#this is also my unofficial announcement that I’ll be doing requests out of order from now on

[callsign-relic]

Hi, I saw your requests are open, and I was hoping you'd be ok with writing my request. I have been having a bit of a hard time, and I was wondering if you could write a Megatron fic for comfort. I'm usually a bit of a spitfire, but I'm just overwhelmed and exhausted. I'd prefer TFP Megatron, but I'm pretty flexible. Absolutely no pressure to write this, and I hope you have a great rest of your day! :)

Hi! So you did submit this while my requests were closed, but seeing the topic at hand, I wanted to get this done for you anyway. Thank you for being my first TFP Megatron request! This was actually very fun for me to write! To anyone who has read TF Exodus, I hope you’ll appreciate the little callbacks I make to it here and there >:)

I hope this could make you feel a little better anyway though, and I hope things improve for you soon :)

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader

“What’s the matter with you?”

The sudden question makes you perk your head up from your seat. You were sitting hugging your knees on the command module of the Nemesis’ hull, though you might as well have been somewhere else entirely with how lost in your thoughts you were. You look upwards to find Megatron gazing down at you from above— standing tall with his arms behind his back, gazing at you from only the bottoms of his optics, not with his whole helm. His muted grey frame stuck out sorely against the vibrant purple hue of the Nemesis’ command center.

“Wh— What?” You stammer, the mech’s question not fully processing in your head before you blabber out a response. Megatron doesn’t repeat himself, he merely continues to stare down at you as you gather your bearings. Despite the mech’s infamous impatience, he seems oddly content in allowing you to correct your misspeaking.

“Nothing,” you finally reply, even if you can’t make eye contact with him as you do. “Sorry to distract you. Keep going.”

Gunmetal grey flashes in your vision, and you realize that the very end of one of Megatron’s claws is suddenly beside your face, turning your head to face him. To your surprise, he’s bent down at the waist to level himself with you, yet still he has his helm raised just so that he’s still looking down at you.

“I asked you a question,” he begins, and despite the fact that he sounds like he was scolding you, his tone is… soft. Like he didn’t want his voice to ring too loud over your human ears. “And you will answer.”

Being scrutinized in such a manner, you couldn’t even think up a decent excuse. You were left stuttering under his gaze once more, and it’s only when you huff out a sigh that you mentally say ‘screw it’. “I’ve just… felt overwhelmed,” you answer, and Megatron’s digit slowly pulls away from you as you go on. “I know as the only human here I’m not expected to do much. But still, I want to pull my weight around here. I guess I’ve just been overworking myself in the process and…” you trail off. Seeing Megatron’s unchanging expression doesn’t encourage you in the slightest, and you turn your head away once more. “It’s stupid,” you mutter, “You’re dealing with so much more anyway.”

And for a while, it’s silent. Only the sound of the Nemesis’ engine roaring in the distance and the hull’s computer module’s fill your ears, and you’re sure that you’ve overshared. Not to mention the low purr of Megatron’s own idling engine, humming before you as if to mock you. Tears well up in your eyes and you make to curl into yourself once more—

Until suddenly, Megatron extends a hand, and scoops you up from behind.

You shout as you’re lifted high into the air, centering yourself in the middle of the mech’s palm as he raises you toward his faceplate. You quickly turn your gaze away from the rapidly descending floor over to Megatron, but unscrunch your face at the sight.

He almost looked… gentle.

Like a mech who has truly lived through several millions of years of war. You take note of the rough scars running down from his eyes and mouth. The typically harsh crimson glow of his optics didn’t burn you as they so often did before. No, rather they glowed down upon you with an oddly warm feeling.

“My pet,” Megatron begins, voice no higher than a low rumble you can feel resonate through the metal of his palm, “I know much of pain. Of working tirelessly, only to feel as though your efforts are fruitless. But what is it that I encourage every Decepticon to do?”

He actually pauses, and it hits you that he’s expecting you to reply. Awkwardly, you look to the side for a moment and shrug. “To… keep working and follow your orders?”

“To fight,” The warlord corrects you, and you blink as you’re taken aback. With his free servo, Megatron closes out the computer module you had been sitting on and suddenly starts to make his way out of the main hull, lowering you down towards his chest. Where he was going, you weren’t sure, but the rock of his arm beneath you and the sound of his heavy pedesteps almost relaxed you. “Though it was millennia ago, the Decepticons were originally formed to fight against our oppressors on Cybertron. The oppressors of not only the lower castes, but of every sentient being on Cybertron— the High Council.”

“I… I think I remember reading about that,” you remark, taking the chance to sit cross legged in his palm. Though the constant rocking motion of his arm was nice, you were only human— you didn’t want to get nauseous. “Soundwave was digging through some old files when he was trying to decode the Iacon database. The title interested me so I asked him to send it to me. Though, it was only in Cybertronian, so I couldn’t understand it very well.”

Megatron lets out a huff above you— or was it a laugh that he breathed out? “Originally, I did not necessarily condone the actions of the first Decepticons. Inspired by my words, rogue Cybertronians launched attacks over key parts of our planet. First, it was Six Lasers Over Cybertron. Then, it was Uraya. Polyhex. Stanix. Blaster City. The Sonic Canyons. All less than a cycle apart.”

As he went on, you found your jaw dropping. Countless Cybertronians cities bombed, not even under direct orders from Megatron? “Then finally, Altihex. All done without my awareness. And you know what that did?”

You shake your head. You couldn’t even muster up a squeak.

A smile curled itself at the ends of Megatron’s dermas, and you could see the rows of his sharp teeth flash from behind. “It got the Council’s attention,” he finishes. “It was from there that I learned that people do not listen to mere words. People listen to action, and it is through action that progress is made.”

You look down to stew over his words, but again, Megatron raises you back up to his face. He takes your head by your chin with the tip of his finger and raises it to face him. Once you lock eyes, he turns his gaze forwards— behind you— and you turn your own head to look where he’s facing.

Two thick iron doors slide open, and the sound of rushing wind blasts past you. You’re pushed forwards by the sudden impact, and you feel as though you might fly off of Megatron’s hand right there. But the force behind you stops in an instant, and you pick yourself up to find that Megatron has raised a servo before you to block the harsh winds as he lowers you back down to his chest. The titan of a mech continues forward, even as you look up at him in gratitude— though he raises his voice to allow you to hear him over the altitude.

“Your situation is dire, little one,” his rough voice declares, “thrust into an alien world, trying your hardest to keep up… it’s a monumental task, to climb so far if only to stand upon the shoulders of giants.”

You finally sit back down properly, only this time not bothering to cross your legs. Slowly, Megatron lowers the wall of his other hand, but as you think you might get cast away to the winds again, you notice the mech pull his thumb in towards you. You grab onto it, and wisely so, as with his now free hand the warlord gestures grandly out towards the main deck.

There, you see it. The endless sea of pure white clouds beneath you, brightly reflecting the light of the sun which was just starting to dip beneath the clouds. The sky was encompassed in a deep blue, though where the sun was beginning to settle down, soft hues of pink, orange, and purple were soon to follow.

“The world is yours to take, little one,” Megatron’s voice rings out over it all. “It will be mine to conquer, and yours to make the most of.”

#relic writes #this is also my unofficial announcement that I’ll be doing requests out of order from now on #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #Transformers Prime #Transformers Prime x reader #Tfp #Tfp x reader #Megatron #Megatron x reader #Tfp Megatron x reader

[pearl-star]

Two Way Link

When Marinette cracks and gets akumatized, it’s not what she’s expecting. Hawkmoth is equally confused and more worried than she is. Turns out the mindlink is a two way streak, and her earrings make the link even stronger. Needless to say, some secrets got revealed.

Marinette had allowed herself to imagine herself as an akuma before. It was kind of hard not to when their class started bets for if Marinette or Adrien would get akumatized first. It also didn’t help after seeing Chat Noir’s akumazation first hand. If she ever got akumatized, Hawkmoth wouldn’t win. Oh No. The world would be in ruins. So if it wasn’t already an obvious goal, Marinette made it her mission to never even let a butterfly touch her. Of course she’s only human, and when she’s sleep deprived and dealing with a lot of extra stress her emotions run rampant. Not only did she deal with both night and day akumas for the past week, she also had extra work planning the fundraising events and the school trip. Include all her requests from her friends for different things and her regular school work, Marinette was already at her breaking point. Top it off with a couple idiotic stories from Rossi while the girl would slip in comments dissing the bluenette, and you got the recipe for a perfect akuma victim.

Marinette wasn’t even in the right headspace to try to hold off her emotions. She simply nursed her large cup of coffee, that may or may not be the 6th cup of the day, as she stewed in her seat. Why was her class a bunch of idiots? Like Marinette cared for them still, don’t get her wrong, but they hanged off her every word like it was air. Why didn’t they get curious and do a little research of their own? It would have saved everyone the trouble. And Adrien’s dumb high road advice would do more harm than good. He’s worried about Lila getting akumatized? Try the whole class when the truth gets out. Of course, Marientte had almost been akumatized because of Lila. Maybe she should have slipped that into her conversation with Adrien. That might have changed his mind. It didn’t matter much now though. She had just begun to speak normally around him. He might think that Marinette was lying about it to make him see her way, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

No one even noticed the butterfly coming into the room. It was only noticed when it landed on the coffee cup that Marinette held and the glowing mask appeared on her face. Very quickly, the class turned around and stared at their class rep. Marinette merely blinked a few times before groaning. “Really!? Come on! I was doing so good until now. Okay, you know what, fine. You want to akumatized me? Whatever. Just put the butterfly somewhere other than my coffee. I need that if I’m going to make it through today. You’re to blame for this, by the way. You couldn’t have just stopped with the akumas for the day could you. I mean one a day is bad enough. Why did you have to do two in one day? And at, like, 2am dude? Really?” Hawkmoth was just confused as the rest of her class. Marinette’s face scrunched up before her jaw dropped. “WAIT! GABRIEL AGRESTE!? YOU’RE HAWKMOTH!!?” The class paused before freaking out. Hawkmoth paled. He didn’t even get time to do his monologue before the girl started to speak out at him. As he started to reading deeper into her thoughts, he realized something. “You’re… Ladybug?” He was honestly surprised that this clumsy girl could possibly be Ladybug. Marinette just scowled. “Oh stop. I can feel your judgment from here. It’s a secret identity for a reason. Of course I’ll act differently with magical jewelry. Except, you don’t act too different than you do in real life. Maybe treat your son better, will you? He needs to have a backbone for when Rossi and Cholé drape themselves over him.” Cholé gasped and Lila tried to turn the tale but Marinette continued.

“I’ll give Cholé the benefit of the doubt since she had been childhood friends with him, but what Lila’s doing is bordering of sexual harassment. And you employed her as a model too. Like do you even care about you own son’s mental well-being?” Gabriel made the mistake of thinking about Lila and Marinette’s face shifted from shock to neutral. “Okay, so you made her spy on Adrien and report back to you as well as cause akumas. Got it. And that’s an interesting fact about her willingly getting akuamtized. Too bad my class has become too ignorant to realize that every word she says is nothing more than bull crap.” Hawkmoth, Gabriel, should have tried to rein her in. However when he tried it, magic was interfering. It was something that Nooroo had warned him about once before when he expressed the desire to akumatized Ladybug or Chat Noir. They would naturally have more resistance to him, especially Ladybug since her powers balanced for good and becoming evil would take drastic measures. Before he could try to act, the girl spoke again. “Oh, it’s nice to know that you at least let Nooroo talk. Seriously, I forgot about that whole Sandboy fiasco for a second. You couldn’t have at least allowed Nooroo to enjoy his whatever number cycle in peace. You had to traumatize so many people by creating their nightmares.” No one noticed as Adrien slipped away to transform.

Plagg flew out of his pocket and had the audacity to be laughing. “What is so funny?!” He demanded. Marinette was akumatized! Not only that, but she was Ladybug. Ladybug was akumatized and the akuma won’t be purified. Nor would any of the damage be reversed. Not to mention that his own dad was apparently Hawkmoth. Plagg caught his breath and was able to speak. “I’m sorry, but it’s too funny! This love square you guys had going on was great entertainment already. Top that with what Spots is doing and it’s gold.” Adrien decided to ignore what Plagg was saying for now and transform instead. While he was doing that, Marinette decided to discover something very important: what Gabriel’s motivation was.

Marinette clamped a hand to her mouth as she pulled the memory from his mind. Then that shock turned to hot rage. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” ALL THIS TIME YOU HAVE KEPT YOUR WIFE IN A GLASS COFFIN IN YOUR FUCKING BASEMENT LAIR?!?” Hawkmoth actually flinched from the raw power and anger she emanated. He made the mistake of recalling the peacock miraculous, setting the girl off on another tangent. “AND YOU’RE ALLOWING NATHALIE TO USE A BROKEN MIRACULOUS?!? Wow! Just, Wow!” Maybe if he detransformed and left now, he wouldn’t have to face the girl’s wrath. Nooroo’s powers allowed them to feel the strength of a person’s emotions. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s emotions showed that even without powers or a miraculous, she would kill him with her bare hands. If he was told a day before that she would be capable of murder, he would never have believed it. Now though, he was scared.

It was at that time that Chat Noir decided to bust in. He was both shocked and impressed that Marinette was still holding out. Maybe if he destroyed the object now she won’t be transformed. Of course would that negatively effect her somehow? Before he could ponder it longer, the girl in question acted first. “You better meet me in front of your mansion and give me both the butterfly and peacock miraculous. You also better fire Rossi and put a restraining order on her so she can’t touch Adrien again. Otherwise this cup will be replaced with your neck.” Marinette crushed the cup with her hand and the butterfly flew out. Standing up, she called on her transformation before her kwami could protest. She swiped the akuma out from the air and looked around. The whole class was quite. Lila didn’t even try to say anything, and in fact she shrunk under her stare. “Alrighty then. Time to go kitty.” She walked calmly out of the room, ignoring everything that just had happened. Chat paused before following her.

Back in his lair, Gabriel detransformed from shock. Nooroo tried to hide his smirk. Wordlessly, he went back into the main part of his house and approached Natalie. She looked confused. “What’s wrong? I thought you were finally akuamtizing Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Gabriel just shook his head and held his hand out. He was slightly shaking. “Just give me the peacock miraculous. Turns out, she’s a lot more dangerous than expected.” Natalie wanted to question her boss, but he seemed to be in shock. She did as asked and followed him as he walked out the front doors of the mansion. Outside was a smiling Ladybug and a concerned Chat Noir. Ladybug’s smile looked dangerous, like she was giving a warning. When Gabriel willingly handed over both miraculouses, Ladybug laughed. A dangerous sweetness dripping out. “Thank you! Also you better be honest with what you’re wife was doing with the miraculous when the police question you. I’ll see if the damage can be undone without the potential for ending the world. Oh also I will be taking your son away. He deserves better parents and I’m sure that mine will spoil him. Chat you take his assistant, I’ll grab him. It’s time to drop them off.” Chat grabbed Natalie and had her over his shoulder before she could react. Ladybug did the same to Gabriel, ensuring that neither could make a grab for their miraculouses.

A lot of things happened on that day. Hawkmoth and Mayura were announced to be defeated. Gabriel confessed to having Lila work for him both as a spy and as a willing accomplish for Hawkmoth. Adrien’s mom was brought to a hospital and Master Fu repaired the peacock miraculous and reversed the damage done to both her and Natalie. Lila was taken off to serve time in juvie and the two adults went to jail. Adrien was not to blame and was unofficially adopted by Marinette’s parents, which resulted in him spending a lot of time at the bakery. Adrien’s mom and Gabriel both revealed how she was forced into the marriage and forced to use the miraculous against her will. She got a divorce and ensured that Adrien got therapy. He was able to quit modeling and even got a restraining order against Lila just in case. He revealed himself to Marinette after a month and they decided to date. Her class did everything to make it up to the bluenette, but she merely shrugged at their words. She could care less now. They only wanted her to be their friend again because she was Ladybug. She and Chat announced their retirement to Paris two weeks after Hawkmoth’s defeat, although she still got to see Tikki and Plagg. It seemed like getting akumatized was the best thing that had happened to her.

#ml crack #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous marinette #miraculous lb #crack fic #akumatized #marinette dupen chang #mlb #ml ladybug

[jaskiersvalley]

This blog is fairly new and you’re one of the first I’ve found that I hadn’t already with an old blog. I love your work. It’s very well written. 💜

Thank you! When you sent this ask, it was a fairly new blog (to be fair, I still think of it as such, it’s not even 6 months old). As a little thank you for being so encouraging so early in the life of this blog, please accept this random little story: Geralt the accidental gardener.

The Path was lonely without Jaskier. Geralt had grown to hate the silence, the way people turned away from him without the buffer of Jaskier between him and humanity. But Jaskier was off on better adventured now, Geralt had to hurt him so he’d realise at long last that there was a better life for him out there than one beside a witcher. It had hurt, Jaskier’s expression had burned into Geralt’s mind, the crushing disappointment and realisation that Geralt wasn’t going to come crawling back. But oh how Geralt had wanted to run after Jaskier, beg his forgiveness. Alas, this was the very act of being cruel to be kind. Maybe one day Jaskier would realised.

Contracts were few and far between but the lands Geralt had roamed of late hadn’t been too hostile towards an infamous witcher. There was even a contract advertised in a lesser court not too far. Geralt made his way to Lettenhove and was ushered into a hall where the Viscount and Viscountess greeted him.

“I’m here about the job,” Geralt announced, not beating around the bush. Nobody ever wanted a witcher in their courts, no matter how small their power was. As expected, he was given a hesitant once over.

“Do you have experience?” It was the Viscountess who spoke up, looking only slightly unnerved.

“Yes.” There was no point for Geralt to prove his worth, they either wanted him to deal with their issue or they would suffer until another witcher graced their courts with his presence.

“Then it is settled. Room and food are part of your contract. Reydan will show you to your quarters and tomorrow he will give you a tour. Your horse will be welcome in the stables of course.”

