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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Heyo! Saw you wanted some individual character requests! I'm a sucker for Grog, and there isn't enough out there for him, so I was wondering if you could do a Grog x Sorceress!reader where the reader doesn't think grog would have a reason to like her since she isn't a melee fighter. Thank you so much!

P.s. Your writing is amazing, and I always love reading your works! ❤️

Thank you for the request! I'm glad you like my writing and hope you enjoy this one! Turned out a bit longer than I intended but that means more content. Anyway, Enjoy! 😘

Seated on the stone balustrade feet dangling over the edge looking over the city in front of you you twiddle your thumbs. You needed a moment away from everyone to sort your mind on your own. There’s a solitude in the dark clouds looming above and the first drops of rain signalling an oncoming storm and it’s never failed you before. Even while there’s no one around, you can confide in such storms knowing your words will be heard but carried away upon the wind and drowned out by the rain and thunder. A good storm won’t judge or hold a grudge. It will simply accept and listen. So here you’ll stay speaking your worries into the abyss and hope for some clarity or ease of mind and heart.

Back inside Grog sits on one side of the table, Scanlan at the other. They hold their respective tankards at the ready as the gnome counts down. By the end of the countdown they swing back their drinks finishing them as fast as they can being cheered on by the rest of Vox Machina and other witnesses to this drinking game. Grog’s determined to win this. While he’s pretty sure his tankard is actually a bucket with a handle, it’s more to scale compared to the gnome’s. Ale spills over the sides of Scanlan’s drink but Grog keeps it neat. No wasting ale after all.

With one last big chug Grog finishes the drink, slams it down on the table roaring in victory as the table shakes beneath his hit. Scanlan puts the remainder of his drink down on the table wiping his face disappointed. Grog looks around the crowd. Some are happy celebrating with him, others pass over money to the happy people for paying up on whatever amount they lost in their bets. How could they even consider Scanlan would win. He’s the best of the best after all and no one can out drink the all mighty Grog. He doesn’t spot you among the crowd and the victory doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. He really hoped you could have seen this one. Where had you gone?

Before Grog can get up and go find you he’s given a refill and the next challenger approaches. New bets are placed, Vex massages his shoulders giving him a pep talk and noting how he’s been making her a lot of money so better keep it up. He doesn’t want to disappoint his friends. One more game. Then he’ll go find you wherever you went.

The next game comes along, and another, and another but he’s done. No more games. When another challenger approaches and the game starts he doesn’t pick up the tankard and pushes away from the table. People ask him what the hell he’s doing but he ignores them. They’ve kept him long enough so he just up and walks before they can stop him. Grog leaves the room but Pike follows behind him worried for her buddy. He never refuses a good ale or a challenge, let alone the two combined.

“Grog? Grog, wait up!” Pike rushes after him leaving the banquet hall behind. Determined Grog still keeps walking but slows down his pace enough to let Pike catch up with him.

“Where are you going? There’s still plenty of ale to be drunk!” Pike reaches for the goliath’s hand to pull him to a stop. He does and turns to face Pike.

“I think I’ve had enough.” Grog says and Pike gasps. Never, never does Grog think he’s had enough to drink. Something must be wrong with him. Is he ill? Does he have a fever? Did someone poison her buddy’s drink? She might go on a war path if someone did and ruined his fun! But Grog seems okay. Physically that is. He’s fine.

“Do you know where she went?” Grog asks, maybe Pike can help him find you and maybe she can talk to you why you left. He doesn’t think you’d want to talk to him about that kind of stuff and while he’d consider himself a good listener, if something’s really up Pike always knows what to do. She can help.

“Who?”

“The pretty sorceress.” Grog states as a matter of fact and it is. Anyone who dares say otherwise clearly need some of those glass thingies Percy keeps on his nose and make him look smart.

“Oh, I don’t know Grog. She left to go get some fresh air.” Pike searches her mind to see where you might have gone. There’s a few places that come to mind but it’s all narrowed down to just the one when thunder rumbles through the sky. She knows exactly where you went and by the looks of it so does Grog.

Grog knows there’s only one place you really love to watch a storm unfold. You’ve told him before and you’ve even watched some storms together there. He shares a look with Pike and picks up his step going where he knows you’ll be, still dragging pike behind. When she doesn’t move fast enough he swings her up on his shoulders, running up the steps as far as they’ll take him, dodging a torch and pushing aside a guard here and there.

Then around the corner he sees you. Feet dangling over the edge, a single push away from what could possibly be a death drop, hand outstretched catching the rain with a sad smile on your face. You’re absolutely gorgeous. More alluring than anyone ever could. If he could paint, Grog would make sure this moment would be captured for eternity just so he would never forget. Maybe he can get some money from Vex to hire a painter? If Scanlan did it, why shouldn’t he?

You’re seated alone at the top of the tower. Lightning flashes through the clouds, sometimes branching down to strike the ground be it mountain or forest, you’re in a valley of safety surrounded by the storm. The drops of rain hit your outstretched arm extended beyond the cover of the overhanging. Cold as they are to the touch you watch them glide around your arm with movement until they too, continue their descend.

“…Sometimes I wish I would just have the courage but I don’t.” You speak into the skies. A burst of lightning strikes in the mountains, the sound echoing and even this high up you can feel the slight tremor of the ground. You know a storm is no sentient being but you read it like a reply no less and continue.

“I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to wield a sword or an axe. I can barely lift one. We have such vastly different lives. Grog’s got no reason to like me in any way.” Thunder strikes again you smile briefly. You’ve come to terms you’ll always like Grog and your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The only reason you’re even spending time together in the first place is because you’re both involved with Vox Machina in one way or another. You’ve got hardly anything in common so if you hadn’t met through them Grog probably wouldn’t even have thought about you twice.

That may sound sad and you’re thankful for getting to know him but Grog has his own life and interests so why should he bother indulging you in yours. He’s already not a big fan of magic and you won’t bother attempting to teach him. It’s not like it’s any interesting stuff and he’d probably be bored out of his mind the entire time. Then again, the theoretics of magic might just not be your strong suit either. It’s more of a natural born gift.

Grog gets this weird feeling in his chest as if he’s been hit by something and it’s being twisted. Kind of like when he got shot by an arrow and Pike had to remove it. It’s not a good feeling. Checking for injury just to make sure he’s fine. It’s clear to him he feels this on the inside; his heart bleeds a little for you. You shouldn’t think that way. He likes you. He likes you a lot actually so you couldn’t be more wrong. Pike nudges him to set her down. He does as they remain around the corner, leaving you unaware of their presence.

“Go talk to her.” Pike whispers and Grog panics for a brief second. How is he even supposed to do this? What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know how this psychology stuff works. That’s what Pike’s for. If people feel sad they often come to her, talk about their worries and problems and then they feel better. How’s he supposed to do that? He’s not Pike.

“She needs you, Grog. I know you like her and she needs you. Go talk to her.” Pike nudges him on into your direction. The goliath isn’t physically moved by her effort but he does move. If Pike says you need him, if you really need him then he’ll be there. Looking over his shoulder one last time to ask Pike for some advise she’s already half way down the stairs leaving you with him. Grog thinks hard for a moment but thinking isn’t his strong suit either so he’ll do what he always does; face the problem head on.

A throat clears behind you and you almost slip from the fright it gave you. A heavy step rushes forward and an arm wraps around your waist pulling you back before you can fall. You’d have spells to save you in case you did fall but you’d rather not and are grateful for your valiant saviour. The bare arm wrapped around your waist is covered in tattoos, markings and scars and engulfs the majority of your middle. It doesn’t take a fool to know this arm belongs to Grog Strongjaw himself.

Flustered you allow the goliath to pull you back onto solid ground and off the balustrade entirely before he lets go of you, making sure you’re right on your feet. How much of your conversation with the skies did he hear? Did he hear anything at all? Grog steps back and stares at his boots. He doesn’t only appear to be more embarrassed than you feel but also apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t fall again and please don’t be angry at me.” Grog closes his eyes tightly afraid you might be mad at him as he was the cause of you almost experiencing a death drop. You’re basically gods but if we’ve learned anything from Keyleth; that doesn’t save you from a splat.

You step forward grab one of his hands in yours drawing his attention. With your index finger you tilt his chin up just enough so he’s looking at you and not over you. These gestures are enough for Grog to open his eyes. When there’s no look of anger on your face the tension in his body falls away just slightly. There’s still some rigidness from nerves but he’s closer to usual Grog.

“Chin up, big guy. You saved me too. I’m not mad.” You smile and the smile is returned. The air is still somewhat awkward so you decided you best get this over with and clear it up.

“How much did you hear?” You ask. The blush rushing to Grog’s cheeks and frantic glancing around to make sure no one else is here to witness it tells you he heard enough.

With a deep sigh you step back to the balustrade sitting down upon it once more but now to face Grog instead of the sky, your hair blowing lightly in the breeze, the rain and occasional illuminated sky behind you leave him staring yet again forgetting your question. He’s just captivated but you calling his name snaps him out of it. Saved it. Still got it. As long as he doesn’t turn to ‘drunk Keyleth’ levels he’ll consider it a win.

“I-uhhhh…. Why don’t you think I like you?” Grog twiddles his thumbs rocking back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels in anticipation of your answer. He knows he heard you tell the sky but he wants to be sure because if he gave you any reason to believe he didn’t like you, he did do something wrong. He’ll pick you over any of those other fools down stairs. He might just even pick you over the best ale. He’d already picked you over the ale he’d been offered. If that isn’t testament to his fondness of you, then what is?

“Ah, so you did hear that. I just- I think-. Ugh, why is this so hard?” You try to express your reasons but words are difficult and feelings even more so to describe yet still you try. Grog waits patiently either way.

“Do you think we would have been friends were it not for our lives being tied together as they are now?” You ask the dreaded question. You don’t even know if you really want the answer afraid that it may break any semblance of hope you had somewhere in your mind. Grog’s brow furrows, deep in thought but mostly confusion.

“Of course we would be. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter. I stay back with my spells and incantations while you run in axe swinging taking down anyone in your path. I read while you train. I sit around in my tower watching the skies while you go out and drink the town dry looking for a fight to enjoy. I could never do what you do and I do not dare to assume you’d have any interest in doing what I do.” The thoughts and feelings find words. A tension lifts from your chest like a breath you didn’t know you were holding just by speaking your mind to the goliath in question.

Grog knows damn well you’re not a fighter in the traditional sense. No steel or arrows for you but that does not mean you’re not a fighter in your own right. If he’s learned anything a fighter comes in many shapes and forms and you fit the description perfectly. You’ve shown determination and strength, courage against all odds and immense skill. You are a fighter.

“When I run into danger kicking ass who’s had my back every time?” Grog asks. There’s a harshness and authority in his voice indicating he’s leading somewhere and you better answer.

“We all have-“ Grog cuts you off.

“No. You have had my back every time.” He corrects. “Who comes watch me train, throwing spells to keep me on my toes? Who does it while reading her books completing not one but two tasks at the same time?”

“I do.” You admit.

“And who helps me kick ass in bar fights? Who cheers me on or joins me in any gamble or drinking game? Who is the best drinking buddy? You are. Now, who spends time with you watching storms whenever they occur up here in the tower or anywhere else?”

“You… do…” Grog’s right.

“I like to spend time with you because I like you. I don’t care you don’t swing an axe. That firestorm you do works just the same and looks way more badass. I’m not the smartest but I know two of the same are not always useful and can be too much. What are you going to do with two when you only need one. You need difference so they compitry- complitarity- colmpli-“ Grog struggles with that word. He’s heard Percy use it in a similar context but why is it such a difficult word to recall. He still tries and just hopes you’ll get what he’s trying to say.

“Complimentary?” You ask. You fear Grog might get himself a migraine if he tries any harder. You still don’t think that’s the correct use of the word but you get it. He’s trying to lift your spirits and it’s working.

“That one. Yes. Complimentary. I don’t just like you, I love you for who you are. You’re special and being different makes you special.” Grog admits he tries to fight the heat rising to his cheeks from admitting what he did but when he sees your smile grow, that’s enough to push his pride aside and let it be. Maybe he can do this thing Pike usually does after all? Maybe not unless it’s you. When he tells you he loves you he means it. When he has to say it to the likes of Vax he’d rather eat his own boots for lunch.

You gesture with your hand and beckon the goliath over to come closer. You rise to stand on the edge of the balustrade and wrap your arms around Grog’s neck holding him close. You feel his arms wrap around you in turn and pull you closer to where your feet barely touch the stone.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” You pull back to look Grog in the eyes as he still holds onto you and take his cheeks between your hands giving him a quick kiss. Grog’s eyes light up and lifts you up higher offering you a kiss of his own. Sweet and short and filled with glee. He sets you back down on your feet but doesn’t let go of you yet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs? Last I checked there was a drinking game going on? Should we show them what we’re made off?” You grin and the proud look on Grog’s face tells you enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.

“Let me tell you the tale of my grand victories-“ Grog starts as he begins leading you back down the stairs, arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his side as you walk.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #vox machina x reader #grog x reader #critical role #vox machina

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shinescape · 3 years

Text

Fansign Event

Idol San x Fem Reader

Requested!

tw: a bit angsty and a very small hint of suggestiveness hahaha.

note: this took me awhile but I do hope you like this anon! Enjoy <3

-San, I know you’re busy but can you help me pick an outfit?- You were pacing in your living room as you waited for him to reply. Seconds later, a new message appeared on your screen.

-I like the first one. Are you wearing this for tomorrow’s fansign? You’re coming right?-

You bit your bottom lip at his reply, hoping that he won’t be too mad at you. -I’m sorry San, but I have plans with my friend tomorrow. I don’t think I can go.-

It took him awhile to reply back and you couldn’t help feeling restless. Tired of pacing around, you sat down on the carpeted floor and leaned against the sofa. He’s definitely upset, you thought. Then, your phone chimed again. After reading his reply, you had come to a definite conclusion. Choi San was upset with you, really upset with you.

-Okay. Have fun-

The whole day your mind was filled with his last reply and how cold it felt. Every task you did, your mind would wander to what he was doing at the exact moment. You had your fair share of quarrels but they weren’t serious. It was either about a missing hoodie or who forgot to wish goodnight before sleeping.

This was another level and it’s eating you up. You made some ramen but your appetite was gone, the hot bowl decorating the dining table as you stared hard at your phone. Hoping that it would chime again, whatever the content was. A tired sighed escape your lips as you started to eat the already warm ramen and succumbed in your own guilt.

“I should not have done that. Now I feel so miserable.” You mumbled followed by another long sigh. A sudden ding was heard and you carefully looked at the sender. -Did you both fight again?- You didn’t know what reason to come up so you end up asking Hongjoong how San was doing at the moment.

-He’s not talking to anyone and was in his room all day.- Before you could finish up a reply he sent another text. -Both of you better make up. Okay?- You replied with an ‘okay’ and put your phone back on the table. This wasn’t supposed to turn out like this but it happened and you had to make things right before it gets worse.

The next day you woke up as usual even when you had trouble sleeping with thoughts of San being upset flooding your head. The effect he had on you was no joke and you realised how lucky you are. Choi San chose to be with you despite having thousands of fans who are trying to get his slightest attention.

You messed up your hair in frustration and went to get ready for the day. The outfit he chose yesterday was lying on the bed staring back at you. You shut your eyes, imagining his bright pink hair and smiling face. “I can do this!” You pumped both your fist mid-air, trying to be positive even when there’s still doubt everything would work out fine.

After getting ready and eating breakfast, you checked your phone and the number of notifications were crazy. There were numerous updates from his fansites.

They were already at the venue and some photos of him were uploaded on social media. You scrolled through the comments and found yourself slowly frowning.

‘Is he okay?’

‘I guess he’s tired from all their recent schedule.’

‘I hope they get a good rest after this event.’

Wow, it really felt like the world was against you right now. Shaking your head from all the negative thoughts, you went to wear your shoes before going out and claiming back your boyfriend’s heart.

To be honest, you were scared of meeting him in person at an official event with your current state. This was the first event you’ve ever attended since the previous ones either clashed with your schedule or like today, were scared to come.

The venue was medium sized but totally packed with fans. You weren’t good with crowds and the number of people attending made you nervous. It was obvious that your relationship was a secret, none of these people would know the cause of their favourite Choi San frowning was all thanks to your dumb self. So much for a surprise.

The event started with them greeting everyone and a bit of fan service here and there. You were watching at your seat, back of the hall with eyes fixated on one person. He was smiling but it never reached his eyes and laughter that sounded forced. He still interacted with the fans but you could tell he wasn’t himself. Then, it was time for the signing event to start. The staff ushered everyone to the side of the hall and made sure the line moved at a smooth pace.

You watched each member take their place at the table and it was really your luck that day. San was seated at the very end, playing with the marker in hand and looking at nothing in particular. It was as if he was trying to find you among the many attendants but that was what you wanted to think.

It felt like forever till it was your turn to walk up the stage and when you did, your hands turned sweaty and cold. Hongjoong saw you and had a smirk on his face, it’s like he’s about to welcome you to hell. You crouched down and watched him sign on your album.

“What a surprise to see you here.” You smiled at him not daring to utter a single word. As you were about to take the album away, he held on it tighter. “I better see him smiling again, you get me?” “Yes sir.” You pursed your lips and gave a flower to him.

“I know it's fake, just take it.” He shook his head and gave the album back to you. One down, six more to go before the real deal is right in front of you. At this point, you had a feeling all of them knew that something happened between the both of you. You wanted to wipe the smug looks on their faces so badly but came to your senses that it was an event. All of them got the fake flowers as well and the fact they shared knowing looks among themselves irked you. As if saying ‘look at her trying to win her boyfriend back by giving us this.’

As you moved from Wooyoung to San, your head was hung so low that he didn’t even notice it was you. Not until he asked for your name and you looked up that the look on his face was beyond shock. He leaned back a bit and narrowed his eyes at you. “San, I’m sorry about yesterday. Please don’t be mad.” Your fingers curled at the edge of the table as you leaned your head on the table trying to get a closer look at his face.

He quietly signed your album and wrote something on a small sticky note. He shut your album and passed it back to you. “Are you not going to say anything to me? This was supposed to be a surprise but I messed up. I’m sorry.” Your eyes locked with him and he shook his head. The fans would think he was acting cute or being playful when he’s actually upset. “Fine then. This is for you.” You stood up and placed the crown on his head.

“How come he gets a crown?!” Wooyoung said in disbelief as he pointed at San’s head. “He’s the King of my heart, that’s why.” San had to fight the urge to smile and instead pushed Wooyoung who pretended to barf at your confession. The fan in front of him even laughed at his actions. You gave one last look at him before going down to your seat. Somehow, you felt as if his eyes were following you.

Right after the event, you were still at the venue, scrolling through updates of the event. There was even a video of Wooyoung being dramatic about the crown you brought for San, and the comments seemed to be better than earlier.

Everyone was glad that he was smiling naturally and actually looked relaxed. You didn’t feel like going back yet and decided to search for that sticky note San placed in your album.

- I’m not going to hold back tonight -

Your eyes widen at the written words and swiftly shut the album back, looking around you just in case there were people nearby. With flushed cheeks, you placed the album back in your bag and started leaving the venue. Head filled with nothing but your boyfriend, Choi San.

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 14

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Warnings: 18+only for explicit sexual content: depictions of sub/dom lifestyle and m/m sexual relationship. If it’s not your thing please keep scrolling. Thank you!

