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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Part of Me//Bakugo

Summary: You could say that Bakugo was the one that got away but now that you were about to marry things change Words. 3.1k+ TW: sfw: angst, fluff, mention of heart break (both him and you) being in a more or less unhappy relationship Whenever people would ask you how you felt about your upcoming wedding you would smile and say: ‘Really excited’ Because that’s how you were supposed to feel. Excited, happy, deeply in love, lucky, joyful, blessed, in seventh heaven, over the moon.

Your fiancé was kind and caring, he never made you doubt his love for you, at least not intentionally. If you were to tell him ‘jump’ he would ask ‘how high’, he would never tell you no, he would agree with everything you say. Whatever you wanted to do would be what he wants and apologize even before doing something wrong. Yet, you felt everything but. Don’t get it wrong: You were happy, you loved your fiancé... But if you loved him the way you were supposed to, why was the small wooden box filled with love letters of the love of your youth your most priced possession? You told yourself it was just harmless sentimental value, pale memories you don’t want to fade away completely. But you couldn’t hide the small rips nor the dried wet spots, all evidence of the many nights you read them over and over again. You couldn’t deny the tug on your heart whenever your eyes skipped over his name at the end of each letter, couldn’t help the way your body was arching for his touch every time you thought about him. Arch for the love he only ever gave to you. Have his arms wrapped around your body one last time, his lips on yours as a kiss good bye, hear his raspy voice in your ear, calling out your name to bring you peace before you leave.

Regret filled every inch of your body whenever you think back to the day you walked out of his life, walked away from your future together. It was the day after your graduation. Bakugo was on top of the class, of course he was, he had trained so hard and studied so much, it couldn’t have been any other way. You were on 6th place and Bakugo was so proud of you, even happier for you than he was for himself. He had planned to move in with you soon, even spotted a sweet apartment the two of you could share. Talking about the family you could start, about marriage. But in the night of the big party you bumped into Izuki, who congratulated the both of you and when your boyfriend walked away to grab something to drink the green haired boy turned around to you with a smile on his face. ‘I never would have though Kacchan would be able to fall for someone. He’ll even give up spot #1 just to be with you, that must be true love’ he said, kind and soft, not the tiniest hint of evil in his voice. And yet he caused more damage to Bakugo and you than the L.O.V ever did with those two sentences. That night you realized that you were being awfully selfish, keeping Katsuki away from his biggest dream in life. All he ever wanted was to be Hero #1, to be better than anyone, better than All Might. But here you were, keeping him back. Caged. Taking his precious time just for your happiness. His happiness was far more important for you than yours will ever be. So that night you disappeared. A simple note left on his nightstand, telling him you’re sorry but it’s better that way, you won’t be holding him back anymore, you promised, and the ghost of a kiss lingering on his lips was the only trace you had left behind for him when he woke up in the early morning hours.

Years have passed before the two of you met again. It was a fluke, more or less, that you were seated next to him on a plane. Yet, there was no awkwardness between the two of you, as if the night never had happened, as if you were still so familiar with one another, like you just spend hours, not years, apart. Neither one of you dared to bring the memory up though, him scared to find out why you left him, you scared to find out how much it must have hurt him. But your decision was the right one, he was on the top now. Bakugo Katsuki, Dynamight, Pro Hero #1. And you were so proud of him, you always knew he could do it, but these words never went past your lips, as if you had no right to tell him that. Of course you kept an eye on him, celebrated with him from afar, but you left him, you had no right to act as if you had supported him in anyway. That’s what you told yourself. When he asked to exchange numbers you were happy, but whenever your phone binged around your fiancé you felt shame in the pit of your stomach. Because you knew Bakugo could never be ‘just a friend’, he’ll always be more. Because it was him you called in those lone nights when your fiancé was out of town, it was him you texted first in the morning and last in the night. Because whenever you met him for a cup of coffee you told the man you’re going to marry it was just a friend you met up with, someone you knew from work. Whenever you noticed the door to him opening again you shut it close, sealing it with oh so many locks and yet they’re opened within seconds whenever his name was seen on your screen. You had to remind yourself why you kept it shut over all these years, the pain of losing him too much to bare.

