends rippling shivers all over his body with a piercing arrow straight to his soul. He’d never known such levels of physical pleasure before Katsuki, and Izuku was sure that no one would ever be able to satisfy him as well as he could. With his hands still loosely bound, he manages to weave them over the blonde’s head and threads his fingers through the back of the spikey tresses.

Katsuki moans and shudders when Izuku’s nails scrape against the scalp. He growls a punishment that falls on deaf ears as his husband continues the gest unimpeded.

Emboldened, Izu lets his nails ghost along the back of the blonde’s neck, earning a deeper moan and groveling growl. He giggles. “EEP!” Then squeals when Katsuki forcefully rocks his hips so hard, the man sees white.

“Enough?”

“Again,” the man whines.

“You, naughty brat,” Katsuki chuckles. He knows Izu wants him to go faster and harder, but he fights to resist. “No.”

“Aww.”

His husband’s cute pout only earns him one more thrust.

“Soon,” Katsuki nips Izu’s ear. “I’ll make you cry out my name soon enough, but first,” he sits back up on his haunches, “a little more pleasure for the mix.” He takes hold of his husbands cock and wraps his fingers around the shaft just below the head. Izu’s breathing falters and catches as the man’s thumb sweeps over the tip, plying the slit and spreading the drips of pre-cum over the sensitive skin.

“Kacch…” Izuku gasps. His body arches briskly and the muscles around Katsuki’s dick tighten sharply.

“Tch.” The blonde smirks as he reaches over for the discarded lube and applies a generous amount over the erection. “Poor mouse, you’re so hard for me aren’t ya.” Izu nods and whimpers, mewling when the man squeezes gently. Dear god he was beyond turned on by this point and if his husband went too fast, he might blow too quickly.

Katsuki’s semi-roughened fingers from playing guitar strings clash against the pliant and servile skin of Izuku’s cock. He glides his movements up and down, caressing the head before plunging the shaft in repetition. Squeezing, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb and all the while soaking in the writhing body it’s attached to. He holds Izuku’s hips in place so the man can’t squirm away. At times his grip digs into the flesh just to keep him still.

But when Katsuki adds his own hip action to the mix, Izu cries out and brings his hands over his face to bite down on his palm. Over stimulation from being fucked and masturbated at the same time triggers a babble of incoherent words. His vision grows blurry and his breathing more and more labored. Tears gather in his eyes clamped shut, and his legs solidify its lock around Katsuki’s frame. This is what he’d been craving! Izuku is losing what little strength he has in his legs and begins to pressure his husband to speed up his thrusts.

He could have countered his husband’s pulls, but Katsuki went with it, and increased the speed he was jerking off Izuku. Just a little more…. “Hold out for me,” the blonde grits out through his own panting. “Almost… there…”

“Kac-chan, please!” the stricken man begs for the sweet mercy of release.

Izuku fumbles for his own cock, as Katsuki’s hand starts to slip. They were both about to hit the edge and it was getting harder to focus. He stokes hard and fast while his husband makes short work of mounting him deeper.

A flash of light sears Katsuki’s vision for a split second as his orgasm strikes. He bites down hard and locks his jaw as he rides out the waves of seed filling his husband. Beneath him, the smacking sounds of the sieges he’s levying on his husband are drowned out by the broken high-pitched moans from Izu’s own climax.

“Holy shit,” he groans and practically collapses onto Izuku, too tired and spent. Months of pent up sexual frustration really took its toll. “Damn, I missed that.”

Izuku’s legs felt like rubber and drop like dead weight onto the mattress. He does what he can with his wrists still bound, cradling the back of Katsuki’s head, and threading his fingers through the blonde locks. “Me too, Kacchan…. Me too.” Soon enough, he hears the light pattern of breathing and sees that his husband has fallen asleep on top of him. Izuku smiles and kisses the man’s forehead, before closing his own eyes. Home where he belongs…

#bakudeku #bakudeku fan fic #bakudeku fanfiction #katsudeku #katsudeku fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #Midoriya izuku #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bakudeku smut #bnha au #bnha edit #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #kacchan #deku #deku x kacchan

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erinelizabethh · 4 years

Text

Caught Your Eye | Leon x Reader (5/?)

Summary: Your little sister is the newest, most promised challenger to beat the region’s Champion. Leon is said Champion. You just have a Pikachu.

A series of drabbles following yours and Leon’s friends-to-lovers slow burn… years in the making.

1 2 3 4

Chapter Five: Goodbye, You

Chapter Summary: ‘Til we meet again.

A Pikachu was his gift to you, a creature the color of the dandelions your mother picked from her garden. She wagged a tail characteristic of a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day, cheeks rosy as she cried out for you, arms out as if a child searching for warmth and comfort. He found the little one swiping at an Eevee on Route 4 was his story, recalling of your once playful manner with the decision that you would love the gift, love her... perhaps love him. Of course, that last part was never said, reduced to just a murmur to the stars, and perhaps it was enough that you were unable to respond. Leon edged closer to you with a Poké Ball in his grasp, prodding at the Pokemon standing at his side, and for once the now sixteen-year-old ran out of words to say. Once the Pikachu was in your arms, however, eyes twinkling because she was yours, the silence was dissipated with a, “Happy Birthday, love.”

With a shake of your head, your eyes began to burn, tears forming at the corners in an act of weakness you regretted as soon as it was known. How fortunate would you had been if you were still but a child, feigning disinterest in the hobbies of your sister and your best friend by indulging in their existence when nobody was there to catch you in the lie? There was no stopping you from believing how much of a waste of time they all were, no enticing you toward a life where it was acceptable to be worth less to others. The day Leon and Hop moved to your neighborhood, Lydia was the favored child; one day, your mother realized, Lydia would be just enough for the world to turn their heads at her. With no talent, no interest, you were lucky if the world even dared to acknowledge you after all of your hard work. You were lucky if anyone would care to listen, wasn’t like you were important enough to be heard.

This Pikachu was meant to be that one, that pet that those sitting on bleachers awaiting her next move would never see because she was to be yours and yours alone. Her lips would tremble just like yours when you would lament of your score on a test that you wasted your life for, tugging on the denim of your jeans because there was just nothing to tell you other than a pika left in a whimper. By now, you would hope to know what your Pokémon was attempting to relay to you, except it was difficult to comprehend or acknowledge her words when all that could comfort you was confirmation that you really were a failure. Your fist would slam against the wall knowing that it might have all been for nothing, that your friends were off somewhere ignorant to your cries for someone, anyone, to save you from these wavering emotions. All that was left would be her, a Pikachu losing her voice, a gift from a boy who no longer cared for you like you cared for him.

“Fuck my birthday.” Because I fucked yours by not showing up. “Fuck it all, I mean, for fuck’s sake! What a waste of breath this has been!” Your name was said in a tone that caused you to resist his advance to trap you in his embrace, shoving at his chest as if you once didn’t long for your best friend’s warm hugs. The explicit language that rolled off your tongue was foreign, bitter behind your lips, except there was no other word to describe how much better it would have been if this gift wasn’t meant to be in your hands. Everything would have been better if you weren’t there, if you were but a glimpse into his childhood, as you certainly could never make up for being anything more. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to make this any worse, but— ”I’m... I’m leaving, mate. There’s gotta’ be more to this.” You made everything worse.

You were sure of it, because his eyes were wide and the distance between you increased even further. “W-Wha— Where are you—” He gulped down the future he would have, a future where your face will be another childhood memory soon to be forgotten. His body was stiff, fists clenched, and yet his heart would never halt in its dreams to have yours.

“I dunno, Motostoke. Going to finish fourth before, y’know.” He didn’t. He hadn’t a clue. “I was daft to think I... that it was gonna be something. Even more of a bloody idiot to think I could care more about you than whatever that something is, so—” Your free hand fished around in your messenger bag, pulling out a hat with the trace of a crown along the underside of it. Upon setting it atop the ears of the Pokémon cradled in your arms, you returned all of his favors: the friendship you abandoned for your goals, his warmth when the harshness of beyond Postwick caused your blood to run cold, and the three years you spent as babysitters, as neighbors, as... best friends.

So many questions. What brought this on? What couldn’t be fixed? “You’re… you’re gonna be back, though. You’re coming back. ‘S not for long.” With a shrug of your shoulders, the boy thought you cruel; he thought you a madman for not telling your best friend, loathing how he could hardly tear his gaze from yours averted. That was your gift to him, throwing aside his attempt at grasping your attention. Oh, and a hat. Your last gift to him a goodbye that made owning that cap painful, another step back was taken, another minute of time with you stolen. Yet, you continued to play with your food, prodding at the heart he gifted you by absolving yourself from whatever adversities accompanied it; did you even know how much it hurt? Did you care?

You demanded that he take all of it back, because there was no point in leaving any bridges to be crossed once you departed, shutting out his silence for your own. You wanted no part of it, no part of him, no part of Postwick, so you hoped that you could forgive yourself when you indulged in paying mind to the Poké Ball he left on your doorstep the following morning. Leon left no note, not even the hat, just the minuscule reminder of a past he hoped you would find it difficult to leave behind you. It’s a remainder of those bridges you attempted to burn by your words and actions, a single string of fate ever so binding. As your mother wept, your sister silent, your eyes were forward with what was ahead; looking back was too much, as if one glance over your shoulder at the house just a herd of Wooloo’s down was to be your ticket back home.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Your hands are swift as you produce a hair tie from a nearby drawer, pushing it closed with your foot as you tie up strands falling to your back into a ponytail. Seven years later, the word ‘punctuality’ begins to lose its meaning, clothes all over your floor in your flat because you still can’t decide what you want to wear for school. Pikachu remains by your side, amused at your teeth feral in its attempts to secure a piece of toast stuck under for too long, following your movements as you shuffle around your home looking for... “My keys! My damned keys!”