Authors notes: Have I mentioned how confused I was when I first discovered WinterBaron, not because of some boring silly ideas that these men aren't in love, because of course they are. But because everyone apparently thought felt Bucky would be the dominant one? I mean of course to each their own, if that's what gets you there, no shame! But have you ever looked into Helmut Zemo's eyes? Half way through episode three of FATWS (strut to the helicopter anyone?) and I was all "yes daddy" That man is not to be taken lightly. Bucky however is soft and sweet and wants to be held; after you teach him a lesson of course... All that aside I promise I'm working on the conclusion to this story with --shocker-- yet another chapter already brewing. I swear I thought this was over but it looks like I've gotten a taste of their love and I'm not letting go any time soon. I've grown very attached to this trio and I won't be saying goodbye quite yet, segue into saying hi to my new followers! Love you and thanks for taking the time to read! I really do appreciate it. Now, like I said, don't read this trash in public, it ain't proper *wink*

Sorry that I had to edit so much for tumblr reasons lol

At first you hadn’t been sure it was going to be this way again. Zemo seemed so gentle and different which you didn’t mind, but the second he looked at you from the water, you knew and you were so glad for it. You would be his no matter what, but you did so love it when he made you beg.

After drying off and tossing on his cream button down, not bothering with said buttons thank the stars, Zemo started to lead the way through the lounge towards the dinner table but stopped and turned to look at you both with a little smile hinting at his dark intentions.

“What is it?” Bucky asked. He’d taken his wet things off and was in nothing but a towel waiting on Oeznik to bring up dry clothes. Both you and Zemo kept looking him over.

“I was gone for a year James. I’m well aware of how it was between you two.” Zemo says with a dismissive snicker.

Bucky steps back squaring his shoulders ready to defend himself. No one is hiding anything, but of course there is always the worry that feelings have changed now that Zemo is out.

The Baron holds up a hand laughing a little as he shakes his head. “No, I’m not mad, I’m happy you had one another, it is— exactly what I wanted.” Zemo assures you both and Bucky exhales. Zemo looks at you. “I would assume it was different from what we had?”

“Yes, sometimes similar but never the exact same” You answer honestly.

He nods glancing at Bucky sizing him up.

He knows this man could never stand dominating you the way he does, he’s not the sort. Bucky is a physical force of nature, but that’s just it. He's the sort who takes commands not gives them. Still it seems Zemo wants to be sure so he looks at you again. “If this is more to your liking, or if your wants have changed, please. You know I will never force you to do anything. People’s taste change and maybe yours have as well. This life can lose its appeal over time.”

You stop him by stepping forward and take his hand while looking into his eyes and smile sweetly. Slowly, so that he may see just how much you want this, you go down onto your knees, lift his hand, part your lips and suck his thumb into your mouth. The familiar way his fingers cradle your chin make you moan a little as you think about having another part of him. You look up knowing how you must look from this position and Zemo’s jaw muscles flex as he comes closer gazing down on you. His fingers press into your face and when you swirl your tongue around his thumb he shuts his eyes for just a few seconds with a deep sigh at the feel of being reunited with you in this way.

The weight of his other hand on your head tells you to stop and he pulls his thumb free, the wet finger stroking your cheek as he stares down at you, so pleased and relieved to know that you’re still committed to be being his so completely.

“You will need new rules” He says faintly. His voice is tight and you know he wants you here and now, though you can’t see his face anymore because your head is bowed to the man you belong to. The man you obey.

“Yes Baron.” You say, your wide smile hidden from both of them.

“James?” He says stepping away from you, his fingers lingering just a second longer. “I know you enjoyed our times together with her, but…”

“I have to say yes or else it can’t happen.” Bucky finishes for him.

“Exactly.”

“Do I have to get on my knees right now?”

Zemo laughs. “No, not right now. But you will have to learn to listen if this is what you want.”

You want to look so badly. Bucky is going to struggle with it at first. “Yeah well, it’s not like you have’t told me what to do before.” His snark is playful but you know Zemo won’t like it.

“James.”

“I’m kidding.”

“And I’m serious.”

“I know,” He says letting the jokes fade. “And I actually appreciate it. I’m just. Well, it’s new. Maybe I’m a little nervous.” He admits quietly and its so cute you smile wanting to hug him, but Zemo has it covered.

You hear his smile as he speaks and imagine the way he must be standing close, brown eyes gazing into blue. “That's perfectly natural. But you don’t need to fear me, just obey me and everything will be fine.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll find out.”

“What if it’s too much.”

“You already know, I will never go beyond what you can handle. That’s why I need to know now James. Yes— or no.”

Their voices are so low, they are just above a whisper. When you glance up you feel your heart flutter at the sight of Bucky in his arms just as you’d imagined, Zemo waiting patiently, Bucky already looking so soft under his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes” He says with confidence. You look back down and hear the muffled sound of their colliding kiss.

Now what is it they always say? Rules are meant to be broken? You certainly had fun testing the limits at the start of your relationship with Zemo. Well, the Baron must really love a challenge because it seems you and Bucky are cut from the same cloth. Two little shit starters who like to push the limits.

No sooner had Zemo laid out the rules and quite clearly over a lovely plate of hors d’oeuvres and a newly opened bottle of vintage red at the dinner table did Bucky get himself in trouble.

Maybe it's because you only have two rules aboard the ship, but you thought they were fairly simple to follow to be honest.

Never say no to the Baron —safe word, colors and song being the only exception and, don’t fuck James without Helmut’s permission. Simple, somewhat annoying, but that was part of the fun.

And for Bucky;

Rule one; Never question what I do to her.

Rule two; Never say no to me— safe words, colors and song being the only exception

Rule three; Do not fuck her unless I say that you may.

Rule four: Do not come without my permission

He’d said them while pacing calmly behind Bucky who was sitting at the table acting a little too nonchalant about it all.

Zemo could sense his nervous bravado and leaned over Bucky sliding his hand into that thick head of hair, slowly pulling the soldier’s head back. “Shall we see how good you are at following the rules?” He’d hissed in his ear.

You’d watched feeling your own body tense. Please dear god Bucky break at least one you thought hiding your grin.

Of course he broken a rule. How could he not, it was all too tempting. The sad thing is you’re not sure if he really meant to.

It was over dinner— desert actually.

Chocolate mousse, your favorite which the Baron knew. He loves to toy with you, and always has, making you do little things before you’re allowed to indulge. Not out of any need to deny you food, it wasn’t the food, it was the control and your lack of it. He’ll probably do the same with the tv or books whatever it is you want you’ll have to earn it playing his little games.

Tonight to ease back into the life you’d both been forced to set aside, he’d made you sit on your hands like a shamed school girl until he and Bucky had finished their desert first.

Bucky however thought this was a little unnecessarily sexist and cruel and said as much which broke rule number one. Never question what I do to her.

“Oh come on, don’t be an ass” He’d grumbled spooning another bite into his mouth while you sat peeking up though your head stayed down. He will pay for that, you thought feeling the warm breeze stir as the yacht pressed on towards the setting sun.

Helmut said nothing. In fact, he sat in silence just waiting, letting Bucky finish. When he was all done, Zemo smiled. “Good?” He asks.

Finally you think. Let it start.

“The mousse?”

He nods.

“Yeah, great actually.”

“Good. Why don’t you go and feed it to her.” He says “Since you're so concerned.”

Bucky glances at you sitting there waiting patiently, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “All right?”

He gets up, rounds the table and grabs a chair.

“No. On your knees.” Comes the voice of authority.

Bucky pauses, but he does in fact let go of the chair, turns yours around with you in it and gets down in front of you. You glance up at him and he gives you a quick smile.

Opening your mouth you let him spoon the first bite in and it tastes even better than you’d expected.

“Open your legs.” Helmut tells you. Of course you do. “Pull the suit away and look at her.” He says to Bucky.

You see Bucky hesitate, but he does and the air brushes your exposed skin. You take a deep breath in knowing they both see the way you pulse under their lustful gaze. “Do you see how wet this makes her?” Helmut asks, his voice is low.

Bucky’s pupils dilate, his fingers grip your thigh. “Yes.”

“Look at her and remember that this is what she likes, what she wants, what she has been waiting to have. Stop trying to save a woman who doesn’t want to be saved James.”

You watch his eyes and see him wrestling with the truth of that lovely slick and sticky sweetness that you know he wants to touch. This had been exclusively his for a year. He knows exactly what it feels like to dip his fingers in; what it tastes like, what it smells like and how it feels when he bottoms out inside of you and you say his name, not his silly nickname. His real name. Now he knows that he will have to wait until another man tells him when he can have that again-- and that you like it.

When he exhales slowly, daring to run his thumb across your now throbbing clit, you know that he likes it too.

“Finish.”

Bucky glances up at you one last time and sees how you’re trying not to make a sound. He lets go and the bathing suit covers you again. You relax and slowly open your mouth, hoping he does truly understand. You still love him. You’re still his as much as you are Zemo’s but you were Zemo’s first. You will always be Zemo's and you will always play by his rules.

Bucky tips the cool spoon into your mouth and you pull the chocolate from the silver.

“Did you like it?” Helmut asks.

You open your eyes and nod.

“Answer me.”

“Yes Barron.” You say around the bite.

He comes up behind Bucky and smooths his hand over the mans head, and down along the back of his neck gripping. He holds him as leans down to speak in his ear. “I know it’s your first time, so I will make allowances tonight, and tonight only. But I can not have you pushing back, thinking you can break rules when we’ve not even started, yes?”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat wondering what he’ll say. He’s still looking at you and for a second you think it might be too much for him.

“Yes.” He says quietly.

“Yes, what?” Helmut asks moving around to his side.

Bucky looks up, and you see it, the moment he looks into Helmut’s soft brown eyes which are no more than a lure to draw his willing victims in and says, “Yes Baron.”

“Good.” He knows now and so do you. Bucky is truly his. Helmut savors this as much as you did that spoon fed chocolate. You can see the hairs on his arms rise with a chill and his eyelids lower as he stares at this man you’re sure he’s spent as much time thinking of as he has you, possibly more. “Go downstairs to our bedroom.” He tells Bucky who seems surprisingly meek when Helmut hold his face this way; clutched tight in his grasp like an angry headmaster “Strip down to your underwear, place your hands behind your back, and wait in the center of the room.”

Zemo’s eyes scan the striking face of the soldier he once controlled against his will, so happy to know that this time he’s given himself to the Baron of his own volition.

You don’t look at him when you are led into the room, you keep your head down and let Zemo guide you straight to the bed where he sits you down and turns his attention to the man waiting.

Only then do you dare to peek over at Bucky still standing like a silent guard. He’s got his hands behind his back and has undressed, just as he was told to do. You can see that his cock is as hard as stone beneath his black boxer briefs; and with him unable to do anything about it.

All you can do is smile. After Zemo is done with him you’re sure he’ll learn his lesson, or exactly how to break the rules again and again.

Looking from one pet to the other, Zemo gives a little sigh. It’s the sound of man spoiled by too many toys. “Come here.” He says.

Obediently, Bucky walks over, the look on his face somewhat serious but it’s clear his defenses are all but forgotten.

“Have you decided how this will play out yet?” Zemo asks once he’s standing in front of you both. Bucky looks Zemo over and for a split second you remember that he could easily overpower the Baron and you worry, but when he lowers his head and drops his shoulders, nodding just a little you smile remembering that he did not come here for that. You saw the way his heart broke when they took Zemo off to prison. You saw the way he smiled when he didn’t know you where looking as he held his phone and stared down at that text, it was the same way he looked at Zemo when he first showed his face this morning and you saw that beautiful kiss between them. He’s all in. He wants to belong to the Baron just as you do.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly and Zemo smiles.

“Thank you for the apology. But you broke a rule James. That can not go unpunished.”

Bucky glances up looking slightly worried.

“There is a way to go about this so that you will learn.” Zemo says smiling down at the high peak of Bucky’s underwear. “Your impatient cock will have to wait. Blame your eager mouth,” He shrugs causally “You see, if you insist on opening it, you will learn to do so for a good reason instead of breaking my rules,” He says and quickly grabs Bucky's throat surpassing him as he leans in just an inch. “Tonight James, you will learn your lesson on your knees, beneath me where you belong. Kneel.”

“What is your safe word?” Zemo asks looking down into Bucky’s wide blue eyes.

“Streusel.”

Zemo nods and takes Bucky’s face in hand holding his chin, their eyes fixed on one another. “And what are the colors?”

“Green is go, yellow is slow down and red is stop.”

“And if you can’t speak?”

“I— hum Penny’s from heaven.” He says it feeling silly but knows he might need it tonight.

Stroking his face with the side of his index finger while loosening his shorts with the other, the Baron sighs. “You know that I care for you very much?” He asks slipping his hand beneath the waistband.

“I do.” Bucky says and the way he looks at the Baron shows that he feels the same.

“You know that I care for you both. That is why this works. That is the only way that any of this works. Without it and without the trust this ends.”

“I understand.” Bucky answers softly and turns his face just a little to let his lips brush Zemo’s palm with a kiss.

Helmut’s eyes flit shut with the delicate display of intimacy. His fingers massage Bucky’s temple inching up into his hair and for a moment he just lets the affection between them be enough.

“Good.” He finally answers, his voice low and bends to kiss Bucky’s forehead. When he stands again, the warmth has drained from his touch and his eyes. “Now, open your mouth."

Bucky’s shoulder is hot beneath your ear as you lean against him. You can’t reach wide enough to hold him in your arms but you try. The sound of him choking makes you shut you eyes focusing on the shared experience of knowing what it’s like to try and swallow the relentless thrusting of that damned cock and you moan softly in harmony with him. You lift your gaze, thrilled by the sight of his shining black hand veined in gold, braced against Zemo’s flexed thigh.

The pumping into his mouth slows letting him breathe some and you watch wanting to see the way his cheeks hollow when he slides his mouth back and forth.

His closed eyes open, looking up, wanting approval. Helmut gives it by closing his own hands to fists in Bucky’s hair. He shoves in slowly, going as deep as Bucky will take him in, fucking his throat until you hear the faint sound of gagging and a strangled attempt to hum his song. The notes are ragged and you worry Zemo won’t hear. You lay your hand on the Baron’s stomach tapping.

Ever the trustful dominant, Zemo stops and pulls his shining, solid member free, breathing hard, a little sad that he has to, but never one to cross that line.

Bucky drops his head gasping for air, his hands on his thighs as he shakes his head like he thought he knew what he was in for and is realizing how mistaken he was. You look up rubbing the small of his back.

Zemo is assessing as he always does with you. Checking to make sure he hasn’t gone too far because he longs to go farther. But he knows this is the first time his soldier has ever been used so relentlessly. And then you see a smile twitch at the corner of Zemo’s lips and the look of concern melts away.

Bucky has recovered and seems more than willing to take the rest of his “punishment.” He drags the back of his hand across his mouth tilts his head and opens up letting his tongue hang out to make way for the large occupant; the sight is so pretty you think if you had a cock you’d probably shove it in there too which makes you giggle quietly.

Zemo sighs and grabs him, guiding himself into the waiting mouth of the man so eager and ready to satisfy that you think it will not be long now. You know the Baron well and while he’s a master of restraint, this is too much for anyone.

You go up onto your knees kissing Bucky’s face as he sucks, stroking his hair, moaning softly into his ear, biting, licking, teasing him to give him some pleasure too. But you don’t dare touch his stone hard erection though for fear he’ll come and you will be in a world of trouble for breaking Zemo’s rules; so instead you rub your hand up the solid muscle of his thigh smiling when he makes the sweet sounds of someone overwhelmed and loving every second of it.

Zemo’s pace quickens and you back away a little watching, awed and damn near dripping wet. You wince for Bucky and wonder how you’ve ever managed to do this. It looks so intense when you’re on the outside looking in. Still, your hand slips down between your legs. Watching Helmut have his way with a man as strong as this one has you unable to resist, and you aren't the one unable to come when you want.

Zemo notices how you've got your hand under your suit and his moan is loud enough to get your attention. He suddenly grabs Bucky’s head holding him steady, making him give a muffled shout and you go back up onto your knees forgetting about your own pleasure, laying your hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound under your palm, your lips grazing the warmth of his skin as he tries to pull way from the Baron just once in some reflexive attempt to escape this inevitable moment, but it’s too late and he digs the fingers of his natural hand into Helmut’s thigh with a sound, something like a shout of surprise but he can not move.

The absent stroking of Bucky’s hair is some half hearted attempt to quiet him but it actually helps and he relaxes, moaning long and low as Zemo draws in a ragged breath between his teeth and holds it in as every muscle in his body flexes.

Bucky starts to swallow and you watch the way he accepts every warm shot so willingly now, all fight in him gone, even the way he holds onto the Baron has changed. He seems to be urging him to —go on —give me more.

You feel the fluttering in your stomach in this quiet moment even though your heart is pounding and your hand quickly slips back down. You won’t be able to finish but it still feels incredible.

They both tense with the last of it, Bucky grabbing Zemo’s ass holding him close now that it’s over and the Baron relaxes with a light laugh as he slowly pulls himself free.“Well done James,” He exhales closing his eyes. “That was— perfect.” He smiles opening them and steps back catching his breath “On your feet” He finally says.

Bucky pushes up to standing.

“You too,” He tells you.

Bucky holds out his hand which you take and he pulls you up easily. You stand in silence together.

“Continue like this, and perhaps I’ll let you come tomorrow.” Zemo says to Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, smiles at you both, knowing that he’s left his new sub confused and sexually frustrated, turns and finds his drink on the table and his robe hanging on the master bath door before going off to take a shower.

“Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” He asks, his breath warm in your ear.

You shake your head no even though it’s hard with his hand so tight around your neck.

“No, never, I will always satisfy you.” He says and kisses you deeply.

“Are you going to come?” Helmut asks looking down to see his hand at work rubbing your pussy. Your knees part and your hips raise in response to the light smacks he gives your hot divide.

Bucky sighs, lost in his own agony of only being allowed to watch.

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess gasping and crying out the second Helmut thumbs your clit again. He smacks and your legs close reflexively “Open” He says and you do. He gives two more and your thighs are shaking as the pressure mounts.

“That’s it, come, come for me, and for him. Come for him because he can’t” Helmut says smiling cruelly at Bucky.

You’re too close to feel sympathy, you feel only your Baron’s skilled hand and the way he circles your hard clit with his middle finger with the perfect amount of pressure until the dam gives way and you come with a scream and deep pulsing burst wetting his fingers and the sheet, your entire body flexing in rhythm with the orgasm until you shiver and sink down still gasping.

Helmut kisses you lightly smiling. “I have missed doing that to you.”

You give a breathy smile with your eyes closed feeling your breast shake as you do with the residual quakes of pleasure. You can not remember the last time you've come that hard.

“A reminder of what satisfaction tastes like” Helmut says and you open your eyes to find him reaching towards Bucky.

You don’t think he’ll do it, but he is learning submission from you. He opens his mouth and sucks Zemo’s middle finger, his moan soft but slightly pained.

“Soon James.” Helmut says, his expression alternating between arousal and empathy. “Soon.”

Late in the night well after the three of you have cleaned up and gone to bed, you wake up between them feeling so thirsty you have to go up for a bottle of water from the small fridge and come back to find the bed you share empty.

Confused at first, you hear their voices out on the balcony and quietly make your way over.

“I won’t ever hurt you more than you want me to.” You hear Zemo say with the sleepy smile in his voice.

“I know.” Bucky says sounding relaxed. It’s the same way he sounds with you, and you are relieved that there seem to be no true hard feelings after his first taste of submission tonight.

“I am happy you decided to come, you know that, right? There were times I didn’t think you would.” Zemo says.

“There were times that I didn’t know what I would do if you got out. I think it came down to those last few seconds.”

“Are you sure about that?” Zemo asks, clearly not believing him.

There is a long pause and you smile at the door. He knew he was going to come the second he turned you over, You think standing in the shadows.

Helmut is laying back on the low, wide sofa, one arm resting on the back, the other across Bucky’s chest, one leg bent at the knee, the other over the edge. You like the way he sort of absently strokes the vibranium shoulder. You do the same thing, You both know Bucky can’t feel it but you both like the way the cool metal calms you, and Bucky… he’s so relaxed. His back to Zemo’s chest, that powerful limb wrapped around the Barons leg, the other resting across his own stomach. They look so peaceful that you hate they’ve spotted you before you can sneak back into bed.