The wedding was now slowly edging closer, every single day feeling dreadfully longer than the one before. And the less time you had, the more you doubted your decision to be with him for the rest of your life, as your heart was devoted to someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to him, he loved you dearly, treated you with nothing but kindness, you should do the same. But Midoriya’s voice reminded you that, without you, Bakugo was stronger, you couldn’t expect him to just take you back after what you’ve done, you couldn’t be so crude to the man you loved more than life itself. So you stayed. You told yourself you were the happiest like this. And it wasn’t like you had no love for your fiancé, you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have accepted his proposal. It was good the way it was, changing it would just cause more chaos than necessary. It might break your heart in the progress, but that’s better than breaking the hearts of those you loved. You sucked it up, took a deep breath and put a smile on your face. Things will be just fine. But the night before your big day was spend alone, shrouded in darkness as silent tears spilled out of your sleep deprived eyes, caressing your cheek. You had opened every letter of Bakugo the very same day you got them. At first the letters started out as a joke, but there was something about them that made these written words a big part of your lives. You did text daily, of course, but (even though Bakugo would kill everyone who would dare to even think about it) he liked the romantic aspect of it. Texts can get deleted, lost within the world wide web, gone with a simple crash. Meaningless as some sort of, because everyone texted via social media today. And you weren’t everyone. You were Bakugo and Y/N, an odd couple somehow, but you weren’t bothered by the way people talked about you. Not at all. What mattered was that you had each other, for ever. Shaky hands stroked over the last letter you had received, not through him, but Kirishima. At first he pretended your meet up was nothing but an accident but when he left and you arrived home you noticed an envelope, covered in big and some smaller thumb prints, telling you that it must have been moved quite a lot. To this day you didn’t open it, couldn’t brace yourself for what was about to come. You took in a deep breath as the silvery paperknife softly gleamed in the dim light of your nightlight, gliding through the piece of paper. My Y/N, To be honest I don’t know where to start. God, I fucking hate this. You changed your number, moved away and didn’t even leave an explanation. Do you really hate me that much? To just leave me behind like I’m some sort of extra and not the man you wanted to spent the rest of your life with. I know those weren’t lies, you never were able to lie to me. So now I’m out here, looking like a fool, trying to wrap my head around the fact my person is gone without a trace. I even talked to Deku, asked him if he knew anything, but of course that extra didn’t knew shit. He offered to talk to you but I didn’t want him out of all people to contact you. Kiri told me he had run into you once, he said you looked awful. Not really his words, but from what he described you are just as torn apart as I am. Which confuses me even more. If you’re so hurt why won’t you come back? I hate giving second chances but I would do anything for you. You got me fucking whipped for you shitty woman and then you just pack your stuff and leave? The last couple of month have been awful. I haven’t slept properly, I can’t without you next to me. If you need time (even if I don’t understand for what, because we’ve been going strong since day one dipshit, if someone needs time it’s me from your annoying, cute fucking self) I can give that to you, just come back. Kirishima is trying really badly to fill in your spot and (don’t you dare to ever tell a single soul about this, I’ll kill you… maybe…) while his hugs are warm and loving and attempt to make me laugh do crag me up here and there it’s not the same. No one can ever replace you. We are young, we don’t know shit about life, but if I do know one fucking thing is that I want to wake up to your stupid angelic face every morning. I still remember the nights were you asked me what had torn me apart, the nights you held me close to you because of the awful nightmares that haunted me. I never wanted you know what they were about, never wanted you to worry, but never had I imagined that those nightmares will turn true. That I’ll lose you. Damn it, I want to marry you, have kids with you (if you want, I’m fine with sticking to practice) and turn old and grey and yell at the neighbors kids for ruining our garden. I might can’t give you everything you want but I know I’m everything you need and visa versa, I guess. Y/N I don’t want to bottle you up, but I can’t let you go either. It’s so fucking confusing and I hate it. I hate that you didn’t give me a clean cut, a proper explanation but at the same time I don’t want that, I don’t want to know why you left me, cause maybe I pushed you away, maybe it was my fault. Whatever your reason is we can work through it. I promise you, I’ll love you forever, because you are a part of me. The best. I won’t ask you to send me a letter back, as I will never send it to you. I think hearing from you, meaning you won’t come back, would just break me more. So now I have to be selfish, focus on me again, because if I won’t I’ll drown, Katsuki Lines were crossed out, some words thickened, indicating the many times he wrote them, over and over again. Like he said, he never planned for this letter to ever reach you. He didn’t knew Kirishima gave it to you and even Kirishima never knew if you found it, maybe it got lost on the way, some things better when hidden. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, torn into so many pieces you couldn’t count every small particle, even if you tried. That was the moment you realized you will never be whole again, never be home again.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, dressed in all white, the most beautiful gown you had ever laid your eyes upon. All evidence of the previous nightly events were hidden under a mask of make-up, your hair never sat more perfect than it did right now. When your eyes met the person in the mirror you couldn’t identify with her. Whoever she was, she looked like a happy bride, someone who was in love with her fiancé, in love with her life. “Hey,” a deep voice spoke up behind you, making you drop the bouquet. Turning around you were met with the most beautiful set of crimson red eyes. “Katsuki, what...” you stammered, not knowing if your mind just messed with you, the cold feet everyone warned you about now making their appearance. “You look beautiful,” he told you, walking closer to you, your nose filled with your favorite smell in the world. Softly burned caramel. You held your hand up, scared that if you touch him he’ll be gone, just a figment of your imagination. “What are you doing dumbass?” he laughed, setting of thousand of butterflies in your stomach, starting the fire that was long defunct. “Come here,” he pulled you and the moment your skin touched his you realized he was here, with you, in this room. Bakugo held you close to him, biting back the tears that threatened to spill out his eyes, because it wasn’t him you will walk to at the end of the aisle. “What are you doing here?” you whispered into his chest, your hands fisting his suit jacket, feeling complete again. Finally at home. “I promised to be with you, by your side to celebrate every milestone in your life. And marriage is a huge one, don’t you think?” he asked you as you looked up to him, lips inches away from one another. “But...” suddenly reality came crushing down, everything was not going to be just fine. Thousand knives pushed into your chest at once. Or at least that’s what it felt like. “Today is your big day Y/N. After all these years you’re still my best friend,” “Hey!” you heard Kirishima suddenly call out in the door frame, ducking down to not hit his head. “Eijiro!” you exclaimed, engulfing him into a big hug as best as you could. “Hey little one, you’re still as small as I remember!” he laughed, gently wiping away your tears that threatened to ruin your mascara. “Sorry for not answering your invitation, we were just awfully busy with Hero Work and our secretary messed up, mixing the actual mail with fan mail,” Bakugo explained after Kirishima set you down again. “I’m so happy to have the two of you by my side, my favorite men finally with me again,” you told them, looking at Bakugo. He still had the same expression on his face whenever he would look at you. Filled with love and adoration. “But I’m your absolute favorite, right?” Kirishima laughed, his smile beaming. “Of course you are,” you endorsed your tall friend standing next to you. “We will actually wait outside, the church is stuffed, so...” Eijiro trailed off, his eyes glued to his best friend. “Yeah! But we wanted to see you before, to uhm...Congratulate you,” Bakugo cleared his throat, putting on the best smile he could for you. You seemed so happy, that was all he ever wanted. “Yeah, congrats, your guy seems nice,” “Yeah, he is,” was all you could say. Because he was nice, he just wasn’t Bakugo. “I’m so glad I saw you before, I really did miss you,” your eyes couldn’t let go of the blond man in front of you and neither could his let go of you. “We better get going now,” Kirishima said after some moments draped in silence passed by. “Save a dance for me,” Katsuki told you, kissing your forehead for one last time before leaving through the door. Hours could have passed, maybe minutes, maybe seconds. You had lost track of time after his lips met your skin. When you entered the church, a small wave of Bakugo all you could really register, you weren’t present. It felt like you were in a movie, everything slow motion, watching from afar while the main character walked into her demise. The audience wasn’t applauding her, everyone screamed, asking her what the fuck she was doing. The moment you looked into your fiancé’s eyes, was the moment you snapped out of it, feeling your soul entering your body again, letting you realize what’s happening in first person. He grabbed your hand and looked at you with warm, sad eyes. He knew. “I’m sorry, I-” you whispered, even before the pastor could open up his bible. “It’s okay, go,” was all he said, rubbing his thumb over your hand, reassuring you to go for what you loved. Go for whom you loved. People gasped left and right, whispers filling the holy halls as the bride run down the aisle, pushing open the big wooden doors, her eyes immediately falling onto him. Her lover, her best friend, her other half. Bakugo Katsuki. His back was turned to you, shoulders shaking ever so gently while his best friend towered over his frame, trying his hardest to console the blond. It was Kirishima who noticed you first, pointing at you as Bakugo turned around, not a moment too late as you fell into his arms. “I love you Bakugo Katsuki, I have ever since day one. I was stupid enough to walk away from you once, I won’t do it again. If you don’t want me back I understand, but if I don’t try then-” his lips on your shut you up, first a small amount of shock pumping through your veins, the warm feeling of love and safety replacing it within seconds. “Run away with me?” he asked you, displaying his beautiful smile. “Of course I will, without you I’m just a half, because you’re a part of me, the best.”

©Kirishoshego

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sitp-recs · 3 years

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(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)

Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:

It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!

Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.

Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!

I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.

Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!

Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)

The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.

Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)

This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.

Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.

The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)

I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.

Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)

This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!

Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)

Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!

Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)

Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.

And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)

What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!

A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)

Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!

Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)

My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.

Bonus: five stunning drabbles!

Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)

“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.

Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)

“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”

Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)

“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”

Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)

“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”

Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

#drarry fic rec #Drarry reclist #happy birthday Tacky!#fave

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obae-me · 3 years

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Upside Down- CH 2

Author’s Note: I swear I don’t hate Mammon, he just happens to be the subject of everything right now, but don’t worry, the comfort will come. Just hold out for the next one, the healing will start I swear!

Tags: Cussing, fighting, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death, toxic friendships, blackmail (As always, read safely, feel free to ask about any of these tags)

Word Count: 4683

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

An Unlucky Break

Honestly, at this point, you weren’t sure what was worse. The humans? The endless noises? Or the devil-forsaken sunlight?! Groaning, you pulled another blanket over yourself, tugging it up above your head. Taking the pillow, you used it to try to muffle the sounds of the outside world. It was all so much. How did the humans even get any sleep? How could they see with all the blinding sun rays? You cocooned yourself tighter, imagining that you were back inside your home where nothing but endless moonlight existed and you were left exactly how you wanted to be. Alone.

But all those dreams and imaginations were dashed when you heard a single name roar throughout the house. “Mammon!” If it wasn’t his name, it would be another. They always seemed to be screaming at each other for something around here. At least they had the decency to leave you--

The door to your bedroom door opened, then shut itself quietly, the sound of panting followed by whispered cursing invaded your space. “Why’s he always gotta be on my ass? It’s just a little money, he’d spend it all on useless plastic or junk anyway. It was better off in my hands for sure. For sure...” A little bit of pacing, a small chuckle. “Just gotta lay low in here. It’s abandoned and dark as hell, he surely won’t find me.” It was bitterly amusing how your supposed “babysitter” seemed to have forgotten all about you. Although you stayed quiet, not really in the mood for conversation. Besides, you always had a knack for blending in.

The both of you sat in silence--well, relative silence, since it was obvious the human didn’t seem to understand the definition of being still. He kept mumbling to himself. But the two of you listened to whichever brother was on the hunt go rampaging through the house. Doors kept opening, slamming shut, the footsteps pounding angrily against the floor upstairs. Then it all went quiet. The brother of greed seemed as hopeful as you were that it was a sign they’d given up the chase. Mammon sighed, much too heavily. So of course, the handle slammed against the wall as the room was raided. “There you are, you--you---you!” Then the fighting started. A heavy sound of a body hit the side wall.

“Son of a--get offa me, will ya!? I don’t have your damn money!”

The newcomer growled. “That’s the problem!” The scuffle didn’t seem to end. Neither of them really dug too badly into each other, pushing, shoving, slapping. It was hard to tell if you were intrigued or annoyed. Regardless, you slowly took the blankets off of you, getting a better look at the fight. It was immediately disappointing, or maybe this was as intense as humans could take it? Mammon had his brother’s head in some sort of lock, while the attacker was simply tugging at Greed’s hair with two full handfuls. Neither of them were getting anywhere. No, this was definitely lackluster.

You were back to being annoyed. Sitting up, speaking up finally, you were going to ask, ‘can you two beat each other up elsewhere’, but you couldn’t even get that far. “Can you two--” were the only words you managed to utter before the both of them shrieked in startled fear, high-pitched enough to leave your ears almost ringing. The fighting dropped immediately, the humans instinctively grabbing onto each other in a supportive hug. They stayed like that for a good while before one of them broke away to flick the light on. The intense brightness had you blinking away spots.