That was a much warmer and pleasant contract negotiation than Geralt had ever had. Even when he heard the Viscount mutter “you sure about this?” and the Viscountess’ “we owe him this much” which made Geralt frown in confusion. Maybe the Viscountess was one of those who hoped to bed a witcher for the novelty of it. That was Jaskier’s forte though, not Geralt’s, he tried not to tangle with anyone in a relationship.

The room Geralt was shown to was in the servants’ quarters and actually nicer than anything he’d ever had. Even Kaer Morhen paled in comparison. His window overlooked the garden to start with. And the bedding wasn’t torn or moth eaten. In fact, it looked barely used at all. The Viscountess was almost definitely a monster fucker. Geralt would do the job and get out as quickly as possible before things got awkward.

Settled into the room for the night, Geralt was surprised when Reydan knocked for him, inviting him to the servants’ dinner for the evening. It was strangely nice, being surrounded by humans who, while a little wary, were doing their best to be welcoming and friendly. They treated him like one of their own. For the first time in a very long time, Geralt felt at ease amongst humans.

Morning came sooner than expected and Geralt groaned, pulling his armour on, strapping his swords to his back, ready for Reydan to take him to where the beast was. He didn’t expect to be given a baffled look by Reydan but be led into the garden without comment. Various plants were pointed out, rose bushes, a vegetable garden, arches of wisteria and so many others that Geralt had never even heard of. It was all very nice but he couldn’t figure out what this had to do with monster killing. Maybe those were the plants the monster liked? Or the ones he was to avoid while battling the creature that haunted the gardens? The answer came as they walked through the front gardens and stopped to admire an apple tree. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a sign being removed from the front of the property.

Gardener wanted

Oh fuck. Somehow the Viscount and Viscountess had assumed he was there for the gardener position and not the creature killing one. They took one look at him and, despite his inhuman looks, swords and general demeanour, they decided he couldn’t possibly be a witcher but rather an unusual gardener.

“That is about all that you’ll be responsible for.” Reydan finished up and looked over Geralt. “Do you have anything more suitable to work in? Leather tends to get too warm. And we have pruning shears which are more efficient than swords.” Laughing awkwardly, Reydan gave Geralt a small smile. “And I don’t think I ever caught your name, I’m so sorry.”

This was a crossroad in Geralt’s Path. He could either declare this had been some great mistake and he was here for the monster. It would be awkward, he’d be sneered at, ostracised and thrown out for taking their resources, even if by mistake. He’d still kill the monster but probably to take his frustrations out rather than for coin. Or, he could lay his swords down for a while. The world was tiring and disappointing. One evening in the company of people who treated him as an equal had been invigorating and, selfishly, Geralt wanted more.

“I’m Eric,” he said, quietly sending a “fuck you” to Vesemir who had denied him the name.

Gardening, Geralt realised was more difficult than he had ever thought if would be. Knowing what to cut when and how, which trees needed what compost or how much water was beyond him. Geralt tried his best though, tried to watch what everyone else was doing. Thankfully, Reydan had been kind enough to find him some dungarees and a floppy, wide brimmed hat to work in. He had been absolutely right, such work in his leathers would have been worse than uncomfortable.

Miraculously, none of the plants in his care died. Sometimes it looked like a close call, Geralt fretting that he’d cut something at the wrong time or the wrong way but, somehow, the plants survived his inexperience. Even better, the other servants and staff seemed to genuinely warm to him. The few times he encountered the Viscount or Viscountess, they nodded and smiled at him, only once enquiring how he was settling in. As well as food and room, Geralt was granted a weekly wage which might have been meagre but it was more and steadier than he had ever had before. While he was loath to spend it, he found that it built up into a tidy little stash at a surprising speed. Soon, Geralt was going to be the richest witcher in existence.

To keep his skills sharp and also repay the kindness of those around him, Geralt secretly sneaked out at nights and on his days off to slay local monsters. It was both to keep his newfound job safe and also to feel that he hadn’t quite given up on being a witcher. Merely, he was taking an unofficial hiatus.

Months down the line, Geralt was cutting roses for the dinner hall bouquet when a murmur went up around him. He couldn’t see the cause of it but the words were easy enough to hear.

“He’s back!”

“The little master is home!”

“He’ll be so happy we followed his request.”

While Geralt didn’t get a glimpse of the ‘Little Master’, everyone seemed to be cheered by his appearance. In fact, the whole court was in a bubbling upheaval. A feast was ordered and all servants were invited to take part in the meal in the main hall to celebrate. Curious, Geralt let himself be playfully bullied into attending too. He didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the servants but the crowd was almost large enough to swallow him. It was nowhere near enough though when he walked in and sat at the high table with the Viscount and Viscountess was none other than Jaskier who was staring right back at him.

Noting their staring, the Viscountess scowled at Jaskier then rose, dragging what was so evidently her son behind her.

“Julian,” she said, stopping in front of Geralt. “While you’ve been away, we’ve hired a new gardener. This is...Eric.”

“Eric?” Jaskier looked incredulous.

“Yes. He has been with us for a few months. Eric, this is my son, Julian. He’s often away, travelling the continent as a bard.”

Sudden bright, clear laughter broke out from Jaskier, head tipped back, eyes creased and mouth wide open.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “Can we stop this charade. Geralt, what the fuck? Mother, this is the bastard who broke my heart.” Without any warning, he swept Geralt into a hug. “You fell off the face of the continent without anyone knowing what had happened. Eskel and Lambert mourned for you, you bastard.”

At least the Viscountess looked relieved rather than anything else. “You asked us, Julian, that if any witcher ever came, especially one with white hair, we would make sure to give them respite. So we did.” Sniffing daintily, she looked at Geralt. “No offence Eric, Geralt, whatever, but you make a shit gardener. Poor Reydan had to sneak around after you to try and keep the plants you butchered alive.”

Jaskier laughed even more at that and a few of the braver servants crowded closer, listening. Geralt looked at them all, the ones he had been able to call his friends for the last few months. They all knew he was a witcher and yet welcomed him with open arms just because Jaskier had asked his parents to help. All in all, Geralt felt rather foolish.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll leave immediately.”

A hand shot out to grab his arm. “Or you could stay.” Jaskier said.

“Just please, spare the plants.” That was Reydan interrupting, giving Geralt a friendly slap on the back. More of the servants echoed Jaskier’s suggestions that he could stay, at least until Jaskier went back on the road.

There was a bit of an uproar when Geralt didn’t move to the high table to catch up with Jaskier. Instead, Jaskier had moved down to his table and joined the servants. Oddly, Jaskier’s parents only looked on fondly.

As the meal wound down, gossip was exchanged, Geralt laughed at in a friendly way for all his bumblings as an incompetent gardener, it was time to retire for the night.

“Come to my rooms for a nightcap?” Jaskier asked, a hand on Geralt’s arm. “I feel we have a lot to discuss and catch up on.”

Hesitant at first, Geralt accepted the invitation and followed Jaskier to his rooms. If Geralt had thought his room was fancy, Jaskier’s were downright lavish.

“Got something to say to me?” Jaskier asked, a smile teasing at his lips.

“You engineered all of this?” It wasn’t at all what Geralt wanted to say but it was what came out to start with.

“Oh come now, if a witcher comes looking for a job in these lands, it means he’s desperate. My parents know how to keep beasties to a minimum here. I’m thinking we should have Lambert come this way next, he’d excel as a cook for a few months.”

A very good idea, Geralt could imagine Lambert taking to life in the kitchen, experimenting with the spices on offer. It would do him good to have a break too. And Eskel, though he probably would be better in the stables. And Vesemir too, if he could be enticed there, he would excel as an adviser to the household. But that was all beside the point, Geralt had something much more important to say.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing for you.” Geralt hadn’t thought Jaskier would still travel as a bard, had assumed he’d settle in a court. Instead, he’d sought out other wolves and kept them company.

“Never do that again.” Jaskier’s face hardened. “If you have a concern, speak. Don’t make my decisions for me.”

Nodding, Geralt looked a little chastised. It had been so much easier to express emotions recently, around friends.

“Now. I do believe before you so rudely chose our paths for us, we were building towards something quite beautiful.” Jaskier handed Geralt a glass of something rich and smooth. The clinked glasses. A week later, they were leaving Lettenhove together, once more a witcher and a bard rather than a gardener and a viscount.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #gardening au #tldr: geralt accidentally becomes a gardener

[swan--writes]

For your Dewey song request: Miss Americana and the heartbreak prince! Please!💗

Back to the high school AU we go! This isn’t connected to Where I’m At though. Totally different reader. I did also do a female reader - typically when people don’t specify I go with gender neutral, but I couldn’t resist this one. If you would like a gender neutral reader insert, feel free to drop me another request!

Words: ~1,730 (…listen, I am soft and so are you, so let’s all be soft Dewey lovers together)

You were not looking forward to this.

You felt guilty, honestly. Your mom was so excited to send you off to your dance. The dress you picked out was a ballgown cut, pink, sparkly, thrifted. She didn’t know that you’d taken her money and bought a twenty-dollar dress from the shop just off of Main Street. The rest of the money had gone to burgers and milkshakes for two, and half a cab ride home.

But your mom had no idea. She had simply requested you twirl for her in your new (old) glittery dress, dolled you up with golden eyeshadow and nude lips, and sent you on your way with your date. He was tall and he was handsome and he guided you through the doors of the community center with a Prince Charming smile. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and if you were being honest, you were fine with that.

Guilty indeed.

He sat you down at a table and asked you to wait for him. With doe-like eyes, you nodded and watched him walk away. Not for the first time since you bought your dress, you found your thoughts drifting to two weeks ago, two burgers, two milkshakes, and a basket of fries. The diner had been chilly, and you hadn’t had a jacket. It wasn’t a particularly good diner – the food was average at best – but they committed to their theme. 60s music, waitstaff on rollerblades, pink and black and white everywhere, coin-operated jukebox. That afternoon, you lost count of the Pink Floyd tunes you had ordered on that jukebox. You were offered practically unlimited coins, and you made use of them. If you hadn’t paid the bill, you would have felt guilty about that too. As it was, you felt guilty enough for being there.

The sound of a familiar laugh brought you back to the community center. Valentine’s Day decorations, Valentine royalty ballots, and across the room…

You know I adore you.

Dewey Finn. At the dance. Wearing a suit.

It was a shabby suit, faded and worn in places and most likely borrowed from his dad. But still.

I’m crazier for you…

You knew that the evening would most likely find him smoking under a tree at the edge of the parking lot an hour from now, but the fact that he showed up at all was shocking.

Than I was at sixteen.

Dewey Finn had been voted Most Likely to Live in the Basement Forever on the unofficial superlatives. He was the most proudly anti-establishment human you had ever met.

Lost in a film scene.

What was he doing at a dance? And, for that matter, what were you doing there? With a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend, in an itchy twenty-dollar dress and heels that pinched you everywhere?

Dewey met your eyes. Your breath involuntarily caught. For a moment, he only stared at you with wide eyes. Almost as suddenly as he caught your eye, however, he frowned. Why–? “Hey, sorry about that,” came your date’s voice from above you. Oh.

Your date stepped in front of you, blocking your view of Dewey. With no other choice, you smiled up at the guy before you. One at a time. “Hey,” you replied. “Did you vote for Valentine’s court?”

“I did, and I heard a rumor that you did too.” He sat beside you and bumped your shoulder with his.

No cameras catch my pageant smile.

“Oh yeah? And whom, may I ask, did I vote for?”

I counted days, I counted miles…

“Yourself, I’d think.” Oh God. He really was a nice guy, but this was the last thing you needed. Class president, Honor’s Society, martyr of the cheerleading team, Valen-Queen? Any way you could opt out of one of those?

To see you there.

You forced yourself to maintain your playfulness. “Smart choice.” Your date laughed. You snuck a glance up to where you had been looking before. Dewey was gone.

To see you there.

What followed for the next hour was exactly what you had been expecting. Snacks, punch, dancing, more punch, ‘extra special’ decorations. Chaperones would interrupt every so often for unnecessary announcements, your friends interrupted you and your date every so often. You danced with everyone who asked you. You lost track of your date.

American stories burning before me.

You were pressed against so many people and you knew all of them. All of them wanted so badly to know you, it was dizzying.

I’m feeling helpless.

The chaperones kept winking at you when they saw you with your date. Why did they do that?

The damsels are depressed.

You were more relieved to lose track of him than you were to have his friendly face. His well-meaning face.

It fell fantastically flat. Much as you hated it, you knew who you wanted to see, and you had lost track of him too. You weren’t even sure he was still in the building. Although, you had somewhat expected that, and you had an idea of where he might be.

I counted days, I counted miles…

It was chilly outside, but you didn’t want to return for your jacket. There was a small pond at the end of the parking lot, below a grassy slope. Someone was standing by it. as you drew closer, you could see more and more clearly who it was.

To see you there.

At this point, you didn’t have it in you to be disappointed when you saw the cigarette. With him, you found you didn’t mind.

To see you there.

“I was surprised to see you here,” you said.

“I told you was coming.”

“That was two weeks ago, you could’ve changed your mind.”

“Well, I didn’t. Why didn’t you come say ‘hi’ earlier?” Dewey asked. The darkness surrounding you softened his voice. “Afraid your boyfriend, Jock McSmirkle would see you?” He started to raise the cigarette to his lips again, but seeing you scrunch your nose in disgust, he dropped it and stamped it out.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s a nice guy.”

A barely noticeable crease formed in Dewey’s brow. “Good.” His voice sounded genuine, but his expression looked subtly pained.

You frowned at him like he was a calculus problem on a geometry test. Then, with no warning, you shivered hard. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to shake it off.

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Why do you never have a jacket, Princess?” he muttered. He shook his head and shrugged out of his suit jacket. You tried to protest, but he ignored you and draped it around your shoulders. It was all too familiar – his movements, his smell, the way the jacket hung from your shoulders before you pulled it closer. Cool air, pencils, a tinge of steel, and just a little smoke. It was just like it had been at the diner. You fought to keep your eyes open as you inhaled and mumbled your thanks.

And I don’t want you to (Go!)

It would have been impossible for you not to notice that Dewey hadn’t asked whether you really liked your date or not.

I don’t really wanna (Fight!)

“Why did you come, anyway?” you asked before you could stop yourself. He looked startled by the question.

‘Cause nobody’s gonna (Win!)

“Oh, I um…I wanted…” You tilted your head to get a better look at his face when he looked away from you. It took a few long moments, but he finally muttered his answer to the ground. “…wanted to dance with you.”

I just thought you should know…

“You’re not gonna make me go back in there, are you?”

When he laughed, there was a hard edge to it. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t wanna be seen–”

“Oh good, I’m trying not to–wait, what?”

“What?”

You stared at Dewey. The cold February air stung your eyes. The light pollution illuminated his face, but you couldn’t read his usually open expression. Did he think you were embarrassed? After two burgers, two milkshakes, a basket of fries, and half a cab ride home, did he really think that?

And I’ll never let you (Go!)

“Well, I just…” he sighed, hands on his hips because where else would he put them? “I know people started talking about you after last year–”

‘Cause I know this is a (Fight!)

“You mean, when you were the only person who visited me in the hospital after my surgery? Dewey, I don’t care what people think about us.”

That someday we’re gonna (Win!)

His eyes went wide. “There’s an ‘us?’”

You hesitated. “Isn’t there?”

Slowly, like he was scared to frighten you away, Dewey drifted forward. You didn’t miss the way his hands trembled when he took your waist, but you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He kept moving forward. The air between you was deriding physics, shrinking as it heated, only to expand and encircle you both, then shrink again as you drew closer. Dewey’s hands slid farther and farther until they landed at the small of your back. You clasped a hand on one of your arms at his back. The ugly yellow lighting turned stunning in his soft eyes, you felt his soft stomach press against yours. He leaned forward and you reminded yourself to lower your eyelids. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to miss this. You didn’t want to miss him.

He was close – he was so close – when all of a sudden, he stopped.

You and me, that’s my whole world.

You felt cigarette-scented breath ghosting over your lips, hurtling across the two-inch distance to reach you. “Let’s get out of here, Princess,” he whispered. Trying not to knock your forehead against his, you nodded.

They whisper in the hallway, “She’s a bad, bad girl.”

You would later find out that you had been voted Valen-Queen. That your date had been Valen-King, had searched for you, had taken your jacket home with him because he didn’t want to rat you out to your mom just in case you had done…well, what you did. You would feel guilty. You would feel so, so guilty. But that night, running away from the dance with Dewey, you already knew that you wouldn’t feel guilty enough to regret it.

“She’s a bad, bad girl.”

.

.

Buy Me a Coffee?

#school of rock broadway #school of rock bway #school of rock musical #school of rock #dewey finn #school of rock fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dewey finn x reader #dewey finn x female reader #female reader #dewey finn x self insert #don't @ me #i freaking love taylor swift #actually do @ me #i will fight you in a denny's parking lot #soft dewey #soft softness #fluff #just a hint of angst #miss americana & the heartbreak prince #taylor swift #songfic #song fic #request #february

[noona-clock]

Untitled - Part 8

Genre: AU/Fluff

Pairing: Junmyeon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10  |  Word Count: 3,022

Over the next several months... you were kind of waiting for something bad to happen.

Things had just gone too well for you and Junmyeon, so surely some sort of complication would come along. 

I mean, save for your almost disastrous first date, the very beginnings of your relationship went smoothly. Your feelings for each other had developed quickly and steadily, and your first kiss had gone off without a hitch. So had your first time sleeping in the same bed, your first time going on vacation together, and your first time... doing more than sleeping in the same bed.

And after declaring your love for each other, the two of you were happier than you’d ever been. Whenever Junmyeon wasn’t traveling, you were practically attached at the hip. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him. His kisses still made your heart flutter, and he still believed you to be an absolute angel.

You were just too happy!

But, alas, as you were nearing the first-year mark of your relationship... nothing bad did happen.

Something big happened, though.

But not to you.

Junmyeon had just arrived back a few hours ago from a trip to Japan (one which you had desperately wanted to go on, by the way), so the two of you were currently snuggled in your bed -- even though it was only seven in the evening. Your boyfriend had been gone for a whopping twelve days, so you were going to snuggle him whenever you pleased, okay?