Bucky calls for you to join them which you do now that they both insist so you come out. You hop onto the sofa with all the enthusiasm of a joining a sleepover.

Bucky’s chest offers a solid, familiar warmth and you sigh happily as he strokes your hair while you watch the stars slowly floating by.

They shift the conversation now and start talking about the mechanics of ships of all things and you think how lovely it is that they have one another to be boring with, and how lucky you are to have two men with such beautifully relaxing voices.

Sleep takes you easily, and when you wake again you’re being carried into the room by one metal arm and one flesh and laid down in the bed— the comfort of their bodies surrounding you with safety and love.

To be continued...

#winterbaron #winterbaron x you #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #bucky barnes x you #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo fanfic #helmut zemo #james buchanan barnes #buckybarnes/zemo #zemo/bucky/reader #this is only the beginning

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thenovelartist · 3 years

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A Blanc Slate, Chapter 10

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28. Domesticity

The following months were hard, but that was to be expected.

The big difference was that Marinette was over at Adrien’s place far more often than not. Whether she was cooking for him, helping him try to keep his thoughts straight, or just working on her fashion commissions in the background, she was there. And while he did complain that he felt like he was taking advantage of her by depending too much on her, she constantly reassured him she didn’t mind. He was her partner and her friend, both in and out of the suit. Helping him get back on his feet was hard work but something she was more than willing to do.

Once, the thought popped into her mind that this was what the vow “in sickness and in health” meant. And while they were nowhere near thinking of marriage—heck, even a romantic relationship wasn’t even on the table at the moment—Marinette couldn’t help but think on it anyway. After all, she’d certainly had a plan to marry Adrien at one time in her life, and she can’t say she hadn’t considered what a life with Chat would have been like. And if a possibility of them being together surfaced in the near future…

She shook the thought from her head. This was no time to be thinking on things like romance and domesticity. That shouldn’t have even been on the table, even if her heart throbbed every once in a while in reminder that she did love the man she was taking care of. Her best friend and partner. No, now was the time to focus solely on helping him recover.

Which, much to Marinette and Adrien’s relief, he was.

It was a slow process, but his appetite had been returning. He’d been able to stomach more food as of lately and keep it down without looking green in the face.

The fog over his eyes had also cleared up for the most part, and he no longer walked around in a haze. The exhaustion still persisted, and his mind still wasn’t fully on point again, but with the progress he had been making, Marinette was sure they regulate in no time.

And she was extremely thankful for it.

29. Roses

“That… is a lot of roses.”

Marinette couldn’t help but gawk when she entered Adrien’s house. She’d been given a key back before he’d even revealed himself to be Chat, back when she had forced herself into the role of Adrien’s caregiver. He’d given it to her one day out of exhaustion of the “game” she played, one titled “I do not care if I stand at your door for an hour, I will knock every thirty seconds until you open the door.” So, an agreement had been reached she’d always come over at a certain time and let herself in to check in on him.

Currently, the boy in question was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was left staring at a large bouquet of deep red roses speckled with brilliant white lilies in a glass vase tied off with a lovely pink ribbon. In the middle of the bouquet was a glittery plastic stick that held a card that read “Marinette” on the front of it. It was a stunning sight.

Where did you even get those, Adrien?

And why?

After putting her purse down by the front door, she walked over to pluck the card off the stick, carefully opening the back and pulling out the pink card. Inside was a familiar handwriting, one that was steady now after months of recovery.

Marinette,

I don’t even know where to begin. I guess with a thank you. Thank you for everything. From staying by my side as Marinette and caring for me to insisting I’m still your partner as Ladybug and refusing to let me go to every other thing in between.

While these flowers don’t even put a dent into the debt I owe you, I felt they were a great place to start. Something beautiful for someone beautiful. I want to say that I’m ready to spend the rest of my life by your side paying you back, but that’s likely getting to ahead of myself. I have been in love with you for years, as you know, and have confessed my love to you as Chat multiple times. My love for you is still true, even though I know you’ve drawn your lines.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this and only seeing what I want to see, but lately, it feels as though those lines aren’t as hard as they used to be. Or maybe I’ve just gotten Nightingale Syndrome bad for you. Either way, I want to take the chance and put myself in your debt a little more by selfishly asking you to let me take you out on a date.

If your answer is no, I’m prepared for that. I never want to pressure you into something out of responsibility for me or out of guilt. I will still stand by your side as your partner and friend, forever.

But if your answer is yes, it would be one more thing of the countless you’ve done for me that I will be eternally grateful for.

Forever yours, in whatever way you’ll take him,

Adrien

When she finished reading, her hands fell to the table, letter still clutched in them as she tilted her head upwards in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay. “Don’t cry,” she warned herself.

But even then, she knew it was too late.

With a beaming grin, she looked down at the card once more, scanning over the contents yet again. She only looked up again when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Adrien, looking better than she’d seen him in the five months since she’d taken his ring, was leaning against wall. He’d somehow cleaned up with a haircut—how he had managed to keep an appointment like that a secret from her was beyond her but also gave her confidence that he was feeling well enough to manage on his own again—shaved, and dressed up in a pressed button down, a vest, and slacks. His eyes were now clear, clear enough for her to see the fragile hope shining in them, even from across the room.

With a smile she couldn’t suppress is she tried, she dropped the card on the table, scurried over to him, and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, no longer unsteady or requiring the assistance of a wall or other solid object, and held her tight.

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

She felt the tension leave his shoulders as he squeezed her tighter, clinging to her like a lifeline. “I thought I was might have been asking too much or springing that on you too suddenly.”

“No!” she quickly assured. “I mean… it was sudden, but I don’t mind. Not at all.”

He sighed with relief. “Good. Good; I’m glad.”

She giggled. “You’re not normally so speechless.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “You have no idea how terrified I was of your answer.”

“You? Mr. Confess-on-a-daily-basis was scared?”

“Of this one, yeah. I think this was the scariest confession to date.”

Worried, Marinette pulled away a bit, just so she could face Adrien and meet his gaze. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Because this time… it felt like I really had the most to lose compared to any other time I’ve confessed. You’ve seen the worst of me, and you’ve faced my darkest side. You could have easily said no now that you knew that about me.”

Pursing her lips, Marinette considered his words. “The thing is… I… don’t mind,” she eventually sputtered out. “Because I’ve seen you at your worst, and yet I also know there’s no one else I’d rather be with. There isn’t anyone in this world who doesn’t have that hidden ugly side of them. But yours doesn’t scare me in the slightest.”

To say Adrien was speechless was an understatement. For a moment, he gaped like a fish on land before he finally grinned, letting loose a chuckle before blinking away tears in his eyes.

Marinette was quick to cup his cheek, gently swiping away the tears. Adrien reached up, laying his hand over hers. “Well,” he murmured. “Guess I really can’t let you go now, can I?”

Marinette grinned, her own eyes prickling with tears. “Who said I was going to let you let me go?”

“Fair enough,” he said, grin growing. “You’re stubborn like that. I should know by now you’re way too stubborn to let me go.”

“You better believe it.”

30. Trust

It had been one year since the day Adrien’s father’s mansion had caught fire, and although Adrien had officially been cleared of suspicion of killing his father, the public was still skeptical of anything involving the Agrestes, especially with Nathalie Sancour having suddenly and mysteriously passed as well.

After struggling with the company for a year, it had officially dissolved and Adrien was finally able to be free of that burden. Yet, the burden of guilt still weighed on him.

“We’ve been over this,” Marinette assured. At the moment, Adrien was laying across her lap while she gently stroked his hair, a habit both of them had come to enjoy very much. “It was an accident. You fought your dad as Adrien and ran, but then went back as Chat when you thought he was out of the house so you could snag the book that wasn’t even there. You ended up pushing him off you when he tried to choke you out. The fact he fell and cracked his head open on a fallen statue was not your fault, nor was it your fault a fire started.”

“I still don’t know what happened,” Adrien muttered. “I don’t think he had any candles lit. I thought I heard glass break, so did a lightbulb break and send sparks flying? Or maybe he was cooking in the kitchen and something happened there? I really don’t have any clue.”

“See? So you can calm down. It was all in self-defense. Don’t feel bad for Nathalie, either. You were the one that called an ambulance for her when she suddenly collapsed.”

“I realized why she did,” Adrien said. “Same reason my mom collapsed. They each had the same symptoms, and they both wore the peacock miraculous. It was likely broken the same as my ring.”

Marinette’s hand stilled in his hair. “They what?”

Adrien froze, his body suddenly becoming stiff. “Did I not tell you?”

“No!” she cried. “Excuse you, but when did you come to this revelation?”

“I really never said anything?” Adrien asked, panicking as he scrambled to sit up so he could meet her eyes. “I swore I did!”

“No, you did not.”

With a groan, Adrien rubbed his hands down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

Marinette sighed. “Well, at least I know now. I’ll be sure to work on that one next.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” she dismissed. “I guess it’s understandable considering how out of it you were. There were days you did not know left from right.”

“I’ll take any excuse you let me have,” he said with a sigh, still looking disheartened. Marinette was sure that if he was transformed as Chat, his ears would have been drooped low.

Cute.

“On that same note, how is the ring coming along?” he asked. “I know you’ve been working hard. Have you made any headway?”

A grin suddenly spread across her face as a sudden urge to tease him struck her. “Oh? Did I not tell you?”

His eyes almost got misty as he pouted at her. “I said I was sorry.”

“I am, too,” she continued. “Because otherwise, I would have already told you I fixed it.”

Adrien’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as his jaw dropped. “Y-you did?”

“No.”

She laughed at the sudden shift in his expression, his hope being squashed as he glared at her, completely unamused. “You are cruel, ‘bug.”

Her laughter subsided as a warmth spread though her. “Did I also mention I’m really glad you started using that nickname again?”

His previous irritation faded as he returned her smile with one of his own. “I won’t lie: I missed saying it.”

“I’m up for hearing it for as long as you’re up for using it.”

“Good, because I don’t intend on dropping it any time soon.”

“I’m really glad to hear it,” she said. “For that, I think you deserve a reward.”

“Kiss?” he inquired excitedly.

A warmth blossomed on her cheeks as she giggled. “Well, that wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’d be willing to give you one of those, too. First, close your eyes.”

“Only one?”

She rolled her eyes. Kisses rarely stopped at one. She was very much okay with that, though. “Fine, two. Now, just close your eyes.”

He shut them, but then immediately cracked open one to steal a peek at her. “What do you have planned?”

“Just trust me.”

He shut his eyes all the way. “You know I do.”

“I do,” she confirmed. With that, she took his hand in hers before sliding a ring from her pocket onto his hand.

She didn’t get the ring halfway on his finger before he looked down at his hand in shock. “My ring.”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, lacing their fingers together. “I really did fix it. It took a lot of trial and failure, though.”

“How…?” He stared at his hand in awe before turning to look at her, then turning back to his ring.

She shrugged. “Magic and time. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to fix the peacock in no time after this experiment.”

She swore she saw tears in his eyes. Whether he did or not, she still reached up to cradle his cheek.

“Hey,” she said. “Promise me one thing?”

His green eyes locked to hers, and she swore her breath caught in her throat at the intensity in them. “Anything.”

“Next time you have a problem like this, one so big your emotions get too much for you to contain, come to me first, and don’t push me away.”

She was right; he did have tears in his eyes, because at her words, they began to fall.

He grasped her hand tightly. “I promise,” he said, nuzzling her palm. “We’re partners, and I promise that I’ll trust you to be my partner and help me through the next time anything like this happens. But I just hope there won’t be any more surprises like that. Once is enough, and I learned my lesson.”

He meant it. Marinette could tell by his tone and gentle expression and the way he held her hand: tightly as though he was afraid to let go.

“I’m really glad to hear it,” she said, her heart fluttering as a warm, fuzzy feeling floated through her. “Now, I believe I promise you a kiss.”

“Two,” Adrien said, reaching up to cradle her cheek while he leaned closer. “You promised me two.”

“I doubt you’ll be able to stop so easily.”

“Since when do I ever?”

“Touché.”

31. Soulmates

His black suit never looked so good.

“Well, well, Chat Noir,” Marinette purred, leaning against the railing of her balcony with a cattish grin. “I thought you said I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“Unexpected surprises do happen, Princess,” he returned, shooting her a wink as he took a seat on the railing.

“And it’s such a purr-leasure to see you in your black suit.”

His own cattish grin widened. “For your purr-usal, princess,” he said with a wink.

Oh, how wonderful it was to have her cat back. She’d even keep up the stupid puns for him. “Hmmm, I sur-paws that you’re the cat’s meow.”

Dramatically, he threw a hand over his heart—

And nearly fell off the railing.

“Chat!” Marinette snatched his wrist, catching him in case he couldn’t catch himself, which he thankfully did.

“Heh, uh… looks like it’s gonna take a little more time before this cat can land on its feet one hundred purr-cent of the time again.”

“Not funny.”

“Relax, Marinette,” he said, sliding off the railing and onto the balcony so he could stand in front of her and wrap her up in his arms. “I’m almost totally back to normal.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned. “I still worry about you.”

“I won’t.”

“You almost did.”

“We were having a good time with my pun-hating girlfriend throwing them back at me. How could I not be awestruck and caught up in the moment.”

She snorted in amusement. “Well, the fun and games end when my kitty takes a fall he can’t recover from.”

He sighed, propping his chin on her head and beginning to purr, settling her down.

“That’s unfair,” she muttered, happily snuggling into his embrace. “You know I like your purrs.”

“I know you do. And it’s only fair for me to take responsibility for every heart attack I give you.”

She grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m more than happy to,” he assured.

With a sigh, Marinette relaxed completely against him, grinning like the lovesick girl she was. She was more than content to play around with him, but she was more than content to snuggle, too.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” he asked, smile audible in his words.

“I think you have, but I’m always happy to be reminded.”

“Let’s see… I love you more than my cat puns.”

She gasped. “Impossible.”

“I know it seems that way,” he teased. “But it actually is possible, if you can believe that.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

He chuckled. “Well, let me put it this way: puns are the bread and butter of my life. But you’re my other half, and I really can’t live life to the fullest without you.”

“But you need bread and butter to survive. So wouldn’t they be more important?”

“They are an inherent need. I didn’t choose the pun life; the pun life chose me.”

She snorted, burying her face against him to hide her growing grin. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yes yes, I am. I’m a package deal, but you seem to accept that.”

“I do.”

“Which I’m so glad for,” he continued. “Because as I was saying, unlike the puns, I chose you. You came into my life and completed me in ways I didn’t realize I needed to be completed, and if you disappeared, I would be only half the person I once was.” He pulled away just enough to look down at her, his joking tone gone in favor of a serious one. “You’re my soulmate, and the biggest blessing I have ever received. And I’m so so thankful for you.”

Her heart felt like it could burst from her chest. “I love you, too, my kitty. You purr-fect me.”

He grinned, his green eyes shining and his expression seeming to brighten the night. “That was a good one.”

She giggled. “I learned from the best.”

#miraculous ladybug #marichatmay2021 #marichat #Fluff #FINALLY #XD #Thank you for your support #And sticking around through the chaotic schedule

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valkyrieofsmut · 3 years

Note

How many kids would the boys want? Just curious🤔

I had to think about this for a while, but, this is what I came up with!

Classic- Classic isn’t picky, you want kids? Cool. You don’t want kids? Well, he’s still got his amazingly cool bro, who he pretty much raised, and will always kinda be like his kid, so... Still cool. But he’d love to have little mixes of him and you running around. He’d love to have one kid to dote on, to be his accomplice in pranks and jokes, but, he also would want them to have a sibling, because he knows that he works so hard that he won’t always be there next to them, and he knows first hand that growing up is better with a sibling. Any more than three or four, and he’d start to get overwhelmed, though, even at four, he’s relying a little bit on extra help- thank stars for Paps.

Creampuff- Kids? He loves kids! This boy would be that parent running around all crazy with his kids in the park or yard, if you have one, and he thinks, the more the merrier! He also is always up to date on their lives and making sure they are having the best lives possible. Though one is absolutely fine, he’d love four or five! And if you do give in, or want a large family also, you will see Cream be the most exhausted he’s ever been, completely wiped and about to fall asleep on the couch after finally getting the kids in bed. He will start to understand how Sans feels, being so tired all the time. You’ll never hear him complain, though! He is always satisfied and happy with his life with you and the kids. And if you don’t want kids, count on basically having an animal rescue at your house because he needs to give this love, and when he sees a box with ‘free x’ and no one around, knowing that they’re not going to have anyone to take care of them, he can’t just leave them there!

Red- You don’t want kids? Well... he’d probably be garbage at being a dad, anyway. Probably better all around. You want kids? You’d really be willing to bind yourself to him forever in that way? Be ready, he’s about to grab you and tell you, ‘let’s go make one, then.’ You’re also lucky that it takes intent for monsters to have kids, because he’s never going to be able to keep his hands off of you, and your kids will either constantly be embarrassed and whining ‘ewww!’ or just think that it’s normal for their parents to be so ridiculously in love. Ideally, when planning, he wants two, because it’s always better to have someone who’s got your back, and no one does that better than siblings. But. He’s the kind of parent that loves to just sit back and watch how his kids are doing, what they’re getting up to, and the adventures they have, seeing them learn, and helping along the way, and, once they get past a certain stage, such as both being able to walk and talk, almost able to feed themselves, don’t be surprised to find him back nuzzling you from behind while you’re trying to get something done, murmuring in your ear about having another one. Count on him making jokes about needing a spare, ‘just in case’, for the third kid, and ‘backup spare’ for the fourth, beyond that, though Red, like Classic, will start being overwhelmed, and glad that his bro is so great with kids and loves his niblings so much, always declaring that, as they are related to him, they are better than others!

Edge- If you don’t want kids, that’s fine, Edge has you, and that’s enough! He’s not against having kids, though. He’d have one, training them to follow in his footsteps, teaching them the mastery of everything he’s learned, how to stay safe, and also to have honor and pride and protect those who cannot protect themselves. He could see having a second child to trail behind him and their older sibling as they train, taking in what they can and also working to be great, and then joining the training when they’re old enough. However, two is his limit, anything over that and he becomes anxious. He needs to keep his brood small enough to protect effectively, and he’s got you, the kids, his idiot brother, and whatever mess he’s gotten himself into (his family) to count into that mess. He knows he can only stretch so far, and won’t compromise the safety of those he loves.

Blue- Blue loves kids! He would be the soccer mom, planning out all the activities, making sure they get there, cheering from the sidelines- he proudly drives that minivan! Though he still drives his motorcycle when he’s not taking the kids out everywhere. He is so energetic that he always gets mistaken for the babysitter or sibling of the kids, and it rubs him the wrong way, but he’s gotten pretty good at just turning and calling for a ‘DOG PILE ON DADDY!’ and enjoying the shocked look on the person’s face as the kids all pile on him. As for how many, he’d love to have four or five, to ‘use the minivan to it’s fullest!’ And despite having all that energy, he tires faster than some of his Papyrus type counterparts, and usually ‘forces’ his brother to come with him on outings, to ‘keep an eye on him and make sure he’s not being lazy’ but he really just needs the help, because he’s stretched so thin. (urgh!) If you didn’t want any, he’s going to be the volunteer coach for many youth sports and events, he’ll still have that minivan to haul around his team, and he’ll still have his brother there to help cart everything around. Stretch takes it all in stride, though, hanging out by the bench with the snacks and equipment holding the clipboard and whistle.

Stretch- Stretch likes kids ok. If you don’t want any, he’d be cool with that, he’ll be getting enough interaction with them from always dealing with his bro’s escapades. If you do want them, he won’t be able to handle more than one or two, and he’ll be taking them with him to tag along with his bro’s craziness, though Blue will be a dedicated uncle and take less coaching work to have more time to ‘help’ him with the kids. He’s glad that his bro wants to hang out with them so much, not only because he’s so cool and the kids will grow to be that cool, too, but also because they’re getting their exercise in, and he’s too sedentary to do it with them.