Except the telly’s on, and the news segment seems to take a liking to a certain man in particular. His hair, like yours, falls past his back and accentuates the hair on his chin; his eyes are still as bright as they were years ago, his smile straight and mesmerizing, and it’s a sight many at the local news station love to ogle over. There’s a twinkle in the eyes of his fangirls whenever he passes with the charm that made his win so sweet, so lasting. He is weighed down only by the cape that signifies his win, his status as Champion, free of worries and girls that waste his childhood and take more than they can give. Oh, and his... his hat. No matter who asks, the ambitious boy refuses to comment, only sparing a glance at the camera that refuses him privacy and now, you have all the time in the world to sit down and spare two, maybe three minutes more before you’re forced to leave.

Your Pikachu reaches behind the toaster for your keyring, rolling it between her toes as she is delighted in a job well done. The way the keys jingle upon her wiggling is fun to witness, however loud, thus hitting two birds with one stone: entertainment without her owner if only for a little while, and that same owner allowing just moments of time to a man who Pikachu thinks certainly caught her eye.

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #leon x reader #champion leon #pokemon leon #pokemon imagine #just shoot me a reply if you wanna be tagged :) can't keep up with this shit #ALSO I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG I AM SO EXCITED

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ververa · 5 years

Note

can u do something with mina and reader where reader convinces mina to do couple costumes together???

It’s probably not exactly what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it

“Lucky woman”

Wilhemina Venable x reader

You had always been an eccentric, who stood alone in the crowd. But you were also witty, sympathetic and trustworthy. You were always ready and eager to help others. Moreover, nothing of that was fake - everything you did was genuine. That’s why people adored you. For them you were like a real angel. Though they couldn’t understand how someone like you could be with Wilhemina.

The two of you seemed to be complete oppositions of each other.

For them Miss Venable came out as a mood, unprincipled and sometimes even mean woman. It’s was partially truth. You knew that she could he harsh at times and it definitely wasn’t easy to get to her. She definitely wasn’t a people person. She kept herself to herself and wanted to maintain a normal and peaceful life. But even Wilhemina Venable couldn’t resist you.

She made much of an effort to dislike you. But she failed through and instead of being mad at you, she was angry with herself. She was more frustrated than ever before. And you could say that, because every time you stayed alone at work it felt awkward. But you carried on acting as if everything was perfectly fine. Wilhemina on the other hand tried hard to avoid you. She truly deprecated that you’re taking her outside her comfort zone. She was falling a victim to your charm and you didn’t even realise it. It wasn’t never a conscious strategy.

You liked her, of course. It’s been almost 2 years of working as her assistant. Meeting her everyday and watching her from afar. You’re almost constantly around each other. It’s impossible not to cling to her after so much time. She made you shake like a leaf. You’re afraid that you may do something inappropriate and because of that upset her. Though, no matter how hard you tried you usually ended up doing something stupid and then wished the earth would swallow you up. However, Mina found almost all of it rather funny. She would never admit how much she, actually, enjoyed your stupid jokes, which nobody else found amusing. Or how impressed she was that you were such a good and helpful assistant. Wilhemina couldn’t remember the last time she had so much time on her hands. She could finally rest a bit. And it was all thanks to you.

Though at the same time she found herself to be more and more curious about your life. How you get on. What did you like.

It took her some time and a lot of nerves. But despite being scared out of her wits, that you may say no and reject her, she finally got enough courage up to ask you out.

You were over the moon, when one afternoon Wilhemina approached you. It happened rarely. Actually it didn’t happen at all. Wilhemina had never talked to you about anything that wasn’t connected with work. So, when she was about to she was pretty nervous. And you could say it. She was so tensed up that she was stuttering. Which, you had to admit, was quite amusing.

Shy Wilhemina Venable being at loss for words wasn’t a typical thing to see. So you savoured every second of it, because you didn’t know if you would ever have a second chance to experience it.

But you did. After the first meeting there’s another and another. In a very short time you became really close to each other. You were probably one of a very few people that she let so close to herself. So, you made sure to shower her with love and affection and anything she nay ever want.

Of course, sometimes the differences made it hard to avoid arguments, but you didn’t worry about it. Every couple has their ups and downs, right? So it was rather normal.

Wilhemina might be a down-to-earth woman. She wasn’t fond of changes and didn’t enjoy trying new things. That was the biggest problem and the most common reason for your arguments. Her cautious nature couldn’t always bear your spontaneous self, yet she loved you and you knew that.

It was a Halloween time and your bosses decided to throw a party. You’d been waiting for it for so long and couldn’t hide your excitement. There’s nothing that you wanted more, but to take part in it together with Mina. You had been with her for almost a year. And you already knew she didn’t like such parties, though still you hoped she would agree.

You had everything organised. Every little detail, so that she wouldn’t need to worry or rather complain about it. You had already bought a costumes for the two of you. Because trying to convince her to go shopping with you was like the probability of winning the lottery.

When you came back home, Wilhemina was sitting on the sofa and reading a book. You slowly approached her trying not to smile like an idiot. You kissed her on the cheek and put a big box on her knees.

“What’s this?” she asked

“Open” you said staring at her with anticipation

Wilhemina rolled her eyes. She hated surprises, but she opened the box anyway, knowing you wouldn’t leave her alone.

She examined the contents of the box and looked back at you.

“What is this?” she asked once again

“Well, I thought that since we’re going to the party today… maybe we could you know… dress up?”

Wilhemina said nothing. Insted she closed the box and handed it back to you

“We’re not going anywhere” she said focusing on her book again

“But-”

“No!”

“But, please. We have never celebrated Halloween before. It’s our f-”

“And we’re not going to celebrate it. It’s just another stupid event. Grow up Y/N, you’re not a kid any more”

“But-”

“I said no! We’re not going anywhere and I won’t change my mind!”

You huffed placing the box on the coffee table and moving to the bedroom you shared. That wasn’t a reaction you had expected.

“I don’t know what’s in that pretty head of yours. What were you thinking?”

“Nothing!” you snapped

“Apparently”

You frowned at her response, but said nothing - as you didn’t necessarily want to argue.

“You should take it back to the shop”

“Do it yourself. Explain to the shop assistant why you don’t want the costume”

“Y/N, stop it! You’re acting like a little brat”

“Well, since I like Halloween maybe I’m still a kid. I had better get off your way before you change your mind and won’t want to go out with me at all!” you said shutting the door

Wilhemina looked at the door and then at the box.

She wasn’t going to involve any further in that pointless, to her, argument. Instead she took the box and went to the shop. She tried not to think about you - how upset you got. And she almost succeeded, instead focusing on the disgusting decorations that she could see everywhere. Then her attention was drew by a group of kids, who already in their costumes ran past her.

She didn’t see the point in taking part in such a stupid party. There were so many different things that you could do.

Finally, she got to the shop. An elder lady was helping some other girl with choosing a costume. So Wilhemina used her cane to announce her arrival.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked smiling politely

“I want to return it” she handed her the box as if inside was a bomb not a Halloween costume

“Oh. May I ask why? I mean, I remember the young woman who bought it. She was so excited” the woman said smiling remembering you “She wanted to buy something special for her girlfriend if I remember correctly. Poor thing, spent two hours on choosing”

Wilhemina’s mind immediately recorded the look that you had had on your face. The excitement; those pleading eyes…

“She said it’s going to be their first Halloween together. Listening to her or just looking at her you could say she’s head over heels in love with her girlfriend. Not everyone is as lucky as that woman”

In one moment Venable felt sick. All the things she had said suddenly hit her. How could she be that selfish? That oblivious…

She claimed she would do anything for you, but then when you asked her to go to a party, she said no. It’s a stupid thing to her, but something important to you. In that very moment she felt guilty more than ever before.

She looked at the woman, who was about to unpack the costume.

“You know, I changed my mind. I’ll take it”

On the way back home she didn’t care about the annoying kids or awful decorations. All she could think about was that she needs to fix her mistake.

So, she swallowed her pride and put on the costume you bought. She took care of every detail, just to satisfy you. Only when she was ready, Wilhemina knocked on the bedroom door.

“W-what?!” your voice cracked a little even though you were doing your best to sound confident

“May I come in?”

“It’s your bedroom as well. You don’t need to ask”

Wilhemina took a deep breath and slowly entered.

“What do you want?” you asked laying on the bed with your back to her, not caring to turn back

She cleared her throat and answered

“Well, I wanted to ask how do I look?”

“What?” you asked confused turning back

Then you saw her. She was standing right opposite to you - with her long hair loose and in the Morticia Adams costume. She was stunning and you’re speechless.

“I-I… Didn’t you take it back?”

“Well, let’s say that I changed my mind”

“You look amazing…”

Wilhemina cheeks turned red and she looked at her hands instead of looking at you.

“What about you? Hurry up! We don’t have time”

“Yes, ma'am” you said happily getting up

You’re about to leave the room to get ready, but you stopped.

“What?” Wilhemina asked suspiciously

“Nothing” you smiled “Just… I love you” you said and kissed her

Mina rolled her eyes, but you knew very well she enjoyed that as much as you did. Or maybe even more.

@misssmephisto

@cordwliagoode

@cakexblankett

@tasyahilker

@mysweetdelia

#wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson imagine #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse

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blackkudos · 4 years

Text

Betty Carter

Betty Carter (born Lillie Mae Jones; May 19, 1929 – September 26, 1998) was an American jazz singer known for her improvisational technique, scatting and other complex musical abilities that demonstrated her vocal talent and imaginative interpretation of lyrics and melodies. Vocalist Carmen McRae once remarked: "There's really only one jazz singer—only one: Betty Carter."