Your phone chirped on your nightstand, interrupting your murmured conversation about the breathtaking sights of the Japanese towns he’d visited, and you reached over him to pick it up.

The notification told you there was a message from Trish, so you slid your finger across the screen immediately to open it.

And when you did, you let out a very loud, very excited gasp.

Because her message was a picture.

A picture of her left hand with an incredibly gorgeous ring resting on her third finger.

“What?” Junmyeon asked, scooting closer to you so he could try and see your screen. “What is --”

“They’re engaged!” you squealed.

“What? Who?”

“Trish and Jongdae!” You held out your phone so he could see the picture, your eyes dancing with excitement and your smile sparkling like sun-drenched waters. “They’re getting married!”

“Oh, wow!” Junmyeon grinned, letting out a very pleased chuckle. And then his phone went off with a notification.

As he reached for it, you replied to Trish’s message with a large number of nonsensical words and letters followed by what seemed to be endless exclamation marks.

“I got one, too,” Junmyeon said excitedly, showing you his phone. Jongdae had sent him a selfie of him and Trish, her left hand held up to showcase the engagement ring.

“Look at how happy they look!” you cried, your brow furrowed as you placed your head in the crook of Junmyeon’s neck. “Oh, I’m so excited for them!”

“I’m also kind of relieved,” Junmyeon admitted, typing back a ‘congrats my dude’ to Jongdae.

You knew Junmyeon loved and valued Jongdae as a friend the very same amount as you loved and valued Trish. So, why were your responses to this news so entirely different?

You would probably never fully understand the male species.

“Relieved? Why?”

“Because they introduced us,” he explained. “If they had broken up, it would’ve been pretty awkward since we’re still together.”

“Ah, yes,” you sighed, curling more against Junmyeon’s chest as he set his phone down. “That’s true.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he slid an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “And I plan on staying together,” he murmured.

Your smile grew wider at his words, and a very contented sigh escaped through your curved lips.

You weren’t sure why you were surprised when Trish asked if you and Junmyeon were free for a double date just a few days after announcing their engagement. The four of you had gone out together numerous times in the past almost-year, so it was only logical that you all celebrate their amazing news.

As per your boyfriend’s request, the two of you arrived at the restaurant a bit early; Junmyeon wanted to take some pictures for his Instagram and, as usual, you had agreed to take them for him.

Ever since your vacation together, you had become Junmyeon’s unofficial photographer. He really didn’t even have to ask anymore -- it was just a formality at this point. You sometimes even suggested taking a picture, holding out your palm for his phone and pointing out what would make a nice background or something that fit his feed’s theme.

“Just lift your chin a little more,” you instructed, your brow furrowed as you studied his phone screen. He was standing in front of the restaurant with your phone in his hand, pretending like he was busy sending a message or reading something. He tipped his chin up the tiniest bit, but it was enough to make a difference. “Yes, perfect.”

Junmyeon, ever the model, tweaked his poses ever so slightly while you snapped as many pictures as you could, crouching down on the sidewalk to get some different angles.

You’d been doing this for months now; you were more than used to looking like an idiot for a few seconds because the end product was always worth it. Junmyeon’s Instagram was poppin’, and he was overly grateful that he didn’t have to use a tripod and the self-timer function anymore.

“What are you doing?” you heard Trish’s cheerful voice ask as you were standing back up.

Your gaze shifted to see your friend approaching you with a very confused grin -- a very confused but very happy grin.

“Instagram,” you explained with a small shrug.

Junmyeon jogged over to join you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “You didn’t mention she’s the perfect Instagram Wife when you told me about her,” he said.

“Instagram Wife, you say?” Trish repeated with a smirk. “I thought we were the ones getting married here...?”

“Come on, let’s go eat,” you chuckled, feeling your cheeks warming. Junmyeon kissed one of those warm cheeks as you turned and headed into the restaurant, Trish and Jongdae following behind you.

Once the four of you were seated and had ordered your drinks and meals, Trish laid her hands on the table and raised her eyebrows across the table at you and Junmyeon.

“So,” she began, very obviously trying to hold back a smile. “We have something we want to ask you guys.”

“You want us to be your Instagram Wives,” Junmyeon answered without missing a beat.

“Sorry, I’m taken already,” you shrugged.

“No!” Trish giggled, rolling her eyes at the two of you. And then she nudged her husband-to-be with her elbow. “You go first.”

“No, you,” Jongdae replied with a slight whine.

“Well,” Trish continued, reaching over and putting her hand on top of yours. “I want you to be my maid of honor.”

“And I was hoping you would be my best man,” Jongdae added to Junmyeon.

Your eyes immediately filled with the happiest of tears, and you squeezed Trish’s hand. “Of course!”

Oh my god, how perfect! You were the maid of honor, and Junmyeon was the best man?!

“When are you guys getting married?” you asked excitedly. Because you weren’t sure how long you could wait!

“Hey, I have an idea,” Junmyeon said as the two of you walked down the sidewalk after dinner that night. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, and you were clinging to his arm, walking as closely as you could without knocking him over.

“Oh yeah? What idea?” you asked softly.

“I want to make a wedding vlog for Trish and Jongdae,” he answered. “And show it at their reception. I mean, we’ll probably have to give toasts since we’re the most important members of the bridal party --”

You let out a quiet giggle and nudged your boyfriend’s side.

“-- So, why not just do one together and show a video?”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” you replied with a nod. “We can also do little segments where we talk about them. Like giving a toast but on film instead of in person.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. And we can cut away to a voiceover so we’re talking about them while showing clips of them or clips of us with them.”

“Junmyeon!” you cried, squeezing his arm. “I think you’re a vlog genius, that sounds amazing.”

“So, you’ll help?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows over at you.

“Of course, I will! I mean, I’ll help film and stuff. You can do all the editing.”

After your vacation together all those months ago, you’d worked up the nerve to ask him if he would show you how he edits his videos -- which he gladly did. But even after watching him edit a few clips, you still had no idea how he made it so much fun to watch. It was a lot more work than you’d realized!

But, speaking of, you now felt like watching those vacation vlogs when you got home. Junmyeon had uploaded them as unlisted to his channel, and you were the only one to whom he’d given the links. You had told yourself you would take your time watching them, wanting to stretch it out and make them last... but you had binged them as soon as he’d uploaded them all. And you’d watched them about fifteen times each.

Junmyeon had also talked about you more and more in his other vlogs, though you still had yet to go on a work trip with him and actually make an appearance in them. But, you were slowly getting more comfortable with the idea of showing your face. Especially since there were always more than a few comments about it on his videos. Nothing mean or nasty, thankfully, which was why you were warming up to the idea. 

“So, we should probably get started, like... tomorrow,” he suggested as the two of you reached the subway station.

“That’s perfect,” you agreed. “Trish invited me to go dress shopping, so just give me your camera, and I’ll get to it.”

Junmyeon let out a very satisfied sigh as you descended the stairs down to the train, and you squeezed his arm curiously.

“What?” you murmured.

“What?” he replied.

“What was that sigh?”

“Oh! I’m just -- I’m happy,” he answered.

“Me, too,” you grinned. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Well, yeah, I’m happy for them. But I meant I’m happy.” Junmyeon took his hand out of his pocket, reaching for your fingers and linking them with his. “I have the perfect Instagram Wife girlfriend who is now turning into the perfect Vlog Wife girlfriend.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. You slid both of your subway cards out of your pocket and scanned them, pushing through the turnstile. Junmyeon didn’t let go of your hand, and once you were on the platform waiting for the train, he stood behind you. He placed his chin on your shoulder and spoke softly into your ear.

“I don’t mean it in a way like, that’s all you’re good for,” he began. But before you could retort with anything, he continued. “Of course, not. And I know you know that. But I mean it like... I wasn’t really sure if I could ever find someone who would be at least okay with what I do. You like your privacy, yes, but you’re still so supportive of my career. You take all my pictures for me, and you don’t complain. You go along with my vlogging, you’re interested in how I edit everything, you actually watch my videos. It may sound kinda weird, but just... I’m really thankful for that. For you.”

You would have to scold him when you got home for making you blush (and almost tear up) in public like this, but for right now... you simply turned your head and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” you said, and you said it in a way that made it seem like that was all the explanation you needed. Because it was. You supported him like you did because you loved him. Simple as that.

You knew how important traveling was to Junmyeon, and even though it meant he wasn’t by your side half the time, you would never stop supporting him. You would never stop taking his Instagram pictures, you would never stop watching his videos, you would never stop reminding him to film or asking him about editing or anything which would even remotely hint that you wanted him to stop. Because if he did stop, he wouldn’t be happy. What kind of partner would you be if you asked him to give up what truly made him happy?

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

As the train pulled into the station and the two of you stepped closer so you could board, you leaned in, wanting to make sure Junmyeon heard you. “I will gladly be your Instagram Wife for as long as I live.”

You glanced at him then, and you were extremely glad you did because... the smile on his face right now. You were pretty sure that smile was what made the world keep turning every day.

Or, at least, your world.

“Wait, but I’m really excited for this video,” Trish declared, beaming across the table at you. 

She had invited you out for lunch after trying on some dresses at a local boutique, and you had been more than eager for some Girls Only bonding time.

When you’d arrived at the boutique earlier with Junmyeon’s camera in hand, Trish had been so adorably confused. But when you’d explained about the idea your boyfriend had come up with last night, she had immediately agreed that it was pretty genius.

You had filmed some before you left your house, introducing the vlog as Junmyeon always did. Apparently, you had learned a thing or two from him over the course of a year. And you’d pretty much kept the camera rolling as Trish had tried on a select few dresses.

But now you were focusing on your friendship, so the camera was tucked away safely in your purse.

“Me, too!” you cried softly. “It’s going to be so much fun to watch! And Junmyeon does such a good job with editing, I can’t wait to see how it’s going to turn out.”

“Okay, but speaking of you and Junmyeon... it’s going well, right?”

You immediately blushed, feeling a very idiotic grin threatening to appear on your lips.

“Yeah,” you replied with a shrug, trying to sound as casual as possible. “It’s going well.”

“I’m not going to lie,” Trish began, folding her arms on top of the table. “There was a tiny part of me that was worried about him traveling and being gone so much, but as soon as I met him... I knew there was no way I couldn’t introduce you guys.”

“He’s kind of perfect for me, isn’t he?” you chuckled. “And, yeah, he’s gone quite a bit, and I miss him like crazy when he is... but I like the alone time. And it gives me plenty of time to focus on my writing, so everything just works out.”

You spent quite a lot of time writing, actually, and that wasn’t just because it was your job. When Junmyeon was away, you wrote for your book. When he was home, you wrote his letters.

Even after all this time, you still wrote Junmyeon letters for him to take on his trips. He had only requested them that very first time when he had brought you back that pen (the first of many pens, by the way), but you had continued to write them. You would slip the envelopes into his carry-on when he wasn’t looking, and one time,  you found them all in a box in his closet.

To be honest... if you were an outsider, you and Junmyeon would probably make you want to throw up because you were so cute.

“How’s your book going, by the way?” Trish asked, her brow furrowing gently.

“Oh, god, I’ve barely started,” you told her with a somewhat exasperated sigh.

The book you’d been writing when you’d first met Junmyeon had just recently been published, and you were now starting on the sequel. At this point, you weren’t sure the first one was selling well enough to merit a sequel, but you’d been planning on a trilogy since the beginning, so your agent had given you the go-ahead.

“Well, you know I adored the first one, so the second one will be just as amazing,” Trish assured you.

“Also amazing? Your dress,” you grinned. She hadn’t picked one out today, but a couple of them had caught her eye. “No matter which one you pick, you’re going to look so stunning. Jongdae will start bawling his eyes out when he sees you coming down that aisle.”

“Wait, but you do realize that you and Junmyeon will be walking down the aisle together, right? As maid of honor and best man.”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, though you could feel your cheeks getting just a bit warm.

“So?! Don’t you think it’ll be good practice?!” Trish urged, her smile playful and teasing. But you knew she was deadly serious.

“Trish! You are the one getting married here,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, right now. I’m just saying... I won’t be surprised if you’re not too far behind...”

You tried to brush it off, reminding Trish she needed to stay focused on planning her own wedding (to which she replied: “I’ve been planning my wedding for years, I barely even need to do anything now that it’s actually here”). There was no need or reason to even think about yours.

...Or was there?

What if Junmyeon was planning on proposing?

Oh, god. Now you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.

Great.

Part 9

#kwritersworldnet #suho scenarios #suho imagines #suho au #suho fluff #suho fanfic #junmyeon scenarios #junmyeon imagines #junmyeon au #junmyeon fluff #junmyeon fanfic #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo au #exo fluff #exo fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #suho #kim junmyeon #exo #kpop

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Might

[ I wrote this scene to bridge between the gaps of our guild RP story and some loose ends I felt needed to be addressed.  This takes place directly after Reflections: Part 5.  Lazarius has gone to say goodbye to his daughter, but Marseille is off to collect someone for questioning.   I hope everyone enjoys this little solo story.]

“Some loose ends to deal with. . .” 

The final words of the ancient elf guardian as he exited out of the Grand Library where the official meeting had taken place.  More unofficially was the look granted to him by his esteemed Inquisitor. 

Marseille knew that look; it was one of silent action to be taken.  Something he and his master had practiced for countless months.  Their time together since the day he was collected had been near infinite.  Lazarius had taken the much older elf under his wing and groomed him; much like he had been groomed by his former Mistress. 

When Pyravari had discovered the mad elf in Suramar only days after the shielded veil was lifted, he was completely gone.  He had lost all he had, given up on life, had taken to body augmentation through arcane runes and manipulated the arcane energy within his blood.  Marseille was all but ready to kill or be killed when he was finally freed from the prison he’d placed himself in.

But rather than kill him outright, the Harbinger spared him, seeing promise in his talent as a bladesman, and also as a gift to her brother.  Lazarius spent weeks mending the damaged psyche of the Shal’dorei; time that would have been spent better elsewhere as far as he was concerned, but try as he might to resist him it was to no avail.  Lazarius managed to break through, begin mending the damage and in the end; freed the ancient elf from the madness he’d slipped into.

The life debt was something he took very seriously; and despite their connections to the Old Gods at the time, and the horrific things he’d come to learn they had done in the past, Marseille refused to abandon them.  He could see past it; and did, because to him it was far more important to repay the man and his kin who’d saved him from the haunting spirits of his own.

That look though; he knew what it meant.  Lazarius and him shared a very well in tune bond that was less telepathic and more cued upon expression.  But this time, the voice of his Master would creep effortlessly into his mind as he exited the Library with Verzatea on their way to tuck their daughter in, and share a bit of time together before the pack departed.

“The goblin has returned, unannounced, and Koltun has clarified his missing whereabouts.  Something does not sit right; if he is crossing the order, he will pay and I will discover the truth.  See to it he knows I am displeased with such careless action, and ensure he is held in our finest interrogation room. I will deal with him when we return...”

Krazzlowe the Goblin Slave Baron had just recently returned from Silithus mysteriously and without any type of announcement.  This was not only unorthodox but also unnerving.  Lazarius felt only the slightest shiver across his cold flesh when the talisman he’d given the creature was activated.  He knew he’d returned.

With Koltun needing to walk back, and the goblin being able to instantly transfer himself here; it was all very curious.  Lazarius had given strict orders to everyone not to use their Talismans during this time.  NZoth and the agents that served it could sense the artifacts; giving off any type of magical signature was like inviting them into the Bastille. The main reason why their current quest to rid him of the unsightly eye was meant to be completely stealthed and without any use of power.  And another reason why Lazarius was not pleased.  Perhaps they’d gotten lucky this time, but he would not risk a second.

Just weeks prior. . . .

Krazzlowe sat on a large yacht just off the coast of Tanaris; sun bathing in the warmth of the desert sky, a dry air running over his now liberally greased sap green skin.  Two other goblin females were dotting over the portly Baron as he sipped from a small umbrella drink and enjoyed the leisure's of his relaxation.

The bikini clad women were rubbing his shoulders and feet; as disgustingly awful as they were, but they were in no place to protest; slaves did as they were told, especially with explosives strapped to their necks.  Yes, goblins took extreme precautions.

“Ill tell ya Rodney, this is the life. . .”  Krazzlowe said slurping up his fruity cocktail through a straw inserted in a coconut.

“Ya really got a sweet set up here, a fella could get used tah dis.”

Rodney was the owner of this sea fairing mansion, another “Baron” no doubt who was self proclaimed just like Krazzlowe.  The two of them were more or less ‘friends’ but in the long run neither really trusted the other.

“Well don’t. . .” Rodney replied as he lowered his own sunglasses and peered across the deck to the other goblin lounging in his chair.

“You promised two shipments a month, you’re late Morty.  Been late for the last few months, what happened to our deal?”

The use of his actual first name caused the snide, and robust baron to slowly roll himself in the direction of his accuser.  His long fat nose turning upward in disgust at the claims that he had not lived up to his part of the agreement.

“Look, I told ya, since the end of the War everything has gone to shit.  You gonna go set somethin’ on fire? How about the Exodar, blame the fuckin’ Horde for that, get us back into a war. You start the son-of-a-bitch back up and I’ll have you three shipments a week.” 

Krazzlowe all but kicked the girl rubbing his feet away as he struggled to sit upright; it wasn't easy being as round as he was not to mention greasy from the tanning oil.

Rodney peered toward him in disgust; he knew he was right but still, he wouldn't admit it.

“And another thing.  Where do you get off?”

Krazzlowe barked.

“You swore up and down you could move the Azerite faster than I could get it.  Well guess what Mac, I checked ya hull, and the ledger. . .you’re sittin’ on enough to last a whole year.  The Horde aint buyin’ and the Alliance aint dealin.  So you tell me, Asshole. . .who dah fuck’s gonna buy dis shit now?  I aint got my cut yet, so I would say we’re dead-nuts-even. Wouldn’t you Rodney”

Both goblins sat there peering at one another on the deck of the yacht.  It was silent, both of the slaver girls had pulled themselves back against the railing now, waiting to see what would happen.  Their glowing azure eyes fixated on their Master as he was fixated on Krazzlowe.