Bright blue hair, a shirt with some sort of strangely drawn figure with...large proportions, a curved device around his neck, the brother’s previous assertiveness instantly melted. “W-who are y-you?! God, Mammon, call the-the cops or something!”

Sheepishly, Mammon caught his breath and cleared his throat, the look of recognition coming back to him. “Wait, Levi, this is the guest Lucifer told us about.” The one you were supposed to take care of. Not that I care.

“N-nani?!” So this was Levi Morningstar. Everyone labeled him as Envy. The third eldest and third strongest. So many of his demon followers drove themselves beyond mad, jealous that they couldn’t be as envious as the human. And if that was enough to tell you about this brother… “I thought that was, like, a prank or something! How long have they-they-they…” With every word, he seemed to turn more pink, and yet his face looked almost angrier. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” And he was back to fighting, taking Mammon by the front of his shirt. “I’ve been singing the opening song to ‘Kiss Me I’m Your Princess’ in the shower for the past week!” It was true. He had. “That’s supposed to be private!”

Mammon shrugged, his forearms raising with his shoulders. “Not very private if the whole neighborhood can hear ya, and besides I did tell ya! You were just so upset about the money you must’a not been paying attention!” He shoved Levi off of him. “So that’s on you!”

The older of the two really knew--or maybe he didn’t know--exactly how to push buttons. Levi, his anger reignited about the mention of his money, knocked Mammon to the ground. “Scumbag!”

Mammon pushed his brother off with a knee to the gut, turning the tables and getting on top of his opponent. “Fuckin’ weeb!” It was obvious Greed was the more physically capable, his speed and reactions praiseworthy, perhaps even for average demon standards. However, Levi was bringing his own to the fight--if you could even really call it a fight. He was more adept at using his surroundings as well as guessing predictable movements to stay in the ring.

Should you stop it? Human bodies were much more fragile than demon ones weren’t they? While they might have not been digging their heels into swinging, they were still aggressive, and it was only escalating. The binding marks around your wrists left a dull heat across your skin. Like it or not, you had to keep them in decent health to observe them. So you got up, placing your body between them. They quickly put their fists down, although Levi’s got dangerously close to your face, his knuckles so close they tickled your cheek. The intensity of battle fizzled instantly, and Levi touched a sore spot on his chin. Looking right past you, the blue-haired boy scowled. “You’ve got 24 hours, Mammon, you hear me? If you don’t, I’m taking this straight to Lucifer!” He went to leave, but then turned around to add something else in. “I’m sure he would compensate me by letting me sell your dumb bike!” Again, he went to the door...and again, he stopped to add another comment. “And-and forget about me lending you money ever again!” Finally, he slammed the door behind him. Which meant that finally the fighting was over with. Peace and--

Someone took you by the shoulders, giving you a shake. Every nerve in your spine sparked, the feeling of being touched burning you up and leaving you chill all at once. You slapped the hands off your body and took a good few steps back. “Are you an absolute idiot?!” Mammon yelled.

Who was he to talk to you like that? “Excuse me?”

“Struttin’ up and steppin’ right in the middle of a fight, did you wanna get hit?!” He outstretched his hand, ready to move your head. “Did he land one on ya?”

Blocking him, you used your arm to cover your face. “Don’t touch me.” The words came out harsh and yet desperate. You didn’t mean to sound so emotional. They left your chest heavy, and apparently the human picked up on it. He backed up, his arms dropping. He turned his head away from you with a snap of his tongue.

“Damn it! How am I supposed to pay him back by tomorrow?!” Mammon started pacing, the wheels in his head visibly turning. “First I lose my precious Golide, I can’t lose Ruby!” He really was near crying over this. He verbally shouted out ideas, most of which were getting more loans from others to pay off the one to his brother. Not a smart option. But, somehow he came to an even worse conclusion. “I’ll just have to gamble it back!” Suddenly he looked excited. “Today is a lucky day, I can feel it! That way, I get to have fun and Levi gets his money back! Win win!” Or a lose/lose, if he, you know, loses. But that aspect didn’t seem to even dawn on him. “Come on, get dressed!”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Well, you’re coming with me, aren’t ya? Don’t you want to get out for a bit? I haven’t even seen you out of this room once, made me completely forget about ya!” He laughed, every bit of negative emotion gone from his body once the addiction of gambling was rushing through his veins. Without even really giving you a choice, he was opening your suitcases which you hadn’t bothered to unpack, handing you an outfit. “Come on, come on! I do better with someone there watching me!” Were all humans this into invading personal space, or was it just him? “It’ll be fun! I’ll show you my home away from home!”

Your top eyelid started to twitch. “Don’t you have someone else to drag around?” It was meant to be spiteful, maybe a bit hurtful to get him to go away, but he just slowed. Then a familiar hue clouded his bright eyes, dulling them. A color you knew too well, the color that stained your soul. The loneliness of isolation.

He shook his head, and although you could feel a bit of his aura cry, he just smiled. “Nah, n-not many people are good enough to hang out with the Great Mammon! So-so be thankful I’m inviting you along!” It was demanding, brash, boarding on rude, but yet it came off to you like a beg.

It nearly churned your stomach at the thought of casually spending time with a human...but...those were your commands. You couldn’t hole yourself up in this room forever. At some point you’d be expected to hand in your findings, to try to restore these brothers to see if humanity was capable of change. You turned over the human clothes in your hand, the style of them vastly different than you remembered human fashion being. Sighing out of your nose, you gave in. “Fine.” His expression almost blinded you as badly as the sun.

It was very clear to you that there wasn’t going to be a single mode of human transportation that you enjoyed. They were all loud, bumpy, and the smell of metal and plastic that stayed in your nose and settled on your tongue made you gag. Mammon, however, was extremely enthusiastic about them. He had brought you to a special room of the home called a ‘garage’ , a special resting room for the family’s many...many vehicles. Each sibling seemed to have just one car, but Mammon had a few. He had waved you over to his specific end of the large room, gesturing to--as he referred to them-- his treasures. A bright yellow low-set sleek one that he named ‘Amber’, a tall black one with a carriage for storage attached to it--called a truck apparently, but he just called it ‘Ob’. But the one he adored most was one that looked vastly different to the others. This was Ruby, the one Levi threatened to sell in exchange for the missing loan.

Although, if you were being honest, you didn’t understand why Mammon didn’t let him. “It’s broken,” you claimed.

“What?! My baby?!” He left your side immediately, scouring over it, his eye scanning over every inch of the thing. “What are you talking about? She looks fine.”

Was he blind? You pointed to it. “It’s missing two wheels. All your other motorized vehicles have four.”

Waving a hand at you, he scowled. “Don’t joke around about something like that! I thought you were serious for a second!” I was serious...Oh well...It wasn’t anything you wanted to concern yourself with. He threw his legs up over the bright red two-wheeled thing, sitting on it like one might a horse. After he fiddled with it for a second, it roared to life. The sound pounding in your head, meanwhile, Mammon was thrilled. “Ah, yeah!” The machine continued to make this deafening deep...scream. You brought your hands up to cover your ears. Did they like the noise? Was basic human hearing so dull that they didn’t find it inconvenient at all? “Come on! The sooner we get to a casino, the sooner I can get more monay!” Isn’t it supposed to be Levi’s money? Mammon seemed adamant that you join him on the...Ruby. You shook your head, and with a little frown, Mammon turned the infernal thing off. “What, are you motion sick or something? Usually people would die to take a ride on a bike like this! With me!”

“Do you have something quieter?”

Dismounting the bike, he pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He clicked a button and the black truck lights flashed. “I’m already startin’ to regret this. You’re a buzzkill, you know that don’t you? And here I thought Lucifer was the one who didn’t know what fun was like.” He opened the door and hoisted himself up into the car. It already sounded much quieter than Ruby. It still rumbled and made your heart leap, but it seemed steady. It appeared to you that luckily most cars operated the same way, so you remembered how to pull the handle to open the door. Settling yourself in the seat, you shut the opening behind you, trying to calm your already churning stomach. Waiting for the thing to start moving, you braced yourself, but the truck stayed motionless. “Hey, man, I know I just called you a buzzkill and all, but I can’t afford another ticket right now, so seatbelts on.”

You could only understand about half of those words. Trying to blend in with the human world was going to be harder than you thought. Maybe some studying was in order...But you had to come up with some sort of excuse that made it appear as if you knew what he was telling you. “I don’t have one.”