Black- Black’s not sure about kids- of course, any children of his would be amazing! It’s the other scum out there trying to corrupt them he’s worried about... So if you don’t want any, he’d be fine with it. However, if you do want them, he does need a successor! Someone to take over for him down the line! Black is going to have a learning curve. First child, everything’s new, and he has no idea what he’s doing! Imagine him awkwardly holding the baby up, uncertain, nervousness radiating from him, demanding, “WHY ARE THEY MAKING THESE NOISES? WHAT DO I DO!? LOVE- YOUR CHILD NEEDS YOU!” and if you’re not home, "MUTT!!” By the second child, he thinks he’ll be able to do this, no problem! He’s no longer an unpracticed first timer who doesn’t know how to change a diaper! However- now he needs to learn how to keep two kids happy via multitasking at different levels, and to keep up with their needs, so he is still calling for help more than he’d like. He’s finally got it on the third one, though! He’s still learning new things with the first, but it’s far enough apart that he can keep up with the multitasking, and he’s already worked with the lower levels and is comfortable enough with them that he looks like a pro. On the fourth child, he’s insanely proud that if any of his children (or other people’s children as well, the deservingly smug bastard) are having the tired tantrums, all he has to do is pick them up and lay them against his chest and they fall asleep. Like Blue, he also gets mistaken for the babysitter or sibling of his children as he proudly marches around with them in line behind him. When someone comments how cute it is that they’re all playing ‘follow the leader’, he will stop, they will all fall into a parade rest, and he will thank the person for the compliment, and- “YES, I AM THE LEADER, AND YOU’D DO BEST TO WATCH YOURSELF, AS MY BROOD IS QUITE THE CAPABLE BUNCH!”

Mutt- Mutt always seems so chill- if you don’t want kids, he’s chill with it, he still checks on his brother and any niblings he has, so he’s pretty parentally content. If you do want kids, you’re going to think you’ve somehow missed all the signs that you’re now entangled with the mob. No one bothers his kids. They have friends, happiness, normal childhood things- but if you watch closely, he’s always got his socket on them. If, by chance, some poor ignorant child did bully one of his kids- you won’t hear about it after the first time, and... that child’s family may have had to suddenly move... He doesn’t need a lot to be happy, you and his brother are enough, and if Black plans to have kids it will affect how many Mutt wants, he needs to make sure he’s not spread too thin so he can properly protect and enforce the safety of you all. One or two are preferred, but you might be able to convince him of three.

Axe- Unfortunately, due to his injury, he can’t handle as much stimulus as he used to. If you decide that kids aren’t a good idea, or you don’t want them, he’s onboard. If you do want them, he’ll do his best to support you. He could handle only one, possibly two, and even at two, he’s worried he’s gong to mess up and forget he has the kids with him or something when he’s out, and you’ll get panicked calls from him at the store, “did i bring the kids with me-?!” “No, hon, there’re here with me.” Which is why- he wants help. He loves you, and if you want more kids, he wants you to be happy and give you what you want, and he’s not against the idea of more kids, he’ll just need his bro to come live with you, if he doesn’t already. The kids’ childhood will be wonderful, with three caregivers who love them, and they’ll be the most competent kids in any of their classes. Having Axe for a parent and Crooks for an uncle, or possibly co- parent, they’ll learn how to hunt, trap, store, prepare, and keep all sorts of food type things- be it a garden, wild game, or the livestock and chickens at home. Not only that, but they will know how to defend themselves and survive in all sorts of situations, if anything happens. They learn this all as fun family togetherness stuff, of course, but Axe has seen hell, and he wants his kids to be able to survive anything, to be able to go off the grid from anyone that would compromise them and stay safe and well taken care of when shit hits the fan.

Crooks/ Bun- Much like Axe, he can’t handle as much stimulus as he used to be able to. He loves kids, but his years underground have worn him down, and he’s not as energetic as he used to be. If you don’t want kids, it will be fine, he still has his brother to take care of, after all. If you do want them, he is still taking care of Axe, and while Axe can help with the kids, the trauma and PTSD they both have can hold them back some times. One or two kids would suit him just fine. They are going to learn all the wonderful things the two have to teach them, too; Papyrus will teach them about preserving and storing food, gardening, gathering, and trapping, while keeping things safe, and Axe will make sure they know how to defend themselves, protect their possessions, and hunt. His lower energy capacity does mean he gets worn out faster, and needs time for resting, usually putting the kids down for a nap at this time. At the end of the day, though, he’s happy with whatever family he’s got, especially when it’s got all the people he loves in it.

Ask Masterlist?

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omniswords · 4 years

Text

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 10

omni’s on lunch break, quick post a new Chronicles update—

anyway, thank you for continuing to support this fic!!! i hope you enjoy this update and share the love!

from: itsdjbubbles

hey dude! i know you don’t know me or whatever but like, i wanted to tell you that clip you just posted was FIRE. and also i’m pretty sure we’re in the same city? i think i heard you playing this on the champ de mars yesterday. i didn’t have any cash on me but i totally would’ve given you some if i did.

anyway, nice tunes and hope you’re havin a good one

Luka’s only glad this message hasn’t been sitting in his request box for very long. Otherwise, he’d really feel like a total douchebag. And an ungrateful douchebag on top of that, considering the new clip he posted… isn’t doing as well as he’d like. Not even as well as the first version, the thirty seconds he recorded on his phone and slapped on the internet because his soul all but compelled him to. It’s not that he’s comparing himself to other musicians on here; he rarely does this stuff for the numbers, anyway. It’s more that he’s comparing himself to… himself. The thing that he loves doing, puts hours of himself into, versus… these simple, giveaway details of his life that he posts without a second thought, because, well, where else is he going to put them?

Is this the case with every artist? Because if it is, then that’s just… stupid.

It’s half-past midnight, but Luka still pushes himself out of bed and shuffles to the couch, using the light of his phone to guide his path. His mother and Juleka are surprisingly asleep by now—he’s pretty sure at least half of France is, in spite of what this city has to offer—but he’s hardly ever been opposed to the comfort of the quiet and the dark. At least it gives him a chance to read the message a few more times.

It’s not often that people reach out to him privately. In fact, most of his direct messages are from people he’d befriended on other social media platforms, or occasionally someone who, like this Bubbles person, just wanted to let him know they liked his work and hoped he was having a nice day. It’s not that he thinks that he’s better than the people who are brave enough to reach out. He’s just never really known how to answer those kinds of messages beyond a thank you, so he’s tended to leave them be, or worse—never accept them in the first place, so they’d never know he read them at all.

It sort of makes him wonder how people dealt with situations like this a century or two ago. Maybe they just never left their houses, so they could never be called upon. So they never had to be known.

That wouldn’t be so bad, if he didn’t have to make money. Or if he didn’t like the sun so much.

Well. He supposes with technology like this, he’s coming pretty close.

Out of curiosity, Luka taps Bubbles’s icon, just to peek at their profile. He balks at the follower count—it’s well over a thousand—and judging by the content they post, he’s pretty sure almost none of them are those stupid bots looking to make ad revenue or ensure their devices are brimming with viruses. Or worse—argue against human rights, as though they’re something to be argued against. Bubbles’s page is funny, and vibrant, and rife with links to this other website he’s only ever heard of in jokes. It makes him halfway wonder how many of Bubbles’s posts have blown up—and how many they’ve actually responded to with a tip jar link or a peep my Soundcloud.

Whatever this Bubbles person is doing, it’s working. And it’s working right.

They don’t have any pictures of themselves on their page, or even as their profile picture. In fact, the most Luka finds is a silhouette of them from a nightclub, somehow darker than black and highlighted by strobes of bold, bright light. And the most he can make out of that is the rim of a pair of round glasses, and layers of thick dreadlocks.

It probably doesn’t matter. Even if he pulled off some crazed theorist thing with wild hair and enough red yarn to map out every arrondissement, he probably couldn’t have picked out glasses and dreadlocks out of a crowd on the Champ de Mars if he tried and wasn’t distracted by his own work.

But what could it hurt to say hi back?

Luka pops in his headphones, because the music is the only thing that actually lets him concentrate, and starts to type his response in the notes app on his phone. He doesn’t want to accidentally send something he hasn’t read and reread, or hasn’t even finished typing. And if Bubbles just so happens to be checking their messages, he doesn’t want to keep them waiting with all the typing and deleting and re-typing and re-deleting. He’s been on the receiving end of those eerily calm ellipses enough times to never want to subject anyone else to that. Eventually—and eventually is a long time, even for him—he comes up with something he’s actually satisfied with.

to: itsdjbubbles

hey, sorry for replying so late, i didn’t get any notification. but thanks for the compliment. it’s really cool of you to message me in the first place, i appreciate it. sorry about the cash thing, but don’t worry about it. i’d like to do it full-time someday, but it’s more of a side hustle thing for now. maybe i’ll get one of those venmo or cashapp things for people who don’t carry cash. (i mean, you’re right, who does that, anyway? it’s the 21st century.)

With a deep breath and both legs bouncing, Luka taps the SEND button. And then he decides that was an awkward place to end a message, because apparently you can read and reread and edit and re-edit, and you’ll still find every little thing wrong after you post, so he sends a follow-up message as quickly as he can.

anyway, thanks for the message. hope you’re having a good night.

Assuming Bubbles is even awake.

As soon as he puts his phone face-down in his lap, his blood runs cold with relief, and his hands start to tremble and tingle in spite of how the music still blasts in his ears. He tries to calm himself down by placing the color of each song, but after just a few of them he starts feeling that familiar buzz of sensory overload. In the end, he has to lie back and close his eyes and bask in total silence, just to get his head back on straight.

A message.

He sent a message.

His phone buzzes from its place on his stomach, and immediately he scrambles for it, squinting against the bright light of his screen. There’s a single notification.

Bubbles.

He shouldn’t already be this excited to talk to Bubbles.

from: itsdjbubbles

dude, you’re still up? don’t you have work in the morning?

from: itsdjbubbles

no but for real, you should consider sharing on other sites or picking up some other gigs if you haven’t already.

from: itsdjbubbles

like lol i know we just met and all but i know a place i DJ sometimes that’d totally like your vibe. just lmk if you’re interested?

from: itsdjbubbles

anyway, we should probably get some sleep huh. g’night!

It’s… funny. How this is all it takes for opportunity to fall into his lap.

Luka gets to his feet, a tired grin inching its way across his face, and shuffles right back to bed, another message under his thumb. Except this time, he doesn’t bother to open up his notes. If Bubbles knows he’s up, he might as well own it. Just for now.

to: itsdjbubbles

i’m going, i’m going, don’t worry, haha.

to: itsdjbubbles

yeah, i’ll think about it. why don’t you send me their info?

from: itsdjbubbles

you got it, dude.

from: itsdjbubbles

also

from: itsdjbubbles

good luck with CBG and all

from: itsdjbubbles

though from the looks of it, maybe you won’t need it??

Luka’s eyes blow wide open enough to start asking in his head, what does it mean? what does it all mean? Instead, he presses his phone to his face, because asking—and screaming—will definitely wake up his family, and types out one more reply.

to: itsdjbubbles

trust me. vaguely knowing her, i think i will.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #gee i wonder who this new mysterious character is #I WONDER

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archaneanscribe · 3 years

Text

Any Moment With You

During the period of time Marth is staying in Talys before Shadow Dragon starts proper, Caeda and Marth take a walk, get caught in the rain, and something momentous happens ;) Part of the Archanea Chronicles.

"If we seek aide from-"

"Pardon me?"

Marth, Jagen, Cain, and Abel looked up from the map they were examining, each turning to face the familiar voice speaking from the doorframe. Posture uncharacteristically shy, Caeda nodded at the acknowledgment of her presence.

"I am sorry to interrupt, but if you would not mind terribly, might I borrow Marth for an hour or two? It won't be very long."

"What exactly will you be doing?" Jagen asked, face stern but not unyielding. The discussion was important, yes, but they were in Talys only because of the good will of it's royal family after all. Caeda's gaze turned to her feet, yet again at odds with her normal behavior, "It is... a secret? If it is too great of an imposition..."

The prince and his advisors shared a look.

Marth spoke before anyone else could, eyes pleading at his eldest advisor, "I would gladly accompany you, Caeda. Surely I could be spared...?"

Jagen shook his head with a resigned fondness, "Very well. We will debrief you on the results tomorrow. Enjoy yourself for the day, my liege."

"Thank you!" the prince and princess said nearly simultaneously, cheeks red and smiles wide. Confidence seemingly renewed, Caeda grabbed Marth's sleeve and pulled him out the door with considerable haste, leaving the three cavaliers to watch their retreating forms with fond looks.

"Do not think I do not enjoy to spend time with you," Marth began, looking around at the surrounding trees. The sky above them was also a worrying grey, but he chose not to comment, more distracted by the other circumstances surrounding this adventure, "Because you know I do, very much. But is this all you needed me for? A walk?"

Caeda tugged at the hem of her skirt, looking bashful, "Yes- but that's not everything! There is something I wished to show you a ways in. You will not regret it, I promise!"

He smiled softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It is as I said, do not mistake my curiosity for disinterest. Any time spent with you is worthwhile time."

She tried smiling as well, though it was far weaker, smoothing the back of her hair over with a sigh, "Thank you, Marth. I know how difficult this time is for you, and I noticed how the stress has been weighing on you. I just... wanted to share something that I care for with you, to lessen your burden in any way I can."

Walking on for several seconds more, she stopped upon realizing that her companion was no longer moving with her. When she turned to see why, she found him with an expression that found an impossible middle ground between joy and sorrow, "I am very sorry, Caeda."

"Whatever for?"

"We have been imposing upon you and your father all this time, and now I am causing you to worry over me. It makes me happy to know you care, but I cannot help but find myself pained to have troubled you in this way."

"Marth, no!" she cried, rushing to stand before him, gripping his arms as tightly as she could, "Do not say such things! I am doing this because I- because I care for you, I would care for you even if circumstances were different."

His head had been hanging low, but he let it rise, nodding at her words, "...thank you, Caeda. I should not have let myself fall to despair like that. You are so kind and fair, of course you do this from the goodness of your heart with pure intent."

"You flatter me."

"I speak only the truth. It is only the presence of my comrades that allows me to face each day, and your support is chief among them. You bring me the light I need to move forward."

"Marth..."

With all her hesitance dispelled, she offered him her hand to take, and he did just that.

However, before they continued walking, like the boom of a war drum, thunder cracked, startling them just long enough to make them unprepared for the downpour that soon followed.

Thinking as quickly as he could, Marth draped his cape over his arm, and then held it over Caeda's head to shield her, "Is there somewhere we could take shelter!?" he asked, struggling to be heard over the sound of the pounding rain.

"Yes, a few minutes up ahead there is a shallow cave where hunters often rest!" she replied at equal volume, and with that, the pair took off at top speed in the direction she had pointed.

-----

"I am so sorry, Marth. I was trying to cheer you up, yet this happened!" Caeda lamented, futilely trying to wring the water out of her hair, seated against the wall of the hunter's refuge. The both of them were as wet and cold as could be, and at least one of them was just as miserable, "I was warned of the weather, but did it anyway,"

Taking off his cape, Marth laid it flat to dry more quickly, then made his way over to sit by her side, shaking his head, "I noticed as well, yet also said nothing. There is no one to blame here."

"If you say so... at least we will be able to avoid the worst of it in here. It does not seem to be as bad as it could be, thankfully."

"Yes," Marth said, smiling fondly despite the circumstances, "I remember my first island storm on Talys quite vividly, when we visited many years ago."

"You were so frightened," she said with amusement, the mood of the small cave lightening considerably, "I remember you rushing into my room in terror!"

He shifted closer to her so their shoulder's bumped, the heat of their bodies felt by the other despite their wet clothes, "I thought we were under ballista fire, and you told me it was simply the waves crashing against the rocks! Of course, I had never heard either before, so I could not tell the difference."

"It was not so easy to convince you of that at the time," she said, leaning into him, "We had to go out onto my balcony so I could show you. Our fathers were so upset that we ruined our clothes and let the rain in!"

They shared a laugh, suddenly not so bothered by the weather outside.

"I think your plan has worked despite everything," Marth commented, feeling bold enough to place his hand on Caeda's waist to pull her against him even closer, "When I am with you, no matter the circumstances, my mood cannot help but improve. I only hope I can do the same for you."

She smiled, "Oh Marth, you do. You have always treated me as more than my father's daughter, and you are always willing to listen and help whenever I have troubles, no matter how insignificant. I find just being with you calming."

"I am overjoyed to hear that. Once Altea retaken... would you consent to a visit?" he looked away in embarrassment, scratching his nose, words trailing off, "Of course, because Elice would like to see you again. And... I would like to continue spending time with you..."

"I would be glad to."

Joy overtaking all other emotions, Caeda let her instinct take over, and placed a kiss on Marth's cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth. In his surprise, he snapped his head to face her, their noses brushing.

All it would take for them to-

"Caeda... may I...?"

"Yes... Marth..."

With the sound of pouring rain pelting the leaves and the damp earth in the background, they shared their first kiss, individually and together.

Their lips were still tinged with cold, they could taste rain water, and in truth it was nothing more than a press of lips, but for the pair, it was magical.

When they found it in themselves to pull away, they locked eyes, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed.

"I... Marth, did we..."

"Yes..." he reached his free hand up to brush his knuckles against her cheek, "Caeda. Right now, I am not in a position to give you everything you need. Retaking Altea must be my main priority. But every free moment I have, and the very day our flag once more flies over my homeland, I am yours."

"I do not want or expect more than you are able to give, Marth. We are young yet, and there is much to do. So long as I get small moments such as these," she caught his hand in her own, interlacing their fingers, "I am beyond contentment."

"And I am beyond lucky to have met you."

In the world outside, the rain had begun to wane, and they could hear the thundering of hooves as well as several familiar voices calling their names.

"That sounds like Jagen," Caeda removed herself from Marth's embrace, something that they both mourned, "He will surely be cross with us."

"Let him be cross."

"Marth!"

He grinned as he gazed at her faux scandalized expression, leaning in for one more kiss before they had to return to reality.

Independently of one another, they made a promise to themselves: they would do whatever it takes to ensure that one day, they could share as many kisses and moments of happiness as they like, no matter the cost.•

#fe1 #fe3 #fe11 #fire emblem #fe #archanea saga #archanea #marth x caeda #caeda x marth #marth #caeda #marth (fire emblem)#caeda (fire emblem)#suu's scribbles #wrote this in novemeber but posting to offset some angst i posted to my art blog lol

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jwillowwolf · 3 years

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Magic and Miracles - Chapter 2

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 2!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter > | Masterlist

Summary: “Did you really teach yourself magic?”

“Yes. I learnt from whatever books it could find on the subject.”

Janus nodded. “Impressive."

Warning/s: food mention, fantasy racism.

Characters: Logan, Remy, OC, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Patton, Janus.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on AO3

2 | Getting to Know You

Logan followed the group just barely as he found himself constantly distracted by his surroundings. The paintings, tapestries, vases, and statues, there seemed to be nearly no blank spaces anywhere, yet it didn’t feel cluttered at all. Everything was remarkable and expensive looking. And eye-catching.

In fact, he didn’t notice when the group had stopped moving and walked right into Virgil, which caused him to stumble backwards. Thankfully, Virgil caught him before he fell onto his butt.

“Careful where you’re walking, Lo. you don’t want to end up walking into a door,” Remy remarked from the front of the group.

Logan blushed. “Sorry.”

Virgil just helped him to his feet and nodded.

“Okay, now please pay attention. This hall has all your rooms and this one,” Remy pointed to the first door on the right. “Is mine. They’re all identical and I couldn't be bothered to assign them to you, so take your pick. Everyone has an hour to get settled then we meet back here in the hall for a tour. Good? Good. Farewell.”