Early life

Carter was born in Flint, Michigan, and grew up in Detroit, where her father, James Jones, was the musical director of a Detroit church and her mother, Bessie, was a housewife. As a child, Carter was raised to be extremely independent and to not expect nurturing from her family. Even 30 years after leaving home, Carter was still very aware of and affected by the home life she was raised in, and was quoted saying:

I have been far removed from my immediate family. There's been no real contact or phone calls home every week to find out how everybody is…As far as family is concerned, it's been a lonesome trek…It's probably just as much my fault as it is theirs, and I can't blame anybody for it. But there was…no real closeness, where the family urged me on, or said…'We're proud'…and all that. No, no…none of that happened.

While the lack of support from Carter's family caused her to feel isolated, it may also have instilled self-reliance and determination to succeed. She studied piano at the Detroit Conservatory at the age of 15, but only attained a modest level of expertise.

At the age of 16, Carter began singing. As her parents were not big proponents of her pursuing a singing career, she would sneak out at night to audition for amateur shows. After winning first place at her first amateur competition, Carter felt as though she were being accepted into the music world and decided that she must pursue it tirelessly. When she began performing live, she was too young to be admitted into bars, so she obtained a forged birth certificate to gain entry in order to perform.

Career

Even at a young age, Carter was able to bring a new vocal style to jazz. The breathiness of her voice was a characteristic seldom heard before her appearance on the music scene. She also was well known for her passion for scat singing and her strong belief that the throwaway attitude that most jazz musicians approached it with was inappropriate and wasteful due to its spontaneity and basic inventiveness, seldom seen elsewhere.

Detroit, where Carter grew up, was a hotbed of jazz growth. After signing with a talent agent after her win at amateur night, Carter had opportunities to perform with famous jazz artists such as Dizzy Gillespie, who visited Detroit for an extensive amount of time. Gillespie is often considered responsible for her strong passion for scatting. In earlier recordings, it is apparent that her scatting had similarities to the qualities of Gillespie's.

At the time of Gillespie's visit, Charlie Parker was receiving treatment in a psychiatric hospital, delaying her encounter with him. However, Carter eventually performed with Parker, as well as with his band consisting of Tommy Potter, Max Roach, and Miles Davis. After receiving praise from both Gillespie and Parker for her vocal prowess, Carter felt an upsurge in confidence and knew that she could make it in the business with perseverance.

Carter's confidence was well founded. In 1948, she was asked by Lionel Hampton to join his band. She finally had her big break. Working with Hampton's group gave her the chance to be bandmates with artists such as Charles Mingus and Wes Montgomery, as well as with Ernest Harold "Benny" Bailey, who had recently vacated Gillespie's band and Albert Thornton "Al" Grey who would later go on to join Gillespie's band. Hampton obviously had an ear for talent and a love for bebop. Carter too had a deep love for bebop as well as a talent for it. Hampton's wife Gladys gave her the nickname "Betty Bebop", a nickname she reportedly detested. Despite her good ear and charming personality, Carter was fiercely independent and had a tendency to attempt to resist Hampton's direction, while Hampton had a temper and was quick to anger. Hampton expected a lot from his players and did not want them to forget that he was the band's leader. She openly hated his swing style, refused to sing in a swinging way, and she was far too outspoken for his tastes. Carter honed her scat singing ability while on tour, which was not well received by Hampton as he did not enjoy her penchant for improvisation. Over the course of two and a half years, Hampton fired Carter a total of seven times.

Carter was part of the Lionel Hampton Orchestra that played at the famed Cavalcade of Jazz in Los Angeles at Wrigley Field which was produced by Leon Hefflin, Sr. on July 10, 1949. They did a second concert at Lane Field in San Diego on September 3, 1949. They also performed at the sixth famed Cavalcade of Jazz concert on June 25, 1950. Also featured on the same day were Roy Milton & His Solid Senders, Pee Wee Crayton's Orchestra, Dinah Washington, Tiny Davis & Her Hell Divers, and other artists. 16,000 people were reported to be in attendance and the concert ended early because of a fracas while Hampton's band played "Flying High".

Being a part of Hampton's band provided a few things for "The Kid" (a nickname bestowed upon Carter that stuck for the rest of her life): connections, and a new approach to music, making it so that all future musical attitudes that came from Carter bore the mark of Hampton's guidance. Because of Hampton's hiring of Carter, she also goes down in history as one of the last big band era jazz singers in history. However, by 1951, Carter left the band. After a short recuperation back home, Carter was in New York, working all over the city for the better part of the early 1950s, as well as participating in an extensive tour of the south, playing for "camp shows". This work made little to no money, but Carter believed it was necessary in order to develop as an artist, and was a way to "pay her dues".

Very soon after Carter's arrival in New York City, she was given the opportunity to record with King Pleasure and the Ray Bryant Trio, becoming more recognizable and well-known and subsequently being granted the chance to sing at the Apollo Theatre. This theatre was known for giving up-and-coming artists the final shove into becoming household names. Carter was propelled into prominence, recording with Epic label by 1955 and was a well-known artist by the late 1950s. Her first solo LP, Out There, was released on the Peacock label in 1958.

Miles Davis can be credited for Carter's bump in popularity, as he was the person who recommended to Ray Charles that he take Carter under his wing. Carter began touring with Charles in 1960, then making a recording of duets with him in 1961 (Ray Charles and Betty Carter), including the R&B-chart-topping "Baby, It's Cold Outside", which brought her a measure of popular recognition. In 1963 she toured in Japan with Sonny Rollins. She recorded for various labels during this period, including ABC-Paramount, Atco and United Artists, but was rarely satisfied with the resulting product. After three years of touring with Charles and a total of two recordings together, Carter took a hiatus from recording to marry. She and her husband had two children. However, she continued performing, not wanting to be dependent upon her husband for financial support.

The 1960s became an increasingly difficult time for Carter as she began to slip in fame, refusing to sing contemporary pop music, and her youth fading. Carter was nearly forty years old, which at the time was not conducive to a career in the public eye. Rock and roll, like pop, was steadily becoming more popular and provided cash flow for labels and recording companies. Carter had to work extremely hard to continue to book gigs because of the jazz decline. Her marriage also was beginning to crumble. By 1971, Carter was single and mainly performing live with a small group consisting of merely a piano, drums, and a bass. The Betty Carter trio was one of very few jazz groups to continue to book gigs in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Carter created her own record label, Bet-Car Records, in 1969, the sole recording source of Carter's music for the next eighteen years:

....in fact, I think I was probably the first independent label out there in '69. People thought I was crazy when I did it. 'How are you gonna get any distribution?' I mean, 'How are you gonna take care of business and do that yourself?' 'Don't you need somebody else?' I said, 'Listen. Nobody was comin' this way and I wanted the records out there, so I found out that I could do it myself.' So, that's what I did. It's the best thing that ever happened to me. You know. We're talking about '69!

Some of her most famous recordings were originally issued on Bet-Car, including the double album The Audience with Betty Carter (1980). In 1980 she was the subject of a documentary film by Michelle Parkerson, But Then, She's Betty Carter. Carter's approach to music did not concern solely her method of recording and distribution, but also her choice in venues. Carter began performing at colleges and universities, starting in 1972 at Goddard College in Vermont. Carter was excited at this opportunity, as it was since the mid-1960s that Carter had been wanting to visit schools and provide some sort of education for students. She began lecturing along with her musical performances, informing students of the history of jazz and its roots.

By 1975, Carter's life and work prospects began to improve, and Carter was beginning to be able to pick her own jobs once again, touring in Europe, South America, and the United States. In 1976, Carter was a guest live performer on Saturday Night Live′s first season on the air, and was also a performer at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1977 and 1978, carving out a permanent place for herself in the music business as well as in the world of jazz.

In 1977, Carter enjoyed a new peak in critical and popular estimation, and taught a master class with her past mentor, Dizzy Gillespie, at Harvard. In the last decade of her life, Carter began to receive even wider acclaim and recognition. In 1987 she signed with Verve Records, who reissued most of her Bet-Car albums on CD for the first time and made them available to wider audiences. In 1988 she won a Grammy for her album Look What I Got! and sang in a guest appearance on The Cosby Show (episode "How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?"). In 1994 she performed at the White House and was a headliner at Verve's 50th anniversary celebration in Carnegie Hall. She was the subject of a 1994 short film by Dick Fontaine, Betty Carter: New All the Time.

In 1997 she was awarded a National Medal of Arts by President Bill Clinton. This award was one of thousands, but Carter considered this medal to be her most important that she received in her lifetime.

Death

Carter continued to perform, tour, and record, as well as search for new talent until she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in the summer of 1998. She died on September 26, 1998, at the age of 69, and was later cremated. She was survived by her two sons.

Legacy

Carter often recruited young accompanists for performances and recordings, insisting that she "learned a lot from these young players, because they're raw and they come up with things that I would never think about doing."

1993 was Carter's biggest year of innovation, creating a program called Jazz Ahead, which took 20 students who were given the opportunity to spend an entire week training and composing with Carter, a program that still exists to this day and is hosted in The Kennedy Center.