It was practically an insult that he looked at you with such disappointment. “Come on, playing dumb won’t work on me, Lucifer’s already pissed from the last time I got pulled over.” Individually the words themselves made sense, but the phrases were almost gibberish to you. Taking too long trying to piece things together, Mammon sighed, leaned over, much too close to you, reaching behind your head. He tugged on an extending fabric, pulled it across your body and attached it to a clasp near your hip. As it fastened, it clicked. A seat belt. Strange. Why was it necessary for them to restrain themselves like this? “Rule number one about hanging out with Mammon,” the human started pulling a similar belt around him. “When you’re in my car, I’m in charge!” He hit a button, extremely loud music pouring out of every corner of the car, making the entire carriage thump. Screaming to be heard above the audio, he tugged on a lever in the middle. “Whoo! Roulette, here I come!” Your insides lurched as the front of the room lifted open and Ob moved forward.

Off in the distance, two adolescent humans were pushing each other around, speaking much too loudly about idiotic things. The car a little ways to the right of you had a human with long hair and tired eyes sucking on a piece of metal, blowing smoke out of their mouth. And as lines of more vehicles chugged on, and people talked in ways you didn’t comprehend, it started to hit harder how far you were away from home. This was a foreign land, filled with sins and distractions at every corner. And...food dipped in liquid apparently. As you raised the bag, you felt the slick underside of it rub off against your fingers. “Oi, oi, oi, oi, don’t be like my brother and get greasy fingerprints all over the place! I just got Obby detailed!”

You placed the bag in your lap. “I thought this machine was named Ob?”

He smiled to himself. “Ob, Obby, they’re the same. Technically, it’s Obsidian, but I like to give ‘em nicknames you know? Anyways, I ain’t like Lucifer, you can eat, but just be careful, ya hear!” He reached a hand into his own bag while the other hand was on the directional wheel. He pulled out a...fried stick and put it in his mouth. Mammon had stopped by...it was called a drive-through. At least you were starting to get the hang of their fairly straightforward naming system. You didn’t want anything, but apparently he got you something anyway. You didn’t even know what was in here, and honestly you were a little scared to find out. It was...dare you say, rather polite of him to consider feeding you. “Lucifer’s gotta give me my card back for sure! For looking after you so nicely and all! You better be thankful! I don’t do this stuff for anyone, just so you know!” And of course his ego ruined the gesture completely. Every action he made was a move to get him closer to more material gain.

Appetite was lost on you, not that this sickly human food was appealing anyway. It was all too much. The stimuli of everything was driving you mad. You put the bag beside you, leaning against the inside of the car, trying not to notice the seatbelt and how suffocating it all felt.

Suddenly, the deafening music turned down. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? You’re not feeling sick are ya? No being sick in my treasure!”

You were sick. Sick of all this. “I want to go home.”

Something about that must’ve resonated with him. He sighed, turning his head to look out the window. “Ah, geez…” Quickly, the mood turned awkward. ��Hey, I mean, I can always turn around if you want.”

“Not your home. Mine.”

Mammon remained quiet at that, something that seemed like a rarity for him. It didn’t last for too long though. “They said your folks died, or something like that right?”

The lie the prince had come up with nearly made you laugh. You let out a single scoff instead. “Something like that.”

Even though you hadn’t been around Mammon for too long, he ended up surprising you. “That sucks, man...Listen...I-I know what it’s like.” The tone of his voice sounded uncertain, like this had been the first time in a long time that he’d been honest, vulnerable. The pitch was unsteady, struggling to try something on that he hadn’t worn in ages. “Losing someone...it stays with ya. Broke my family apart...if you can even call us that anymore nowadays. Once she was gone, we all found a different way to fill in the gaps.” There was humanity in him yet, buried deep beneath heavy sorrow. “But you know what helped me out the most?” You raised your head, actually wanting to look at him for the first time since you’d known him. Mammon pulled up into a lot littered with a bunch of other human cars. Just as you glanced at him, the goodness and seriousness in him retracted. He glanced out the window at a large shiny building. His particular “fill” he had mentioned had such a tight grip on him, it was hard to tell if he understood how much it controlled him. The lights of the casino hypnotized him, erasing any sense of despair that lingered in him. Or perhaps covering it up was a better explanation. This was no cure. “There’s nothing quite like a casino! Trust me,” He patted you on the shoulder. “Play a few games and you’ll forget that you wanted to go home in the first place!” Ob turned off, the shudder of the frame dying. Mammon hopped out of the car without a second thought, treading towards the entrance, leaving you behind. For a moment there had been awareness, a connection. Now, there was only one thing on his mind. Greed.

There were two options for you. Stay in this stuffy thing or follow the human inside. Neither were great options, unluckily. However, now your curiosity was piqued. Was it truly possible for this Morningstar to change? But did you have the patience to try? Maybe this was your own gamble. You landed on the solid grown below, making sure to remember to shut the door behind you. The bright white hair of the human was in your sights for only a second before he was engulfed in a crowd. At the worst, it might be fun to watch him fail...So inside you went.

If you thought outside was overstimulating, you were drastically underprepared for the contents of a human casino. Screens were flashing, noises rang out from every single inch, the carpet was almost louder than the buzzing in your ears. The aroma of tainted beverages and smoke sent your vision swirling. People bumped into you, some blind from crying, some far too lost in their indulgences to notice you were there. Mammon was gone. But even amongst all these attacks on your senses, there was one feeling that rose among them all. The presence of demons. You should’ve known a place like this where people sold their soul for the rush of a Jackpot would be where your kind thrived.

Knowing your luck, today would be the day Mammon lost more than the pot. You had to find him, quickly.

A circle of hell…this is what this had to be right? An hour had passed and still no sign of the cursed human. The only thing you kept note of was the same dumb sign that promoted some sort of membership that was obviously a borderline scam. You had seen it three times already…you were walking in circles. It wasn’t your fault! This place was a maze, a blinking, haze filled maze. You were running out of options, as well as sanity.

A large bulky man stood against the wall, keeping an eye over the many glossy-eyed consumers. You headed up to him. It took a second for him to notice you staring. “Yeah?”

“Have you seen a white-haired man, about this tall,” you moved your arm to about where he was against your own height. “Wearing a brown jacket?”

The man huffed out a laugh. “You think I remember everyone that walks past me? Listen, I’m just here making sure people behave. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Useless. Turning your back on the human, you walked off again, head on a swivel. Your eyes spotted a woman, still sober, also looking around for someone, maybe she’d spotted who you were searching for instead. Coming up behind her, you didn’t wait this time for them to notice you. “Excuse me?”

“Hm?” Brown curls bounced across her forehead.

“I’m looking for someone. Have you seen-“

The woman’s attention left yours, looking up past you. “Oh, there he is!” Following her gaze, you looked over your shoulder to see someone else entirely. Someone who was without a doubt not Mammon. Without listening to the rest of your question, she brushed you off, matching strides with the person she had found. So annoying…

Then a warm sounding voice pricked your ears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help but overhear.” A different human man approached, someone with shaggy light brown hair with eyes to match, the shadow of a fresh growing beard darkening his jawline. His black leather jacket hung loose off his body, a few sizes too big, like it wasn’t his. Not to mention it smelled of cologne and cigarettes. “You’re looking for someone? I might’ve seen them, I’m good with faces.” His smile was wide and spotless, so flirtatiously perfect you had your doubts about him.

But any help would be worth it at this juncture. “White hair, golden brown eyes, a -“

“Mammon Morningstar, right?” The answer was so sudden. “He’s in here all the time, it’s hard to not remember him, you know? Well, that and he happens to be a good friend of mine.” The lungs in your chest stopped as soon as he put his arm around your shoulders. “Tell you what, why don’t we go find him together?” The mysterious helper started dragging you forward, and as he did, a few other people pulled away from their spots in the background, carefully weaving through the crowd, trying not to seem as if they were following you...but they were. Everything in you was tempted to tear the human off of you by his arm and chuck him into the nearest machine...but that would garner attention. “You know, it’s weird…” your escort wondered. “I’m really good with faces, and yet, I can’t seem to recall seeing yours. Where are you from?”

As blandly as you could, you gave him a completely honest half-answer. “Not here.”

The man laughed. “Oh, good!” Then he turned his questions in a different direction. “How long have you known Mammon? Because he hasn’t...ever mentioned someone like you before...and Mammon tells me everything.” The amusement was sour, bitter, just like this human’s soul. Simeon had been shocked when he’d discovered you’d never taken a mortal soul. But how could you when they were always so...revolting?

Your fondness for humans had already sunken to the bottom, but somehow you found yourselves wishing to be annoyed by Mammon rather than this…human in devil’s clothing. ”You’re asking all about me, and yet, I don’t know a single thing about you. What’s your name?”