Rodney turned first and scoffed at his partner, the smaller and much more attractive; if you could call either of them that, of the goblins backing down.

“Dats what I thought. . .”  Krazzlowe continued and slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

“Get me anotha one of these fruity mixers, toots, and you. . .how about a bit more on the arches, dem bunions aint gonna rub demselves!”

Rodney was sickened by the vagrant use of his two favorite women, but then again he was clearly out maneuvered by his partner.  Krazzlowe was no dummy, and certainly not without his own set of skills that caused him to be formidable opponent.

“Yep. . .dis is dah life, doesn’t get much bett--” 

The sound of a large bug swooping forward caused the goblin to cut off from his speaking and flip his shades.  Krazzlowe peered around, it was as if a small bird had just whizzed right past them. 

He noticed now that the sun had almost entirely been shaded, like a massive cloud had passed in front of it, but it was a cloudless day.  It looked like a large swarm of. . .

“What dah fu--”

A large flying Aqir slapped right against the fat little goblins chest; stuck to his tanning oil and grease.  He screamed, the Silithid screamed, both of the slaver girls screamed and Rodney shot up.

“For the love of all that is combustible its a fuc--” 

Rodney was then scooped up by a much larger, and much more terrifying Silithid that swooped down and plucked him off of his lounge chair like a raptor snatching up a rabbit from the sky. 

Both girls now screamed even more as their master was taken away, and Krazzlowe tumbled out onto the deck with the creature now successfully swiped from his greasy body.

“RODNEY!”  Krazzlowe shouted as he peered up to see the Silithid flying over the open ocean.  It was about fifty feet in the air and climbing upward.

In the sky above them there was a massive swarm that had blacked out the sun.  The sound of their humming now reached the ears of the baron as he peered up at Rodney being taken. “You still owe me money!”

And then, he was dropped.  Like a stone heading toward the ocean.  Whether or not he managed to survive the fall was uncertain.  But after the slap against the surface of the water vibrated across his ear drums, the goblin would scoff and finalize his decision.

“Welp. . .looks like we’re even.”  He chuckled, grabbing his partners sunglasses that had fallen on the deck before he had been taken and replacing his own.

He whistled casually as he headed below deck in pursuit of the women, but not before noticing that in the distance, Silithus was most likely overrun.  Oh well, looks like the deal is done.  Better head on back and collect what he could and just sit on this little goldmine until a more opportune moment came about.

Back in the Bastille. . .

A frantic and fevered search began when the Goblin tore through the veil of space and time and entered through a broom closet on one of the lower floors.  Not where he had expected to land, but then again he was not exactly one of the most welcome guests even today.  He tumbled out onto the saronite floor and immediately hopped up onto his feet with a panicked look in his eyes.

It was by convenience that Lazarius; out of trust, would have given the goblin a talisman to allow him to come back when needed.  Especially on times when he was summoned by the High Inquisitor for reports about the mining operation in SIlithus; and also whenever Lazarius requested.

“Where is it. . .where is it, dammit I hate this fuckin’ place.”  the goblin snarled as he began opening doors and checking for whatever he could in the hall that was presented to him.

He was looking for the area that he had stashed all of his paperwork and belongings before heading off to Silithus to begin the Azerite operation.  This was about the time when the sword was plunged into the planet and both factions began scrambling to the site.  Krazzlowe had ensured nothing of his own would be lost while he was away and stashed everything he needed here in a room given to him by the dark lord.  But where was the room.

As he turned the corner, the short; though taller than most, goblin was face to face with a most unpleasant welcoming party.  The blunt side of Marseille’s hatchet forcefully kissed his orbital bone over his left eye and the cheek that was directly below that.  It shattered the cartridge of his nose causing a burst of crimson to spray outward and begin flowing steadily down his upper lip and chin.  The goblin was immediately floored. 

He was almost unconscious but damned if he would be knocked out.  Goblins had extremely thick skulls, and they were often known to take a good beating.  But this was cruel and unusual punishment, the use of the weapon could have easily killed him had the elf flipped it around and used the sharpened end.

“Your Inquisitor has decreed that you are hereby relieved of your services as coordinator of the Silithus operation, Baron Krazzlowe.”  the ancient elf proclaimed as he grabbed hold of the blood soaked creature by its ankle and slowly began arranging him for transport. “Henceforth, you will be given a new assignment and stationed much closer to home for observation. . .”

Krazzlowe was nearly in another plain of existence at this point, and his smashed face was making it hard for him to talk at the moment.  He was trying to fight off being taken but he was far too injured to even attempt it.  He just barely understood what this meant, his clouded mind absorbing the hidden meaning of the shades words.  Lazarius knew.

The goblin began to stir and groan as he was more or less unaware what had happened, but the shock was starting to wear down.  He’d just been busted wide open.  The strike had caused a large deal of blood to splatter across the old elf and he would remark as he began to collect his prize.

Marseille wiped his left hand across his right shoulder and down his arm, it had stained his beautiful pastel grey blue skin.  The streaks of crimson would drip across his shoulder, down his elbow and wrist, but also managed to stain his throat and ribcage.  Luckily he did not wear a shirt most times.

“I’ll need to wash this off before I leave. . . most generous of you Baron.”  he stated crassly while the goblins feet were joined to make it much easier to pull him.

Marseille dragged him along the cold, saronite floor.  Down stairwells and through doorways that would have caused even more trauma for the little goblin.  It was not long after the first or second bump that the goblin had blacked out completely due to the head injury.

He only awoke some time later when the door of his cell was being slammed shut.  He would peer around while coming to his senses, and slowly folded over and rolled off onto the floor. “*No!*” He managed to scream out just barely

Marseille was already walking away, his attention elsewhere.  He had planned to stop and visit with Siida-Ray before departing with the rest of them for the Ghostlands.  The goblin was where he needed to be; and at this point he did not care what was being said.  Krazzlowe was considered a prisoner now. And as the footsteps of the elf echoed in the hall, the goblin plead for his case.

“Ya dont understand, its gone! Its all gone! Somebody get me outta here! I didn’t do nothin’.  I just want whats mine! Hello! Somebody!”

The echoed screams of the little battered goblin danced down the hallway like a brilliant acrobat performing for their audience.  But unlike such a marvelous affair, not a single ear would be pulled in the direction of the pleading goblin.  And he would remain down there until such a time as Lazarius saw fit to interrogate him.

“You are makin’ a mistake! Its all gone! The site, the people. . .It wasnt my fault! Wait! Com. . .Come on!”

But his words fell on deaf ears, not a soul cared, and not a single soul would come to his rescue.  But as he sat there in the darkness, the silence began to tease his mind, a strange humming sound came from the floors above, a faint heart beat, a curious tone.  The goblin curled up against the back corner of his cage and whimpered, truly his greed had now cost him his life.  He had no hope of savior in this place.

@siidaraykashebahl​

@frompage112​

@whatadarkbitch​

@zandalaridruidofgonk​

@pyravari-kashebahl​

@thebladeitself​

#the house of the nine #original content #my writing #old god RP

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 2.2

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Two – Aboard This Tiny Ship – Part 2 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1

Author: Gumnut

14 - 18 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 2576

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

This section is a touch shorter than the last one, but the next section will be much bigger.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 Scott was ready to chew an arm off just to entertain himself by the time Gordon announced they were approaching L’Esperance Rock just after lunch. He’d seen it enough from the air to know it meant they were around halfway home. The thought did give him some relief and he stood at the bow of the boat watching the islet come into view.

A grunt behind him had him turning to find Virgil making his way forward, coffee in one hand, abdomen in the other. He darted in to help his brother up the steps.

“I’m okay.”

“I know you are. Just being useful.”

That earned him a stare and an arched eyebrow. “You’re bored shitless, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m okay.”

Virgil snorted. “I had a bet with John you’d last until tonight at least. You’ve shafted me fifty bucks, big brother.”

Scott grunted. “Well, that explains why he was so happy to steal my phone.”

“He stole your phone?” Brown eyes frowned up at him.

“Oh, yes. On Grandma’s orders apparently.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Heh, that’s between the two of you. I’m only the subject of the bet, not the umpire.”

“Null and void. He’s not getting a cent.”

Scott grinned as he held his brother’s elbow, surprised he hadn’t been shook off.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Virgil’s voice was wistful as they approached the railing. “Sometimes I think we get too busy or just take it all for granted. We do live in a stunning corner of the planet.”

“Dad always thought so. I wouldn’t have called him much of an environmentalist, but he knew what was important.”

“Hmm, I think you underestimate him. You were off the Island when Alan brought two rats home as pets.”

“He did what?!”

Another arched eyebrow. “Yes, he did, early on. Snuck them in. Dad went ballistic when he found out. The words he used had Grandma blushing. Let’s just say that Beau and Belle were deported rather abruptly and Alan now has an unofficial degree in environmental management.”

“Hmph, serves him right.”

Virgil smiled at him. “Sounds like you might be a bit of an environmentalist yourself.”

A tolerant glare at his brother. “I do what is necessary.”

Scott was surprised when Virgil’s response to that statement was a sigh. His brother’s expression was almost sad.

“What?”

“You need to relax.”

“I am relaxing.”

“No, you’re not. You’re wired tighter than Two’s primary generator. You need to find a way to wind down. We’re on vacation.”

“We’re on mandatory lockdown.”

“Grandma is right. We need a break. Preferably before we break something we can’t repair.”

“It’s not just about us!”

“Yes, it is! You need to let go! Focus on you for a change.”

“Dad-“

“Is not here! You have the right to a life, Scott. You have the right to look after yourself, to have a little fun, for god’s sake. When was the last time you read a fiction book? Flew a kite? Sat in front of the projector and binge watched an old television show?”

“There are more important things-“

“Importance is relative. It was you who blew my head off a matter of days ago about priorities, was it not? Our business forces us to prioritise according to lives at risk, I get it. I know it. I live it beside you. But you are my big brother, you are the leader of this team, your health affects our effectiveness. To put it harshly, some may die today, so many more can be saved in the future.” Virgil visibly swallowed. “I know International Rescue is important, but please, take the time, Scott. If you have to, do it for IR, do it for us or me or whatever gets you going, but most of all please do it for yourself.” Quietly. “I can’t lose you.”

What the hell? “You’re not going to lose me.”

“If you don’t look after yourself, we will!” He didn’t think it was physically possible for his brother to frown harder.

“If you don’t look after yourself, you’re going to blow your stitches.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you!”

“So, what are you thinking? Yell at me until I crack? I’m not finding this relaxing at all, Virg.”

“Well, it seems I need volume for you to actually hear me, because you certainly don’t listen otherwise.”

He couldn’t think of an immediate retort to that and to be honest he was worried Virgil was going hurt himself if he wasn’t careful, he appeared so uncharacteristically angry. “You’re that worried?”

“Of course, I’m fucking worried!”

Whoops, wrong thing to say.

“Virgil! Calm down. You’re the one who needs to relax.” He reached out and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Take a breath.”

To his surprise, Virgil was actually trembling a little. He was that passionate about this? He hadn’t been doing that badly, had he?

His brother did as requested and took a deep breath. “You are so hard to look after sometimes.” It was breathy and full of exhaled tension.

“You don’t have to look after me, Virg.”

“Somebody has to.” He looked up and brown eyes caught his. “Because you don’t.”

Ah, shit. A sigh and Scott gently drew his brother into a hug. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll try to do better.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did lean in a little, one big hand reaching around Scott’s back and returning the embrace. “Please try.”

“Okay.”

Virgil pulled away slowly, not looking up at his brother, but focussing on the coffee he held in his other hand. He brought it to his lips and turned away slightly.

Scott stared at the back of his brother’s head and frowned.

The boat slowed as they approached the Rock. As jagged as its distant cousin, the Rock was like a miniature version of their home, the very top of a huge undersea volcano.

“Are we stopping here?”

Virgil’s question echoed his own thoughts. He thumbed his comms. “Gordon, are we stopping here?”

“Only for a moment. Just grabbing a sensor snapshot for Mel.”

Melissa Fisher, their closest neighbour. Blonde and sharp, she would remind him of Penny if it wasn’t for her obsession with all things Kermadec. That and the twigs in her hair. Even Dad had been a little wary of stepping on anything living when visiting Raoul Island. And visit they had. They needed to keep up relations and the woman was a mine of information when it came to ecological stabilisation and rehabilitation. Tracy Island had its issues when his father bought it and ever aware of the ecological importance of the area, once Brains had built the necessary infrastructure, his father had attempted to re-stabilise the ecosystem.

Melissa had been very helpful.

Gordon had taken to her immediately, jabbering in biology terms. For a bit there, Scott had wondered if the two of them might get involved with a different kind of biology, she was a little older than Gordon, only a year younger than Scott, but that might just float his brother’s boat. But apparently, they were too distracted by what they were discussing to notice each other.

Scott hadn’t seen her in years.

The boat came to a complete stop not far from the Rock and a moment later, Gordon appeared on the starboard side and threw out his sensor buoy.

Virgil was staring at him.

Scott blinked. “What is it?”

His brother didn’t answer immediately, those dark eyes assessing him a moment longer before sipping his coffee. But then a decision flickered across his expression and his hand reached out and gently took Scott’s arm. “Come with me.”

His brother turned slowly and led him off the bow. He negotiated the stairs and walked Scott back into the living area where Gordon was once again staring at holographic fish.

“Sit down and wait a moment.” His brother disappeared off into the depths of the living quarters.”

“Yes!”

Gordon’s jubilant yell made Scott jump. What?

His little brother was staring at a huge fish. A huge and weird looking fish. “What is that?”

“That, my wonderful big brother, is a sunfish or Mola mola, to be more specific.”

“And that is?”

Gordon glanced at him and frowned. “Heaviest bony fish on the planet. Came close to extinction twenty years ago. Saved by the World Council and its endangered species bill in 2039.” He turned back to the holographic display. “Though this one appears to have had some challenges.” Gordon’s fingers traced some gouges on the fish’s flank. “Old, but nasty.”

“Shark?”

His brother snorted. “No. That’s net scar. It’s been caught in a fishing net at some point. I can’t see any trace of the net, so this has to be one of the lucky ones.” The giant fish drifted lazily across the table as Gordon grabbed his tablet and stabbed his finger into it several times. “It must be well travelled. We are quite a distance from the fishing zones here.”

“I thought I told you to sit down.” Virgil edged carefully back into the room carrying his keyboard.

“And I thought you weren’t supposed to be lifting anything.” Scott hurried over and took the instrument from his brother’s hands.

“It’s not heavy.”

“So I have to look after myself, yet you don’t?”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped. “Okay, okay. Give me a second.” His brother grabbed a couple of cushions and shoved them together on a lounge chair to support his back and lowered himself into it. “Put it here.” He gestured across the arms of the chair and his lap.

Wary, Scott put the keyboard, that, yes, actually was quite heavy, down where his brother told him too. “Be careful.”

Virgil frowned up him with an expression that plainly said, ‘What am I? Stupid?’

“Well, you did carry the keyboard out here, did you not?”

His brother muttered something Scott couldn’t quite hear and wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Now, you sit down and close your eyes.” A pause. “No, actually, lie down on the couch and close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do as I ask.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but lay down. “You didn’t used to be this bossy.”

“You didn’t used to be this stubborn. Call it evolution in trying times.”

“Smart ass.”

“Shut up and close your eyes.”

Scott muttered under his breath, wriggled where he lay and did as his brother told him. Anything to stop the man from freaking out.

His brother began to play, the keys soft and blending with the water lapping against the hull. With his eyes closed, his mind focussed on the sounds around him. Gordon’s fingers on his tablet, heard just under the music. The distant calls of seabirds. Actually, it wasn’t much of a step from the sounds of home. Virgil playing his piano. Gordon sitting on the lounge playing with his tablet. The balcony doors open to the breeze, the distant sound of the waves on Tracy Island rock, the distant call of the bird colony on Mateo. John would be in his room reading. Alan would be playing a video game in the kitchen while Grandma attempted to make dinner. Brains, as always, would be in his lab.

Virgil playing the piano.

Waves against the rocks.

Birds calling...

Home.

-o-o-o-

Virgil kept playing ever so softly. Gordon had stopped working and was staring at the two of them, frowning.

Scott started snoring.

Gordon’s eyes widened and he mouthed words at Virgil. ‘How do you do that?’

Virgil just smiled and kept on playing, drifting into a long, gentle piece his mother had taught him long ago.

At some point he closed his eyes, too, and let himself go with the music, let his fingers do what the music asked.

He woke to find both Scott and John sitting opposite him.

“That was dirty pool, Virg.”

He blinked. Someone had taken the keyboard away and shoved a few extra pillows into the chair to support him. “You knew what I was doing. I’m just your excuse. How long did you last?”

It was John who spoke up. “About twenty minutes. It was enough. Gordon had to get the boat moving. He woke up the moment the engine started.”

“You, on the other hand, have been out for over two hours.” Scott was smug. “You missed the active volcano.”

Virgil turned to John. “Anything worth looking at?”

His younger brother shrugged. “Looked like an island to me. Bigger than the Rock. No activity at the moment.”

Virgil turned back to Scott. “Sounds like I didn’t miss anything. Where are we now?”

“Anchored at Macauley Island.” Gordon strode across the room. “Hey, Virg. Good to see you awake. You might like to see this.” His fish brother’s grin was highly suspicious.

It took both Scott and John to get him out of the chair. He should not sleep sitting up with abdominal incisions. Ow.

For a moment there he thought Scott was going to send him to bed or demand he take painkillers, but he didn’t. His brother didn’t say anything, and even if he did, a familiar roar distracted Virgil enough that he wouldn’t have noticed if his brother said anything anyway.

He pushed himself forward, leaving his helping hands behind and stepped out onto the deck.

His beautiful ‘bird was roaring in from the north. She moved so fast, he blinked and she was coming to a halt some distance away, VTOL firing her into a hover.

He just stared as she dropped her module.

He blinked as Gordon and Alan suddenly started the engine of an inflatable dingy and tore off towards the module sporting its proud number four.

“Thunderbird Two to Virgil.” Kayo’s voice startled him out of his stare. “So how did I do? Score out of ten.”

The door to the module lowered and Gordon leapt out of the little boat and jumped on board.