Betty Carter is considered responsible for discovering great jazz talent, her discoveries including John Hicks, Curtis Lundy, Mulgrew Miller, Cyrus Chestnut, Dave Holland, Stephen Scott, Kenny Washington, Benny Green and more.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Betty Carter among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Discography

CD compilations

1990: Compact Jazz – (Polygram) – Bet-Car and Verve recordings from 1976 to 1987

1992: I Can't Help It – (Impulse!/GRP) – the Out There and The Modern Sound albums on one compact disc

1999: Priceless Jazz – (GRP) – Peacock and ABC-Paramount recordings from 1958 and 1960

2003: Betty Carter's Finest Hour – (Verve) – recordings from 1958 to 1992

On multi-artist compilations

1988: "I'm Wishing" on Stay Awake: Various Interpretations of Music from Vintage Disney Films

1997: "Lonely House" on September Songs – The Music of Kurt Weill

#05/19 #09/26

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bellsybuilds · 4 years

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[Part 2 of the Truck Stops and Tribulations series (link)]

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The way home - chapter 4 (T rating and warnings will change)

Din Djarin, Paz Viz(s)la, Baby Yoda, Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels, Agent Ginger Ale (modern AU, all human, road trips, found family, family reunions)

Jack claps, bringing the child’s attention back to him. He smiles indulgently. “Come to Papi.”

“Don’t do that,” Din growls.

Ginger stares at the lines of text spilling down the length of her monitor and releases a heavy, trembling sigh. Her hands hover at the keyboard. Her vision is blurring and she's starting to feel light-headed from all the missed sleep of the night before.

After helping Jack with his after-hours family emergency, she had some personal things to address. And these things had a deadline.

A glance to the clock in the bottom right of her monitor has her heart jump with a shot of adrenaline. 6:50AM. Already? Sucking in another quick breath, she forces herself to release it over the count of four slow breaths. Again, in and out, even slower this time, counting to six. By the third slow exhale, she’s drawing air without the feeling of invisible weight on her collar.

The application is almost complete. She just needs to write the concluding remarks on her cover letter… and then get Jack to endorse her nomination to field agent.

Swallowing thickly, her fingers curl to loose fists.

"Ginger?"

She jumps from her chair and whirls, monitor shielded with her back, hands splayed wide.

From the doorway, Jack has poked his head through, an eyebrow raised in question. Ginger didn't hear the latch open. Freshly shaven and bare of his customary moustache, Jack doesn't look like himself. That's the point, though it's unsettling. Jack hasn’t been without it the entire time she’s known him.

This Fall will mark her seventh anniversary with Statesman as an analyst.

He frowns at her suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Just--" Ginger waves a dismissive hand and hopes she's angling herself to block her work. Her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "Some personal admin."

"Well, finish it later and get moving. These halls will be busy soon and I don't want an audience."

Her heart skips a beat, chastised. "Right. Right, I'll--" She turns to quickly save and close her work, locking down her station.

Out in the hallway, they fall in step, Ginger moving quickly to keep up with Jack's longer stride. From the corner of her eye, she watches him draw the back of a self-conscious hand across his upper lip.

"It looks all right," she tries to encourage him, voice light.

His lip curls, grumbling. "I feel naked as a fresh baby's bottom."

"You look younger." Like a fresh recruit, but with broader shoulders.

Jack seems to agree because he sighs, pushing through a tight jaw, “That ain't a good thing, Ginger."

Leaving the secure wing and emerging onto the grounds, Ginger sharply inhales the cool blast of the dawn, eyes watering. Datapad clutched to her chest, she looks to the pale grey sky and sucks in a deeper breath, willing herself awake. The fresh air tastes cold and clean. She'll need all her senses for the task ahead.

Just a little bit of conceit: like a preliminary mission to demonstrate what she's capable of.

Entering the public buildings of the estate, she waits for Jack as he draws the door shut behind them. He always tried to be a gentleman… it’d be nice if he also didn’t yell so much.

Continuing on, Ginger has to clear her throat twice before she trusts her voice won't crack. The heated, recycled air feels almost too warm after the brief passage outside. "W-when we're done here, I could use your help with something."

Jack raises an eyebrow at her, the expression quickly slipping into his genial charm when they’re spotted by the front guards at reception. They both nod back in greeting. "All right," Jack's tone is dubious.

"Your endorsement, actually," she clarifies, throat tightening with sudden nervousness, and she keeps her eyes ahead as they turn the corridor to guest accommodation.

Up ahead, she can hear the tinkle of dishes and the soft murmur of chatter from the cafeteria.

Beside her, Jack has straightened his shoulders, expression drawn tight. After a long moment, he finally speaks, halting, "Look, darlin'--"

The flip of her stomach makes Ginger rush to interrupt, turning on him with a bright smile. "Just think about it! Wait here." She gestures to the storage closet as they approach. "And I'll go get him."

Marching away with the datapad tight against her side, she willfully blocks out any sigh or stray comment that might reach her ears. She doesn’t want to hear it right now. She can’t afford to. It's probably unbecoming of Statesman agents to run from potential criticism considering all the other things they would face in the field… but first, she has to get into the field. Right now, Jack is the only thing standing between her and a re-classification.

Nobody else at this site could possibly compete with her training or hours invested in the lab and as mission support. She knows this branch inside and out. She is the next best person equipped to protect its interests from the front lines. And she can do the job just as well as Jack.

One hurdle at a time.

Thankfully, none of the sparse crowd in the cafeteria give her a second glance. True to Jack’s assumption, the men she’s looking for are awake. Ginger spots them seated by the far wall, affording one of the best vantages of all the tables and counter of food assembly.

The two men are seated across from each other, emptied plates of breakfast before them, though she can see Din occupied with a smaller plate, pushing something around with his fork. On the chair beside him, the child sits with his legs splayed, blinking up at Din with more patience and curiosity than she has ever witnessed in a toddler not falling asleep. Barely eye level with the table in its over-large onesie, his tiny fingertips barely peek beyond his thick, padded sleeves and the brown collar bunching around his shoulders. These men either don’t know how to dress this child or are low on options.

Ginger has no place to judge.

Drawing closer, she catches the end of Din’s terse, “What the fuck are fairy lights?”

The taller man, Paz, turns his phone and, over Din’s shoulder, Ginger sees the portrait of a car’s front interior at night: small lights thread across the cloud grey roof of the cabin like softly haloed stars. One of the cords trails down the open passenger side window like a lead back to the real world from the dream of the whimsical refuge. At the photo’s lower end, someone is holding an unfolded map open to the camera’s eye: an invitation to adventure on the open road.

Din frowns, shaking his head and decisively spears another small portion of waffle. On the chair beside him, the child snaps to attention and bounces, gasping with excitement, small arms waving at the fork’s approach.

Despite Ginger’s exhaustion from the long night, a smile tugs at her mouth. What a beautiful child.

“Sit still,” Din orders, holding the fork hostage until the kid looks back into his face and splits into a pure, bright laugh at whatever he sees there.

Paz glances up from his phone, looking between them. A slow smile curves his mouth, small and private. His relaxed slouch is a far leap from the hostile bodyguard who towered over Ginger last night, shoulders squared, suspicious and domineering. He only cracked in the moment the baby cried at the sight of the needle. If they had met under different circumstances, Ginger would have even called him handsome with his plaid lumberjack sense of style.

“I think he would like them,” Paz is encouraging, appraising the photo again.

“We don’t need it.”

“They’re free.”

“From where?”

Ginger finally clears her throat and holds her datapad against her side, smiling with an apologetic shrug when they both sit back, looking up at her. Jack’s brother nods politely in greeting. Under his worn cap, Din’s eyes look heavy and red-rimmed, shadowed with the faint bruise of exhaustion. Maybe Ginger isn’t the only one who lost sleep last night.

Across from him, Paz looks spry by comparison. He’s not wearing his cap this morning, and his dark hair gleams wet from a recent shower. But something subtle has shifted in his expression. The soft smile has slipped away. His gaze narrows and he straightens in his chair. This one will be watching her.

At their mutual, undivided attention, her mouth is suddenly dry.

“Good morning,” she says.

The kid catches the neck of Din’s fork and hums when he retreats with his prize of waffles, eyes crinkled happily. A drip of maple syrup escapes from the corner of his mouth.

Ginger has to resist the impulse to lean over and wipe it away.

Paz does it for her, reaching across the table to thumb it from the kid’s cheek and wipe his finger on the napkin by Din’s plate. The kid doesn’t miss a beat, already rising in his seat to reach for more of the dissected waffle from Din’s plate.

“Morning,” Din says it like a sigh, and Ginger feels that weary sentiment in her bones. She doesn’t take it personally. “Ginger, right?”

“Agent Ginger Ale,” she corrects, then nodding, “Ginger is fine.” At least she hasn’t left an impression as the scary woman with the needle.

“Good morning,” Paz echoes, tone surprisingly bright. For some reason, Din frowns at him.

“I hope you both had a chance to try their hash browns,” Ginger says, glancing back at the food counter and the few staff milling around this early in the morning, easily distinguishable by the IDs dangling from their lapels. “They’re my favourite.”

Din’s arms fold on the table before him, gently closing around his elbows. The child frowns when the gesture pushes the waffle plate farther from his reach. Stepping carefully along his seat and holding onto the table’s edge for balance, the child tries again, eyes narrowed in intense concentration. From across the table, Paz watches, mouth curving with a fond, amused quirk.

With a glance at the counter, Din nods. “The food was fine.”

She flashes a quick smile at him again and hopes it doesn’t tremble. Small talk isn’t her strongest suit. “We’re ready for you two.”

Din straightens in his seat. “Now?”

The kid stills with a tiny handful of waffle like he’s been caught. “Beh?”

She nods, stepping back to give him space. “You and him.” She looks at Paz and finds him already watching her. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Paz looks from her to Din, slow and considering. “How long will you be?”