Never give a magical being your name, that was the first thing legends taught humans, at least, the last time you visited they did. Either legends had long but died out, or this human was cocky enough to pass out his name to you on a silver platter. “It’s Cory.” As soon as he handed himself to you, demonic insight did the rest. Glimpses of terrible secrets, of all the wrong he had done in his life. What greed and anger had encouraged him to do. He was dangerous, and this human had Mammon centered in his focus. “But all my friends just call me Cash. So feel free to call me that too, yeah?” You opened your mouth, ready to finally get rid of this pest and drag Mammon to his house if you had to, but Cody’s arm left you. Outstretched, he moved away from your side to greet another familiar face. “There’s my Golden Boy!”

Standing in front of a table, rattling around dice in his palm, Mammon stopped himself from rolling them. At the sound of Cody’s voice, his shoulders tensed, his expression losing it’s playful tone. Cody’s hand’s gripped Mammon’s shoulders as he came up behind him. “C-Cash, fun-funny seeing ya here!”

It was obvious ‘Cash’ also wanted to avoid unwanted attention, although anger started to darken his eyes at the sight of his ‘good friend’. Ignoring the stuttering, Cody smiled. “How’s it going? Winning anything?”

Confidence faltering, Mammon tried to chuckle. “N-not yet.”

Three of the bodies that had been shadowing you and Cody stood directly behind you, far too close for comfort. There was something odd about their presence...You were picking up a smell, something you were sure human’s couldn’t possess. Yet, each of the humans behind you possessed something that was shockingly similar to dragon’s breath… Leaning in a bit closer to Mammon, Cash let some of his true colors show. “Well, I sure hope you start winning something soon.”

Another loaner had come to collect his dues.

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handwrittenhello · 3 years

Text

sweet little lies

Rating: M Warnings: Assassination attempts, poisoning, bombing Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer Word Count: 6.2k Summary: “He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed. "Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man. “Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.” -- When Yennefer of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North, receives Jaskier as tribute, she doesn't trust him—the rumor is that assassins and spies are trying to infiltrate her court. And despite being sent unwillingly, Jaskier seems perfectly happy—too happy—to be there. As tensions with the bordering country of Rivia grow stronger, she must beware, and figure out who she can truly trust.

or, yet another warlord au (but with warlord yennefer this time), inspired by @inexplicifics! read here on ao3.

“He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed.

“Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man.

“Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.”

He did indeed try, judging by how heavily his face was made up and by the numerous precious metals and jewels that adorned his ears and fingers and even one nostril. Yennefer didn’t think she’d ever seen more piercings in her life. The wealth the stranger wore on his body was simply astounding. Besides the more conventional jewelry, he also wore a shirt—if one could call it that—of fine gold chains interlaced, studded intermittently with shimmering gems. He wore no trousers, only a sheer wrap accentuated by a belt, made of yet more fine chains entwined. Finishing the ensemble were golden cuffs around his wrists—the entire outfit seemed to subtly shout prisoner, in fact, when she looked for it.

“And who sent you?” she asked, her voice ringing clear through the hall.

“I come to you as a gift, courtesy of King Vizimir of Redania,” the man replied, sinking into another low bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Master Bard, and Esteemed Courtesan, at your service, my lady.” He made no mention of his own involvement in the matter, Yennefer noted darkly. She would not take slaves, expensive tribute or not.

But to publicly refuse such a gift would show blatant disfavor, and may spark an unwanted war. “You may tell King Vizimir I accept his gift,” she told the messenger who had accompanied Master Pankratz. “And you,” she turned to Pankratz, “may come with me.” She turned and left the hall, trusting him and Geralt both to follow her.

Whispers rose up in her wake, titters at what she might do with the new esteemed courtesan, but she ignored them. One did not become Warlord of the North by caring what courtly gossip featured oneself.

She pushed open the doors to her room, Pankratz just behind her, and Geralt, silent, bringing up the rear. He was good at that sort of thing—protecting her, always, and always with the taciturn seriousness most knew him for.

Only few knew what truly lurked beneath the surface. She was privy to more than most—as her right-hand man, bodyguard, and occasional lover, he let her see more than most. She could see a hint of it peeking out through his stony exterior now—he was disturbed, unsettled, though she couldn’t tell the cause.

She sat herself in her customary armchair by the hearth, Geralt taking a place looming behind her, and after Pankratz hesitated, she directed him to the armchair across from her. He sank into it quickly, giving the ridiculous impression of a puppy aiming to please its master. She rolled her eyes.

“We can drop the bullshit,” she stated plainly, and his eyes widened. “Do you truly wish to be here? Speak truly.”

He swallowed. “My lady, it is truly the greatest honor to be in your presence—” he began, but Yennefer cut him off with a look.

“I said no more pretty lies. I have enough of those in my court—I don’t need you adding to that pile of shit.” There was little more she despised than venomous intentions disguised. The best attack was one that could be anticipated.

“Very well, my lady. Though it is true I did not come here willingly—” Geralt stiffened at that, his hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword, though Yennefer gave no outward indication of her disgust. “—I did not come here willingly, but, having found myself in your court, I find that there is little else I could wish for. In truth, I would much prefer here to whence I came.” He said the last bit in a black tone, hinting at some strife Yennefer knew not of.

“Well, I would give you the option, then,” Yennefer replied. “You may leave, if you so wish—I will supply you with enough to get by until you can establish yourself, wherever you may choose to go. I hear Toussaint is nice this time of year.” Pankratz smiled. “Or you may remain in my court, but know this—I tolerate no treachery, no spies, of any sort.” She leaned in close; the smile dropped from his face. “If I discover that you’ve been sent as some foreign agent to engineer my demise—” she locked eyes with him “—your demise will not be swift.” She spoke the last words softly, so softly, but plenty intelligible in the absolute silence of the room. “But you’ll wish it would be.”

Pankratz gulped.

“Have I made myself clear?” she asked, leaning back, releasing him from the uncomfortable closeness.

“Crystal, my lady,” he answered, smiling shakily. “And, if it’s all the same to you, I would rather not try my luck out there. Much easier to earn my keep at the luxury of the court.”

Yennefer wasn’t surprised by the attitude; clearly this was a man well accustomed to luxury. “Very well. And how do you plan to earn your keep?”

“Well, my lady,” he began, voice dropping into a sultry register. “You’ll find that I’m quite good with my fingers and tongue, as it were.” He slid from his chair, somehow managing to make it look effortlessly elegant, and shuffled closer to her on his knees. Geralt stiffened; Yennefer waited for Pankratz to dare touch her. But no touch was forthcoming, despite the strange flutter of arousal in her stomach that spoke to how she almost wanted him to try.

“Presumptuous of King Vizimir,” was all she replied. “And what if I have no need of a bedwarmer?”

Pankratz sat back on his heels. “Well, I have other talents. I studied at Oxenfurt—you may also hear me called Jaskier the Bard, at your service,” he said, giving a little half-bow, all he could manage in a kneeling position. “I would sing of your victories for all to hear and be warned, lest the—the Raven Storm come to batter down their doors!” He punctuated his sentence with a grand gesture, one that nearly knocked him off balance.

“No.”

“N-no, my lady?” Jaskier questioned, his arms dropping. “I can come up with something else, if you don’t like the name—"

“It’s not the name,” Yennefer said dismissively. “It’s the exaggeration. I’ve already told you, I value honesty alone. I won’t have any pretty ballads hiding bastard truths.”

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely held his tongue. To soften the disappointment, Geralt came around and offered him a hand up. Jaskier took it, and also took a moment to stare appreciatively at Geralt. He was lucky she wasn’t the jealous type—she could have his head for it.

“You may stay,” she declared. “You need not pay for it in my bed, though if you do truly mean what you say, then we can discuss your… talents, as it were. For now, Geralt will find you rooms of your own and show you around the palace. You may have the rest of the day to acclimate, though I expect you in the dining hall tonight at sundown.”

It was a clear dismissal. “Thank you, my lady, you’re too kind,” Jaskier said as Geralt led him out of the room.

“No flattery,” she reminded him, but they were already gone.

Jaskier settled into life at her court like a duck to water. He did indeed have a talented tongue and fingers—which he proved the first time he sang for them, with a lute to accompany it. He bounced around the room, capturing the attention of all he met—he was impossible to ignore, loud and bright as he was, bedecked in jewelry.

Geralt had tried to offer him clothes when he first settled into his rooms, but Jaskier seemed more than content to prance around nearly naked. Geralt hated it—he complained to her, one night, that Jaskier was too distracting, pulling Geralt’s attention away. He took his duties very seriously—formerly a knight of Rivia, he now devoted himself to her with the same near-religious fervor, taking her protection upon himself.