And with that, he retreated into his room. Roman chose the room beside Remy’s and Remus took the one beside him, then Patton took the last room on the right side. Virgil took the first room on the left, which left Janus, Logan, and Willow in the hallway.

“Um, thanks, for earlier. With explaining the last-names thing,” Willow said.

Logan nodded. “It was no problem.”

“You would be surprised how many people find it problematic to understand non-humans,” Janus remarked.

“Well, I have no such prejudices. Also, thank you for calling out Roman’s behaviour.”

“Of course. I can’t stand elves who believe themselves higher than everyone.”

“You can’t stand elves in general,” Willow muttered.

“And for good reason. Have you seen Roman?”

Willow winced. “Remus was nice… kind of.”

“She called you a dog.”

“It’s a common mistake.”

“You’re too forgiving.”

Willow rolled her eyes and turned to Logan. “They’re such a hypocrite.”

Janus huffed. “I’m right here.”

“You’re being mean though, so I’m ignoring you.”

Janus rolled their eyes then also turned their attention to Logan. “Did you really teach yourself magic?”

“Yes. I learnt from whatever books it could find on the subject.”

Janus nodded. “Impressive. How did you manage to find a tome that explained pronunciation?”

“I didn’t. I sort of figured that part out from watching the testing ceremonies.”

“In that case, why not replicate the simple performances other mages made beforehand? It’s not against any rules to do the same spell sequence as someone else.”

“I didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Perhaps it was a bit… over the top to do the spell I did, but I managed to leave an impression.”

Janus smirked. “I suppose that’s a good reason. Anyway, it looks like we’re the last to pick rooms. I’m taking the one on the end, see you both later.”

With that, the trio split up into their rooms. Janus taking the one at the end on the left, and Willow leaving the choice between the two doors between Janus and Virgil’s rooms for Logan to choose between. He chose the one next to Virgil’s, allowing Willow to have the room closer to Janus.

Inside the room, there was a queen-sized bed with four tall wooden posts that suspended a silky blue canopy. There was a dresser, a wardrobe, a writing desk, and a half-empty bookshelf. The books didn’t seem to be anything special. Logan’s bag was already on his bed. He only now realised that he’d left it in the carriage. One of the staff members must have brought it here. Thank goodness they brought it to the right room.

Wait, that was his bag, right?

He double-checked the contents and sighed in relief that it was indeed his bag. After that slight scare, he began unpacking his things and sorting the room just how he wanted it. He was delighted to find some fresh blank papers on the writing desk and a few sharp pencils too.

Forty-five minutes later, everything was organised just the way that Logan wanted and he was… bored out of his mind. He flopped down onto the bed and was distracted for a few moments by how incredibly soft it was. After that novelty wore off though, he found himself bored again and stared up at the blue canopy.

His mind once again thought of how frightening this was. He was truly out of his depth with the complexities and splendour of high society. Perhaps there are some books he can find on the subject to help him. ‘How To Fit In With The Upper Class’

He got up from bed to check if there was such a book, or at least something similar, on the shelf. To his dismay, there seemed to only be fictional novels and a dictionary. He’d need to ask Everleigh about looking out for something at the library. Was there a library here? Remy said that they’d have a tour later so he supposed he’d find out then. Wait, when was that tour?

He checked the clock and noticed that… barely three minutes had passed since he went to lie on the bed. Darn it, there were still at least ten minutes to kill before the tour.

He could have read the fiction novels, but honestly, none of the summaries seemed very appealing. He wondered if he could write something but he didn’t have anything to write. Trying to take a nap was pointless so he found himself just sitting on his windowsill.

The view was rather breathtaking actually. Below there was an array of cobblestone paths, lined with green shrubbery, some of which were dotted with white, pink, and purple buds. There was a hedge in front of the iron fence that lined the property, and beyond that was the dark spruce forest that grew high and looked thick and full of secrets.

Logan wondered briefly what secrets really were hidden there in the forest. Creatures? Monsters? Come to think of it, what was hidden here in the manor. Sure, the students had been permitted to explore the entire estate, but Remy had said that they couldn’t go to the tower. What was in that tower? Books full of forbidden knowledge? A porthole to another realm? A gnome that could turn thread into gold?

No, that was stupid, gnomes don’t like being indoors and surely the Royal Family wouldn’t keep anyone hostage in their private estate. But still, what could be there? It must be something important if even Remy wouldn’t let them know what it was.

“Okay, Tour Time, come on out or get left behind!” Remy called from the hallway, causing Logan to practically fall back into reality as he fell off the windowsill.

He groaned in pain as he got up then went out into the hallway to find Remy and the others waiting for him.

“Alrighty, we’ll begin here. This is the east wing, also known as the guest wing. This particular hallway has been cleaned up for us to use this year so please respect your rooms. The other bedrooms are locked so don’t bother looking at what is inside of them. Now if we go this way...”

The tour lasted for three hours and was mostly without interruption as everyone seemed awestruck by the magnificent manor. Logan was glad not to be alone in his awe as they went through the many different halls and passages. There were countless bedrooms in the east and west wings, private bathrooms on the first floor, several studies, sitting rooms, a library [that Logan clocked for later], extensive several acres of gardens, a ballroom, and a large dining hall fit for royalty, which is where they finished the tour to eat lunch.

There was a variety of smoked meats, fresh loaves of bread, tossed salad, a platter of cheese, and lemonade to wash it all down. Logan didn’t know what half of the meats were but tried a little bit of each. He found that he preferred sticking to the familiar beef slices for his lunch and enjoyed them in the form of a little sandwich.

He noted that while Virgil ate the simple sandwich like him, Roman, Remus, and Patton seemed to prefer the salad, while Willow and Janus ate more meat. Willow preferring theirs medium rare while Janus had used some magic to cook theirs further. Logan wondered if this was to do with their race. Willow was part wolf while Janus was part dragon, making them both somewhat carnivores, so craving a lot of meat seemed reasonable. Maybe he could ask about it later if they didn’t mind.

They had certainly seemed the friendliest to him so far, apart from Patton of course. But Patton seemed the type of person who made friends with everyone. Janus, as Willow had implied earlier, was acting cold towards the twins, and Roman seemed to be returning the same cold energy towards everyone apart from Patton. He even seemed cold to Remus, but more in an annoyed sibling fashion. Remus himself seemed indifferent to everyone, just happily chatting with Pat and sometimes blurting inappropriate thoughts. Willow looked still a bit shy though not nearly as tense as this morning, and Virgil was being silent and mysterious as ever.

“Now that lunch is done, let’s have an icebreaker,” Remy suggested.

“It seems quite warm in here, are you sure the ice needs to be broken?” Patton asked.

Everyone was silent for a moment, either cringing or holding back a laugh. Remy looked like that comment had physically pained him as he stared at Patton.

“Just for that, you’re up first, Patty.”

“Oh, um, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to go around and share a fun little fact about ourselves,” Remy explained.

“Alrighty, well, I like frogs. Sometimes, my brother and I go to the marshes and catch a few to just look at them.” Patton stated.

“You have a brother?” Remus asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, my little brother Morgan. He’s twelve and likes frogs almost as much as me.”

“That’s so cool. My brother isn’t even remotely interested in what I like.” Remus sighed.

“That’s because you like gory stories about seafaring hooligans,” Roman said.

“They’re not hooligans, they’re pirates. And I’m going to become one someday.” Remus declared.

Patton cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”

“At least I’d want to do the sailing part, I’ll leave the plunder and pillaging to the others. Unless I get bored,” Remus shrugged.

“I suppose we can accept that as your fact, Remus,” Remy said. “You wanna go next, Rome?”

“Roman, and yes, I shall. I am the best swordsman among the nobility. In fact, I’m to be knighted once I come of age,” Roman declared.

“You need to do an incredible deed to become a knight,” Janus pointed out.

Roman huffed. “Well, I will have you know that my great deed was saving the crown prince himself. Single-handedly.”

Virgil snorted at that.

Roman sneered at him. “And what do you find so amusing, Stormy Knight?”

“You lying about 1, becoming a knight and 2, saving the prince. Everyone knows he’s kept protected in the castle so that no one even knows his face. There's not even a remote chance that you’ve met him.”

“Well, I have. He’s actually quite handsome and much more sophisticated than any one of you. He even personally told me about his idea for this school.”

Virgil just shook his head with amusement.

“I agree with Virgil, you’re lying through your teeth. I suppose we’ll all just have to assume you’re nothing important.” Janus declared.

Roman glared at them. “I am the heir of Lycrest Isle, therefore future governor of the Eastern Ocean. I am a very important person, if not the most important here.”

Janus smirked. “Yet you’re so boring you have to lie about yourself.”

“You-”

“Can go next, Janus, since you’re so eager to speak,” Remy interrupted, steeping between the elf and dragon just in case.

“Alright then. Well, I am known in Evergreen Valley as close to royalty, since I am not only a dragon shifter but also the song of the western governor, Declan the fearless.” Janus stated.

“Cool story kid. Wolfie, you’re up.” Remy announced, ignoring the growing tension between Roman and Janus.

“Um, I grew up with Janus, my eight cousins and two younger siblings, with who I am very close,” Willow said.

“I thought you were part of a pack?” Remus said.

“I am. My pack includes my biological family, and many cousins who I was raised alongside,” Willow explained. “What did you think being a part of a pack meant?”

“Well, if you are a part of a pack, then how did you grow up with Janus?”

“I fostered with the Redrunner pack for most of my childhood,” Janus clarified.

“Oh, so you guys are like childhood friends?” Patton asked.

Willow nodded. “Yep.”

Roman looked over to Willow and said. “I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“How long you’ve had to stand them.”

“Hey!” Janus snapped. “That is a direct attack against my character.”

“And calling me a liar isn’t?”

“Virgil called you a liar, I only agreed with him.”

“Don’t drag me into this.”

“Yeah, can’t you fight your own battles, Dragon?”

“You want to fight me, Elf?”

“Okay, no, that is where I draw the line,” Remy said in a booming voice that instantly silenced the two teens. “You don’t have to like each other, or get along that well, but there will be no physical fighting while you are under my care. In fact, if I see any of you harm each other, then I’ll send you straight home, no excuses. Am I understood?”

“Yes sir,” everyone replied.

“Great, well, that’s enough fun bonding time for today, I suppose. You can all go back to your rooms now.”

And so, that marked the end of Logan’s interactions with his class for the day, since he went straight to bed once he returned to his room. He had not gotten much sleep the night before due to nerves and excitement, so after everything that had happened, he was more than ready to drift away to dreamland.

Now that he had met his classmates, and gotten to know them if only briefly, he sorely hoped that they wouldn’t cause any disturbances to his learning magic. He didn’t want to fail the second test because of some argumentative teens taking up class time. He would be taking the test alone anyway, so he supposed that it wouldn’t affect him if they all failed. But really, he hoped that was the only fight he’d have to witness this year...

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

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lady-tortilla-chip · 4 years

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I'm too shy to actually message you but currently I'm in TaChuu hell. In dire need of content. For the fictional kisses prompt, can you do #9 for TaChuu? Thank you

Oh man, believe me I’m right there with you in Tachuu hell, lol. Ok I rewrote this for you like three times. Idk why I struggled to write something I liked (slumps are mean) but I figured it out. I hope you like it! (Also also!! Feel free to message me! I love talking to people!)

—

There’s a singular moment wherein one knows their next decision will dictate exactly where their life will go. Exactly what pains they’ll endure and exactly what happiness will come of it too.

That moment for Tachihara was now, stunned into stillness as the softest kiss was placed upon his lips. It was dreamlike in how slow the moment seemed to pass. A singular second wherein he clearly saw the fork in the road before him. When Nakahara pulled back he saw exactly where those two paths ended and he saw exactly which one was the most logical. The smartest. The safest.

The hardest.

Tachihara’s breath was stilted as he considered it. Looked into Nakahara’s eyes as they glowed with the depth of his soul. So bright, the skies in his eyes cloudless, open and freely spilling interest and desire for Tachihara in a way which put every single one of his fantasies about this moment to utter shame.

The decision was stupid but it felt good when they both pressed into a following, harder, messier kiss. Arms reaching out to pull the redhead further into his body. It amazed him that his superior—what with his endless energy that made him taller than anyone else in the room—could fit so perfectly against him. Nakahara returned the embrace easily, gloved hands finding purchase in Tachihara’s hair as he pulled him closer like he’d been just as starved for the contact as Tachihara. Which, was that not just beyond incredible yet ridiculously terrifying?

Though with Naka—no Chuuya’s lips moving against his, the kiss having turned into sliding tongues and nipping teeth, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that choosing this road, choosing Chuuya, would lead to heartbreak. Would lead to betrayal and hatred. Would lead to shattered souls and cracked hearts. He didn’t care because this moment was perfect, it was beautiful, and he refused to let it go. It was wrong to be this selfish but he also fully understood that he was weak.

And Chuuya’s taste, his lips, his fingers in Tachihara’s hair, his grip like he refused to let go even to breathe, made him weak and he gladly chose resignation to it.

Tachihara broke the kiss, sucking in a stuttered breath and releasing it, ignoring the sense of guilt that had rushed through him the moment his mouth separated from Chuuya’s. The executive’s eyes opened and the heated glint in them nearly yanked Tachihara right back in, but the words which exited his mouth, reddened by their kiss, stopped him short, “I guess this means you aren’t straight.”

Wondering at the relevance of such a statement, Tachihara laughed roughly, “No, not really.”

“I’m glad, I thought maybe my advances were unwanted. Guess not.” Chuuya said and Tachihara wasn’t sure about any previous advances from the man but he was also aware that he had the density of a boulder and therefore likely missed whatever subtle hints Chuuya may have made at mutual affection. Which was just a further testament to how dense he was because the man currently in his arms had the subtlety of a lit match to gasoline.

“Definitely not,” Tachihara responded, paying no heed to the fact that this side of the fork he’d chosen to follow would surely splinter and ricochet back into him. He’d deal that when the time came. For now, he’d enjoy this.

Chuuya grinned, leaning up again to whisper a, “Good,” against his lips before he pressed into another kiss.

#Tachuu #AAAH THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!#i was so happy to write Tachuu omg #Nakahara Chuuya #Tachihara Michizou #ficlet #my fic #my writing #BSD #Bungou Stray Dogs

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motleycrueroadie · 4 years

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Along for the Ride (pt. 6)

Author’s Note: It has been a while, so thank you to anyone who is returning to this story! I will apologize for the delay, going back to work has been hectic. With everything going on right now, if reading this and consuming this kind of content helps you to take a break then I’m very glad to provide that. Enjoy xoxo.

Previous Chapters: One I Two I Three I Four I Five I

A lot of time has passed since I’ve been to a party, let alone a party with a horde of strangers. The last time that I was ,what might be defined as, “partying” was during high school. Even though varsity sports were a large commitment, there were always athletes who made it part of their weekly routine to get as hammered as they possibly could on Friday and Saturday night. The football players were the main ones to spend copious hours belligerent, and they turned to the other fall athletic teams to join them. A lot of my teammates were skinny little things who were borderline obliterated within two cups of foamy, cheap keg beer but no other sport could beat them and myself at the beer mile. The athletes were pretty much the only people I partied with because they were the only people I was seeing throughout the year. Yet here I am four years later, having not attended a party since graduation and I was set to attend some random stranger’s party to scope out Tommy’s suggested lead singer.

When Tommy had suggested Vince at dinner last week he went on to explain that he knew him from high school and not from Suite 19 or any other band he played for - which to me was a good starting sign considering that Greg hadn’t worked out. I had not realised I was Tommy’s senior by four years up until he was talking about him and Vince’s high school days. Tommy admitting his age to me really had put things into perspective for myself.

Four years have passed since I graduated and I still had yet to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Upon finishing high school, all I knew with regards to my future was that I needed to be on my own and find myself. To begin, finding out who I was meant that I needed to start from my roots and make my way up. Despite not being completely fit parents, my mother and father were incredibly passionate people. Before the haze of drugs and partying had blinded them, my parents were both madly in love with one another and with music. None of their life was mapped out and planned tediously, otherwise I wouldn’t have been in the picture. When they were seventeen and seniors in high school, my mom found out she was pregnant with me. Even though this put a delay in their goal to travel with the music, it never stopped them. We lived in a 1959 Volkswagen Van and put thousands of miles on it as we traveled from venue to venue following the voices of the 60′s. Of course, we settled down come the fall when the summer tours and festivals died down and I needed to go to school. We would live right here on the Sunset Strip in a shitty little one bedroom apartment. I slept with my parents on a mattress on the floor. During the week I would attend school and they would work at whatever odd job they had found, then come the weekend they would put me to bed and head out for the shows. After their death, I moved in with my grandparents a few hours north of Los Angeles for 7 years until I turned 18. That’s when I set out to find myself. Funny thing is, it’s almost been four years out here and I’m no closer to finding out who I am than the day I left home.

“You’re not that much older than me Janis,” Tommy had said while we were talking about my age, “Mick, when did you graduate high school?” This was another of his attempts to figure out Mick’s age.

“Before your balls even dropped.” Mick was quick to shut Tommy down every time. I smiled at Mick and held out my hand for a fist bump, which to my surprise Mick had returned. Mick was older than the rest of us, but none of us were sure by how much. Even though Mick fronted a bit of a tough exterior, he liked to joke around and have fun like us - He just wasn’t as young as us anymore, it was a different kind of fun.

That night, after the guys had gone back to practicing, I went back to my usual nightly routine. Being that it was Sunday, I didn’t have to go in for work but it also meant that I had to keep my regular sleep schedule since I was due for another 11-7 shift the next day. That left me from the time I woke up at 3:30 pm until 7:00 am to pass the time. This meant that I would have a smoothie and go for a run, come back for a shower and more food and the rest of the time I spent cleaning every nook and cranny in the apartment and reading. Days off though, was time for grocery shopping. There was only one supermarket in the nearby area that was open 24 hours and I was one of the only people who tended to do their shopping at midnight. However, on this night I had company. Nikki came along with me despite the fact that he had work in the morning. It wasn’t until the walk home that I learned the true motive behind the company on the trip. He wanted me to come with them to this party to scout out Vince. At first I was confused.

“Why do you want me to come? It’s your band.” He nodded in agreement, acknowledging that it seemed like an odd request.

“You’ve kind of been along for most of this, so even though it’s not your band I feel it’s only right you come along for the ride.” My continued confusion must have read on my face because he spoke again, “I met Tommy at your diner and you called Mick when I wouldn’t.”

“You would’ve eventually called him yourself, and I’m sure you would’ve met Tommy after your show anyways.” He shook his head at me while we continued walking.

“Janis, I was only in that diner because I was there to see you. Tommy was there by coincidence. I wouldn’t have called Mick either. I would have just let myself be happy I had Greg and went along with it until we became another Suite 19 or London.” I had opened my mouth to reply to him and he cut me off, “I’m trying to say you’ve helped me form this band whether you believe it or not, and I want you there when we’re looking at what could be our lead singer.”

“Then I’ll be there to make sure you get your skinny blonde fucker.” He laughed with me and we continued in comfortable silence back to our apartments. That was almost six days ago, today I stood in the living room of Nikki’s apartment at 4:30 on a Friday waiting for Mick to come so that we could all go to this party. Up until now, I hadn’t really seen Nikki’s apartment, but now that I was in it I realised why. The fact that there were roaches infesting this building was not beyond my knowledge, however I managed to keep them at bay by keeping my apartment clean and the food sealed. The garbage left out by Nikki and the mess all over the place was a haven for all sorts of bugs, evident by the ants and roaches freely roaming the brown carpet (which is supposed to be white). Despite this, I wasn’t assuming that Nikki was 100% a slob - more or less 50% a slob, and the rest I can chalk up to him not knowing any better. I know Nikki hasn’t always had or accepted the type of discipline and skill that a parental figure would instill to keep a tidy home. However, even though I was understanding, it didn't mean that I could bear the smell any longer. Moving out of the apartment, I joined Tommy out on the balcony where he was having a cigarette while Nikki was still getting ready.