Ginger tilts her head, scanning the room as she considers the time it will take them to get back. Do the swap. Get in the lab. Hope nobody stops them and then get the kid on that table... “An hour. Maybe less.”

Paz looks back to Din. “I’ll go check on Missy.”

Din just shrugs a shoulder, seeming noncommittal.

Ginger blinks. “Missy?”

“It’s his cat,” Din rises and scoops the kid up under his armpits, then blinks wide, startled at the squawk of indignation in his ear because the motion made the kid drop his waffle.

“Cat?” Ginger hasn’t seen a cat in person in so long. She misses cats.

“She’s waiting,” Paz explains, also rising to his feet. “In the car.”

Oh. All by herself? No, it’s not her business. Focus.

“When you come back, tell the front desk you’re here for me and Jack,” she tells Paz.

Din hands the child another portion of waffle, syrup-free, and watches him shovel it into his mouth with an expression between judging and amused, shaking his head quietly. Wiping his hand on his worn jeans, Din meets Paz’s gaze, and his smile fades slightly. It could be Ginger’s imagination but in that space of a heartbeat, the air seems to thicken with a strange tension.

And then Din looks to her. “Give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she shakes her head, palms raised. No problem. “I’ll be right out front. But please be quick.”

///

Din waits until Ginger is out of hearing range, white coat rippling behind her. When he looks to Paz, he finds the man smiling at the kid, gently pinching his cheek.

“You don’t have to,” Din says.

Paz’s gaze flicks to him, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Come back. If you want to head on your way now. You got us this far. That’s enough.”

Paz pauses, glancing to the child wiping his mouth against Din’s shoulder. Paz is hard to read, but Din is pretty sure the rapid blinking, searching gaze means ‘kind of stunned’, yet he still arrives at, “Yeah. Okay.”

A fist inexplicably closes around Din’s lungs. “Yeah?”

Paz nods, hands coming to a rest on his hips. “I mean. I’m in no rush, but... we got you back to your brother.”

Din almost snorts a laugh. The reunion with Jack is not something he’s celebrating.

“And if you feel safe here….”

Din frowns, but doesn’t correct him. Safe? Getting here wasn’t about safety. Jack had resources they needed. There are too many bad memories wound up in this place and Din will be out of here as soon as they’re done. But he won’t need Paz for that.

“We’ll be fine,” Din says, rather than dispute him. Paz has done more than enough for them, and Din doesn’t like being indebted to people. He shuffles the kid higher against his side, freeing his right hand. He offers it to Paz. “Thank you.”

Paz has many different smiles. Din wonders if the man knows that about himself. This one is… difficult to name. Paz considers the hand Din has offered him and chuckles under his breath. The hand that clasps Din back is firm and powerful, but unlike their first handshake, doesn’t pretend to crush him in his grip.

That was only funny the first time.

They had just met. Paz had emerged from the dark of the Waffle House’s lot like some kind of hellish spectre, spewing fire and barking at Din to get down. He’d placed the flamethrower in Din’s hands so he could take the wheel once aboard his truck. Din promptly turned it on him. And Paz had just put up his hands, fearless, gaze serious.

“You can roast me later, but I can get you far from here.”

Paz hadn’t held it against him. Trust was earned. Everyone and their dog had been chasing this child. And Paz was the only one laying cover fire; well-equipped for a private citizen. Din might have been more suspicious if Paz wasn’t clearly just from the country and living on the open road. If Din had space and means, he would be doing the same.

“The honour was mine,” Paz insists with that rare, quiet gravity that always made Din feel like the air was clearing, like he was peeling a shade of the world back on something significant but could never hold it long enough to understand what he was seeing. Paz releases him and gently cups the back of the kid’s head. The little one twists around for a better look at him. “Look after him, kiddo.”

The kid frowns, lips parting in a soft shape of confusion. Din wonders if he’ll even remember Paz in a week’s time.

Belatedly, Din realises they still have the mess of their breakfast on the table before them. As though reading his mind, Paz shakes his head, waving him off.

“I’ll clean this up. You go. That woman sounds like you're in a hurry.”

Din’s heart thuds in his chest. They’re never going to see him again and it feels… abrupt. Seven days of sharing meals, of waking to the rock and sway of the road beneath him and Paz at the truck’s wheel, that darned cat nuzzling against him for space on the cabin’s small bed. It’s been so long since he travelled with anyone. Did saying goodbye always feel this heavy? And unfairly easy?

“Are you sure?”

Paz is already turning away, collecting their plates. He waves Din off. “Go on. I’ve got this.”

They’re just ships passing in the night. That has always been his life. Din nods mechanically and feels the child’s small hand clutch at his collar.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for taking a risk for us. Until our paths cross again. Be safe.

Arms tight around the child, Din turns and leaves. The child yawns in his ear and Din takes the reminder to take a deep breath, putting their new friend behind them. Maybe some goodbyes just have to be understated, no matter how big they feel.

"Din."

His heart thumps hard and his breath catches in his throat. When he looks back, Paz nods with a two-fingered salute. His smile is kind.

"Good luck."

"Ehn," the kid complains, twisting in Din's arms and flopping overbackwards, almost falling right out of his hold, what the hell, kid?

Heart leaping, Din catches the kid just in time, mentally cursing and wondering why-- what is wrong with this kid-- but he shoves those thoughts to the side and gives Paz a tight nod of thanks. The guy’s smile widens, and Din rushes from the cafeteria before he can embarrass himself further.

"Hey," Din commands, bouncing the whining kid to get his attention. "Settle."

The kid sags in his arms, and his head hangs with a pout.

Ginger smiles when she sees him (what does he do to keep earning that from people? Must be the kid) and leads them to a storage closet of all places.

It's larger than it looks from the outside: several shelves deep full of industrial cleaning supplies and equipment. It smells of bleach and dust. Overhead, a fan whirs noisily from the air vent. In the clear walking space before them, Jack stands by an empty steel chair set on a small square of tarpaulin. He smiles brightly upon seeing the kid, arms spread wide in welcome.

“There he is!”

Meeting Jack’s eye, the kid bursts into delighted giggles and curls away, hiding his face against Din’s chest. Kids are weird.

Jack catches Din’s eye and nods. "Sit. You can hold him.”

The door clicks shut behind them, and Din glances back to see Ginger standing guard.

Din frowns, eyeing the familiar tool in Jack's hand. "What's going on?"

"We're taking care of that tracker," Jack slaps the seat's back as though it's a prized ride. He brandishes the hair trimmer. "But first you need a haircut. Time is short. Sit and I'll explain.”

Ten minutes later, Din is freshly shorn (uncomfortably so), and testing the give in the shoulders of his new outfit. Jack’s clothes are heavier than they look, warmer, too, but loose.

“Did you gain weight?” he frowns at his brother.

Jack sneers at him, lacing up his boots. “Or did you just lose too much muscle?”

“Why’d you have to shave your moustache?”

Jack straightens like a shot and glares at him, offended. “Hey, I thought you shaved yours, too, all right! It’s been a long night.”

“Feel naked,” Din grumbles, mournfully rubbing his bare upper lip. It doesn’t feel right.

Straightening side-by-side, the two brothers size each other up, clothes exchanged, groomed to match, a near perfect mirror image. Din stares at the beaver blend cowboy hat and slowly puts it on with a groan.

“You’re not standing right,” Jack says.

“We don’t all have a stick up our ass,” Din mutters.

Jack points at him accusingly. “Fix your stance, or we’re goin’ to get nowhere real fast!”

“Shh!” Ginger hushes, looking specifically at Jack with alarm. “Keep it down!”

“Fine,” Din mutters and cocks a hip out, hands on his waist in his most insulting impression of his brother’s dumb bravado at rest. “How’s this?”

Not at all deterred, Jack takes a different tact. “Well, let’s find out.” He turns to the child waddling through the short tufts of hair strewn from Din’s haircut on the tarpaulin. “Hey, Green Bean.”

The child looks up with a questioning sound, a small hand wrapped around the chair’s leg.

Jack smiles. “C’mere.”

And something in Din rails watching his brother in his clothes, holding out his arms, smiling as Din never would (or could); and his heart kicks in his chest when the child totters towards him with a happy noise, arms lifting up.

No, Jack hasn’t earned that.

"Kid,” Din orders in the same voice he always has, irrationally hoping the kid will recognise him: the one who has watched over him these past days, fed and washed him, let him drool against his shoulder, and kept him from gnawing on their weapons.

The kid halts halfway to Jack, and looks back at him, searching his face. He squints adorably.

Din almost smiles, but thinks better of it, imagining how unnatural it would look. Instead, he points at himself. “Who’s this?”

“Ehn?” The kid blinks, turning more fully to look at him. Din knows he’s only a child, but something in his expression is more aware, more articulated and mature than any child has a right to be. Is that what people mean when they say they see an old soul?

Jack claps, bringing the child’s attention back to him. He smiles indulgently. “Come to Papi.”

“Don’t do that,” Din growls.

Thankfully, Ginger chooses that moment to step back in. “Jack, it’s almost eight. Come on.”

Sighing with disappointment as though he’s been deprived of his game, Jack rises back to his feet and unclips his ID, offering it to his brother. Just as Din is about to take it, Jack holds it back, and makes sure he has his brother’s undivided attention.

“Din’ika, I’m trusting you not to commit crimes against the state in my name while you wear this. It’s a big responsibility which I know you know ‘cause you couldn’t run from it fast enough.”

Scowling, Din snatches the ID and clips it to the chest pocket of his suit jacket. It’s a different set of clothes from what Jack wore yesterday, but he doesn’t think either of these two went home. The thought that they worked through the night for the kid is the only thing staying his tongue, and discomfort squirms again in his chest. Jack will hold this debt over him for a while to come.