It was sweet, if a little misguided. She could protect herself just as well, but it was nice knowing that he was there behind her, always ready to support her if she faltered.

“I don’t like it, Yen,” he said to her, late one night, as the fire burned down to embers in the hearth. They were curled side by side in her bed, sweat cooling on their damp bodies, Geralt occupying himself by playing with strands of her hair. “Unrest in Rivia is growing stronger—we could have a revolt on our hands before the harvest.”

“I’m not worried about Rivia,” Yennefer replied, waving a hand lazily. “Little more than whispers on the wind. King Reginald, gods spit on his soul, has too few supporters left to be any real threat. The rest either died with him in the coup or fled like the cowards they were.”

“I’m serious, Yen. Word on the street is that there’ll be an attempt on your life before the year is out.” A furrow creased his brow, his fingers growing tense in her hair. Gently, she disentangled them before lacing their fingers together.

“Is that not what I have you for?” she asked, a smile quirking her lips. He worried too much—his consternation was almost cute. “Relax. If any assault comes, we’ll be well prepared for it.”

“It won’t be anything as obvious as an attack on the city. Rivian forces are smart—they’ll send spies, or assassins, or both. You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“If it will make you feel better, then you may begin vetting those in the court you find suspicious,” Yennefer relented.

Geralt hummed, his eyes slipping closed in satisfaction. She too closed her eyes, but the thought nagged at her—did she trust everyone in the palace? Most of them she’d known for decades—they’d worked under King Demavend with her, and had helped her overthrow him when he became too cruel to stand. She’d rewarded their loyalty with a place at her side, and they’d remained trustworthy through the years.

There had been few new arrivals since then—Geralt himself was among them, having joined her during the Coup of Rivia. And of course there was their newest arrival, Jaskier.

He seemed perfectly content in his new role. She had to admit it suited him well—he loved attention, and got it in spades when singing or when draped seductively next to her throne. He made good decoration, though she had yet to negotiate a more intimate role with him. She never held back from staring, though—and though he often caught her, he seemed pleased more than anything else.

Was he too comfortable here? It was true, he had settled in remarkably quickly—did he have a hidden purpose? But what use would King Vizimir have for a spy in her court, especially one as useless as Jaskier? He wasn’t present at any strategy meetings, or even privy to her company more than most. Perhaps he was an assassin biding his time?

Yennefer huffed. This was how paranoia set in—whispers and rumors crept in and set the mind aflame with possibilities until it drove itself mad. She resolutely cleared all thoughts of betrayal from her mind and tried to sleep.

Geralt commenced his investigation as soon as he was able, but Yennefer heard little else from him about it. She assumed that meant the search for traitors was proving unfruitful.

She interrupted him one day with a task at the southern border—there were reports of skirmishes breaking out, most likely bandit attacks. He departed with a promise to return by the month’s end, and she watched him leave with a pit in her stomach.

It wasn’t the first time they’d parted—so why was her stomach twisting so? Why were her instincts screaming that it would all go wrong?

There was nothing to worry about. She needed to take her mind off it, that was all. She went back into the palace and headed for the southern wing—where Jaskier’s rooms were.

“My lady Yennefer!” he greeted her happily, springing from his writing desk upon her entrance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then he paused, frowned. “Where’s your shadow? I can’t hardly think of a time I haven’t seen him hovering menacingly over your shoulder.”

“He’s away for the time being.” She motioned him closer, and he went as if reeled in by a fishing line.

“Luckily you still have me,” he replied, biting his lip. He was yet unsure of his advances—good. She would keep him on his toes.

“And would you give yourself to me?” she asked, stepping even closer, until there were scant few inches between them. “Let me have you?”

“In a heartbeat, if my lady so wished,” he breathed, leaning in. She didn’t wait for his lips to brush hers; she surged forward at once, attacking with brutal efficiency. The kiss was more a clash of wills than anything tender. To her delight, he didn’t simply let her plunder his mouth, but gave as good as he got, hands coming up to clutch at her dress. She pushed him away, and his face split with confusion until she pushed him again, back onto the bed. His hands fisted in the covers as she climbed on top of him, finding the clasps that would free him from the confines of the chains that draped over his body.

Soon she had stripped the gold and gems from his body, and at some point her own clothes had disappeared as well, and finally she was free to take him how she wished. He was a good lover, enthusiastic and skilled—his talents truly were as good as he’d made them out to be.

Her only point of contention came near the end, when he began to murmur sweet nothings into her hair, praising her and begging in turn. Even after, when they lay panting atop the sheets, he continued to weave pretty lies, complimenting her prowess and beauty until she rolled over and pinned him down.

“What have I said about lying?” she bit, but there was no real heat to it.

“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, I speak nothing but the truth,” he replied, “but if you wish my silence, well—I suppose you’ll have to find a way to shut me up.” He grinned.

She was gratified to see that he was no longer the deferential pretty thing that had been gifted to her, but had instead grown into his role here and thus felt comfortable enough to tease and prod.

In fact, as the days passed and they spent more time together, he turned downright annoying, at times, whining about how cruel silver was to his skin—did she know that he was one sixty-fourth fae? How it itched so—but gold didn’t go as well with his complexion, and really, he should be wearing sapphires, not rubies, since they brought out the blue of his eyes better…

Yennefer tolerated it with confused amusement for all of one day before she took his suggestion and found ways to occupy his mouth, just so that the inane chatter would stop.

She was almost disappointed when the day that Geralt would return drew near. She looked forward to his triumphant return, of course, but she was apprehensive of how he would react to her getting so close to Jaskier in his absence. She was lucky that she didn’t have to contend with jealousy from him—he simply wasn’t the type—but nor did she want him to distance himself from her, afraid of intruding on something new.

And though she’d succeeded, for the most part, at distracting herself from his absence, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that still came over her at odd times when she thought of him. He was plenty capable; there was nothing to worry about, she knew, and yet that didn’t stop her traitorous heart.

As the days passed, however, with no sign of his imminent return—not even a letter—she knew her worry was well-founded. On the second day of the new month—two weeks since she’d last seen him—she resolved to ride to the border with all the forces she could gather.

Jaskier worried at her departure—“My lady, you would leave the palace so defenseless?”—but she would not be swayed.

“You’ll be fine. The city can protect itself; you need not worry about a thing.”

“It’s not myself I worry for,” he replied flatly, a moue of displeasure overtaking his face. He didn’t grace her bed that night, and she resolutely told herself she wasn’t bothered.

The sun rose early, and she with it, saddling her horse and donning her armor. The air held a chill, heralding the coming of autumn, though it was unusual so early in the season. As the morning mists in the fields began to burn off, she and her forces rode out, heading south.

They were scarcely a mile away from the palace when she spotted something on the horizon. She called them to a halt, sending ahead scouts to report on what the disturbance was. They returned in short order, shouting joyously—Knight Geralt was returned, unharmed, though he’d lost his men in the interim.

“Yen,” he greeted her warmly, pulling short his ill-tempered mare as he approached. She seemed especially ornery today, hardly responding to his commands, but Yennefer supposed that after weeks on the road, she would be ornery too. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You should be,” she answered, but couldn’t maintain her anger for long, not upon seeing him safe and whole. “What took so long? And where are the men who accompanied you?”

He frowned. “They’re not back yet? I’d thought they’d arrive first.”

“No, we’ve heard nothing since you left. What happened?” It was unlike Geralt to leave his men behind—his sense of chivalry demanded otherwise.

“It wasn’t bandits at the border—it was Rivian insurgents making trouble. Easy enough to mop up, but in the fight, I got separated. Ended up having to lay low for a few days in Spalla. I gave the men instructions to return to Vengerberg if anything went wrong.”

“Do you think they’re still out looking for you?” Damned loyalty. While she valued it, it often proved to be quite the pain in difficult situations.

“Could be. We ought to send another team out, round them up.” She was grateful that he didn’t suggest going back to look for them himself—she would have expected that from him, stubborn as he was, but she wasn’t ready to lose him again so soon.

She motioned over the captain of her guard, Ivenka. “Take your best fighters and track down our poor wayward soldiers.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ivenka replied. The party split; Yennefer and Geralt led the rest of the forces back to Vengerberg.

Upon their return, Jaskier launched into a rousing song of victory—if he was surprised to see them back so soon, he didn’t show it. Geralt bore the attention as he always did, with an uncomfortable grimace. Once the commotion settled, Yennefer pulled Geralt into her rooms for a full report on what he’d found at the Rivian border.