“Tell me more about Vince.” I spoke, Tommy turned his head from the view of the Strip to acknowledge my presence. Leaning against the railing next to him, Tommy put his arm around my shoulder. Since our initial encounter at the diner, I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know Tommy a little bit better when hosting dinners and talking to him. He reminded me of the little brother I never got to have, full of energy and youth. We balanced each other out well in conversations, he was able to get me excited and rambling while I reigned him in but listened intently to everything he had to say.

“Why? Trying to see if he’s worth getting into bed with?” Tommy winked at me, I knew he was trying to frazzle me. “Jeez JJ, you haven’t even seen him yet.”

“Looks are just a small slice of the pie, I need to know if he’s got brains or not” I replied.

“Vince’s brains are in his pants. The thing about Vince is that he’s a great guy to be around if you’re a guy.” He took a drag from the cigarette before continuing, “So just make sure he knows you’re one of the guys.” The red car I knew to be Mick pulled up in front of the complex, so I turned back to the apartment where I had left the door ajar and yelled for Nikki.

“Sixx! Mick is here!” I heard something hit the floor behind him as Nikki emerged from the apartment and closed the door behind him. “You don’t lock your door?” I asked him, genuinely confused considering the equipment they kept there for rehearsing.

“Why would anyone want to steal from me?” He answered my question with another question, which was something I was notorious for doing and he knew it.

“Your equipment is in there though.”

“And? Are the people who won’t even talk to me, who live here, going to steal it?” Being that he was a little snarky today, I figured he needed a reminder of who he was talking to.

“Well I guess whoever wants to take your shit needs to get past all the garbage and the smell first.” I replied, walking down the stairs with Tommy towards Mick’s car. His silence was quite audible and I knew I had struck the right chord.

“It’s not that bad in there!” Tommy was quick to come to his defence, especially considering he would be moving in with Nikki at some point. The two of them had discussed this over dinner not long ago.

“You boys have just been spending enough time in it that you’ve become used to it.” I said. In that moment I realised how badly these two boys needed a voice of reason and guidance around. They thought that it was quite acceptable to live like that. “You’re lucky I’m around, I’ll be the one to stop you from being evicted by the L.A Health Department.”

“Get off your fucking high horse.” Nikki scoffed as we grew closer to Mick’s car. I lifted my foot and pressed it into the crook of Tommy’s knee while pushing my hand into Nikki’s chest to throw them both off balance. They both stumbled slightly as I took off into a run, swinging open Mick’s car door I slid into the passenger seat.

“Let’s go!” I yelled, leaning out the window and laughing as Tommy and Nikki fumbled into the backseat. Despite the fact that Nikki had seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, today he had a smirk on his face as he and Tommy squished their body’s into the backseat of the Mazda. Knowing Nikki, only a little bit, I could maybe conclude he was nervous about whether Vince would work out of not. They sounded good without a lead singer, and I know he wants someone to match the rest of their talent.

“Mick Mars, you ready to go get a blonde fucker?” I asked him, sticking out my hand for a fist bump. He returned the gesture before shifting the car into drive.

“This kid better be good, drummer.” Was the reply that Mick offered as we took off towards the house party. Arriving on the street, the first thing we noticed were the dozens of cars lined up and the second was the noise from down the block. As we got out of the car, Tommy let us know that the noise was Vince. Nikki had commented that he sounded good for now and everyone’s spirits were high. As we entered the backyard, the third thing that we all noticed was how easily these guys stood out in the crowd. The people at this party were very obviously preppy, the colour palette was very warm and looked just like the people I would have hung around with in high school. In fact, if these guys weren’t here then I would blend in quite well. The four of us were stopped in the entrance of the backyard, and I felt a hand on the small of my back as Nikki started making his way into the sea of strangers.

“I want a shot of Jack already and we’ve been here for two seconds” He whispered in my ear as the four of us made our way to the makeshift bar in the middle of the backyard. As we approached the table, Nikki took a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the hand of someone passing by. They turned in protest but then decided against it once taking in the sight of us. Leaning against the table, I was paying attention to the band on stage. The four guys on the stage were playing a cover of Billy Squier’s My Kind of Lover and though it was nothing special compared to the original, I would say the lead singer was using the song to his advantage. The women were flocking to the front of the stage, infatuated with him. Tapping my foot along to the beat, I felt a hand on the small of my back again as the bottle of Jack appeared in my vision. Shaking my head, I gently pushed the neck back towards Nikki. Even though the offer was denied and he didn’t need my attention anymore, Nikki’s hand remained and I was hyper-aware of the fact.

“Fucking cover band?” Mick questioned, sounding displeased.

“Yeah but I’m telling you, I went to high school with this guy.” Tommy continued to vouch for Vince, attempting to convince Mick to see past the exterior. Unlike Mick, I was hearing a voice that could go with the heavy metal these guys have been playing.

“You’re telling me you haven’t played covers to make a cheap buck Mick?” I questioned, looking back at him as he took the bottle of Jack from Nikki. His scowl softened ever so slightly, which served as the silent reply I needed. Tommy and Nikki stepped forward a little away from the table to talk and I stayed there with Mick.

“I know what you mean though Mick,” He glanced his eyes over at me before returning to watch Vince, taking a sip from the bottle. “You want to know if the guy is serious about the music or in it for something else. I get it” He nodded appreciatively, a man of few words. I couldn’t tell if I was on the right track, but when he stuck his fist out towards me I knew I had been right. Quickly bumping my fist against his, I caught his smile as he took another sip from the bottle.

“This isn’t our style.” Mick called out to Nikki and Tommy. The two looked back at Mick before Nikki motioned his hand out to the crowd in front of the stage.

“I don’t care if he can sing or not, look at what he’s doing to those chicks” He replied. Tommy turned his whole body around and came walking towards me with a grin, which I knew was not a good sign.

“Yeah JJ, look at what he’s doing to those chicks. You creaming your jeans yet?” He laughed at how uncomfortable I appeared from his statement. I wasn’t ignorant to the stares from both Mick and Nikki as they awaited my thoughts.

“Blondes aren’t my type Tommy.” I replied, but it didn’t appear that he was letting up on me. Standing next to me as we listened to the tail end of the song, Tommy looked like he had something else to say.

“They might not be your type, but blondes are Vince’s type. You’re my bribing factor JJ.” Tommy said, he tried to walk away but I grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket.

“You are not pimping me!” I whisper shouted at him, he laughed and pulled his jacket out my hand as the song ended.

“We are Rock Candy!” Vince said into the microphone as he exited the stage. Nikki returned to the table beside Mick and myself, his arm going around my shoulder.

“Shitty name” mumbled Mick and I nodded in agreement.

“I heard something about Tommy pimping you out to Vince,” Nikki said low enough that only I was hearing it. Shifting under the weight of his arm I looked up at him.

“ Not only are blondes not my type, but neither is being pimped out” I replied as we watched Tommy and Vince embrace. “His voice is right for you guys, but you’ll need to help him tweak it. Billy Squier is much different than what you guys are playing.” Nikki nodded in agreement with me. The two of us continued to watch Tommy and Vince talk as Tommy pointed back at the three of us before handing him something. He bounded back to us with the type of energy that I envied.

“I gave him the tape to listen to, it’s got my number on it so I told him to call!” Tommy sounded excited, so I took it that the exchange between the two of them went well. For the sake of these three guys and all the hard work that I had seen them putting into this band thus far, I was really hoping that this would all work out for them. More so, I was quite excited to leave this party and return home to relax before my shift began and I would be dealing with the Friday night leftovers from the Sunset Strip shows.

A couple weeks had passed since we had ventured to the pool party to watch Vince, and despite how excited Tommy had seemed, the man with promise had yet to even give them a phone call. With each day that went by, I could tell the guys were becoming discouraged even though they continued to practice every night like clockwork. I tried to keep things constant for them on my part, and made sure that the door was open to welcome them for dinner every night after practice.

The more that I was around the guys, the more I got to know them. Tommy had learned to play in the drums from the high school marching band, but was one of the most musically inclined of the bunch. When Nikki had met Tommy in the diner, I hadn’t noticed the drumsticks he had been carrying, but since then I had taken note that he did in fact always have a pair glued to him. He was constantly fidgeting with them to the point where I had threatened to toss them into the trash if he hit me one more time while twirling them. In typical Tommy fashion he had apologized profusely. He also told me he appreciated that I was so upfront with him about the things he did that piss me off - something he said his parents were not the greatest at. Mick on the other hand, was a bit of a harder egg to crack. All I could really tell about him was the fact that something seemed to bother him all the time, he never looked like he could quite get comfortable no matter where we were. Nikki and I remained on the same page. We hadn’t really had the opportunity to hang out, just the two of us since Mick joined the trio and I was okay with it for now. What was becoming of increasing concern to me though was their love of substances. The past couple of weekends, the three of them came to the diner during my shift after having watched someone playing at the Starwood or the Whiskey, being as loud and obnoxious as I had ever seen them. Carlos always made sure to poke his disapproving head over the kitchen window and give me his signature “fix it” stare. I tried to shovel bread and water into their systems to slow them down, and they would soon leave just as quickly as they entered, with shouts of “you have to come out soon JJ!” and “live up to the Janis name!” echoing as they exited back onto the street. I knew drugs and alcohol were part of the music scene, and I wasn't a stranger to them myself, but I knew when to stop. Since I hadn’t seen them party in person yet, I couldn’t gauge whether or not they knew when to stop, but a gut feeling was telling me that they did not in fact know when to stop.

Today though, was a Monday which meant a fresh start to the week. Feet to the pavement at 4:30 and I was off. The guys always waited until they heard me going down the stairs before they began playing to make sure that I was awake, it was quite the considerate thing to do. Making my way through the streets of Los Angeles, I noticed that it was absolutely sweltering today and the white shirt that I was wearing would soon become quite see-through. The marquees of the Whiskey and the Starwood adorned names that I don’t recognise but that I’m sure Tommy could ramble on about for hours with the aid of Nikki. Those two could give my parents a run for their money when it came for the love of music. I could turn the radio on or throw in a random cassette and as long as it was rock, those two could name the artist, the song, the album and their thoughts within 30 seconds of the song. I had to admit, it was impressive. Rounding the corner that led back to our street, I was ready for a shower. Glancing down at the white shirt, I noticed that my prediction had reigned true. Crossing at the traffic light, there was a beautiful, red 280Z car parked out front the apartment complex. Knowing the people that lived in the building, there was no one with enough money to own that kind of car. Confused, I headed up the stairs while peeling the shirt off my back and tossing it over my shoulder. There was no music coming from Nikki’s apartment, only lots of voices. Continuing up the stairs, I heard a woman’s voice speak.

“I’m just trying to make sure these guys are good enough to play with you baby.” Those were some odd words. Walking quietly, I paused at the ajar doorway. Mick could see me through the crack but I motioned for him to stay quiet. He started into a riff, while a voice started singing, which I recognised as Vince. After only playing for no more than 30 seconds, the same voice called out, “This isn’t right!” She wasn’t wrong. They mumbled among themselves about how they could change the song so that it sounded better. Nikki said something about muzzling that I didn’t quite pick up but judging by the outcry of curses from the woman, it had to do with muzzling her. Mick just started back into the song again, at a faster pace to silence her. They sounded a lot better. As they started getting into the song I recognised it to be “Live Wire” whose lyrics Nikki had shown me over dinner a while back. Figuring that they would be distracted while playing, I opened the door further which let in more light and I leaned against the doorway listening to them play. Nikki and Tommy had noticed and smiled at me before Nikki motioned with his head over to Vince who was just coming to the tail end of the song. “Holy shit” breathed the woman on the couch.

“Holy shit is right, that sounded great!” I exclaimed. Nikki grabbed my hand and shook it enthusiastically while Tommy yelled out in agreement. Mick in his true fashion just smiled and nodded along. Without even looking at him, I knew Vince was staring at me. Sticking out my hand for an introduction I spoke to Vince, “Janis Jade, you must be Vince?” He took the hand and gave it a firm shake, pausing while opening his mouth to speak.

“Tommy said you would be here,” He glanced over his shoulder at Tommy and back at me, giving me a once over. “And I have to say I’m quite glad that you are.” Glaring at Tommy, he feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders. Damn bastard did try to pimp me out. Dropping Vince’s hand I side stepped him and stuck my hand out for the woman who remained sitting on the couch through all this.

“Janis Jade, I’m Nikki’s upstairs neighbour.” She looked at my hand but did not return the gesture.

“Baby, you better not be getting any ideas with her around just because she’s sleeping with Nikki.” Though she was quite ignorant, I kept my cool. I was as covered, if not more, than some of the people he was talking to at the pool party. Glancing over my shoulder at Nikki who was beginning to open his mouth, I stuck my hand up slightly to signal him to stop.

“My apologies sweetheart, I’m sure my midriff was giving him all sorts of ideas.” Grabbing the white shirt from over my shoulders I pulled it over my head. My sweat had made it so that my cleavage was as bright as day but the rest of my torso was covered. Pulling the shirt taut by the hem so that this was emphasised to her I continued, “There we are.” Letting go of the end of my shirt and turning on my heel, I waved to everyone. “Things are sounding good you guys! I’ll bring down some dinner around 8:30.” The silence in the room was deafening but the thumbs-up of support from Tommy didn’t go unnoticed. Walking out the door, I left the boys to deal with the two blondes.

“I’ll say what we are all thinking. JJ would win in any wet t-shirt contest.” That was unmistakably Tommy’s voice.

Next Chapter

#Motley Crue #The Dirt #the dirt fanfiction #douglas booth!nikki sixx

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thecreelhouse · 4 years

Text

Kill the Lights // Chapter 15

Steve Harrington x Original Female Character

Read chapter 14 here!

Summary: After Violet- formally 003, a telekinetic, electrokinetic, and clairvoyant 19 year old- loses her first family, her first love, nothing is the same. She finds herself taken in by Hopper and El, struggling to find her footing and meaning to keep fighting. The Party, especially Steve Harrington, try to show her where her strengths have been hiding all along, and that no one has to fight their battles alone. Sometimes you don’t need to be rescued, but someone’s love and support while you rescue yourself sure doesn’t hurt.

Word count: 3,001

Content warnings: angst, healing, mourning, PTSD, for the most part though comfort and fluff

Author’s note: I’m already teary getting ready to post this lol. Here we are, the last chapter of this fic! Wow! Thank you thank you thank youuuuuu if you’ve read this, reblogged and liked it, said anything nice about it- y’all giving some of your time out of your day to read this has meant so much more than I could ever express into words. This was a silly daydream that kept me occupied the past year, and being able to form it into words where others could enjoy it too.... wow. Wow?? Wow. I’ll be posting the masterlist soon, which will also include the playlist I had for writing and daydreaming this whole thing up lol. Chapter title is from ‘light on’ by Maggie rogers. Okay. I’m done rambling. Depending on how season 4 ends up, maybe eventually there will be a sequel to this fic. For now, please enjoy the ending. Grab tissues. I love y’all.

(Also huuuuuuuuge thanks to @harringtown for hyping up this fic since day one, and loving Violet as much as I do, if not more. I appreciate you and your support pal 🥺💜)

Chapter 15: Light On

Time is thought to heal all wounds. Time is supposed to be forgiving, understanding, as you heal from a loss.

For Violet, though, it felt like a lie at first. Time didn’t heal shit, wasn’t forgiving, couldn’t understand, as she grieved over losing the one, true parental figure she ever trusted in her life. She grieved for herself, for El, who had a much closer bond with Hopper. Most of all, for Joyce, who had not only a bond that strengthened with trauma and time, but history.

Seconds passed into minutes, and they passed into days, weeks, months, and time still couldn’t heal the emptiness left behind when Hopper died. Violet stayed up some nights, comforting El when she couldn’t sleep, when the trauma of the battle kept her awake. Other nights, Violet felt herself fall back into the hole she clawed her way out of earlier that year. It was dark, cold, isolated, and sickeningly enough, it felt like home... and Violet sure was desperate to feel that again.

Not much could be saved after rummaging through the cabin’s remains. Some old boxes that belonged to Hopper, and some things that belonged to El and Violet out of pure luck. Their home was a ghost now. Even if still intact, it would only be a ghost and nothing more without Hopper around. Home isn’t a place, but who you feel safe with. Violet knew that wasn’t here in these woods anymore.

In time, Violet’s powers were replenished, but El still struggled, lost without hers. Sometimes she let guilt overcome her, feeling awful she couldn’t use her powers to check, just to make sure. Make sure, what? Their dad was still alive? There was never a body recovered from the ruins of Starcourt, nor from the hell that lied underneath. Joyce never saw what actually happened to Hopper- just assumed he was taken out in the blast. El wanted more than anything to just check, hoping they were all wrong, that he was somewhere, anywhere, alive.

When Violet wasn’t shutting herself away- or rather, when Steve refused to let her slip away any further, after weeks of not seeing her- she practiced her hardest, trying to access the void like El once could. If she could levitate for even a second during the battle, she could most certainly learn how to control her powers for other means as well.

At first, it was unsuccessful, but in time, Violet began seeing flashes of present moments, along with future moments, just like she did before everything went down at Starcourt. Still, though, they moved too quickly for her to grasp onto anything. When the visions came, Steve, the kids, anyone who knew her, would drop what they were doing in an instant to write down anything she could remember. Usually, she couldn’t grasp much more than a few, vague details.

Freezing cold, snow, ice, dark- before the rest slipped away from her. Other times, she saw flashes of the Upside-Down, and only recognized it from the times she was forced there during her time in the lab. Still, neither made sense, and until she could catch onto more details, she felt it was useless. Violet struggled terribly with feeling like she could have a purpose in the world anymore. Since she failed to protect El, and couldn’t bring back Billy from the dead, she felt absolutely useless. Steve, on the other hand, tried his hardest every damn day to reassure her otherwise.

Steve wanted Violet to see so badly what he and the others saw in her. She was worth so much more than her powers. She wasn’t just a weapon like they raised her to be in the lab, nor was she only a tool to be used in times of crisis and need for good. She was worth so much more beyond that. Violet deserved to feel at home, with the people she loved, under whatever roof she lived under, and within her own skin. There were times she wanted to hide away, relapse with self harm, push everyone she loved away- but she didn’t. Even if it was because Steve made sure she didn’t at first, she always followed through to hanging on, all on her own. She knew she was slipping away, back into the dark place she was before she had found this family, but she also didn’t want to go back.

See, among all of the hurt the summer brought her, Violet definitely wanted to still live. She had lived, really, truly lived, after befriending Steve, after taking El under her wing, getting better for them, for the rest of the Party. After losing family again, she swore she’d never slip away completely. She didn’t want to just exist. She wanted to live.

Everyone was healing, but slowly, painfully. To them, in the present moment, it didn’t feel like progress at all. Over time, the longer the nightmarish memories faded into just that, memories, life began to get just a little easier. A little less painful. It didn’t completely erase what happened, and it would never go away. But maybe, just maybe, they were growing forward this whole time.

It was a cooler, but still warm night at the beginning of September 1985, when the Party was “camping out” in Steve’s backyard. It was the last time they’d all be together, before the Byers, El, and Violet would be moving away. The trees were beginning to change colors, fading in waves of autumn shades.

After the battle, Violet either spent time there or eventually at the Byers’ house, where her and El moved in. Nowadays, the Party seemed to have regular- almost nightly- sleepovers at the Harrington house. Everyone was afraid to be alone as nightmares plagued them any time they slept. Time awake was time spent with one another, afraid of what would happen if someone else was taken way too soon. Time was too precious to this group these days.

Violet eventually met Steve’s parents, like, actually met them, more than just passing glances, and was less than thrilled to put names and rotten attitudes to faces. They weren’t very fond of Violet either- with her “rebellious” style, enough emotional baggage to last a lifetime, and a past they knew very little about- but glad Steve had some reason, even if it was a girl he was dating, to stay out of their hair. They wanted nothing to do with the healing process after Starcourt burned to the ground, even without knowing all of the gruesome details of what their own son endured. It infuriated Violet, knowing they still had a part of their family, and only continued to take advantage of that fact, like life wasn’t fragile.