“Need to go over the plan again?” Jack asks, looking between Ginger and Din.

“We get in the lab, Ginger removes the chip, we come back, swap, and we’re out of your lives,” Din says. He watches the child around Jack’s knee, the little one sliding down to his bottom, grabbing a fistfull of short, brown hair and throwing it to the side in a full body motion. Giggling, the child does it again, watching the strands scatter and flutter like grass.

“Sweet and simple,” Jack smirks, but claps a hand round his brother’s shoulder, focuses on Ginger with intent. “You do everything this woman tells you, all right? You don’t speak to anyone. You don’t go anywhere or touch anything ‘less she tells you to.”

Din meets Ginger’s slightly startled look and cocks his head with a shrug. “You’re the boss.”

Jack fixes him with a raised finger in warning. “I would never say that.”

“It’s okay,” Ginger assures Din, as though she’s brushing Jack aside. “I’ll take care of you.”

But as his brother is turning away, something else occurs to Din. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it.

“Wait.”

Jack gives him an arched look. Din gestures between the two of them and thumbs the thin necklace of leather at his neck. “Should we….?”

Should they swap this, too?

Jack’s sober look wipes all other emotion from his face. He hesitates, eyes falling to Din’s neck. Something hardens behind his gaze. “Ni trikari, ni ne'lise.”

Din shouldn’t have asked in the first place. He nods, palming the shape of the steel amulet beneath his shirt. He can’t see any impression of Jack’s through his, but Din knows his twin must still wear its counterpart. No matter what else has passed between them, this one thing would not have changed. “Gar serim.”

“Hey.” Jack clasps his shoulder firmly, voice quiet. “No one will look that far. Trust me.”

Gratitude warms through the tight feeling that had briefly clenched his chest. Even the thought of parting with his own makes him tense. He doesn’t have many personal effects, but the pendant….

Ginger is watching them with a curious frown. “What language is that?” she asks gently.

Din’s stomach swoops. He glances at his brother, but sees none of his own wariness reflected back. It makes him feel better.

“An old one,” is all Jack says, then claps his hands together. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”

#truck stops and tribulations series #the mandalorian #Kingsman: the golden circle #din djarin #paz vizsla #paz vizla #baby yoda #jack daniels #agent whiskey #agent ginger ale #paz/din #din/paz #found family #family reunions #road trip #all human AU

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Text

Alright on Paper Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T (for now) Word count: 1699 Chapter: 1/?

Spideychelle Week Day 4: Fake Dating

Summary: Reading the newspaper has taught MJ a lot about the Avengers' relationships. Doesn't mean she wants to be in one.

Or, MJ fake-dates Spider-Man, but won't commit because she has a crush on Peter Parker.

MJ reads the paper.

Oh, what, she’s supposed to be above reading the paper because print is dead and the internet offers both more news (stories and outlets) and faster access to it? Tough. She still reads it because her dad still gets it. He’s had a subscription since he graduated college and thought reading the Times―tucking it under his arm and flipping through the pages while he rode the subway―was a more accurate measure of adulthood than owning a car. (They still don’t have a car, by the way. MJ is never going to learn to drive. Ugh.)

The appeal that drew her to it, at the age of four, was the occasional editorial cartoon, utterly beyond her comprehension. These days, she’s a little more interested in the articles on domestic politics, but hey, people are allowed to evolve.

So if you’re her, you’re MJ, you’re living in New York and you’re paying attention, you’re going to notice the Avengers. Notice shit like violent attacks and streets covered in rubble―although, that’s basically the city at rush hour during construction season. She’s noticing other things though, Avengers voicing opinions, reviving a feeling of civic interest, pride, and responsibility. She’s noticing the tide turning; citizens less interested in blaming superheroes for unscheduled demolition in Manhattan and more interested in who does Hawkeye’s tattooing or which karaoke bar Thor can most likely be found at on a Friday night.

And the Avengers’ relationships. New Yorkers are feeding on (super-)human interest stories with their faces so close to the pages they just about rub all the ink off with their noses.

It’s a terrible thing to know this, to be as observant as MJ is, tracking these changing attitudes and becoming an accidental expert on the path to good PR for the biologically, magically, genetically, or otherwise enhanced. Reading the paper is what gets her in trouble―sooner, rather than later―when Spider-Man starts hanging around.

Technically, he’s always hanging (that web shit is strong stuff, by the looks of it), and he’s always around. MJ figured out ages ago that Queens is his home base. Still, their borough’s just big enough and just crowded enough that she’d never encountered him in person until a few months ago. Now she sees him all. The. Time. He says coincidence, she says to-mah-to, and it really is him saying that because they’re officially on speaking terms. It’s an improvement to their interactions, mutually decided upon after Spider-Man scared the bejesus out of her when she was standing on her apartment’s balcony one day, glanced over the edge, and saw him crawling up the wall.

The deal became that if he was going to drop by, he better be obvious about it. This led to a routine MJ is loath to describe with the word ‘charming,’ but which may or may not involve her going out to the balcony or chilling by the open window of her bedroom on Saturday mornings, after her parents have left to run errands, and offering Spider-Man a glass of orange juice while they chat and she shares her paper with him. He likes the arts section. She likes watching him read it, sticking to the wall outside her window, the posters for whatever’s in theatres appearing upside down.

He joked one time about them catching a Saturday matinee together. She’s pretty sure he was joking.

The deal evolves as the weeks go by. MJ’s apartment is less of a rest stop between crime-fighting gigs and more of a superhero counselling centre with only one client. Not that Spider-Man is looking to her, a high school student, to mend whatever trauma led to him donning a formfitting red costume and babysitting an entire city, but she’s sure giving him a lot of advice lately.

It’s just… life stuff, really, and MJ doesn’t know where he sees authority when he looks at her, yawning in her jammies as she passes his juice through the open window, but he seems to listen. Maybe her dad was right about the paper; it’s possible that reading it makes her appear wise.

But it makes her act like a damn idiot in a crisis.

She’s heading to a guidance appointment one Wednesday (it’s junior year and MJ is getting some assistance with scouting out colleges) and the halls are empty; she was given permission to leave class five minutes early. When she turns the corner towards the guidance room, there’s Spider-Man. Just standing there. Middle of the hallway. MJ drops a textbook and it strikes the ground with a deafening slap.

This is her comfortable weekend companion, the hero of Queens. She adjusted to understanding that Spider-Man can be both, but there doesn’t seem to be any room in her mind for him to also exist midmorning at Midtown Tech.

He’s staring back at her (she can tell―the aperture of the white eyes on his mask has expanded in shock), arms held away from his body sort of comically, and MJ’s trying to recall if she’s ever seen him upright before when the jarring old-school bell rings and students flood from the door of every classroom.

Spider-Man bounds towards her, grabs her book from the floor, pushes it to her chest until she grips it, and says, “I know what to do.”

Everyone’s starting to make sounds of surprise, recognizing the Avenger in their midst, but even though MJ knows Spider-Man is kind of a hero of the people, he’s not acknowledging them at all. In fact, he’s wrapping his arms around her, and her eyes―boy oh boy―are wide. There’s just one thing on her mind besides what his suit feels like against the backs of her hands…

She’s praying that Peter isn’t seeing this.

“I’ll swing by your apartment later,” Spider-Man promises, speaking quietly near her ear.

He puts another little squeeze into the hug before stepping back. Reeling, MJ watches him give their audience a polite wave as he walks backwards in the direction of the nearest exit.

“Sorry, guys,” he tells the gathered crowd. “Uh, duty calls. I just wanted to stop by and see my girlfriend.”

Heads are swivelling to stare at MJ even before she drops the book for the second time.

\\\

“How?” she demands of him that evening, pacing tightly on the balcony while her parents laugh along to a sitcom in the living room. “How could that be you ‘knowing what to do’?!”

“I was doing what you said,” Spider-Man says defensively. He’s pacing too, along the balcony’s two-inch-wide railing. (She’s too mad to be worried.)

“Excuse me? We’re putting this on me? When was I an active part of that plan, while I was holding that stupid textbook or while my arms were pinned because you were hugging me? I’d really like to know.”

“W-well, it’s what you said about public perception of the Avengers.”

“Specifics!”

“Like Iron Man,” he argues, lowering his voice after how she snapped. “People like hearing about him and Pepper Potts.”

“And have you always modeled yourself after Tony Stark, or is this sudden, public relationship announcement your first foray?”

They stare at each other for a minute, Spider-Man balancing and MJ looking up at him―which is kind of weird after they hugged today and she realized he’s shorter than she is. She sighs, regretting her harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I know what you did was thoughtless―”

“Well―”

“―ill-advised―”

“Literally your advice.”

“―and, frankly, moronic―”

“Hey.”

“―but I get it, you panicked―”

“I had it under control.”

“―so I forgive you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Now, come down here so I don’t have to keep resisting the urge to shove you off that railing.”

Once Spider-Man flips down (she’s already forgiven him―what, does he think he’s getting bonus points for landing the dismount?), MJ crosses her arms and gives that red mask of his a stern look.

“Still not thrilled, huh?”

“Good guess,” she says dryly.

“I might be missing something here, but… why? I mean, I didn’t think I did anything to embarrass you. Did I hurt you somehow?”

MJ shrugs and stares at her slippers.

“People saw.”

There’s a pause.

“…We already knew that.” His tone is almost clueless enough to make her apprehensive that this is the guy she and the rest of Queens have protecting them.

“I don’t know if… if a certain person saw.”