“The talk of insurgence was right. A resistance has formed, with more support than we thought. King Reginald had more friends than we knew.” Geralt delivered the bad news with no inflection, which was how Yennefer knew it was a grave matter indeed.

“A resistance? How strong would you say? Have they any support from the commonfolk?” That was how battles were won, Yennefer knew—it all depended on the attitude of the peasantry. If their favor had shifted against her, they could expect full-blown war within the year.

“Not yet, though they’ve changed the minds of a few. More than anything they’ve sown dissent—talk of crop shortages, of trade disturbed. Trying to make you out to be just as bad as Reginald.”

Yennefer cursed. “We need to head this off before it grows any worse.”

“Parley? They might be open to discussion—this incursion may have been a way to get our attention.”

Yennefer nodded. “Send a messenger at once,” she instructed.

Geralt inclined his head in acquiescence and left her to her thoughts.

He had been right about the coming rebellion—was he also to be believed about the rumored attempts on her life? She would have to keep her guard up.

They received the Rivians a few nights hence at a banquet, meant as both a display of wealth and numbers. The entire court was assembled, and the visiting party arrived wide-eyed and trying to hide it.

Yennefer herself was seated upon her throne in full gilded plate armor—everything but a helmet. Geralt stood beside her, arms crossed, a scowl writ upon his face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And on her other side, draped across the arm of the throne, was Jaskier, in his finest jewels and with a full face of makeup, not looking even a bit vulnerable though he wore almost nothing.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” the man leading the visiting party said, inclining his head in lieu of a bow. Beside her, Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “I am Gudros of Scala, and accompanying me are Velah of Hawksburne and Ozrias of Scala.” He gestured to the two behind him, who had so far stood silent and still, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets.

“Vengerberg welcomes you,” Yennefer announced. “You may partake of food and rest from your journey. Once you’ve had your fill we may retire for more formal talk.” Gudros bowed his head again, and the feast resumed.

“I don’t like this,” Geralt murmured, barely audible over the voices and instruments overlapping in the hall. Yennefer glanced up at him—he looked torn, lips pursed and hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Keep an eye on them for me?” she replied. He nodded and slipped away—Yennefer looked forward to his report on what they were saying.

She was so intent on watching the Rivians that she hardly noticed it when an attendant approached with a tray carrying goblets of wine. “Milady,” he greeted, offering her a glass. She reached out to take it, but was beaten there by Jaskier, who snatched it out of the attendant’s hands before she could.

He grinned cheekily at her—this was almost too bold. She’d have to put him in his place later tonight. But she let him have it and reached for her own goblet, just as Jaskier took a sip of the wine.

The smell hit her nose as soon as she raised the glass to her lips. It was hardly detectable, but she’d learned a thousand and one ways under King Demavend’s reign to brew poisons—she recognized instantly the characteristic sour odor it held, the way it slid, oily, down one’s throat, the way it burned from the inside out.

She threw the goblet to the floor, heedless of the way that it shattered into a million pieces. “Geralt!” she screamed, wrenching Jaskier’s goblet from him—though it was already falling from his stiff fingers, his eyes bulging and his face reddening in mere moments.

Geralt appeared at her side instantly, as if he’d never left. Seeing Jaskier in trouble, he threw the consort over his broad shoulders and followed Yennefer as she fled to her old workshop—Goddess willing, she would still have enough ingredients to prepare an antidote, though it had been years since she’d set foot there.

The doors flew open under her hands, dust swirling about the room and cobwebs shuddering in the sudden breeze. Yennefer drew on the spark of chaos buried deep inside her, hardly used, but called forth in full force now. The torches flared to life at once, jars and pots flying off the shelves into her hands.

Geralt laid Jaskier down on the worktable in the middle of the room, now wheezing and coughing, spittle flecking his lips. “Yen,” he tried to wheeze, but she paid him no mind. She needed every ounce of concentration to prepare the antidote, something she hadn’t done in years.

“Mistletoe… wartweed… ground lichen…” she muttered, adding each ingredient in turn. The potion began to bubble, a haze descending on the workshop as it released puffs of smoke.

“Yen, he's not breathing,” Geralt called, and she cursed, stirring faster. Finally, finally, the sickly shade of green gave way to a deep turquoise, and then a solid blue. She rushed to Jaskier’s side, forcing his mouth open with one hand and pouring the antidote down his throat.

He convulsed, and, sensing that he was about to spit it up, she clamped his mouth and nose shut, putting her full weight into holding him down as his limbs juddered and jerked. But with no other choice, he eventually swallowed, his throat spasming under her harsh grip, and then he went abruptly lax.

She took her hands away, letting him breathe—it was a long, tense moment of waiting before he took an easy breath, no wheeze present. Yennefer breathed too, the tension lifting from her shoulders.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze flitted around the room for a moment, landing first on Geralt and then on herself. “Yen,” he said urgently, struggling to sit up. “You’re alright?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “I’m not the idiot that drank poison.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he sighed. “I mean, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t want to die for nothing—”

Yennefer froze. “You had a suspicion?”

“Well, yes,” he answered, frowning. “I highly doubted the Rivians were here under good intentions, and as Geralt has been saying, an attempt on your life was bound to come sooner or later, so—”

“You knew it would be poisoned, and yet you drank anyway? Why the fuck would you do that, Jaskier?” She dug her nails into the tabletop, itching to wring them around his neck.

What sort of fool would knowingly drink poison? Only the braindead or suicidal, and while Yennefer did hold his sanity in question at times, it still didn’t make sense.

He blinked. “Do you really have to ask? It’s as I’ve told you a thousand times in a thousand ways.”

No. No, he couldn’t mean—

“I love you, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I would, in fact, die for you, as we’ve proven.” He grinned. “Don’t say I never live up to my promises.”

While, yes, he’d said as much before, it still stunned Yennefer to hear it said so blatantly, and with such tangible commitment. She’d thought them pretty lies, the fanciful words of a jester that wanted only to flatter his lord.

Unable to come up with a response, she turned and fled. If she stayed in that room, she might end up saying or doing something she would later regret—whether that was wring his fool neck or have him right there on the table, she would never know.

So caught up was she in whirling thoughts of truth and lies, she didn’t notice Geralt was following her until she was nearly to her rooms. “I don’t want company right now, Geralt,” she said tersely, whirling around.

“We need to talk,” Geralt replied, stepping closer. “The Rivians—”

“Leave me alone!” she snarled, which was enough to make him pause, giving her time to dart into her rooms and slam the door behind her. She locked them with a fierce finality, relishing the heavy click that signified she was alone with her thoughts. She pressed her back to the door and her hands to her eyes, seeing the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the pressure.

If she could have but a moment to think, to sort out the mess of thoughts churning in her mind—but no, even now, she could hear raised voices, shouting, the clang of steel on steel. What kind of leader was she, cowering in her rooms like a confused animal, simply because of an ill-timed, unexpected confession of love?

She straightened her armor and drew her swords before opening the door and heading out to face whatever chaos lay in wait. As she grew closer, the voices grew more panicked, and she hurried her steps along until she was nearly running.

Jaskier came stumbling out of her workroom, looking worse for the wear and confused, searching for the source of the commotion the same as she was. “Go lie down,” she snapped. “I just saved your life. I don’t need you undoing all my hard work.”

“But what’s happening? Where’s Geralt?” he asked, craning his head. Then he spotted the swords she carried. “What do you need those for?”

She started to reply, and then—

An explosion. All-consuming, fiery hot, ripping her eardrums apart. She flew backwards and hit the wall, stunned. Through blurry vision, she saw Jaskier tossed like a ragdoll, slumped opposite her, bleeding from the temple.

Her ears were ringing; she blinked. Chunks of stone rained down on her like hailstones, a fine white powder covering everything in a thin layer of dust.

Slowly, slowly, her vision stabilized and her hearing began to return—the first thing she heard were screams.

Her people—she had to help her people. She tried to struggle to her feet, but it was as if her limbs were encased in plaster. She looked down and saw that a large chunk of stone was pinning her legs to the ground—with monumental effort, she lifted it off herself, grunting. She closed her eyes and breathed, in, out, and then staggered upwards.

She checked on Jaskier first—he had a head wound, bleeding profusely, but nothing more serious than that. She clumsily slapped his cheeks a few times until he roused, groaning, eyes squinting shut.

“Are you alright?” she shouted, her own voice hardly reaching her ears. He nodded, eyes still closed, and she left him to recover. Staggering into the hall, she took in the sight before her—it was as if a bomb had gone off, and maybe it had.