“Oh, ten, I guess.”

“Ten?!” Gordon’s outrage yelped across comms as the aquanaut turned in the distance and put both hands on his hips. “I knew he liked you more than me. I haven’t managed anything higher than an eight and I’ve been trying for years!”

Kayo didn’t answer as his ‘bird turned and took off for home, but Virgil grinned. “Keeps you on your toes, bro.”

“You suck.”

Their sister snorted across comms as Alan turned the dingy around and headed back. Gordon glared a glare that made it across the ocean despite the distance and stormed off into the module.

Virgil’s grin just got wider. “Why did he call for Four?”

“Something about helping Melissa. A sensor malfunction in the Macauley caldera.” A glance at Scott found him grinning, too. “You know he’s not going to let that go, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“We’re stuck on a boat, captained by him, in the middle of the ocean and you want to set Gordon off?”

Virgil shrugged. “He’ll enjoy it.”

“We won’t.”

“We’ll live.”

“If I wake up with pink hair, you’re dead.”

“I love you, too.” Virgil was still grinning.

“You do know that you still have your comms on, don’t you?” His aquanaut brother’s voice was admittedly amused.

“Yes, Gordon, I do. Got some good ideas?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” And with that, Four’s rear thrusters fired and she shot out of the module and into the ocean.

“You got your uniform on?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Fly safe.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

End Day Two, Part Two

Day Two, Part Three

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy

[angelofthequeers]

Ladybug and Reine Nuit: Chapter 16

Riposte

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Literally the only good thing about the chaotic lack of a proper timeline in this show is that I can have most episodes in whatever the hell order I want and there’s not a thing anyone can do about it.

@miraculousl4dybug @livinthebilife tagged as requested :)

Check out my new Ko-fi for writing commissions!

Chapter 15 | Chapter 17

“Are you sure you really want to do this?” Tikki says. “You’re already running late for everything, so adding fencing is only going to make you even more stressed.”

“That’s if I make the team.” Marinette pulls a fencing helmet on and yelps when it slips and smothers her. She huffs, takes it off and says, “And I couldn’t say no when Adrien asked if I wanted to try out. It might be nice to do something with a friend. Plus, it’ll help me a lot as Ladybug, won’t it?”

“There’s that,” Tikki agrees. “Well, if you’re sure you want to do it, I’ll support you a hundred percent.” With a grin, she adds, “The fencing gear really suits you, Marinette. Maybe you should change your Ladybug costume.”

“Maybe you should zip it,” Marinette says, poking Tikki on the forehead. Tikki just giggles and swoops into Marinette’s pocket, and Marinette lets out a long groan when she slams the oversized helmet back onto the table and upsets every other helmet. “Oh, come on!”

Once she’s ready and in the courtyard, she joins the line of other beginners and stands up straight. One of the fencers in Mr D’Argencourt’s line of current students waves at her and she waves back, figuring that it must be Adrien, not that she can tell when everyone’s wearing these ridiculous helmets. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that Adrien is one of her friends, she wouldn’t even be doing this.

She snaps back to attention when Mr D’Argencourt starts to pace between the two lines of people.

“I am the fencing master, Mr D’Argencourt,” he announces. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we have only one open spot on the team this year. So, in order to select the best possible candidate, I will observe the beginners performing a number of attacks on the experienced students. Positions!”

Adrien immediately approaches Marinette and lifts his helmet to reveal a wide smile. It’s so infectious that Marinette can’t help but lift her own helmet and smile brightly back.

“Thanks for doing this, Marinette,” he says. “I know it’s not a guarantee, but if you did make the team then it’d be nice to spend time with – uh, I mean – have a friend to share it with – I mean –”

Marinette giggles, wondering why his cheeks are so red. “I guess you’ll have to come over and bake one day, huh? Or we could play some Ultimate Mecha Strike III. You did so well in the tournament!”

Adrien nods, his cheeks growing even darker. “I – uh – we should –”

“Oh, yeah!” Marinette hefts her sabre in front of her. “Am I doing this right?”

“Your stance is off. Bend your knees, then stretch your left foot back, turned outwards. Perfect!” he says when Marinette adjusts herself, before approaching her. “Uh, do you mind?”

Marinette shakes her head, so he reaches around her to guide her to lean forward while using his other hand to slightly adjust how she’s holding her sabre. His breath on her neck is slightly faster than usual, and she can’t help but wonder just how exerting fencing is to make him breathe this fast before he’s even started. Maybe the experienced students had been practicing while the beginners were getting ready.

“Greet each other!” Mr D’Argencourt orders. Marinette and Adrien slide their helmets back over their faces and turn to each other, then copy Mr D’Argencourt and cross their sabres over their chests and whip them out to their sides. “En garde! Prêt…allez!”

Figuring that her only chance of defeating a skilled fencer like Adrien is by surprise, Marinette darts forward and jabs. To her surprise, Adrien hasn’t even started to attack, so he’s caught off-balance when the point of Marinette’s sabre touches his chest.

“Attaque!” Mr D’Argencourt announces, then gestures to Marinette. “Touche! Point! Continue!”

“Amazing reflexes!” Adrien says. “I wasn’t even ready!”

Marinette’s about to ask why an experienced fencer like Adrien hadn’t been ready for what’s probably such a predictable beginner move, but she’s forced to defend herself when he lunges at her before she can talk. To her surprise, even though he hits her first this time, she’s granted the point when she blocks his move and hits him in the chest again.

“Attack, parry, riposte, counterattack,” Adrien says and pushes his helmet up. Marinette follows suit.

“That makes no sense,” she says. “I just defended myself. You’re the one who attacked and hit me first.”

“With sabre fencing, the attack doesn’t necessarily win the point even though he touches his opponent first,” Adrien explains. “You took the initiative, so we say that you had priority. I can only parry or riposte, so I lose.”

“How do you know?” Marinette says. “Everything happens so fast!” At least when she’s Ladybug, she doesn’t need to worry about keeping track of points.

“We don’t always know for sure. That’s why you can also abstain. Shall we continue?”

Marinette nods and they lower their helmets again. Before they can begin, however, they’re interrupted by a shout from the entrance of the courtyard.

“Hey, you!” A figure in red is standing on the scoring box with a red sabre in hand. “Are you Mr D’Argencourt, the fencing master? I want to join your team.”

Mr D’Argencourt sniffs. “Only the best are admitted here, you knave.”

“I was the best everywhere I went.”

“The whippersnapper has nerve! Alright, I may consider your admission despite your insolence if you defeat one of my students.”

The red figure strides over to the pairs of students, who are all dead silent as they stare. “Which one of you is the best combatant?” the figure demands. Everyone looks around at each other and shuffles their feet before sliding away from Adrien, who lifts his helmet.

“Adrien, please give this young lady a lesson in manners,” Mr D’Argencourt says. Adrien smirks and pulls his helmet back down.

“I shall, Master.”

What follows is a match of legends. The first point is a tie and the second is an abstinence, so Adrien and the red fencer detach themselves from the scoring machine. This just makes the match even wilder, as Adrien and the fencer end up jumping all around the courtyard, then upstairs, then into the library. By the time there’s finally a hit, Marinette is the only witness and so she’s thrust into the role of unofficial referee when the figure turns to her and demands, “Who got the first hit? Who?”

Marinette freezes. “Uh – I –”

“Who touched first?” Mr D’Argencourt says as he finally crawls into the library, having been trampled by Adrien and the fencer whenever he got near. “Tell us now!”

“I don’t know!” Marinette looks between Adrien and the fencer wildly, wishing that the ground would open and swallow her whole right about now. She crumbles under the pressure and makes her decision. “It…was…Adrien?”

“Aha!” Mr D’Argencourt jumps up. “Wonderful! This victory is an honour to D’Argencourt Academy!”

The red figure nods and approaches Adrien to shake his hand, then walks out of the room, remarkably calm for someone who had just lost their chance to join the team after making such an entrance.

“Are you sure, Marinette?” Adrien says when he takes his helmet off.

“I don’t know!” Marinette bites her lip. “It all went so fast. I should have just abstained but I…panicked.”

“Well, I think she touched me first,” Adrien says.

“The referee has the last word,” Mr D’Argencourt says with an air of finality.

“I want a rematch,” Adrien says. “She was the most skilled fencer out of everyone else here. Even if I did win, she deserves to be on the team.”

“I agree,” Marinette says. “There’s no way I could be anywhere near that good!”

“Oh.” Adrien looks down with pink cheeks. “I didn’t mean – I know I asked you to join –”

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to challenge you, Adrien,” Marinette says, nudging him. “Not like her. Go after her before she’s gone!”

Adrien nods and sprints out of the library. Marinette follows at a more sedate pace, leaving the school just in time to see the red fencer, who’s next to a similarly red car, take her helmet off to reveal that she’s a pretty East Asian girl, with short, jet-black hair in a bob and light brown eyes.

Just as Adrien jumps in his car and it pulls away after the girl’s car, Marinette catches sight of a small, dark butterfly flapping in the same direction, no doubt after either Adrien or the girl. Either way, her friend’s about to be in danger!

“An akuma!” she gasps. She gives chase but, recognising that she’ll never catch up as herself, stumbles down the steps into the metro station and quickly checks that no one’s around to see. “We need to get it before it turns someone into a villain!”

“At your service, Marinette!” Tikki zooms out.

“Tikki, spots on!”

Once she’s transformed, Ladybug leaps out of the metro and swings after Adrien’s car. And not a moment too soon; when she reaches Adrien’s car, it’s been split clean in half and Adrien has been cornered by a glimmering silver figure with a long, deadly-looking blade. Ladybug’s vision narrows to Friend! Danger! and she lands on top of a poster display and tosses her yo-yo to wrap around the blade.

“How’d you like to start a duel with me?” she says. She yanks on her yo-yo, but it just slips off the blade. She blinks and gasps, “It’s merged with their hand!” and then she and Adrien dart out of the way as the akuma slashes, slicing the display clean in half.

“Give me a moment, Adrien,” the akuma snarls. If it’s not Adrien that’s been akumatised then this figure must be the girl that he’d fenced with. “I must finish her off first! But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you. I won’t be long.”

Ladybug is utterly outmatched, and she’s not afraid to admit it. She’s only able to defend herself with her yo-yo, unable to launch a proper attack even when Adrien tosses her the girl’s red sabre, and she’s forced to make a strategic retreat when Adrien injures his ankle diving in to roll her out of danger.

“What kind of fencing was that?” Ladybug says when she’s carried Adrien to safety behind a chimney stack. He winces and holds his hurt ankle.

“Nothing like I’ve ever seen,” he replies.

“Well, it’s going to be hard for me to fight and protect you at the same time.” Ladybug opens her yo-yo and calls Reine Nuit.

“I know, I know, akuma,” Reine Nuit says. “I’m coming. I just had to…uh, take care of civilian stuff first. Responsibilities and all that.”

Ladybug’s response dies in her throat when the chimney is sliced into rubble and the silver figure towers over them with a snarl.

“Allow me to explain the rules to you,” she hisses. “You’re not allowed to call it quits at any time! Adrien is mine! I will defeat you. Both of you! I am Riposte and I am the best fencer!”

“Hurry up and get here!” Ladybug hisses into her yo-yo before hanging up.

“That’s why I wanted you to come back!” Adrien says. “My friend Marinette even agreed that you deserve the open spot on the team! I wanted a rematch because you’re so skilled.”

“And Marinette’s not an experienced fencer,” Ladybug says. “She had the decision shoved on her – uh, from what she told me!” she hastens to add when Adrien shoots her a weird look. “Maybe she missed something. Maybe she made a mistake. You don’t have to get so bent out of shape about it.”

Riposte growls. “Well, this time I will be the referee!”

The only thing on Ladybug’s mind is getting her friend to safety. Once she’s managed to pull another chimney down on Riposte, she finds Adrien behind a third chimney and scoops him up to swing him to safety. They end up at the Louvre, where Ladybug calls for an evacuation and then searches for a safe place to hide Adrien.

“There!” She spots the Egyptian exhibit and guides Adrien over to a sarcophagus, then helps him inside.

“I’m sorry, but at least you’ll be safe in here,” she says. Adrien grabs the lid to stop her from closing it.

“Wait –”

“Adrien, I have to go!”

“Are you sure I can’t come and watch?”

“No,” Ladybug says sternly. “You’re hurt. And even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t feel comfortable with you being exposed. Especially not with an akuma who’s targeting you.”

“I guess…well, please be careful, Ladybug!” Adrien says. Ladybug smiles.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you. Just stay out of harm’s way, okay?” She closes the lid and, with one last smile at Adrien, sets off to find Riposte. She doesn’t have far to go; outside the Louvre, Reine Nuit has intercepted Riposte and is trying to fend her off with twin batons, but it’s clear that the cat hero is very much outmatched.

“Where is Adrien?” Riposte snarls. “I want my rematch!”

“If you weren’t Edward Swordhand then I’m pretty sure Adrien would’ve agreed,” Reine Nuit says, then jumps away from Riposte’s sword.

“And if you need akuma powers then that doesn’t speak very highly about your skills!” Ladybug adds. Riposte shrieks and attacks Ladybug with a series of jabs and cuts, forcing Ladybug on the defensive to deflect every blow of Riposte’s with both the girl’s sabre and her yo-yo; that is, until a particularly nasty slash rips the sabre out of Ladybug’s hand. Reine Nuit joins the fray, and it’s two against one, Riposte gaining the upper hand, until –

“Ladybug?” says Adrien’s voice from nearby. Ladybug’s heart screeches to a halt in her chest. What’s Adrien doing outside the sarcophagus? “Ladybug!”

“Agreste!” Riposte’s eyes light up, and she leaps away in the direction of the voice. Before Ladybug and Reine Nuit can follow, however, their eyes are drawn to a blond figure waving from the entrance to the Louvre. Wait, what?

“Adrien!” Ladybug hisses when the heroes jump to his side. “What are you doing?”

“How ‘bout we take this inside?” Adrien says, wincing when he leans on his injured ankle. “She won’t be fooled for long.”

Once they’re back in the Egyptian exhibit and Adrien can sit down, Ladybug confronts him with her hands on her hips.

“What part of stay in the sarcophagus to be safe did you not understand?” she demands. Adrien wilts.

“Sorry, Ladybug,” he says. “I just…I’m claustrophobic, alright? It made me…you know…panic in there.”

“Oh.” Ladybug’s anger melts in an instant. “Oh! I’m so sorry! You should’ve told me!”

“Classic voice recording from the phone hidden nearby?” Reine Nuit says, jabbing her thumb at the stairs.

“Yeah,” Adrien says. “I figured you two could use a break.”

Reine Nuit’s cat ears twitch. “Uh, I think she’s coming.” But before they can hide Adrien away, Riposte’s landing in the exhibit from the top of the stairs and regarding Adrien with gleaming eyes.

“Adrien Agreste,” she growls. “Finally. En garde!”

“But he’s hurt!” Ladybug protests. Riposte smirks and raises her sabre arm. If the akuma’s not in there, Ladybug will personally hand her earrings to Hawkmoth.

“I don’t care. If he’s really the better fencer, then he’ll beat me with or without an injury.”

Reine Nuit springs into action to block Riposte’s sabre, knocking over display after display as she fights for her life. Shielding Adrien behind her, Ladybug makes a split-second decision.

“Lucky Charm!” A camera falls into her hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Better think fast, angel bug!” Reine Nuit says before promptly being kicked in the stomach and sent flying across the room. As Riposte approaches her and Adrien, Ladybug manages to cobble together a plan with the camera, Riposte, Adrien, and Reine Nuit.

“Cataclysm her sword when I say so!” she calls to Reine Nuit, who groans in response. She hands the camera to Adrien. “Looks like it’s your turn to be on the other end of the camera, model boy.”

As Riposte lunges, Adrien raises the camera and snaps picture after picture. With every snap, the camera flash reflects off Riposte’s shiny silver body, disorienting her enough for Ladybug to get a good grip on Riposte’s sword arm and pin the akumatised girl to the floor.

“Now!”

“Cataclysm!” Reine Nuit grabs the sabre in her hand and crumbles it to release the akuma. Ladybug easily captures the nasty black butterfly and purifies it, then takes the camera from Adrien.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” The ladybugs fix all the broken displays in the exhibit, then swarm up the stairs to repair the damage that Riposte had done elsewhere as Adrien gingerly tests his ankle and sighs in relief. Riposte’s silvery skin dissolves to reveal the girl in red, who stares around the room dazedly.

“What am I doing here?” she says.

“Thanks for your help, Adrien,” Ladybug says with a smile. She holds out her fist to Adrien, who looks at it like it’s the next coming of Christ.

“Pound it!” he choruses gleefully with Ladybug and Reine Nuit.

“Uh, I really gotta go,” Reine Nuit says. “See, I’m babysitting some kids, and…well, my replacement won’t be too happy that I’ve been gone this long…”

“It’s okay, pretty kitty,” Ladybug says. “I’ll take care of her.”

With a grateful nod, Reine Nuit bounds away. Ladybug approaches the girl and kneels to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything’s okay. How are you doing?”

“I…I don’t remember a thing after I got into my car,” the girl says.

“That’s normal. You were akumatised – turned into a supervillain by a man named Hawkmoth. He preys on negative emotions.”

“So, I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“There’s no need to beat yourself up.” Ladybug smiles at the girl. “Hawkmoth’s the one at fault here, not you. There’s no shame in being taken advantage of by a monster like him. And there’s no shame in feeling negative emotions.”

The girl’s lips barely twitch, but it’s something at least. “Thank you.”

Ladybug’s earrings beep, and her hand jerks up to cover one of them. “Oh no! I’m about to transform back!”

“I’ll escort her out,” Adrien says. Ladybug smiles.

“Thanks. Bug out!”

Once outside, she lets her transformation fall and peers out from behind a street display about the Egyptian exhibit, watching Adrien and the girl leave the Louvre. They pause in front of her red sabre, discarded from her akumatised fight with Ladybug, and Adrien bends down to pick it up and offer it back to her.

“Perhaps you’ll agree to take this back now?” he says. She reaches out to take it but then pulls her hand back.