She’s blushing hard to admit even this much of a crush and she’d be mortified if she wasn’t making her confession to this socially illiterate superhero.

“Boyfriend?” Spider-Man asks. MJ glances up to see him leaning extremely un-casually against the wall, arms folded a little less tensely than hers.

“You sound skeptical,” she accuses.

“You’ve never mentioned him.”

MJ glares for a few seconds before backing down.

“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And you didn’t know that either because we only ever talk about you.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Spider-Man immediately offers, like he’s trying to even things up.

Groaning, she lets her shoulders slump.

“You do now.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty unlikely that nobody took a picture.”

“Safe to assume the students of a school called Midtown Tech are tech-savvy enough to work a cellphone camera. By the way,” MJ adds, narrowing her eyes at him, “why were you there?”

“Oh, um, gas leak in one of the Chemistry labs. They dispatch the fire department for that kind of thing and I hate for emergency services to get tied up if I can fix it myself.”

“Huh. I had no idea gas leaks were in your repertoire. Thought muggers and bicycle thieves were more your beat.”

She’s teasing him pretty lightly considering he definitely just lied to her. It’s fine, she’ll wait to crack him until he’s forgotten all about visiting her school.

Spider-Man swings his arms nervously.

“If it’s a community problem, I’m on it. I’m just a friendly―”

“―neighbourhood Spider-Man,” MJ finishes. “Yeah, I’ve heard the tagline. And you’re also my fake boyfriend until we figure out a way for you to tactfully dump me.”

He takes an excited step towards her.

“I know wha―”

She cuts him off with a swiftly raised hand.

“Don’t even say it.”

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, CHARLIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of CORIOLANUS. Admin Jen: There are no words to describe how floored I was by the stellar portrayal you've presented to us, Charlie. With two very strong applications, we were given quite a difficult decision, but ultimately you showed us not only Coriolanus, but Cyrus, flaws and all. There is so much depth and nuance to Cyrus that it makes him not quite an easy character to grasp, but as I read your app, I could see all of it, small details and broad concepts alike, plucked and arranged in front of me in an alluring, mischievous array. You captured every aspect of Cyrus that is distinct and unique to him and him alone, from the various paths that his journey in Verona could take, to the tragic, painfully human starting point that paved the way for it, to his mannerisms and devious charm. He's going to be an absolute menace on the dash and I can't wait to see it! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Charlie

Age | 23 in less than a month!

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | 5-8. I think we all know how chaotic everything gets at the moment and that’s also mirrored in my activity. On the one hand, I have A LOT of free time on my hands right now and a very high motivation to write, at the same time, my mood is also very fickle throughout the day and can quickly jump from feeling like writing a novel to not even wanting to touch my laptop. However, I’m around for plotting basically 24/7 and have established in the past that queuing my replies works very well for me, so I’d be able to deliver replies on a regular basis.

Timezone | GMT+1/CET

How did you find the rp? | I’ve been a part of DV before.

Current/Past RP Accounts | https://ofduval.tumblr.com/

IN CHARACTER

Character | Cyrus Sloane

What drew you to this character? |

When I knew I wanted to rejoin Diverona, I also realized that I wanted to write a character, who challenges me as a writer, this time around and thus, started looking at characters I’ve never paid any real attention before as they’re not my go-to kinds of characters.

And then I stumbled across Cyrus bio and, for the first time ever since I stumbled across the group two years ago, truly read it. And what can I say, I fell in love.

He’s darkness combined with the charm and holiness of an angel, a paradox in itself. He’s like Lucifer, the one who shined brightest of all only to fall deeper than all the other angels. And just like Lucifer, he’d rather reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. He’ll do whatever it takes to build his own kingdom. Flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo; if I cannot bend heaven, I’ll raise hell.

Like the most poisonous flowers, he’s as beautiful as they come and will kill you softly from inside. Cyrus Sloane isn’t handsome nor attractive, he’s beautiful and that’s precisely what makes him so dangerous. To quote The Secret History: ‘Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.’ You’ll fear his name and yet, you also won’t help but feel drawn to it, almost like a fly to a Venus flytrap.

Also, his relationship with Vivianne? W o w is all I have to say about that. No, seriously, I’m so emo over this connection, you wouldn’t believe it. There is just so much potential in there, so much tragedy, so much angst, anger, chaos, and destruction that still deserves to unfold. And I yearn to be the one who gets the chance to do that.

From reading up on past plot drops and my personal experience within the group (which might be totally wrong, it’s just my subjective perception!), I feel like, so far, Cyrus hasn’t really had the chance to play a key role, to go through the character development he deserves, to matter as much as he should. And I want to give this character, that has grown to be so near and dear to my heart in the past days, the chance to shine that he deserves. For the first time in forever, I can’t even bring myself to truly stress out over the application process as I normally do because this app simply needed to be written, I needed to write Cyrus at least once, even if it’s just in this app.

Because he does things with me, I myself don’t quite understand just yet. To be frank, Cyrus Sloane gives me a freaking headache, I’m not gonna lie about that. He’s so much and so different from what I’m used to. But still, I just can’t help coming back for more. Which I feel is exactly what Cyrus does? No matter if he hurts you or puts you in uncomfortable situations, you’ll come back craving more.

And I’m definitely craving more of him.

What future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

mother dearest.

Did she weep when she abandoned him? It’s a question he stopped asking himself a long time ago and yet, it still haunts him. He doesn’t want it to, has done everything in his power to stop caring about it and yet, it’s ingrained so deeply in his bones that even breaking them wouldn’t make him forget it.

Cyrus’ questions of what he did wrong to deserve such a fate turned into hatred for the woman, who is to blame for it all years ago. And still, there is still this childlike curiosity, this desire, so suppressed and ignored that even he believes he’s actually forgotten it, to find out why.

The dynamic between Vivianne and Cyrus is a very delicate, very intriguing one and I’d love to explore it further. I’m not sure how much has happened there yet as it’s something that needed to be discussed with Lina, but I’d love for Cyrus to get those answers he tells himself he doesn’t even want to know anymore somewhere down the line. Maybe at one point, he might even downright confront her and demand to get them, though this roughness and lack of subtlety would have to be provoked in some way as it’s not his usual style. Nor does he really want her to know that he cares, or acknowledge that himself for that matter.

I highly doubt that the knowledge of why will be enough to ease the hatred, the pain of the still aching wound that never healed. Finding out what happened, most likely won’t change anything about his determination to see her kingdom come undone as I imagine him being too far down this path for redemption. And yet, it’d be fun to see this already so complex dynamic filled with even more layers.

see it all burn to ashes.

The tale of a mother abandoning her son, throwing him to the wolves is one as old as time. The fatal consequences this act of cruelty can bring with it are just as well known.

And yet, Cyrus intends to outdo them all.

Considering how I feel like it’s his main character arch, I’m not going to be very concrete here as I think it’s something that needs to be plotted out together with other writers, not to mention that there are so many different routes that this arch could go. After all, all roads lead to Rome.

One interesting option would be attempting to destroy the Capulets from within. For that, he’d have to make himself irreplaceable.

This could go hand in hand together with the plot mentioned further below regarding him following into Cassian’s footsteps so I’m not going to delve into that here.

Additionally, In a city like Verona, secrets are a currency more valuable than money, as is information. Mona Chen is a perfect example of the importance of secrets just as the dead witches were. Considering how Mona now not only doesn’t work exclusively for the Capulets any longer but also charges them a heavier price than she used to, it’d be in the Capulets’ interests to replace her with somebody who works exclusively for them, who gives them the information they want for free. I’m not entirely sure of the concrete way to achieve it just yet, but I imagine somebody as charming and talented at manipulations as Cyrus is would be capable of eliciting secrets out of people without them truly realizing what they’re giving up. He might even build his own network of spies to take over that ‘vacant’ position.

Secondly, he could attempt to set the Capulet empire aflame with the help of the Montagues, after all, there is some truth in the saying “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”. I’m also be going into more detail about that idea in a further plot point.

Whatever route, Cyrus will take in the end, I do want him to make a mark. To do some damage at least. Even though he’s young, he couldn’t have ever crowned himself king of Cape Town if he didn’t know how to gain power.

the old king is dead, long live the king.

I feel like with Cassian - his mentor - dead, Cyrus is going to strive towards stepping into his footsteps and taking over his role in politics within Verona. After all, it’s what he trained for, what he endured Cassian’s company for. Only that he’ll do a better job as Cassian could have. After all, who could not fall in love with his angelic smile and boyish charm?

Even in a city controlled by the mafia, the civilians still play an important role. Incur the people’s wrath and you’ll find yourself in a tough position. Thus, getting the general population under control is most certainly a way to rise to power (as proven multiple times in various European countries in the past).

I want Cyrus to get (more) involved with Verona’s politics, attempting to earn the support and respect of members of the leading families of Verona. As mentioned above, secrets are an important currency within Verona and not only among members of the mob. The more respectable the family is, the darker the secrets often are and the more determined they are to keep them hidden from public knowledge.

Using that to his advantage paired with his boyish charm nobody ever has truly been able to resist, could be his way into politics and subsequently turning Verona into his kingdom.

He managed to do it in Cape Town, why shouldn’t the people of Verona earn to praise his name as well?

maybe we’re just young gods.

Saying Bernadette Dupont and Cyrus Sloane bring out the worst in each other, is an understatement. They’re a match made not in heaven but hell.

I think it’s safe to say that while causing havoc and chaos is fun, it’s not enough for them. For Cyrus at least it isn’t, he’s dead set on pushing the Capulets from their throne and putting himself on it instead. With Bunny as the queen by his side.