Violet continued to love Steve with her whole heart, give and show love where she could, where his parents refused to. Where Violet couldn’t sleep, she was able to comfort Steve after nightmares. When something triggered a fight-or-flight response in him- a car door slamming too hard, a sound effect in a movie too loud- Violet did what he had always done for her, helped him become and stay grounded.

That September night, as they all were sitting around a small fire, roasting marshmallows for s’mores, it happened- someone a few yards over began setting off small fireworks in the neighborhood. Must’ve found some leftover ones from the summer, or something. No other real reason why. A harmless move, but unknowingly snapped something in Steve’s mind.

Steve immediately froze up at the first bang! that went off, and Violet instantly noticed, grabbing his hands, then gently grabbing his face, turning it towards her.

“It’s okay, love.” She whispered, thumb gently caressing his cheek. Steve’s eyes focused on Violet’s, trying his hardest to tune out the memories creeping back. The Mind Flayer, the whole battle, watching Billy die-

“What can you see around you?” She asked softly, pushing his hair from his eyes. Steve shut his eyes for a moment, before taking a deep, shaky breath, then opening them once more. His face softened at the sight of the girl he loved.

“You.” He said right away to her, then looked up to the sky. “The moon. The stars. Those are your favorite things in the world.”

Violet smiled softly at the detail he added, nodding. “They are, love. What else?”

Steve glanced back down, now towards the kids crowded around the fire pit, who weren’t really kids anymore. Time may not have healed them much, but sure had no problem leading them into getting much older. Trauma definitely aided in the aging process, too, but through and through, they were still so young, and doing their best to enjoy that every moment they could.

“A bunch of goofballs, hogging all the marshmallows.” He said, laughing, as they had all given up actually roasting them, and just shoving them in their mouths instead.

“Hey! You invited us!” Lucas scoffed, pointing to Steve, and Mike nodded, adding, “and we bought the marshmallows! No law saying you have to share.”

“Doesn’t mean you should completely avoid sharing! Where’s your manners?” Steve joked back, easing back into reality. Violet sighed quietly, relieved. She moved her arms back around his waist as they cuddled under a blanket- the one Joyce gave Violet earlier that year, after her major mental breakdown. A major turning point in Violet’s life and road of recovery. The worn blanket was one of the few, prized possessions she salvaged among the debris of the cabin. Her literal security blanket.

“Steve’s got a point, you guys don’t need all of that sugar, anyway. You’re gonna be up for the next ten years with all that in your system.” Robin added, glaring at the boys in disgust, who continued to only inhale the sugary sweets. Max and El nodded, agreeing with her.

“See! You two can’t even share with your girlfriends? Now that’s just wrong. And I have to suffer in a long distance relationship? This is absolutely unfair.” Dustin chimed in on the verbal attack. All the kids burst into multiple arguments, adding to the comic relief. So maybe they’ve grown a lot since the battle, but moments like this just reminded Violet how they were still just kids. They deserved peace, an easy year for once. An easy rest of their days, for as long as possible.

As they continued, now counting out loud how many marshmallows they’ve each had, Steve ducked his head down closer to Violet, who noticed and turned to face him.

“Hm?” Violet hummed, tilting her head a bit.

“Thank you, for helping me earlier.” Steve whispered.

“I only learned from the best, y’know.” Violet smirked up at her boyfriend, and he blushed.

“Do you really have to move? There’s plenty of room for you here. My parents clearly don’t give a shit about anything that involves me... so...”

“Steve, you know I have to go. I can’t leave El. We’re all each other has right now.”

Steve frowned a bit at her words. “That’s not totally true. You two have me, the rest of the kids, Robin-“

“I know. I know, I just think she needs some normalcy, and maybe we’ll find that when we leave Hawkins for a little while. We could both use some fresh air away from here. It’s not forever, I promise.” Violet explained, resting her head on his shoulder. Steve sighed, understanding what she meant, but still bummed out.

“It’s gonna suck without you here. We’re all gonna miss you and El a lot.” He whispered, staring back at the kids, who moved past the marshmallow meltdown, and were cracking jokes around the fire. Robin just rolled her eyes at every terrible punchline, glancing over towards Violet and Steve, eyes sad for her best friend. She knew Steve would be taking this hard, especially when they actually left by the morning.

“We’ll visit, as much as we can.” She replied. “I’m even going to look for a car, with the money I saved this summer. So I’ll be dragging El along, safely, for visits to see you all.”

Violet picked her head back up, gently kissing Steve’s jawline before speaking up again. “This is gonna work. You and I, I mean.”

“Oh, it has to. I refuse to let Dustin’s long distance relationship with Suzie outlast you and I.” Steve joked, and a giggle rose out of Violet. Steve wrapped his arm around her tighter, pulling her closer to him, wishing that was more than enough to keep her here with him.

The night rolled on, and eventually the kids began to retreat to the tents they pitched in the yard earlier that day. Robin gave up on sleeping outside, saying goodnight and heading back inside to crash on the couch. Violet and Steve refused to sleep, though, knowing this was the last night they’d have together for awhile. The quiet settled among them in the air, and Violet embraced how easily she fell into the peace. She wanted nothing more than to stay here, in this moment, in Hawkins. It was unfolding into one of those nights that she loved to imagine saving for a rainy day. She’d be revisiting this memory as much as possible once they move away.

“C’mere, I want to show you something,” Violet whispered, getting up onto her feet and pulling Steve up with her. She glanced around to the neighboring houses, checking to see if anyone was awake and looking that shouldn’t be. She crept up to the side of Steve’s house, with him closely following behind.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked cautiously, brow raised. Violet smiled up at him when the coast was clear.

“You trust me?”

“Was that not clear this whole summer?” Steve chuckled. Violet smiled, blushing and nudging his shoulder with her palm. “Yes, of course I trust you.”

“Hold on to my hands, tight, okay?”

Violet’s nose began bleeding, and Steve’s eyes grew wide, realizing what she was up to.

Slowly, an unseen force- Violet’s powers, her strength- began to tug at both her and Steve, gently, steadily lifting the two of them off of the ground. Like magic, like a dream, they floated, they levitated, like the night Violet did it out of pure adrenaline during the battle. But now, she was as calm as Steve had seen her since that night. A smile crept up on her face as she kept her hold on Steve’s hands, though his grip was certainly tighter than hers.

They continued to rise, above the trees surrounding his house, and to the roof, where Violet gently landed their feet.

“I’ve been practicing.” Violet simply said, as if it was a basic skill, still holding onto Steve. His jaw still hung open, floored and impressed by what his favorite human could do. Even after all this time, he was still in awe any time Violet used her powers. Even a little intimidated still by the power she held. He still stood by what he said, that it didn’t define her worth, but god damn he couldn’t lie how cool it was. How incredible Violet was.

“You’re too damn cool for me.” Steve said, glancing over the edge of the house, then back up to Violet, afraid of the height they were at. Violet sat closer to him, getting cozy on the most flat part of the roof.

“King Steve would have nothin’ on me, huh?” Violet laughed, nudging Steve’s shoulder. He shook his head as he laughed.

“You’d even give that asshole a run for his money.” Steve said jokingly about his past persona. “I’m glad you never met me back then.”

Violet hummed gently before responding. “I think I would have seen the real you regardless. You’re a genuinely good person, Steve. That’s hard to cover up, even behind a dickbag attitude.”

Steve gently laughed again, and Violet wished she could hear it forever, record it, take it with her everywhere she went. It was one of her favourite sounds in the world.

“Meeting you definitely helped me grow even more, you know.” He said, voice still soft but serious now. Violet blushed and glanced away for a second, biting her lip.

“I can say the same about meeting you.” She said, kissing his cheek. “I like who we’ve grown into so far.”

The couple rested back on the roof, getting a clear view of the night sky, glowing brightly with a full moon and all the stars surrounding it. Violet’s pain was constant, but it was the last thing on her mind in this moment. She knew Amy and Hopper both would never want her to dwell on the sadness. To live in mourning. It’s no way to live. She knew that well now.

“Can I ask for one more favor?” Steve broke the silence, smirking over at Violet.

“I dunno, Harrington. You’re getting pretty needy tonight.” Violet teased, glancing over at her boyfriend.

The way the moon’s light lit up his face melted her heart into a puddle. She wanted to stay in Hawkins, she would kill to stay in this moment forever. She felt safest under a night sky, next to the boy she fell in love with months ago. This boy, who was once terrified of Violet and her powers, who saw past her walls, who continued to uplift and support her, remind her that she was worth the space she took up. She never wanted to leave Steve’s side, but knew it had to happen to continue healing.

“Kill the lights, for old time’s sake?�� Steve whispered as he looked at Violet, and she rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Sure, love.” And with an outstretched hand, she forced the street lamps on his block to shut off. Any outdoor lights nearby powered down, too. Jokingly she whispered, “you’re lucky I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to be loved by you, Violet Hopper.”

#kill the lights #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x oc #stranger things x ofc #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #iiiiiii am so EMOTIONAL BYE

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luzbie-art · 5 years

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Russian cottage.

America had had no chance the minute he stepped out of the car to stand face to face with a very tall, very manly Russia. It's not like he wasn't tall and manly himself, but seeing the other wearing a coat, a thick plaid shirt and a traditional ushanka hat while balancing chunks of wood on his right shoulder was as manly as one could get. Serious lumberjack daddy material. Not that he would ever admit to have thought of that...

Anyway, their bosses had decided that they should spend some time together, you know, to improve the relations between the two countrys. Why did that need to happen on Russia's countryside house in the middle of winter was beyond him, and yet here he was, about to freeze to death and faking a smile at the other.

"You are here earlier than I had expected. I was just making sure we had enough wood for the weekend" Ivan said as he motioned with his eyes at what he was carrying "Come inside. Once you leave your luggage there you can help me finish."

And with that he turned around and started walking towards the house. Alfred hurried behind him muttering under his breath something about how he felt like he was gonna freeze to death. And maybe complaining in his mind a little about the lack of interest in Russia's greeting. He wasn't thrilled to be there either, but still.

From what America could see, the house was nice and humble. All wooden walls with warm light emanating from the windows. Its roof was covered in snow, just like its surroundings. It was located in a beautiful and secluded clear in a forest. America thought it looked like something out of a 'wish you were here' postal. Except no one in their right mind would want to be there. It was fucking Winterfell!!

Russia led him inside. He showed him his room and America threw his belongings unceremoniously on the tiny bed.

"How was your flight?" Russia asked once they were back in the living room. He wasn't really happy with this whole situation, America could tell, but at least he was making an effort to try and be polite.

"It was fine, I guess. Really long, though. More like endless" He approached the fireplace as he spoke, desperately trying to warm up his hands.

"I see." Russia said simply while looking at his actions "Here, you can have my gloves. I wouldn't want you to lose your fingers out there because of the cold." He added and proceeded to take them off.

America had already forgotten that they were supposed to go back outside to get more wood. He made a whining noise and reluctantly took the gloves.

"Aw, man! haven't you cut enough trees already? We need to be more Green ya know??" He joked. He really didn't want to go outside. But the thought of seeing Russia using an ax and cutting wood, all sweaty and masculine wasn't an unpleasant one. Not at all.

Russia loosened his ever-present scarf a little bit and opened a cabinet near the door. He pulled out a little canteen and poured the content in its cap. It was like a little shot glass. "Drink this," he said handing the cap to America "it's not tasty but it will warm you up before going out."

America took it, and smelled it suspiciously. It was some sort of strong booze. Probably vodka, knowing the russian. He drank it in one swift movement and inmediatly felt the heat burning down his throat, traveling all the way down to his stomach. Damn, that WAS strong. But it kinda worked. Russia took his own shot straight from the steel canteen and after closing it, motioned for the american to follow him. As soon as he opened the door the wind came rushing inside.

They got out, barely speaking the whole time they were there, saving their warm breaths to themselves. Alfred was good at cutting wood but he kept getting distracted by Ivan's movements. He looked so strong, so in his element. America had some pretty low temperatures back home, but he could always go south to pass the winter in a relatively warm weather. He couldn't imagine living in a place like Russia's house. Suddendly he respected him a little more, even if he already did.

After a while, they went back inside carrying their respectives piles of firewood. The heat from the fireplace was heavenly so they both took off their coats. Russia put his ushanka away too. His hair looked disheveled and messy and Alfred fought back an impulse to run his fingers through it.

"Soooo..." he started saying instead, taking the gloves off and rubbing his hands together "what do ya wanna do?" It was pretty late in the afternoon already but he wasn't tired.

"Well, we could eat something. I took the liberty to prepare some Pelmeni" Ivan answered, heading to the small kitchen at the back of the house. Then, noticing America's confused face he explained "It's like some sort of pasta. You'll like it."

Alfred nodded. He could manage pasta, and as he imagined it he felt his stomach growling at him in anticipation. He followed the other to the kitchen and sat down at the wooden table there. He could tell Russia had tidied up. Everything looked clean and in its place. The perfectly arranged centerpiece filled with natural pine cones, gave it away. He smiled to himself. After all this time they were still trying to outdo the other, trying to win. What? He had no idea, but he couldn't blame him though, he would've done the same.

They ate in relative silence. Only making small talk about the weather or the food, which ended up being really yummy in America's opinion. It was like some sort of ravioli filled with lamb. A strong taste but nice if you appreciated that kind of thing.

When they finished and Russia was taking away the dishes, Alfred started feeling bored. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the company or the calm atmosphere that had settled between them, but he was an anxious man and he liked, no, he needed to constantly do something.

"You wanna play something? A board game, maybe?" He asked casually, and on a second thought he added with a smirk while looking up "...or a drinking game?"

Russia turned around from the counter to look at him. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows a little "A drinking game? What are you, 15?" he said with a smirk of his own.

America rolled his eyes at that "I have the body of a 19 years old, actually, thank you very much."

Russia widened his eyes at that for half a second, suddendly remembering America's age. He was so very young, so beautiful in his untameable youth. And yet so strong. That alone almost made him forget just how much older than America he was. It's not like he was an old man. On the contrary, his body looked barely 26 years old. But still.

"C'moooon, dude. It'll be fun!" Alfred's voice brought him back from his thoughts "We can play something like 'never have i ever' with that thing from before."

Russia pondered the idea for a moment and decided that seeing the american getting drunk and spilling his secrets would be entretaining. Besides, he was starting to get bored as well.

"Fine. We will play" he aswered finally "But not with that." He added and moved to a cabinet to his left in order to retreive something from inside it. "This." He said "This is for drinking."

America looked at the elegant, tall and cilindric bottle Ivan was holding now. In its label he could read "Русское золотo".

" 'Russian gold', huh? Why am I not surprised?" He exclamed with a chuckle. "Okay then. This should be interesting."

They settled for sitting on the beige fluffly rug in front of the fireplace. Russia knew it would get too hot eventually but since America insisted and technically he was his guest... he agreed. He had brought two shot glasses from the kitchen along with the bottle. It kinda felt like a waste of a good vodka to drink it this way, but whatever. It had been too long since he last got drunk and if he was being forced to get through this weekend with the american he might as well enjoy it a little bit and loosen up. Alfred was a cocky little bitch, but lately they had gotten so much closer. Like it had been many years ago, before things got complicated. A part of him truly and honestly enjoyed his company, even if sometimes another part of him wanted to strangle the younger country. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

"Do ya wanna start?" Alfred said looking at him, half of his face iluminated by the fire, the other barely visible.

Russia thought hard for a little bit. He understood how the game worked but he hadn't really played before so it was hard to know how to begin. "I would rather you start, since you seem to have more experience."

America made a face. "Dude. It's not rocket science" he said laughing and Ivan thought: 'no, of course it isnt. If it were I would be good at it! Better than you, actually...'

"Never have i ever..." America started "cried in front of another nation."

Russia rolled his eyes at that. What a stupid thing to admit to. Everyone was once young and weak, bullied by others. It was common sense to know that and yet... He reluctantly drank his shot "My sisters" he said as a form of explanation. America drank aswell "England" he explained "and Canada maybe, I don't remember."

Okay, now it was Russia's turn. That had been rather disappointing, but the vodka was glorious. 'Maybe this really was a waste...' he thought while refilling the glasses.

The look on America's face urged him to speak. He finally went with: "Never have I ever had a fling with another nation" and drank up.

"With 'fling' you mean sex, right? If so, then yeah" Alfred said and proceeded to empty his shot. A hard pang of jealousy went through Russia's body as he watched the other's adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Imagining lips over that pretty neck was not something he wanted to do at the moment. He was almost glad America hadn't given any names along with his confession. That way he couldn't hate on anyone.

"Man, this is some good vodka. No wonder you call it 'gold'." Alfred said looking at his empty glass and then taking the bottle to refill his and Russia's. "Okay so... Never have I ever had a threesome!" He finished saying and expectantly looked at the older nation in front of him. Russia moved to rest his weight on his right elbow and made himself a little more comfortable, almost lying down on his side now. But he didn't drink, and neither did America.

"Interesting." the latter said with a lopsided smile and a raised eyebrow "I thought everyone in the old world was a pervert, or maybe you're just really slow." He finished with a wink.

"Your glass remains untouched, so I take it you must be really slow as well? Not that I didn't know that already. You wouldn't be able to tell someone liked you even if they were right in front of your face" Ivan retorted with a sly smirk. And only after the words were already out of his mouth did he realize that he had exposed himself a little bit. He hid his blush behing his scarf, but America didn't seem to register anything. God, he really was a little slow. He hurried up with his turn of the game to change the subject.

"Never have I ever enjoyed watching someone else suffer." and he drank. America raised his eyebrows at that.

"That's pretty dark, you know... but" he raised his glass to his mouth and drank "Yeah, I have. Not that I'm proud of it." he said with a shrug. Then he took off his sweater, muttering that it was starting to get too hot. Russia internally rolled his eyes at that and bit his tongue not to say 'I told you so', but then Alfred's t-shirt got caught in the movement and his stomach and back were exposed for a few seconds. Russia's eyes traveled down his frame. His skin seemed to glow in this lightning. Or maybe the alcohol was doing something to him. How strange. He unbuttoned his plaid shirt and loosened his scarf. He knew it wasn't a good idea to sit in front of the fire.

The younger nation noted his actions and curiosity finally got the best of him "Hey, Ivan... Do you ever take off that scarf?" and without really thinking about it he moved his hand to touch the soft material. Russia froze. He grabbed the other's hand and put it back down trying to ignore how the blue eyes fell to the ground in embarrassment. "I just don't like not wearing it." he said sternly and that was the only explanation America was going to get, so he nodded, not wishing to push the subject any further. Refilling the glasses, and already feeling a little more than tipsy he said:

"Never have I ever had sex with another nation's citizen" he looked at Russia after saying it, expectantly.

"You haven't?" The other asked after gulping down his drink, incredulous.

"Of course I have." America replied with a blush and downed his vodka "It was actually one of your citizens..."

"Really?" another pang of unexplained jealousy, but then Alfred said: "Hey, don't give me that look! She had a sexy accent." and Ivan just raised his violet eyes at him. The other seemed to realize what he had admitted to and his cheeks went red.

"I mean, you know. Accents are kinda cool." he explained scratching the back of his head. "And I just have a thing for rolled r's" he laughed it off.

Russia smiled to himself and made a mental note to remember it. "Is that so, Америкa?" he said it like that on purpose and it was lovely when the american's cheeks lit up.

"Shut up." and with that he moved closer to his face "The accent was nice on her, on a man like you, not so much."

Never one to back away from a challenge Russia inched closer as well. He let his amethist eyes wander through that glaring face. One half adornated by the dancing lights of the fire, the other hidden in the shadows. He stared at the other's mouth for a second before he spoke.

"Never have I ever kissed a russian man."