“No. I lost. You keep it.”

“I personally think the point was yours,” Adrien argues.

“That’s not what your friend saw.”

Before Marinette knows what she’s doing, she’s running out from behind the display and up to Adrien and the girl. Adrien’s face lights up as she approaches, while the girl surveys her coolly but not with any antagonism.

“Adrien!” Marinette pulls Adrien in for a quick hug. “I was so worried! I saw the akuma – then you got attacked and Ladybug saved you – I was terrified you’d get hurt!”

“You didn’t have to follow me all the way here,” Adrien says as his cheeks grow dark pink. “Ladybug saved the day like she always does.”

Marinette smiles at him, then turns to the girl and sticks out her hand. “I wanted to apologise for earlier. I panicked and made a rushed decision, especially when I hardly know anything about fencing, so I hope we can start over. I’m Marinette.”

The girl stares at her hand for a moment before nodding and shaking it. “I’d like that. I’d also like to apologise for suspecting you of cheating and showing your friend favouritism. My name is Kagami.”

“And I’m Adrien,” Adrien says, holding out his hand for her to shake. He then offers her sabre to her again, and this time she takes it. She and Adrien then bow to each other.

“Get ready for that rematch!” she says when the red car from earlier pulls up.

“I can’t wait, Kagami,” Adrien says. Kagami nods and gets into her car, leaving Adrien and Marinette standing alone together.

“I’m sorry you won’t get to join the fencing team, Marinette,” Adrien says. “I was really looking forward to fencing some more with you. You show a lot of promise!”

“Well, I can always come along and watch sometimes,” Marinette says with a smile. “And I don’t really think that fencing is my thing. I’m glad that someone like Kagami got that spot.”

Adrien just stares at her, eyes wide as though he’s entranced. Marinette shifts and rubs the back of her neck, and the spell is only broken when Adrien’s car comes to a stop in front of them.

“Uh…do you want a ride home?” he says, shaking his head. “It’s kind of my fault you’re here, since – you know – you came to see if I was okay and all.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette says. “You must be running late for something or other. Busy schedule and all!”

“Forget the schedule,” Adrien says. “You’re my friend. You’re more important.”

Marinette smiles and approaches the car with him. He holds the back door open to let her climb in, and she waves at his thickset bodyguard as Adrien gets in beside her and shuts the door. The bodyguard doesn’t say anything, but that’s probably a good thing, since that means he doesn’t seem to have any objections about going out of his way to take her home. Once they pull up outside the bakery, Marinette opens the door and slips out.

“Thanks, Adrien,” she says when he rolls down the window. Adrien smiles back at her, and his smile warms her to her very core.

“No problem. And…thanks for being my friend, Marinette, and tagging along today even if it’s not your thing. You’re really awesome.”

Marinette gets one last glimpse of Adrien’s pink face before the window rolls up. She remains rooted to the spot with tingling at the base of her spine, blinking after the car as it drives off.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki says from inside her purse. “You look rather out of it.”

“Huh? Yeah!” Marinette shakes her head. “I’m fine!” She gets a strange look from a passer-by, forcing her to smile sheepishly and wave. The man walks off with a shake of his head, no doubt thinking that she’s totally lost it. “I’m just…wondering things.”

“Well, you might wanna wonder them inside,” the little kwami says. “People will think you’re bonkers, talking to yourself!”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Marinette says, rolling her eyes with a smile. She heads inside, surreptitiously sticking her finger in her purse to poke Tikki, then heads upstairs to call Alya and have a very long chat about the mess that is her life.

#miraculous ladybug #aotq fic #aotq: reine nuit au #chat!alya #marinette dupain-cheng #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #kagami tsurugi #riposte #adrienette #hmm is marinette starting to feel things :) #bamf adrien #even with a busted ankle and no fursona he pulls through

[thebargainingchip]

Blood Colors - Chapter 13

-Masterlist

Pairing: Roan x Reader

Warnings: None

A/n: I have a new unofficial trigedasleng dictionary, it'll take me a while but I'll start incorporating the language more into the chapters. Also, another 4 months wait. You know what I acknowledge I suck at this. Also, also, someone requested more dialogue, here ya go, can't promise it'll stay, I like the whole thinky narrative thingy.The chapter's a bit short. This is such a slow burn, I'm sorry.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

You had gotten so busy with putting out fires and moving bodies that you hadn’t even noticed how late it was until you saw Roan’s party leave. He must be awake and then there was the immediate disappointment as you watched him go. You snapped out of it, he probably didn’t even know you were still here, maybe it was even better that way. Guilt rushed through you in one cold flush and stayed almost making you shiver as you looked out over the hundreds dead. Not only had you technically you had disobeyed Roan’s orders, but you had also won the battle. This was not the kind of victory to celebrate. You and the warriors around you would be trying to get the smell of burning flesh and hair out of your nose, not to mention falling asleep to the sound of screams. Maybe it was your best effort, it had after all worked but it carried the worst type of consequences. To say you panicked was an understatement.

You didn’t rush as you carried on with the cleaning up, fantasising about how to make this all go away.

It was well into the night when you rode home, you had done as much as your body would allow, your stomach was growling not to mention the cold that had settled deep into your fingertips and toes. There was a sort of calm in the fact that you could bathe and go to bed and leave the talking to Roan for tomorrow but the tense feeling still lingered underneath. Tomorrow you would be able to put on your mask and face the world and whatever consequences there was to face but tonight you could crawl in bed and pretend you were still among the stars with survival never being your primary concern.

                                                ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You had overslept. And maybe last night in your overtired state you hadn’t cared to ensure that someone wakes you up or to at least leave the bloody curtains open but this morning you did. There was a gathering in court to announce that status of yesterday’s battle which meant that you would have to stare at Roan through the whole proceeding before you could at least explain to him.

You quickly undressed from the little you had on last night, only to hear the doors swing open, you looked up and found Echo barging in. The doors behind her closed and she didn’t even bat an eye at your lack of clothing as she threw what she was carrying on the bed, armour from what you could tell. You had taken to covering what you had on show. “You know what it really does bother me that you don’t knock.”

“Roan had this made for you.” She stared at you for a moment longer. “You know before you decided to go against his orders. Everyone will be expecting you to wear this, warrior paint, the whole works.”

“Isn’t it a little late to be telling me this now?”

“ Probably .” She shrugged and was about to exit.

“Echo, you can’t just leave me here. I have never worn Azgedan armour before. I don’t even know where I get the paint.” Her eyebrow shot up.

“First you want me to go, then you want me to stay?”

“Will you please for once in your life shut up and help me, at the same time?” Echo made a huge show to sigh exasperatedly.

“Don’t touch it.” Echo slaps your hand away from your face.

“It’s itchy.”

“I will cut your fingers off and feed it to you.” She turns around and threatens you so close to your face. You shut up after her uncalled for aggressive behaviour and instead fold your hands behind your back. She rolls her eyes, knowing you're mocking her.

You stand on the dais and wait, everyone is gathered and talking in hushed voices. So far only the guards in the castle and a few servants had been staring as you passed by and at first you thought it was because Echo had drawn a dick on your face until it hit you again. Some probably knew that you were the reason the castle was still standing but you were a little relieved to know that few knew the gory details of your victory, at least for now it would remain that way.

Your back straightened instinctively when the door to your right opened. There was only one person that was still missing, you didn’t dare to look at his face as he swept past you at the foot of the dais, dressed all kingly and rather downcast your eyes to avoid any accidental glimpses. It took everything in your being not to look to your left straight at him sitting there on his throne. You felt like his gaze was burning through you and you silently wished this was over already, you closed your eyes for a moment.

You could almost feel the warmth on your skin, without being too hot it felt like you were burning to, you ears burning as there was nowhere to hide from the screams, the wind wafted past you and you prayed it wouldn’t carry the fire.

I jab to your side jolted you from your day terror. “Our victory was lead by our one and only Jus Gona, who saved our King and sent our enemy to the hell whence they came. Faya Gona.” Echo stepped back from you leaving you standing alone. Shock coated there faces as the realisation hit but clapping still echoed and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. It was in this moment caught off guard that you caught Roan’s eyes. An unreadable expression was your worst nightmare. You immediately looked at the crowd again, training your gaze on the blurry faces at the back of the room as you stepped back to join Echo again. Clarke would understand, she knew what it took to ensure survival, you convinced yourself. Your throat tightened, was there another option, were you really that far back into the corner?

                                              ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was the last moment decision. “I’m sorry I should have listened to you, I just - a messenger arrived with a different number than what the scouts reported earlier and I had to tell you .” You were expecting a full-on lecture, yelling and you would bite your lip and take it. Roan had seated himself slowly on his bed after you had walked in, clearly still affected by his wounds.

“You don’t trust me.” Roan’s first words were soft and calm and the words made your eyes shoot to meet his a little surprised.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Of course, I trust you.” You held his stare.

“Why else would you lie?” You were about to open your mouth to protest. “(Y/n), it’s okay, Echo told me everything.”

You were stunned for a moment. “What did she tell you?”

“That you’re in love with me and you had to confess it in case anything happens.” Your face became embarrassingly hot, soon followed by butterflies.

“She told you about Aleksondria?” Roan nodded the amusement still present in his eyes. “You weren’t supposed to know.” Roan stands again, slowly and doesn’t say anything until he is upright.

“Please before we continue can you please wipe the paint off your face, I might just make more jokes if I have to look at your face any longer.” He walks past you to the basin.

“Gee thanks, wait to make a girl feel beautiful.” You almost reply on instinct and wished you could take it back as soon as Roan turns back to look at you, the rag wet and in his hands.

“You’re just begging to be made fun of aren’t you.” Roan throws you the cloth and you haphazardly scrub the paint off your face, a poor effort if you were honest.

“I don’t understand how can you be like this.” You protest.

“Like what?”

“This.” You wave your hand around as if it would make anything clearer. “I disobeyed your orders again.”

“You also saved my life after being blackmailed into doing so. Albeit very dangerous and maybe a little irresponsible” He defended. At a loss for words for a moment, Roan stepped closer grabbed the cloth from your hand, for a moment catching your hand to look at the burns on your fingers, which sparked something in you. Roan ran the face cloth over your cheek catching your chin before you could pull away or flinch.

“I burned them alive. All of them, when they were too busy drowning in the ale cracked open at their victory celebrations.” Roan stopped for a moment his hands falling away from your face to just staring at you for a moment. Steel grey eyes carefully picked their words.

“We live with the decisions that we make, but your not the last person on earth, you don’t have to face anything alone. It doesn’t matter if it was the right call, it is made, the only thing left to do is to try and move on.” Roan promptly continued to wipe your face.

“Roan.” You whined. and pushed his hand away, your face heating again but this time with the makeup off he would be able to see. “I do trust you.” Roan studied you for a moment and unapologetically swiped the cloth harshly over your mouth.

“Sorry I had to wipe the bullshit away that just came out of your mouth.”

Next Chapter

Tag List:

@sunshine-and-riverwater @jinx-is-fire @silver424 @cherrysfandom @thebookandmoviefangirl @that-cute-stranger

#Roan #roan fluff #king roan #roan kom azgeda #roan of azgeda #The 100 #roan x reader #roan x you

[howlnikiforov]

Trespass

Chapter Thirty (epilogue): Gone Bad

Pairing: Hyungwon x Reader

Word Count: 2179

Summary: You would think that one would be able to trust their soulmate, be able to love them unconditionally, and know them better than yourself. But that isn’t always the case. Who was H.One, and why did the universe think you could be soulmates?

WARNINGS: Panic attack, talks of murder, graphic details, a lot of cursing

Trespass Masterlist

“Your aim is terrible my Love.” Hyungwon said with a shake of his head.

“Well excuse me for being a little distracted.” You retorted, glaring at him from over your shoulder.

“You act like it’s my fault.” He put a hand to his chest, mocking offense.

“That’s because it is.” You accused, reloading your gun with a new clip.

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“How the fuck are you both our leaders?” Minhyuk questioned as he came into the room, “I mean, just listen to you! You sound like five year olds!”

“He’s the five year old.” You teased, Hyungwon sticking his tongue out towards you, only proving your point more.

“Do I need to remind you guys that in five minutes Kihyun will be in here with the new recruits?” Minhyuk asked, glancing between you two.

“No. Y/n is just finishing her last round.” Hyungwon said.

“Ah. Well hurry up, we don’t want the newbies seeing you playing around and then not take you seriously.”

“Yes sir!” You mocked a salute towards your friend, who in turn rolled his eyes and walked away.

“Somebody’s a cranky body today.” You commented, adjusting your safety glasses before beginning to fire off your last rounds.

It’s been about five months since you began your training. Hyungwon has been very thorough, not letting you make any mistakes. He was a harsh teacher, but you understood why and you were grateful for it.

Mentally speaking, you’ve greatly improved. Physically, all that was left to remind you of those times were your scars. You weren’t having panic attacks everyday now. They still came though, especially when there was a storm. It didn’t matter the type of storm anymore. It could be a snowstorm, a rainstorm, a thunderstorm; they all made you freak out. Hyungwon was always there to calm you and care for you. Just like you were there for him on the particularly hard days. Over two years have passed since you were rescued, and you were still trying to recover.

You’ve been slowly distancing yourself from your family. Your father blamed Hyungwon for this, of course. In fact, the last time you went to visit your parents, you had to sneak out the window because he tried to prevent you from going back to Hyungwon. That’s when Hyungwon started getting more strict about your breaking and entering skills.

It’s been hard, this training. Some days you didn’t want to get out of bed. You gave up on pursuing your Ph.D. There was no point to it anymore; you’d get by just fine with a masters degree. Not that you needed it or anything.

“That time you did better.” Hyungwon proclaimed.

“Oh hush. That time I didn’t have you distracting me.” You pointed out.

“Darling, how did I distract you last time?” He asked innocently.

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe it was the neck kisses? Or the sultry whispers?” You took out the empty clip and set the gun down, taking off your glasses and earmuffs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He raised his hands in the air.

“Bullshit.” You called him out. “For that, I’m going to go play with Minhyuk and Jooheon.”

He pouted, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes. They ganged up on me last time, with their constant shell throwing, and now I must beat their asses.” You put the safety on, then put the gun in its casing.

“Aww, listen to you swear vengeance.” He cooed, “it’s hot.”

“Are you sure it’s hot?”

“No, it’s incredibly sexy.”

“Good to know I have another advantage.” You replied. “Ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready.” He took your gun case from you, taking your hand and leading you upstairs. The indoor gun range Hyungwon had was underneath a warehouse. It’s original purpose was to be a rendezvous point, but since Hyungwon took charge it’s been remodeled to fit the needs of training. He had newer, more secretive places for rendezvous.

“What are you going to do if Minhyuk and Jooheon aren’t back at home? Minhyuk is gonna be here for awhile I’m sure.” Hyungwon said.

“Then I’ll probably eat and sleep.” You replied, walking through the double doors and into the moonlight.

“Really? You’re not going to do anything else?” He asked, getting to the car and putting your gun in the trunk.

“Well what else would I do?” You questioned, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Oh I don’t know. I was thinking maybe we could do a date night.” He commented as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Date night? What do you have planned?” You looked over at him.

“Candle lit dinner under the stars?” He suggested.

“You aren’t planning to cook, are you?” You interjected.

“No. I am not planning to cook.”

“Okay. Then we can have a date night.”

“Wow. Did you really just agree to a date because I wouldn’t be the chef?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I’m hurt Y/n. You hurt me.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because you hurt me every time.”

“Aww I’m sorry Baby,” You laughed, “you know I love you.”

“Yes. You are quite fortunate I know that.”

The entire car ride was filled with your relentless banter. It was becoming more common between you and Hyungwon. You were married now, after all. Well, sort of. You weren’t married by law because neither of you could risk someone like your father tracking you down. But you had rings, and you did have a small ceremony which only the boys and Sohyun were invited to. It was a top secret ordeal, something neither of you felt needed to be announced to the world.

Your bond grew the moment you were unofficially wedded. You weren’t sure how, but as you kissed to seal the deal, you saw it expand. It burned within you. Hyungwon was your constant companion, and you were his. It was easier to pick up on his emotions now, and he knew exactly what you needed when you needed it. Just last week he went across town to get your favorite chocolates because you were experiencing severe cramps.

Your relationship with him was more than you could have ever imagined. It was strange to imagine what it would be like had you not given him a chance. You didn’t like thinking about where you’d be if you hadn’t. Dead, probably. Because you would have had no one to come for you when Youngjae kidnapped you.

Speaking of, you were planning what to do with your brother. You could make him suffer the way he made you suffer, or you could give him a quick death. The former was more appealing, but it was risky as Hyungwon pointed out. Not only would your father look for him, so would YG. He had a significant role in their mafia after all. Killing him would have to be enough, if only to avoid unnecessary trouble. It was a perfect retaliation against YG too; take out one of his trusted men and you’d have the upper hand.

“Hyungwon,” you said as you got out of the car, all jokes aside.

“Yes dear?” He gazed at you, eyebrows raised.

“What would you say if I wanted a name change? Code name that is.” You questioned.

“What would you want your new code name to be?”

“Black Swan.”

“What’s wrong with Red Rose?”

“Everyone knows Red Rose is me, your soulmate. No one knows Red Rose to be a badass,” you caught his smirk when you called yourself a badass and rolled your eyes at him. “As Black Swan, I can be feared because of my fierceness, and not just because I’m bonded with you. Also it’s a mouthful.”

“You are correct, Black Swan.” He replied, “people do only know you as someone to be feared because of who you are to me. Let’s refer to you as Black Swan when we’re talking about your badass side, and Red Rose when we’re talking about you as my soulmate. It’ll confuse those who aren’t in the know.”

You nodded, grinning at him. “Did you have Kihyun cook dinner?” You asked, walking into the kitchen and seeing the used pots and pans.

“No. I ordered it from a fancy restaurant.” He revealed, leading you to the back patio.

“Ah, I see. Take out.” You teased, jabbing him in the side with your elbow.

“Essentially.” He agreed, pulling out a chair for you.

“Who’d you have set this all up?”

“Am I not allowed to try and be magical?”

“Sometimes.”