I'm the king of everything and you’re the queen.

I want to explore their relationship further. How far are they willing to go for each other, what lengths will they go to for their own amusement and selfish goals? Might there even be more going on between them than just causing destruction together? Could mutual selfishness possibly be replaced by truly caring about each other?

the enemy of my enemy.

First of all, I don’t think that Cyrus will ever truly betray the Capulets to become a Montague. Is there a chance of him betraying the capulets? Definitely. However, not to become somebody else’s puppet. No, if he does so, only because it’s in his best interests, because it helps him build his own empire.

His connection to Lawrence, whom he serves as an informant, is already a very intriguing and promising one as it’s a way for him to get involved with the Montagues. No matter what Lawrence might think, they’re meeting as equals, Cyrus only gives him the information for a price that he sets and not because he feels obliged to do so or because Lawrence has something on him.

Considering how Lawrence isn’t a taken character as of right now and I don’t think he’s the only connection of this sort Cyrus has, I’d love to find a taken character with whom he’s entered a similar symbiosis.

It’d be the perfect way into getting more power by slowly breaking down the Capulet kingdom piece by piece.

flying to close to the sun.

Just like Icarus, Cyrus has built his own wings, yearning to fly, to become a god. And just like Icarus, at one point he’s bound to get too close to the sun, is going to get burned and plum into a yet unknown depth.

Verona isn’t Cape Town and while he made himself a king there, while he built his own empire on another continent, this new playing field calls for stakes higher than any he’s ever known. He turned himself into a shark in a tank of guppies back then, how will he thrive in a tank full of sharks, all bigger and more experienced than him?

The tragedy of striving to have everything is that you have all the more to lose. The higher you fly, the deeper you can fall. And it’d be such bittersweet irony if his ambition, his thirst to see his mother’s kingdom burned to ashes was the reason for him to get burned.

I think, especially if I follow up on the previously mentioned plot of him getting more involved with the Montagues, that this has a good chance of getting him into serious trouble. After all, with Viola already being outed as a traitor to the Capulets, the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been before. After all, it only stands to reason the Capulets will be even more cautious now that they’ve found one mole in their midst. If there’s one, who says that there aren’t more?

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes and no. It needs to be under the right circumstances and, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think I’d want to let him go for quite a while. In my eyes, it’d be a logical conclusion for him to die at some point as he’s just an arrogant boy throwing himself into a war against much older, more experienced people to burn everything his mother ever held dear down and rise as a god from the ashes. I wouldn’t be surprised if this hubris got him killed one day. However, I’d want him to make his mark first somehow.

IN DEPTH

muder tw, gore tw

Father, forgive me for I’ve sinned.

Lips curl into the hint of a smirk as he lazily crosses his legs, right feet resting on his left thigh. The confessional box is just big enough for him to find a comfortable position and yet, his foot touches the dark wood of the wall separating him and the priest. And he cannot help but wonder if its main purpose is precisely that, making it almost impossible to find a comfortable position.

If a god finds it necessary to intimidate his followers by forcing them to confess their sins in a state of uncomfortableness, he cannot be very intimidating in the first place, can he?

“I’m afraid I didn’t get your question, padre, mi dispiace.” The words leave his mouth with honey-laced innocence, and while there is not a single hint of doubt in his mind that the priest will buy it right up, the curl of his lips colors their sincerity a lie. It’s almost a shame really, how the insincerity of this show is carefully concealed by the wood in between them, the small openings leaving just enough space for words to transfer back and forth between the two sections.

Then again, what fun is it if you jump right to the end?

He has a grim business ahead one him, a gruesome duty, one he tells himself he doesn’t necessarily enjoy (except you do, a tiny voice whispers in the back of his mind, he chooses to ignore it). It’s something he needs to do. Betray him and you’ll pay the price, it’s a rule as simple as it can be and yet, one he’d enforce no matter what it’d take. Growing up with catholic foster parents, religion has always played a part in his life. He grew up to follow the Christian beliefs, to respect God and all his messengers on Earth. And yet, doing the Lord’s work won’t save the priest. His treason won’t go unpunished.

For there is only one god in Cape Town and his name is Cyrus Sloane.

“Tell me, son, do you regret your sins?”

The priest’s voice is calm, patient, almost gentle. And yet, it causes him to flinch just slightly. For a small moment, so short and fleeting that it has passed in the blink of an eye, hesitation and doubt shadow his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t go on. If he takes this next step, there’s no turning back. He’ll cross a line drawn so deeply into the ground that it’s almost a canyon. If he crosses that line, he’ll truly be the monster some bold voices already call him out to be in hushed whispers behind his back.

Instinctively, he pushes his chin out just a little, jaw muscles tensing in defiance of the thought,

Maybe if they didn’t want him to turn into a monster, they shouldn’t have crossed the simple rules he put up. Maybe they should have been smart enough to not try to bury a dagger in his back in the hope of hitting his heart.

Don’t they already know that it’s nothing but rotten flesh anyway?

“Which one? The ones I’ve already committed or the ones I’ll still commit?” Casual yet empathetic words leave sensual lips with just a hint of amusement lying beneath. And yet, despite it all, there’s a kind of honesty, so sincere and authentic that it cannot be faked, to be found in them. Cyrus doesn’t regret the hard decisions he has to make nor the one he’ll still make in the future; power and the world as his kingdom are his birthrights, a god doesn’t care about the havoc that follows in his wake. And neither does he; if anything he opens it with open arms. And nonetheless, there were some lines that there were harder to cross as others.

The best lies and manipulations always have a ring of truth to them, but maybe that’s just another lie people tell themselves so they won’t have to be ashamed of their true feelings.

“The ones you’ve already committed will do for now. Confess them and beg the Lord for His forgiveness so that with His grace I can grant you absolution for your sins and you can leave reborn in the light of His mercy.”

A soft chuckle, so full of light it’d put angels to shame, rings through the air, fingers brushing through golden curls lazily, head resting against the wall behind him. “I’m afraid those are more than I can count. If I recall them all, we’ll still sit here tomorrow and your god’s ears will bleed in terror.”

But then again, the same god stood by and did nothing when his own mother abandoned him so maybe he’s crueler than he’d give him credit for.

Though he tries not to show it, in fact, tries his best to gloss over the priest’s patience is starting to grow thinner and thinner, no longer a sturdy thread of wool but more a silk thread hanging dangerously thin in the air. It’s as obvious to him like blood in the water to a shark, Cyrus feels just as drawn to it. Charm is his weapon of choice, an automatism if he dare say, and yet, there’s nothing quite as satisfying as seeing a grown man slowly but surely come undone.

Figuratively as well as literally.

“Do you regret them at least?”

For a moment there is silence, only the damp, cold air only filled by the soft sounds of quiet breathing. Cyrus takes a moment to answer, the tension growing thicker with every passing blink until it’s thick enough to cut. Feet light like a gazelle he stands up and with two decisive steps, long legs moving gracefully, he bridges the distance between them.

“Not really, no”, he says, looking down into the priest’s puzzled face, lips curled into an angelic smile.

It’s the same smile Lucifer must have worn when he stood in front of his creator, so terrifyingly beautiful it could kill the weak of heart.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to confess that I don’t regret any of them”, the smile still locked onto the priest like sharp shooter’s sight on his next target, he calmly pulls the knife out of its sheath carefully hidden by the backside of his Armani jumper and dark jeans. Though it becomes more obvious with every passing second what he’s intending to do, every movement is done in accurate precision without any hurry.

He rules this town, there’s no need to hurry. Especially not considering how the priest stares at him like a fly caught in a spider net might at the slowly but surely approaching spider, fangs opening wider with every step it takes.

“I’m not sure if there’s anything I need to confess”, he adds, posture straight and balanced like the king he was born to be, tone as charming as ever. If anybody was looking for a spark of lunacy in his dark eyes, they’d have to look forever for there is none. Cyrus Sloane isn’t crazy, this isn’t the act of an insane person who’s lost touch with all rationality. No, he knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t do it despite it but because of it.

Head slightly cocked to the right, his gaze wanders over the priest’s face once more, soaking up the slowly rising panic like another might the smell of freshly baked cookies.

It tastes just as sweet in his mouth.

“Che mi dici di te, padre? Is there anything you’d like to confess in front of your god?”

Be it the one hanging on the cross at the other end up the church or the one standing right in front of him.

His words leave a sense of finality in their wake, he knows they both can feel it. Good. As exhilarating as this little situation is, there’s only a small line between exhilarating and boring.

The priest’s eyes open so wide that Cyrus is a little afraid they’re gonna burst. Now that would be mess he wouldn’t envy his dry cleaner having to get it out of his clothes again.

“I’m sorry”, he starts to blather, regressing to a man half his size and age, eyes full of not yet spoken pleas for mercy. Mercy that won’t be granted, but he doesn’t know that, at least not yet. Soon he’ll find out while taking his dying breaths that this town has no mercy for those betraying its king. “I didn’t mean to…”

Before the old priest can finish his sentence, Cyrus cuts his throat with one swift, determined motion, blood bursting out like air out of a ballon as soon as the cut is made, spraying his formerly clean clothes.

He couldn’t care less.

Carefully, he wipes the blade clean with a handkerchief, the one innocent white cloth now tainted by the crimson red of treason, of revenge. He tucks it back into his pocket before stepping over the lifeless body without giving it another look, his face as unreadable as a dark, cloudy sky.

Father, forgive me for I’ve sinned. For deep down, I know I’ll do it again if I have to. Without any shame or regret.

Extras: You can find a pinterest board here.

#accepted #accepted: coriolanus #crime rp #mob rp #gang rp

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