He had meant for America to admit he liked the accent on both genders, but what the other did next surprised him even more. Alfred put one hand on his right cheek and closed the distance between them. Their lips touched. It was chaste but heavenly. The room was suddenly so quiet that the crackling of the fire hurt his ears. America's lips were moving against his own and they were so warm, so perfect. But this perfection ended as soon as it had begun. He hadn't had time to even respond to it.

"Now, I have" America said pulling back "but my glass is empty."

Russia couldn't think or talk just yet. He moved automatically to refill the glass, but was stopped by Alfred's hand.

"You know, big guy, I think I've drank enough for tonight." he announced "I know, I know. I'm a light weight." he continued putting his hands in the air "But I think it's time to stop, my head is starting to spin a little."

'HIS head is starting to spin?!' Russia thought. Well HIS OWN head was about to fucking explode. And not because of the alcohol. America had just kissed him. Did that really happen? It must have. His lips still stung a little where the other's mouth had touched them. Had Alfred done that just to get him back because of the accent remarks or...? God. Maybe the younger nation was right. It was time to stop.

They both got up. Russia was mostly silent as they cleaned up. He accompanied Alfred to his room. Asked if he was cold, if he needed anything else. America said 'no' to both. But oh how he wanted to say something about earlier! He had no idea why he had done that. Well, actually yes, he did. Ivan was hot, and oh maaan, that teasing! Shit, he had thought the other was coming on to him with that whole 'kissed a russian man' thing. But when he did kiss him, he went imposibly still, like frozen in place! He had obviously misunderstood... Ivan didn't like him that way and now he felt like dying of embarrassment. At least he could blame it on the alcohol, he wasn't lying about feeling a little dizzy. But maybe it was for a whole other reason. Better not think too much about it.

Russia left and went to his own bedroom. He took his clothes off, carefully folding them and leaving them on a chair in the corner. He put on a plain white t-shirt, some stripped pajama pants and laid back on the bed, not getting in just yet. He stared at the wooden ceiling, left arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest. He thought about earlier and his right hand rose to touch his lips instinctively. America had kissed him. He felt almost ashamed of feeling so happy about it. It was childlish, really. Everything was part of the game they were playing, it hadn't meant anything to the other nation. But still he felt butterflies in his stomach just by the memory of it. Giving up and abandoning the last bit of dignity he had left, he let his imagination run free. He went back to that moment. But this time he didn't let America pull away... No, instead he grabbed his cheek and ran his fingers through his hair, loving the softness of it. He kissed back, hard. In his mind, America even made a sound of pleasure and opened his mouth for him. Noticing that his pajama pants were starting to tent a little, he stopped. He wasn't about to jerk off while the other was a few steps away in his guest room! No, he needed to calm down. He was tired anyways. It had been a really long day. First cleaning up the house, then cutting all that wood, and then... Well. He deserved some rest. With that in mind he got under the covers and rolled onto his side, his back to the door.

...

America's mind was a mess. He was lying on the tiny wooden bed, having changed into his pj's. Suddenly his hands went up to cover his blushing face. He tried not to but he couldn't help it! He kept going over and over what had happened. He felt stupid. And god, he hated when things didn't go his way! Why hadn't Russia kissed him back? People had told him before that he didn't know how to read the atmosphere, but that wasn't true! Not with this kind of things at least. The way Ivan had looked at his lips before speaking, there was no way he had been wrong about that! It just didn't make sense. Sure, they weren't exactly friends but they were on good enough terms, they could share a few kisses if they wanted to. Hell, he wanted even more than that. And suddenly realization hit him, striking him like lightning. It made him move his hands slowly from his face to his sides. He WANTED Russia. He really did. And he was Alfred Fucking Jones, the personification of the fucking United States of America. He wasn't one to ask for permission, he just took what he wanted. It hit him like an epiphany. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and got up. He was gonna take what he wanted and if Ivan didn't want him back then he would just have to tell him so, instead of being a little pussy and remain silent like he had done before.

He went out to the hall separating both rooms, his bare feet getting cold against the hardwood flooring. He reached the other nation's door which was only half way closed and then pushed in. The bedroom was dark, the only light entering from where he was standing. Because of it, he saw his own shadow over the bed, and only then noticed Russia's body beneath the covers, facing the other way. Maybe he was asleep and this had been a bad idea. He almost turned around to leave but decided against it. 'No! C'mon Al, grow a pair and take what you want' he thought.

Russia had been on the verge of falling asleep when he heard the slight creaking of the door. In a second his senses were magnified and he could even hear his own heartbeat. He felt the weight of the bed shifting and yet he made no sign of being awake. What was America doing? A trembling hand touched his left shoulder, pulling him so he was lying on his back. Only then did he open his lilac eyes. A pair of blue ones greeted him with a smile.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" He said in a whisper. For some reason the room was too quiet for anything louder than that.

'Dont ask for permission' America thought and kissed the man beneath him without warning. Russia's eyes widened. He pushed the other back and stared at him. He wanted to say something, to ask him just what the hell he was playing at, to make him stop confusing him like that, but he didn't. Because a part of him really wanted to kiss back. A part of him was dying to touch Alfred, and this time he wasn't going to miss on the opportunity.

America looked like he was about to flee the room, completely red in the face. His confidence from moments ago now gone. "I-I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean to wake u up"

Ivan grabbed his shoulders, not really caring about what the other was saying. He pushed America back and rolled on top of him, making a mess of the covers as they went. He had a feral look on his face and Alfred started saying some nonsense about needing to go back to his room but he ignored him. Two could play that game, and Russia didn't care if the other was now backing away, after all, he wasn't one to ask for permission either. He bent down and kissed him. Hard.

It was just like he had imagined. America's lips were just as soft, just as tender. And he was responding aswell! Once he was over his initial shock, Alfred kissed him back with just as much want and need. His glasses were starting to get in the way and so Russia pulled back for a second in order to take them off and place them on the bedside table. America grabbed his face and pulled him back down for another kiss, afraid that he might change his mind and leave if they were apart for more than a few seconds. But Ivan could never do that, not when the other's hands traveled down from his face to tangle behind his neck. He didn't have his scarf on anymore and he felt somewhat exposed. His neck had some ugly scars and the skin there was really sensitive. America started peppering kisses on his right cheek, under his jaw, and finally on his neck. He sucked on it. For some reason that somewhat 'forbidden' area seemed to tempt him a lot. He was drawn to it and so he kept lapping and biting on the sensitive skin. A strangled noise escaped Russia's mouth and Alfred loved It. It was all too much.

"Америкa.." Russia said, pulling back a little to look into his deep blue eyes. It was a silent question, because maybe, just maybe, when it came to each other, they did ask for permission. Because they were equals even if they found it hard to admit. America understood and pecked his lips in response. Then he proceeded to take off Russia's night t-shirt, marveling in the sight of every inch of skin that was slowly revealed. Always hiding under several layers of clothing, seeing Ivan's bare torso now felt like a dream come true. He was even more beautiful and strong than what he had imagined. His white skin seemed to glow even in the dark room. America caressed his sides, his back and his chest almost as if making a map with his fingers and occasionally with his lips. Ivan wasn't used to the attention so he moved to take Alfred's clothes off. Why was the American looking at him like that? As if he was the most beautiful person in the world? He paled in comparison with Alfred's beauty. Amerca was half a man and half a child. He had a strong, fit body and the face of an angel. So very young and full of hope in those hipnotic blue eyes. He was a untameable force that drove Russia crazy and turned his world upside down. Everyone turned their faces when he entered a room. Ivan thought that he should be thankfull to touch such a precious being and yet...

And yet America kept looking at HIM in awe. He didn't understand why, but he felt blessed nonetheless. He bent down and started kissing the other's neck, biting and sucking a little. If this was really happening then he wanted proof to actually believe it the next morning. He left several hickeys on Alfred's perfect neck, so different from his own. He left some on his collarbones aswell, and then he kept moving down on his body, licking and kissing his way down. When he reached the american's underwear he quickly pulled it down. He gave America's inner thighs a few kisses before locking violet eyes with blue ones. He licked Alfred's lenght and then he took it in his mouth, closing his eyes as if savouring it.

Alfred got lost in that heat. He couldn't think straight, all he felt were Ivan's lips on his manhood and his gentle touches on his tights. He almost put his glasses back on because he wanted to clearly see and remember how Russia's pretty mouth looked around his cock, but even with his bad vision just a quick glance downwards sent shivers down his spine. He threw his head back and placed a hand on Ivan's head, pulling on that silver hair a little. Russia looked up at him while he bobbed his head. America looked so pretty like that, with his back arched and his neck exposed. He could see the hickeys there starting to form and that made him realise how much he enjoyed tasting the american, kissing his skin, claiming his body with his lips. He wanted to taste even more. He moved his hands to the back of Alfred's thighs and pushed them up and apart, leaving him completely exposed. Russia gave his cock a few more licks before grabbing it with his hand and descending a little. He sucked on the other's balls, playing with them and loving the sounds coming out of the other's mouth. He kept sucking and lapping down there while gently tugging on his dick. He went even lower, feeling the ring of muscle with his tongue. Circling it.

"F-fuck, Russia, please" America said panting, and he wasn't sure what he was begging for. By the time Ivan started thrusting his tongue in and out of his hole he was long gone. He was a moaning mess, desperately clawing at the bedsheets and tugging on Russia's hair. That only encouraged Ivan further and he added a finger along with his tongue. Soon there were only fingers inside of America, and Russia could only watch at how beautiful the other was, displayed for him like that. Alfred was truly a work of art. And his fingers weren't enough, for neither of them. He went to grab a bottle of lube he kept on his bedside table. It was barely used, since he didn't really do this often. He put a generous amount on his manhood, finally getting some much needed friction, and positioned himself at Alfred's entrance. The american nodded, still panting, and he started thrusting inside, slowly but steady. When his hips met America's ass cheeks he stopped for a moment, waiting for the other to adjust. Alfred got annoyed at that for some reason, he wasn't fucking made of glass. He moved his hips himself, urging Russia to stop being so gentle, he could take it, he was tough and he liked it a little rough. At that moment America was prepared to take whatever the other wanted to give him. Hell, he needed it.

Russia took the hint and quickly grabbed America's hips, pulling out until just the tip was inside and then pushing forcefully back. Both of them groaned at the feeling. Then Russia bended over, grabbed a handfull of Alfred's hair and started a brutal pace while pulling on it.

"Is this what you wanted with that little game of yours?" Ivan hissed on his ear and America shivered "for me to fuck you senseless? you could have just ask."

America breathed a laugh that mixed with a moan. "Isn't that what I just did?" he said, and then bit down hard on Russia's neck. The other groaned and pulled even harder on Alfred's hair. America didn't seem to mind. Instead he moved his legs and wrapped them around Russia's lower back, urging him deeper.

"Turn over" Ivan said after a moment, pulling out. His voice alone, low and husky, made America shiver and he quickly did as told. He got on his stomach, arching his back and opening his legs invitingly. Russia carressed his tighs and his buttocks, loving how soft they felt under his palms. He slapped one cheek and America yelped, then moaned when Ivan slapped him a second time. With the red silouette of his hand fading he entered him once again.

Ivan liked this position better, he could see the expanse of America's back, watch how his muscles flexed and relaxed in tune with his thrusts. He ran his figernails across that golden skin and loved the sounds Alfred made. A mixture of pain and pleasure. 'Truly beautiful' he thought.

Never, not even in his wildest dreams, he would've imagined they would end up like this. Of course he found the american attractive, but those thoughts, those feelings, they were so secretive and forbidden that they almost seemed unreal. It was just something inside his mind. Something he liked to imagine from time to time. But this. Oh, this was very real.

His senses were magnified. Everywhere their skin touched felt like it was burning. His ears were ringing and all he could hear were Alfred's cries of pleasure. He kissed... no. He bit his shoulder and wrapped his left hand around his dick, quickly jerking him off. America made a strangled noise, a warning, maybe. But it only made him keep going. He was so close himself.

One,

Two,

Three more thrusts and tugs and that was it for the two of them. America threw his head back in a silent cry and Ivan could literally feel him pulse and release in his hand. The sudden pressure and tightness along with that was enough to push him over the edge as well. He came hard inside of the other. He grabbed him by the waist and made sure to ride his orgasm until he could't bare the overstimulation anymore. He had to make the most of it in case it never happened again. He had to remember every single detail. Every feeling, every sound, every expression...

Exhausted, he pulled out and collapsed alongside Alfred. The american had his eyes closed and was breathing through his mouth, clearly spent aswell. Russia thought about it for a few seconds and then decided it was okay to cuddle, so he moved closer and put an arm around him.

"That. Was. Amazing." America breathed out softly.

"You need to visit me more often" Ivan said, without thinking.

Alfred nuzzled his hair and smiled, saying: "Careful what you wish for..."

Coming all the way to Russia's house hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

#rusame #fan fiction #fanfic #hetalia #aph rusame #alfred f jones #ivan braginsky #i know this is shit #but oh well...#happy valentine's day #smut #lemon #sorry if it sucks #no beta we die like men #rusame fic

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thebeethathums · 5 years

Text

Observers - 60

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: injury, abduction, abuse.

A/N: Full warning to those of your following this that the next few chapters have a lot of violence and conflict that may be triggering to some. I will do by best to put as much in the warnings as I can but please read at your own discretion

Glancing warily towards the door to his office, Lestrade let out a tired but content sigh, kicking his feet up on his desk to enjoy his afternoon coffee and muffin in peace. It had been a thankfully quiet few days with Sherlock on the West End case and though he was still on call for if he and John ran into trouble, the detective inspector couldn’t help but enjoy the lull in his normally hectic schedule. He had just begun happily munching on his muffin when Donovan popped her head through his door, “We’ve got a domestic case I think you-“ “Not our division,” he called nonchalantly, taking another bite of his muffin, and you stepped into the doorway, “How about a favor for a friend then?” His eyes went wide as he choked on the mouthful he’d just taken and you gave Sally a nod as you stepped into his office and shut the door behind you. You’d already gotten her to promise not to mention anything about this to anyone, surprising how pity can change a person’s attitude toward you. Sinking down into one of the chairs across from him with a wince, you patiently waited for him to catch his breath so he could voice his first question, “Did Sherlock do this to you?”

You shook your head vigorously as his eyes wandered over you, taking in every visible marker of pain. Both your eyes were rimmed with dark bruises and the rest of your face wasn’t any better with bruises and small cuts and scrapes patterning nearly every inch of it and your lips split in two different locations. Lestrade could see that the rest of your body was likely in a similar state given that the bruises continued down your neck to disappear under your shirt.

“It looks worse than it is. Mostly superficial. He thought he'd have time to do more,” you assured as you shifted, face looking extremely pained, and he caught a glimpse of the raw skin around your wrists as he breathed, “What happened? I thought you were supposed to leave for France yesterday.” You looked down at your lap, unsure of how to put into words all that had occurred since the train station the day before, “I was… I ran into some trouble at the station. My ex-boyfriend sort of… abducted me.” “How did you get here then? Do John and Sherlock know?” “He’s a bit daft in addition to not having expected me to fight back. I’m not the same person as I was then... he made the mistake of assuming I was in addition to putting me in handcuffs. It took me a bit to get out of them and longer to come up with a plan... eventually, I had an opportunity. I broke his nose and locked him in the room he was keeping me in,” you explained and Lestrade would have laughed at your captor's stupidity if you didn’t look so bad, wincing as you continued, “Which brings me to my favor. Will you collect him and deport him back to France? Sherlock and John don’t and can’t know about this, it’s too much of a risk… I can’t have either of them in jail for murder because they were trying to protect me or get revenge.” Lestrade gave you a confused look, “You only want me to deport him? You could press some serious charges, (F/n). They would put him away for a very long time.” “No, they wouldn’t. He’s a cop… doing that would just be a delay to him getting sent back- they would demand you send him to France to face the charges and, as always, he would use his friends and connections to get out of it. Filing a domestic violence complaint is enough to get his visa revoked and have him deported. That’s all I need.” “What if he comes back?” “That is someone else’s favor, Greg. You pick him up and get him out of England. I’ll handle the rest. Can I count on you?” “Of course. Anything,” he nodded and you leaned forward to write down all the information he would need and fill out the proper form before softly requesting, “May I borrow your mobile?” He was quick to nod, offering it to you. You gave it right back after shooting off a text, moving to stand as you said, “Thank you, Greg. Please call on me if there is any way I can return the favor.” “Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?” he asked, hastily standing, and you offered him a tight smile, “I’m fine, Lestrade. Believe me when I say I’ve had much worse… Now if you’ll excuse me I have somewhere to be.” You turned and walked out the door before he could protest any further, leaving him to sort of gape before barking out a series of orders to his team- he wasn’t going to let you down. You had always loved rain but as you stepped into the street now you loved it for an entirely different reason, beyond grateful that it gave you an excuse to pull your jacket’s shielding hood up to keep away not only the rain but the inquisitive stares as well. You ignored the soreness of your body as you swiftly strode to your next destination, avoiding the intimacy of a cab in favor of the anonymity of the rapidly emptying streets. For once, you hoped that your brother was caught up enough in the case to miss the fact you hadn’t called the day before like you'd promised, things were bad enough without him worriedly nosing around to try and find you. A few tears slipped down your cheek as you tried to reassure yourself that everything was going to be ok. You could handle this. You’d always known this was a possibility and right now you could only be glad that neither Sherlock nor John had gotten dragged into it… and that somehow you’d managed to keep from having a panic attack. Then again the day was far from over. You slipped through the door to a small upscale piano bar, catching the eye of the bartender with a small wave to which he nodded and jerked his head toward one of the private rooms in back. He was an acquaintance from a while back and you had a standing agreement that when you sent people here in search of you he should show them to one of the back rooms without any questions- your artist friends were a secretive bunch and liked to play it mysterious. Stepping through the door, you found Mycroft staring into a roaring fire with a glass of brandy in hand, “May I ask why you’ve called me to this place, (F/n)? Could we not have met at your friend’s café as we normally do?” “Don’t play games, Mycroft. You know I’m supposed to be in France… there was a risk of being seen had we had gone to Annie’s,” you answered as you crossed the room. You stretched your hands toward the fire for a moment as he hummed, “You did not answer my first question- why am I here?” He looked up at you for the first time as you shrugged off your coat and hung it near the fire to dry before turning to him, “I need a favor.” His eyes widened ever so slightly as they took in your state, getting a glimpse at even more than Lestrade had now that your jacket was off, and didn’t bother with all the pointless questions, going straight to, “What do you need?” You sank down in the armchair across from him, looking deeply into the flickering flames of the fire, “Keep him from returning to England. I know you can… I’ll do whatever you ask of me in return.” Mycroft was quiet for a while before beginning, “You’re trying to protect your brother and mine. They have no idea you are here or what’s happened to you and if you had it your way they never would. You’ve been to see Lestrade and he’s agreed to do his part. I’m impressed that you’ve managed to keep a clear head through all this, though given what I know about you from our previous talks I can’t say I’m surprised. I will do as you ask… but not because I desire a favor in return. You are important to my brother and by extension me and you are one of the few in this world I find sufferable… it would be difficult to replace you should this escalate further.” Blinking for a moment to try and process that, you nodded, “Thank you, Mycroft. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.” The fire crackled for a while longer as the two of you enjoyed the silence and then you stood, beginning to struggle with your coat as you tried to avoid needlessly jostling your arms, both hosting nasty looking bruises from being twisted and wrenched around. Mycroft was swift to come to your aid, taking your jacket from you to offer you his own for a looser, less agitating fit, “Where do you plan on staying while you wait for your plan to play out?” Your subsequent silence answered his question and he pulled his coat snuggly around you as he hummed, “You’ll stay with me. I have extra room and extensive security.” Knowing from his tone that it was more of an order than an offer, you just nodded and let him lead you away as the shock, pain, and exhaustion finally settled in. You’d handled it… now to deal with the aftermath.

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