“I take it this is not one of those times.”

“Nope.”

“Wonho did it. He was free.”

“I see.”

“Do eat. It’s already getting cold.”

“Yes Dear.”

Dinner was Italian tonight. You had chicken Alfredo while he had penne pasta. It was divine, and you made him promise to take you to the restaurant later. He obliged, promising that the next dinner date will actually be at the restaurant.

You stayed outside for hours, talking about the most trivial things. That is, until you brought up how you’ve been feeling lately. “Hyungwon,” you spoke softly, getting him to realize you were serious about what you were about to say, “why does it feel like the world is against us?”

“Because, in the world’s eyes, we’re bad people” he answered.

“I know but, it feels like something big is going to happen. Like something will truly test us.”

“Let it.” Hyungwon declared, “let it test us. Y/n, I know our bond is strong enough to withstand any force that tries to break us apart. Everyday it grows stronger. Maybe we’ll hit a rough patch, but as long as we stick together it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Come on, let’s go up to bed.” He stood, holding his hand out in invitation.

You took it, letting him pull you out of the chair. He guided you into the house, bringing you upstairs. He led into your room, gently closing the door behind him. “Kiss me.” You requested, tugging him closer.

His hand left yours, moving to hold you by your waist. Your eyes closed and soon his lips were on yours. It was a lazy kiss, nothing extraordinary about it. But it was perfect. You sighed against his lips, your arms wrapping around neck.

You took a step back, pulling him with you. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He took the lead then, pushing you towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the mattress, so you fell onto it and laid on your back. Hyungwon leaned over you, his hands beside your shoulders to support his weight.

His lips met yours again, this time with more passion. You moved further up the bed, Hyungwon chasing after your lips. Your hands found themselves under his shirt, running your fingers along his spine.

It was you who broke the kiss this time, opening your eyes to gaze into his. “Sleep?” You suggested.

“Sleep.” He confirmed. He slid an arm under you, rolling over so that it was you on top of him now. You grabbed the blanket and pulled it over the two of you. You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes and breathing in his scent.

His fingers threaded through your hair, massaging your head. You moaned in pleasure, causing your love to erupt in laughter. You lightly smacked his chest, “Go to sleep.” You chided.

“Yes my Love.” He mumbled.

You snuggled into him, letting yourself fall into a deep sleep.

Waking up was difficult. You could sense Hyungwon was still asleep, and the comfort of his arms was heavenly. His body heat played a role in luring you back to sleep. You were so warm, so safe that getting up was physically impossible. You cursed when the alarm went off, forcing you to move.

Hyungwon shifted, mumbling gibberish as the alarm continued to blare. You slapped the wretched device, getting it to shut up. You settled back into your position, lazily wrapping yourself around him.

You’d have a lazy day, you decided. It’s been a busy couple of weeks and you could use some rest. So, with thoughts of how you’d spend your day, you fell back asleep.

The next time you woke up, it was because Hyungwon was shaking your shoulder. “Darling,” He said softly, “you have a call.”

You grumbled, pulling the blankets over you. “Answer it for me then.”

“I can’t.” He replied, pulling the blankets back.

You glared at him, “Why not?”

“Because it’s your dad.”

“Oh fuck.”

You sat up quickly, grabbing the phone from him.

“What did he do?” Your dad accused angrily the second you answered.

“What did who do? And what did they do?” You asked, confused.

“That soulmate of yours, H.One, what did he do to your brother?”

“He did nothing?” Your statement sounded more like a question. You looked at Hyungwon, who was just as confused as you.

“Then why did your brother disappear?”

#thekpopnetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #kloversnet #mxnetwork #monsta x #hyungwon #chae hyungwon #hyungwon x reader #jooheon #shownu #wonho #minhyuk #kihyun #changkyun #i.m #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #trespass #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #hyungwon fanfic #hyungwon fanfiction #monsta x mafia au #monsta x soulmate au #mafia au #soulmate au #hyungwon angst #hyungwon fluff #monsta x angst

[crewhonk]

divebar (smut)

In which reader discovers maybe change isn’t necessary for good things to happen. 

AN: reader and billy were in an unofficial relationship which started the summer before he left.

Words: 3,810

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

It was just another Tuesday, in sunny California when you found yourself in some dingy bar with decor that showed the building's age. The wallpaper was old and dirty and you’re pretty sure it was peeling in one of the far corners but they made their drinks strong and cheap and that's all you were here for. It had been a disastrous day at the magazine office which you worked at, and if another one of your articles were rejected you were pretty sure you were actually going to lose your fucking mind. The bartender, who had become a familiar face in your life simply slid a large shot glass towards you and dropped his eye into a wink. You smiled politely back and raised your glass to him before drinking the entire thing without so much as a wince. You thought that once adult life would be exciting and full of sun and waves but you were sorely disappointed when you were only greeted with monotonous routine and grey pencil skirts that cost too much money. 

You didn’t even notice when the bell above the door rang— it couldn’t be anyone interesting because it was five on a Tuesday and you knew whoever had just walked in was probably in a rut similar to your own. You asked the bartender for some cheap beer and the cold glass found its place in your palm— the condensation making it wet and cold. You were staring at the many bottles on the shelf behind the bar when the bartender placed a shot of whiskey in front of you and you looked up at him with an eyebrow tiredly raised. 

“I didn’t ask for this.” You murmured. Your words were slightly muffled by the palm pressed against your cheek. He smiled warmly back at you and pointed a meaty thumb towards the end of the bar. 

“Didn’t need to, Darlin’.” You looked over at the person who had ordered this and you swore your eyebrows shot off your forehead. 

Jesus Christ, it was Billy Hargrove. 

“Billy Hargrove, holy shit!” You smiled and motioned for him to join you. Your feet were too sore and you had too many things to carry over, but he seemed more than happy to shuffle over to you. 

“You lost the mullet?!” You gasped, reaching your hand up to mess with the front of his hair. It was long at the top but shaved down on the sides. It was sharp, and the smile your touch brought from him made your heart stutter. Yeah, good to know you still felt the same way you did in high school, and by the way he was blushing, he did too. 

“Yeah, figured since I’m almost twenty it was about time.” He smiled down at you and you could have kicked your feet in girly giddiness. You tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned your hand against your fist. 

“What brings Billy Hargrove back to the land of the living, huh?” 

He scoffed and took the shot he had ordered for you, slamming it back down on the counter. You flinched at the hostility of his actions— this Billy was angrier than the one that left two years ago, and the way his tongue slid across his white teeth made a shiver roll up your spine. You were still trying to figure out if the shiver was welcomed or not when he started to speak. 

“Hawkins was a fuckin’ wasteland, Babe.” He seemed to snarl the words and the way he said ‘Hawkins’ made you believe it could have been a swear.

“Oh, come on. It couldn’t have been that bad?” You scooted closer to him so you could rest a hand on his knee. He intertwined your fingers together and his grip on your hand was almost suffocating. 

“It was full of monsters, Y/N. You don’t even know.” He mumbled and you had to lean closer to hear him. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, and you squeezed his hand once so he would look up at you. 

“Well, you’re back home now.” You smiled and he looked down at your lips quickly before looking up at you and giving you a small nod. 

“I guess I am, huh?”

You had spent the rest of the evening in that shitty dive-in bar, and Billy had told you so much about the past two years that made you want to cry and scream and kick Neil and this stupid Harrington kid to the curb. He felt the same way about your life situation— the stagnancy, the blandness of it all, and the more drinks you had, the louder you talked. 

“And he had this stupid fucking hair, Babe. Like I swear, it was taller than his dick was long. There is no way that he wasn’t compensating for somethin’.” He drank another shot and leaned into you. You had since moved from the bar stools to a booth in the far corner near the peeling wallpaper and were now curled into his side. “Like he musta’ spent an hour every day on it.” You howled with laughter and threw your head back onto his shoulder. God, you missed him. You missed the way he smiled down at you and you missed the way he smelled (cigarettes and bubblegum), and you missed the weight of his arm around your shoulders. 

“God, this kid sounds like a fuckin’ hazard, Bill.” You laughed and turned the large pitcher of beer in front of you so it was easier to pick up and pour. 

“You shoulda seen the kid he was babysitting though. Beautiful thick curls and one of the goofiest little smiles you could imagine. Corrupted the shit outta him. There was a stupid dance they had just after Max joined their Party and he showed up with this hair that looked like it was done the night before. Poor kid. He was my favorite outta all of ‘em.”

“Him and that Jane kid are my favorites I think.” He snorted at your comment. 

“Yeah, she seemed to really like to stick it to me and her dad.”

“Her dad was the sheriff, right?” You asked, letting your hand drift up to his chest to play with his Virgin Mary pendant his mother had given him in the fifth grade. You were the only person who he allowed to touch it and you hoped it had stayed that way while he lived in Hawkins and got frisky with other girls (“cows, all of em.” “hey, that’s not nice.” “its true though”). He sighed pleasantly at your touch and pulled you closer to him to plant a kiss tot he top of your head. 

“I missed you, my love.” He mumbled into your scalp and you simply hummed in response. Your glazed eyes drifted over the bar (it looked far less dingier with Billy surrounding you and a few good drinks in your system), and you smiled when it settled on the old pool table just off the side of the dance floor. It was empty— it rarely was— so without announcing what you were doing, you pulled Billy out of your quiet corner towards the table. 

“What d’you think you’re doing, Princess?” He laughed when he saw the direction you were pulling him in. You didn’t respond but instead pulled him hard enough to where he was pressing you against the pool table. His hands came to rest on your hips, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him just close enough to where your lips almost brushed his. 

“I seem to have forgotten how to play. Can you teach me?” You tilted your head when you said this and looked at him through your lashes. You knew he truly hadn’t changed all that much when you heard him growl lowly under his breath at your actions and when you felt him press his hips harder into your own. 

“I’ll teach you.” He mumbled, his eyes now a few shades darker. There was a rougher side to him now, though. It was a darker side that he had brought home with him, and a thrill breath filled your body when he turned away to get the cue sticks. You watched him form the balls into the mold, and after everything was set up the way he liked, he walked over to you. He handed you the stick and you waited for him to walk around you. 

He pushed your lower back, making you bend over. “You gotta get the right angle when you’re playing.” He said, and you could literally hear his smirk in his voice. He pushed you further and positioned himself so he could position your hands properly on the stick. You made sure to move your hands slowly though, and the way you wrapped your hand around the thicker end of the cue got the message across. You knew this because he pressed his hips harder into your bottom and you gasped at the pressure you felt. God, he was bigger than you remembered. You pressed yourself into him, and he simply let out a shuddering breath against the back of your neck in response. 

Knowing exactly what you were doing (not just with but also with the game), you hit the balls almost perfectly, only three or four balls not finding their homes in the pockets littered around the edges of the table. You straightened up against him and turned around, smiling when you saw his lust blown pupils and almost frazzled blonde hair. 

“I still got it, I guess.” You swayed in your spot with your hands behind your back. His eyes flickered quickly from your breasts (which were now on display— you had unbuttoned the top three over the duration of the night) to your lips to your eyes and back down to your lips. His hesitation in him deciding whether or not to kiss you was starting to get on your nerves and you rolled your eyes. 

“Jesus, Billy. Just kiss me already, yeah?” You frowned. After your request (demand) he shot forward and held your cheeks in his hands before slamming his lips onto your own. He was just as warm as you remembered, but he now tasted more like cigarettes than he did candy and that thought troubled you only slightly. You gripped the collar of his denim jacket and pulled him closer to you, gasping when you felt the cold of his necklace brush against you flushed skin. His tongue darted out quickly, taking quick tastes of your lips before you taught it between your teeth and making him gasp in response. The quick pain from your teeth was soothed by the softness of your tongue soon after and he moaned at the warmth of your taste. 

You pulled away from him breathlessly and looked up at him. You laughed out loud when you saw your lipstick smudged around his mouth and you fisted the pink sleeve of your shirt in your hand to try to wipe some of it off. 

“You’re covered.” You snorted and you only seemed to smear the lipstick further. “Oh shit.” You laughed. The smile he gave you would have to take your breath away if it wasn’t for your intoxication. You tucked your head into his denim collar and took a deep breath of cigarettes and cheap cologne. 

“Take me home, Billy.” You mumbled into his neck and there was a low purr in response to your words. He wasted no time in grabbing your hand and running the best he could down the street. You threw your head back and laughed, your feet scuffing and the chill of the summer night making goosebumps appear over your arms. Billy had turned a corner, and only stopped when you squeezed his hand enough for him to feel. He turned back to you and grunted in surprise when you threw your arms around his neck, kissing him hard on the mouth. He wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth and battling your own in some slippery and beautiful dance. Your hands moved to cup the sides of his neck and you could feel his own pulse hammering under your touch. 

“Princess, I thought you wanted to go home?” He mumbled against your lips and you moaned quietly when you felt him smirk against your mouth. His grip was tight on your waist and his pelvis was pushed against yours, giving you a taste of the friction he was capable of. He pushed himself off the wall and turned you so your own back was pressed against it. He grabbed your wrists and lifted them above your head, effectively pinning you in one position. He pulled away and clicked his tongue when your lips chased his own. 

“You want me to fuck you right here, huh?” He mumbled low and pressed himself against you once more. You moaned softly as to not gather any unwanted attention, but hitched your leg around his own. “You’d like that wouldn’t you.” You only moaned in response. 

He pulled away from you once more and it was only a few more blocks until he pulled you into some ratty apartment building and up two flights of stairs. You snorted when he turned back and told you to be quiet after he had tripped over one of the musty rugs lining the hallway. It hadn’t been soon enough when he found his door and patted his jacket in an attempt to find his keys. Fueling his desire and pushing him closer to the edge, your hand drifted over the front of his torso and into the front pocket of his tight jeans where you found them. He gasped at the feeling of you so close to him and he seemed frozen when you dangled them in front of his face. You kissed his denim-clad shoulder and hummed smugly against it. 

“Not the only thing I felt down there, though.” With that, he grabbed the keys from your grasp and shoved them into the doorknob. You both fell into the foyer and he slammed you hard against the inside of the door, shucking both of your jackets roughly and nipping his way from your lips, over your cheek, and down your neck. 

“Billy, please.” You breathed, and he kissed your pulse lightly. You barely had time to think about looking around his living space before he led you down one of the hallways and pressed you tenderly against the walls, kissing and nipping his way across your skin and making your breath hitch in your throat. 

Eventually, you had made it to his room, and it was only a matter of time before your fingers found the buttons on his shirt and began revealing more skin for your lips to trace. You kissed his collar bones and his throat softly and smiled against his tan skin when you heard him whimper quietly. His hands came up to intertwine themselves in your hair and you were surprised that his roughness from the street and from the hallway didn’t find a place here. Instead, he simply held you by your hair as you kissed your way down his torso, making his skin blush prettily under your touch. You found your place at your knees, and let your nose brush softly against the line of his low riding jeans, kissing his navel before undoing his belt and pulling all of his clothes off in one motion. 

You kissed the tip of him and were encouraged in your motions by the tightening grip of your hair. You kissed him again before taking the tip in your mouth and swirling your tongue gently around it, tasting him in your mouth, the weight of him making you hum. Your pleasant hum traveled up from Billy’s cock to his navel and settled in his stomach where it continued to flutter and fill him with warmth. You licked the bottom of his dick, tracing the lines and ridges and veins a few times before taking all you could in your mouth and pumping what you couldn’t. You felt the soft skin of his balls and rolled them expertly in your hand, making him keen with pleasure, and making him thrust into your face unintentionally. 

“Fuck, sorry Princess.” He grunted and brushed your hair from your face. You ushered a quick ‘it’s okay’ before taking him in your mouth once again and looking at him through your lashes. The view of him disappearing into your perfect lips had a coil tightening in his belly, and before he could cum he pulled you up to kiss you hard. The taste of him in your mouth made him moan, and the rumble of it make your squeak happily. 

He shucked your shirt over your head soon enough and with it your skirt, leaving you standing in front of him in your mismatched bra and panties. You tried to cover yourself with his burning gaze, but before you could, he grabbed your hands and kissed your wrists. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. His voice, though quiet seemed to echo around the room. “You’re gorgeous, Princess.” He reaffirmed his point by pushing you back onto his unmade bed and kissing your belly and ribs. Your hands mimicked his own a mere minute ago and tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him up to kiss you. Your lips touched briefly before he found himself unhooking your bra straps and pushing the garment around your waist. He sucked a nipple into his mouth and the warmth of him made you sigh. He nipped you a few times, making you jump before his fingers found your core and began rubbing you over your cotton underwear. 

“Oh, Bill.” You moaned and felt your hips begin to rock against his hand. Taking the hint and not wanting to deny either of you the pleasure you wanted he shoved your panties to the side and plunge two fingers into you while stimulating your clit with the rough palm of his hand. 

“Who made you so fuckin’ wet, huh?” He growled against your lips, and when you only responded with a quiet moan, he pulled his fingers out and spanked your pussy roughly, making your jolt and groan with pleasure. 

“Answer me, Princess.” He said, looking down at you. You were pressed into his thin pillows and your hair was spread out prettily across them, and the blissed-out expression on your face had him on the edge once more. He hit you again and your eyes flashed open to meet his burning ones. The blue that you had found so gorgeous was nearly swallowed completely by black and you pulled him down to smash your lips to his own. 

“You made me so fuckin’ wet, Billy. You didn’t even need to get me naked to do it either. I wanted to ride you so hard on top of that damn pool table where everyone could see.” You rutted yourself onto his fingers, and you swallowed his moan of surprise with satisfaction. His fingers were thick inside of you, and the cold metal of his many rings provided feelings of stimulation on stimulation— you thought you were going to explode at this point. 

“Please, Billy.” You moaned as his fingers curled in you, hitting the spot that made you see stars. Needing no more invitation, he tore a hole down the center of your panties and lined himself up at your entrance after rolling a condom quickly onto his cock. 

“You sure you want this, Y/N?” His voice sounded almost choked and you thrust your hips up to his, feeling the tip of his dick enter you, but he pulled back before you could do anything more. 

“I need words, Angel.” He whispered against the crook of your neck. 

“Please, I want you.” You tugged at his hair, and you gasped when your affirmation made him hook both of your legs around his shoulders. 

“Good girl.” He grunted and pushed himself into you slowly until he bottomed out inside of you, making your both coil around each other and moan at how simply full you both felt. The ridges pressed against him in the best way, and you fluttered around him, making him moan against you as he began thrusting. It was slow at first, but when he re-adjusted you so you had a pillow under your bum and were nearly folded in half, he quickened his pace until it was almost brutal in nature. The sound of his thick thighs slapping against yours, and the crude sounds of his sliding in and out of you added to the feeling of him hitting your g-spot almost perfectly every thrust. 

“Fuck, Billy. ‘M not gonna last long.” You were surprised at the rushing feeling of your orgasm fast approaching, but the stimulation you received before this and the pent-up tension from your work day and the bar explained so much. He began to fuck into you then, rutting so hard against you that the sounds you were making didn’t sound like a noise you would make. Your entire body jolted when he began to rub your clit relentlessly and within thirty seconds, your toes were in the hair curling, and your back was arched into him. Once he had fucked you through your high, and once he was sure you were fully satiated, he pulled out of you and ripped off the condom and crawled up so he was straddling your waist. 

He pulled at himself, and you scraped your nails over his thighs in pure anticipation of him marking you. His heavy breaths soon became moans which turned to grunts when thick ropes of cum found its place on your chest and neck. He pumped himself only a few times more to really milk himself, and when he looked down at you, you smiled and giggled softly at the mess he had made. Without even thinking, he crawled off of you and began walking out into the hall towards what you assumed would be the bathroom. You propped yourself on your elbows and looked around the room trying to find your clothes and purse so you could get out from the warm bed and make your great escape. 

You were broken from your surveying when Billy’s head popped back into the room. He had a genuine grin on his face that sent shivers down your spine in the best way, and his voice was raspy when he spoke. 

“You gonna join me or what, Sugar?”

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy #billy Hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fluff #dacre montgomery #dacre #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery imagine #stranger things #stranger things 2 #beyond stranger things #stranger things 3

[shadowsong26fic]

Auxiliaries!Verse Story 2

Story: Bout

Verse: Auxiliaries

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG

Fandom: Star Wars

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, Cin Draillig

Summary: Five years after meeting Anakin Skywalker on Malastare, Obi-Wan is back at the Temple, observing a senior initiate saber class.

Warnings: None for this particular bit, I don’t think; there will be for other stories in this AU, the big ones being violence, war, slavery.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: This is an AU in which Queen Amidala’s ship stopped someplace other than Tatooine for repairs. (The rest of TPM goes basically as in canon–someone else blew up the control ship, I’m sort of handwaving that detail, at least for now).

Auxiliaries is a little different from how my other stories are structured, in that it’ll be told as a series of short fics/vignettes in the overall AU (the title of which will be explained in later sections), not necessarily in chronological order. It will, as a heads up, probably be Obianidala of some flavor eventually.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was considering taking on a Padawan.

Well, to tell the truth, he had been seriously considering it for five years, ever since he’d had to leave Anakin Skywalker behind on Malastare. He had, at that point, been a full Knight for over three years, and while he hadn’t been entirely sure he was ready for the responsibility, he had left the planet feeling an aching absence in his life, one he couldn’t quite quantify.

He hadn’t mentioned any of this to the Council, but he had, between missions, discreetly started observing some of the senior initiate classes, and teaching a few Soresu workshops when he was on Coruscant for long enough. There had been several promising students, but none had felt quite <i>right.</i> Not in the five years he had been--quietly, unofficially--looking.

He knew, of course, that his interest wasn’t actually a secret. It wasn’t all that long ago, after all, that he had been in the position of these eager, hopeful twelve-year-olds, noting the Knights and Masters who paid close attention to the children when they visited. He only hoped he hadn’t completely crushed anyone who was depending on him, the way he’d been so thoroughly desperate before Qui-Gon had finally accepted him.

And, while he hadn’t made any formal requests, or any official announcement to the Council, he knew his unproductive interest was starting to raise eyebrows among his superiors. No one had said anything to him yet, but he had the feeling that, if he didn’t make a selection soon, Master Yoda likely would.

So, here he was again, observing a group of twelve-year-olds running intermediate Djem So katas, looking for one that stood out.

His eye did keep getting drawn to the girl on the end; a slightly over-exuberant Togruta girl, bouncing slightly on her toes between repetitions.

“She’s good.” Master Cin Draillig said, coming up behind him.

“So I’ve noticed. Impatient, though,” he said.

“Among other things,” he said wryly. “But she’ll steady as she matures, I think. With the right master to keep her from getting herself into too much trouble in the meantime.”

Ah. A supremely unsubtle hint. He took a closer look at the girl. “The reverse grip, was that her idea, or yours?”

“Hers,” he said. “She also wants to learn Jar Kai.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow shot up. “A handful indeed. What’s her name?”

“Ahsoka Tano,” Draillig supplied.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, as he watched Ahsoka flow quickly--if a little less smoothly than she might have if she hadn’t been rushing--back into her kata.

“She does have a few more months to be chosen,” the sabermaster said.

But she’s stubborn and impatient, and--wait, I think I remember hearing about her. The one Master Plo found. The Kel Dor had, he was aware, wanted to take a particular Padawan not too long ago, but had been denied, as he was deemed too close to the child, bordering on a paternal attachment.

“May I?” Obi-Wan asked.

Cin Draillig grinned, and bowed. “Be my guest.” He turned to the collected students. “Initiate Tano,” he called. “Come here.”

She stopped halfway through a move, caught her balance with practiced ease. “Yes, Master,” she chirped. She darted over to them, and bowed politely.

“Knight Kenobi, she’s all yours.” The sabermaster stepped back.

“Three touches,” Obi-Wan said. “Begin when ready.”

The girl circled him for a moment, before launching into her attack--she was better, Obi-Wan noticed, when she had an actual opponent to work against, rather than running katas over and over.

“Don’t neglect defense,” he advised her, after he made the first touch. “Specializing in Djem So doesn’t require quite as much of a quick victory as Ataru, but it still leaves openings.”

“Yes, Master,” she said obediently, scowling a little in concentration, before launching at him again.

She did better on the second point, taking his advice to heart. He let her run her set of moves before hitting her again, this time on her knee.

“Better,” he said. “You know, a reverse grip gives you less range of motion.”

“Feels more natural,” she said.

“Mmhmm,” he said, allowing that for now. “Try the unnatural way for the third point.”

She sighed, but shifted her grip and spun into action.

Let’s try distracting you, too, little one. “So,” he said, letting her think she was pushing him back a few steps. (The other initiates were watching, of course. He’d expected as much; he wondered if any of them caught on to what he was doing. Ahsoka hadn’t seemed to--but, without experience, that was difficult from the inside.)

“So?” she asked, making a slightly over-wide cut at his neck; he sidestepped with ease.

“Master Draillig tells me you’re interested in Jar Kai.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Are you aware of its weaknesses?”

“Over-reliance on the second saber is the big one.” She narrowly avoided a third touch by an unnecessarily flashy backflip. “So if you lose it, it leaves you wide open on defense, and your attacks lose a lot of their power.”

“Very good. And how do we counter this?”

“Practice,” she said. “Lots and lots of practice. Dominant and off hand.”

“Indeed.” He slid down her blade and disarmed her, letting his rest just below her chin.

“Solah,” she said, and grinned up at him. “How’d I do?”

“Hmm,” he said, but he couldn’t quite bite back a smile of his own. She had done quite well, in fact. A little overeager, but she was also young. Master Draillig was right; she would steady out with maturity. “Thank you for the bout, Initiate Tano.”

There was a flicker of uncertain disappointment in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with more of her determined optimism. “Thank you for the honor, Master Kenobi,” she said, bowing, and then returning to her katas.

All right, he thought. She could be...perhaps. I’ll speak to some of her other teachers, and then…

Well. He hadn’t quite made his decision yet. Taking on a Padawan was a grave responsibility. It didn’t do to rush such things. But he had been searching for five years, and Ahsoka Tano…

He could see a very enjoyable--and exhausting--decade or so ahead of him, should he choose to take her on.

#auxiliaries!verse #shadowsong26fic #shadowsong writes star wars

[thewebofslime]

Judicial Watch today announced it received 756 pages of newly uncovered emails that were among the materials former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton tried to delete or destroy, several of which were classified and were transmitted over her unsecure, non-“state.gov” email system. Hillary Clinton repeatedly stated that the 55,000 pages of documents she turned over to the State Department in December 2014 included all of her work-related emails. In response to a court order in another Judicial Watch case, she declared under penalty of perjury in 2015 that she had “directed that all my emails on clintonemail.com in my custody that were or are potentially federal records be provided to the Department of State, and on information and belief, this has been done.” In 2017, the FBI uncovered 72,000 pages of documents Clinton attempted to delete or did not otherwise disclose. Until the court intervened and established a new deadline, the State Department had been slow-walking the release of those documents at a rate that would have required Judicial Watch and the American people to wait until at least 2020 to see all the releasable Clinton material. The production of documents in this case is now concluded with the FBI being only able to recover or find approximately 5,000 of the 33,000 government emails Hillary Clinton took and tried to destroy. Judicial Watch obtained the documents in response to a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) lawsuit filed on May 6, 2015, after the State Department failed to respond to a March 4, 2015, FOIA request (Judicial Watch v. U.S. Department of State (No. 1:15-cv-00687)) seeking: All emails sent and received by former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton in her official capacity as Secretary of State, as well as all emails by other State Department employees to Secretary Clinton regarding her non-“state.gov” email address. This final batch of Clinton emails includes five new classified emails and communications with controversial figures Lanny Davis and Sidney Blumenthal. On April 27, 2011, former British Prime Minister Tony Blair sent classified information discussing Palestinian issues to Clinton’s personal unsecure email account. On May 19, 2011, Blair again sent classified information to Clinton’s personal unsecure email account discussing a “speech.” A classified email exchange between Blair and Clinton took place from January 16, 2009 (while George W. Bush was still president) and January 24, 2009. The subject line is “Re: Gaza.” Blair on January 16, 2009, relayed information he learned from Middle East leaders and noted that he wanted to get something “resolved before Tuesday” (when Obama would be sworn in as president). Clinton responded to Blair on January 19, 2009, writing “Tony – We are finally moving and I am looking forward to talking w you as soon as I’m confirmed, tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest. Your emails are very helpful so pls continue to use this address,” [email protected]. Blair followed up by saying “It would be great if we could talk before any announcements are made.” Retired Army Gen. Jack Keane sent Clinton classified information, apparently during early 2009. The subject line of the email is redacted, but the text appears to show a discussion on information about Iraq. In September 2, 2010, email exchange marked classified, longtime Clinton confidante Lanny Davis tells Secretary Clinton that he could serve as a private channel for her to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, saying he had a “private and highly trusted communication line, unofficial and personal, to PM N[etanyahu].” Davis goes on to say “[N]o one on the planet (other than your wonderful husband) can get this done as well as you.…” Secretary Clinton responds with classified information, saying “I will reach out to you directly and hope you will continue to do the same w me. The most important issue now is [Redacted B1].” In a September 18, 2010, email, Davis emails Clinton to tell her that “As soon as I wrote last email, I reverted to my old role as your crisis manager and worrier about you, read the word ‘optics’ I suddenly felt – oops. I am registered under FARA for one or more foreign governments or businesses. I don’t think it would look right. I want to avoid any even slight chance of misperception.” Clinton replies, “Thx for looking out for me, my friend. I’ll tell Cheryl to stand down.” Davis replied, “100% off-the-record.” An email with the subject line “Clinton-Ivanishvili Meeting” shows a meeting with pro-Putin, Georgian billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili, who was reportedly involved in a Russia-rigged election for president of the Republic of Georgia. On May 29, 2012, longtime Clinton political operative Craig T. Smith emailed Cheryl Mills, asking if a meeting between Secretary Clinton and Georgian billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili was “happening,” saying: “Would be a good thing if it can work out.” Mills tells Smith she’ll revert and forwards the email to Jake Sullivan, Human Abedin and Lona Valmoro, asking them if they were setting up the meeting, noting that it involved “meeting with the opposition” and asking what she could tell Smith. Valmoro responds that the meeting with Ivanishvili was “on the schedule.” An undated email from former Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott to Clinton discusses that “VP” Joe Biden was “thinking seriously about a Biden-Putin Commission.” The documents reveal that Clinton had been assigned an official government email address with which she could have conducted government business, [email protected]. She also reportedly had additional government addresses at her disposal: [email protected] and [email protected], neither of which were configured to send or receive emails. The documents uncovered by Judicial Watch also include an email to Tamera Luzzatto, former chief of staff during Clinton’s tenure as U.S. Senator for New York. Clinton talks about getting “a secure computer set up soon.” Tamera–this is my new address, but, pls know, I cannot check it during the day unless I leave my office. I hope to have a secure computer set up soon to be able to get email during the workday. Much love, H. On October 29, 2009, a Clinton Foundation employee and close Clinton adviser Sid Blumenthal forwarded a proposal for a commercial contract related to improvised explosive devices (IEDs) from retired CIA officer-turned-contractor Gary Berntsen, to Clinton (copying Cheryl Mills), saying that Berntsen had been “unable to break through the bureaucracy with it.” Mills then forwarded the email to Jake Sullivan. Blumenthal noted that “Cody [Shearer] and I are following up.” Blumenthal and Shearer were both implicated in the creation of the Obama administration’s anti-Trump Russia “collusion” counterintelligence operation by providing “reports” relating to Trump-Russia collusion to the U.S. Government. On January 29, 2009, Blumenthal emailed Secretary Clinton a memo he titled “Good Cop, Bad Cop”, where Blumenthal informs Clinton that his sources tell him that an “attack” on the appointment by Obama of former Sen. George Mitchell as Special Envoy to the Middle East was “coordinated by Jewish institutional leaders and carefully scripted.” Also cited is Mitchell’s “Arab descent” as making him “politically vulnerable.” Blumenthal told Clinton that any conversations she had with Netanyahu “flows directly and instantly back to top (U.S.) Jewish leadership.” Further on in his memo, Blumenthal says that Netanyahu and “Jewish leadership” should “be expected to use political means, including outsourcing personal attacks” to counter Obama administration moves and said Netanyahu was “deeply connected to political networks in the U.S. – media, Jewish groups, Republican leaders, and right-wing Christian” organizations. To provide a “heat shield” from Netanyahu’s attacks, Blumenthal advises Clinton that Obama should hire a “bad cop” who is “organically tied to the President” and a “political appointee, Jewish, considered a true friend of Israel…” Clinton responded by saying, “Thanks for these. And I will call you in the next few days.” In an October 20, 2012, email exchange between top State Department and Clinton Foundation officials discussing arrangements for Bill and Hillary’s trip to Haiti. That trip focused on the opening of the Caracol Industrial Park, funded by a $300 million+ grant from USAID. The Caracol Park came to be seen as a hugely wasteful disaster, that was supposed to create 65,000 jobs for Haitians but as of January 2015 only produced 4,500. On January 25, 2009, Chelsea Clinton’s high school friend Nicole Davison (now Nicole Davison Fox), made a hiring recommendation to Secretary Clinton for the State Department. Clinton forwarded Davison’s recommendation on to Cheryl Mills, telling Mills to “follow up” on the “wonderful recommendation.” Mills replied, “K.” Maggie Williams, campaign manager of Clinton’s failed 2008 presidential bid, forwarded to Clinton a note sent to her by then-managing partner of the Gallup Organization, which said that “Gallup Polls suggest Obama’s plan to expedite withdrawal from Iraq could help improve some residents’ opinion [referring to Iraqis’ opinion of US leadership.]” Williams proposed to Secretary Clinton sending a group of high-level State Department officials to Gallup “for a presentation”, including Jack Lew, Jim Steinberg, Cheryl Mills and Lissa Muscatine. Williams would later suggest adding Jake Sullivan and Anne-Marie Slaughter to the Gallup presentation. On February 18, 2009, chairman of telecom company Centurylink, Bill Owens, emailed Clinton (copying Abedin) asking if he could get a meeting with the secretary during her upcoming trip to China. Abedin responded, saying that she was talking to Owens’ assistant to “arrange for the two of you to visit for a few minutes” during Clinton’s trip. Owens had been appointed Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 1994 by President Bill Clinton. After retiring from the Navy in 1996, he became chairman of defense contractor SAIC. In a January 3, 2011-March 1, 2011, email thread, Susanne Helmsley, a staffer at the World Economic Forum (ie, Davos) emailed leftist Christian writer-activist Jim Wallis to inform him that former British PM Gordon Brown would not be invited to the upcoming Davos meeting, because “our policy (and this makes Davos distinctive) is to only invite people who are still in power.” She also noted that the “theme” of the upcoming Davos meeting would be “Shared Norms for the New Reality”, noting that “the discussions of values will be a major element in Davos, since norms are only sustainable if built on values.” Wallis mentions his prior partnership with Bangladeshi banker Mohammad Yunus, who would be charged the next year with tax fraud and embezzling from the bank he’d founded, Grameen Bank. On five occasions Clinton’s secretary, Lauren Jiloty, sent Clinton’s sensitive daily itinerary to her on her unsecure email account. On January 29, 2009, State Department official Ashley Yehl received a Judicial Watch press release from Associated Press reporter Matt Lee about a lawsuit Judicial Watch filed on behalf of State Department official David Rodearmel challenging Clinton’s appointment as Secretary of State. Yehl forwarded the email on to several other State people, who in turn forwarded it on to State’s Legal Office and official James Thessin. Thessin sent it along to Cheryl Mills who sent it on to Secretary Clinton, assuring Clinton that the Department of Justice would defend her against the Judicial Watch lawsuit. “We continue to uncover classified information mishandled by Hillary Clinton in emails that she tried to hide or destroy. This is further evidence of the urgency for the DOJ to finally undertake a complete and legitimate criminal investigation,” said Judicial Watch President Tom Fitton. “Attorney General Barr should immediately order a new investigation of the Hillary Clinton email scandal.”

#TheWebOfSlime