The entire hall was bathed in sepia-toned light, the torches guttering in and out in the wake of the blast. Chunks of stone and broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, which had fallen through to the dungeons below. To her surprise and immense thankfulness, there were few bodies—perhaps they’d had advance warning and had fled, screaming.

Four people stood in the middle of it all—she recognized Gudros, flanked by Ozrias and Velah. The fourth had hair as white as bone—“Geralt?” she called, and he slowly turned around. Wrong, wrong, wrong, all her senses screamed.

“Not quite.” He laughed, a chilling sound, unlike Geralt’s own rare laugh in every way. She knew then—this wasn’t Geralt. This hadn’t been Geralt for a good while.

“When?” she asked, though she knew exactly when. It had been that damned trip to the border. “Who are you? Really?”

“We are the rightful leaders of a free Rivia, and we would see her prosper once more, no longer under your bloody banner!” Gudros cried. “You have bewitched Rivia’s citizens. We’ll not see you reign any longer!”

“I’ve bewitched no one,” Yennefer snapped. “If you speak of your loyal knights turning against you—that was your king’s own doing, with his wicked deeds and cruel heart.”

“No! Geralt of Rivia was a good man—we’ll break whatever spell you’ve placed on him, right after we parade your desecrated body through the streets!”

Not-Geralt smiled, all teeth, and dropped the illusion—suddenly, he had changed forms, and now appeared as Yennefer herself. “You’re a doppler,” she said, teeth gritted. “What stake have you in this fight?”

“I’ve lived a long life, you know. To tell you the truth, I’ve grown rather bored with it—and what better game to play than this?”

“You’re sick,” Yennefer spat. “You’ve aligned yourself with murderers and oathbreakers.”

“Would you have me align myself with you, Kingslayer?” the doppler purred. “I see it all, you know—I’m in your head. I see how you kill, and lie, even to yourself.”

With a wordless yell of rage, Yennefer threw herself at the doppler, who met her swords with a sword of its own. It was an even match—perfectly even, with all her skill as a fighter reflected back at her. And with the other three Rivians advancing, it looked to be a quick end for her.

Her people would die, and Jaskier would be captured and most likely enslaved, and Geralt would remain captive to those who believed him brainwashed, subject to tortures as they attempted to break whatever enchantment they believed lay over him. And she would be brought up as an example, her dead body held up to the world to say: this is what happens to those who fight back.

She dodged the first swipe of Gudros’ sword, but it left her open for the doppler to press her back, putting her off-balance. Her foot caught on a chunk of rubble and she teetered backwards, falling to the ground, the doppler pouncing on her at once.

“Here lies the Raven Storm; blustered herself out, little stronger than a gust of wind at the end,” the doppler cackled. Yennefer looked into its eyes—her eyes—and braced herself for the end.

And then a chain looped around the doppler’s neck, choking, burning. The skin beneath the silver links smoked and cracked, blackening, the doppler’s hands scrabbling uselessly at the chain and burning too.

Yennefer looked up to see Jaskier standing tall behind the doppler, one of his many decorative body chains in his hands, his face creased in furious fierceness. Yennefer pushed the doppler off of her, rolling to the side just in time to avoid yet another blow from Gudros. She yelled inarticulately and stabbed upwards, piercing his gut through. Without bothering to check if he was dead, Yennefer turned to Velah and Ozrias, both of whom were advancing on Jaskier, swords drawn.

“Behind you,” she shouted, and he ducked a swipe meant to behead him. She darted over and shoved Velah away with a kick to the side, and in the same motion brought her sword up to parry Ozrias’ next strike. Behind her, she heard the doppler let out a guttural noise and collapse—hopefully dead—and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jaskier trying to avoid Velah’s wildly swinging sword. He barely dodged the last one, and earned himself a neat score along his cheek, blood pouring forth from the small wound.

Luckily, Ozrias proved to be a rather weak swordfighter, and she killed him with a swift dodge and counterattack, cutting off his head in one swift motion. She threw herself in between Jaskier and Velah just in time, handily disarming her while Jaskier cowered and yelped behind her.

Pointing her sword straight at Velah’s throat, Yennefer demanded, “Where is he?”

Velah threw her hands up. “He’s in Spalla. Please, don’t kill me.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “You hurt what’s mine.”

“Please, mercy—” She didn’t finish; she was dead before her body hit the floor. Mercy granted her a quick death, but nothing more. Not after kidnapping her right-hand man, her lover, not after bombing her palace and killing her people, not after hurting Jaskier.

Jaskier took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Whoo. That’s enough excitement for me, I think. I need to sit down,” he said, and sat down right there in the middle of the wreckage.

Yennefer busied herself with cleaning her sword. “So you don’t want to come to Spalla with me?” she asked casually, and he sprang back up to his feet—albeit shakily.

“No, no, I’m in! Someone has to write sweeping songs of your victories there.” He paused. “Just, maybe, a moment to catch my breath? I’ve never really—ah—never had to fight for my life before. Never killed anyone, either. I think my body might be shutting down?” he squeaked, sinking to his knees. “My—my heart is beating so fast, gods, and my hands feel all tingly, and I’m shaking—”

“That’s the adrenaline,” Yennefer answered, kneeling down as well. “It will pass.”

“Good. Because this—well, is this what you feel all the time?” He looked up at her, a dawning sort of respect in his gaze.

She shrugged. “You get used to it eventually. But yes, more or less.”

“Color me impressed, then.” As they spoke, the color began to return to his cheeks, and his frantic breathing slowed, and his shaking died down. “Alright. I’m feeling better, I think.”

“Good,” she echoed, sheathing her sword and helping him up. “Because now we ride for Rivia.”

“To Rivia,” he repeated. “Hey, do you think Geralt will be impressed? Bet he’s never killed a doppler before.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she replied, but couldn’t hide the small smile that graced her face.

Her palace was in ruins, and Geralt had been kidnapped, and they were about to go to war with Rivia for the second time, but somehow she knew—it would be alright.

#the witcher #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yenralt #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #warlord au #accidental warlord au #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #in the rare event that i write more ask to be tagged

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years

Text

Meet My Eternal RivalAU: Iwa Gai Au

Words: 2608

Rating: General

Characters: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Warnings: None

Summery: Kakashi always knew that there would come a day where his new Genin team would end up meeting Gai. He was just hoping for a little extra time, and some support from his favourite summon.

Made with lots of help from @sakura-rpblog and @thegodsaregay

Peace and quiet. It wasn’t something Kakashi was used to having anymore. Ever since Lord Third had given him his latest genin team, his days had been filled with squabbling, endless questions, and more headaches than he had ever had in his life.

When Gai had told him that becoming a Jonin-Sensei would make him feel more complete, he had clearly forgotten to warn Kakashi about the unruly nature of pre-teens. Something he’d be more willing to scold the man for if this wasn’t one of the few chances they had to spend together.

The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their moment complaining about his genin team. All he wanted to do was cuddle up close to Gai and fall asleep. Forget about all of the responsibilities he had to deal with for just a little while.

Of course, it was never that easy. Maybe if he was back home in Konoha, relaxing in the arms of another Leaf shinobi, it would be different. But this was Gai.

The great green beast of Iwagakure.

Responsibilities and loyalties never left his mind when he was here in Gai’s arms. Stealing away a few hours where they weren’t enemies. Those rare, precious moments where the two of them could simply enjoy each other’s company and relax.

“So,” Gai rested his chin on top of his head and chuckled when Kakashi looked up at him. “You haven’t told me anything about them yet.”

Ruined. All of his plans for a nice relaxing day, completely ruined.

Keeping a calm façade, he stretched his arms over his head and groaned. “They’re the worst,” he whispered. “I mean, they’re amazing. I adore the brats, but they’re the absolute worst. One can’t stop pulling pranks and doing anything he can think of to try and get attention, the other doesn’t want anything to do with anyone but is at least smart enough to try and work as a team, and the third…”

Actually, there weren’t many complaints he had about Sakura. Her crush on Sasuke was a little annoying at times and certainly distracted her from her training, but otherwise, she was a good student. Attentive and driven, and always trying to put a stop to the fights between Naruto and Sasuke.

“You should have warned me,” he huffed, collapsing back into Gai’s lap and resting his head against his stomach. “Sometimes I think you just assume everyone’s as good with people as you are. You just...forget that I’m anti-social.”

His jab is met with a laugh. Loud and beautiful, just as it always was. How he wished he didn’t have to leave Gai’s side again. That he could just lay here and listen to that laugh for the rest of time. No other worries on his mind.

“I’m sure as difficult as you make them out to be, you’re doing wonderfully as a Sensei,” the feeling of Gai’s hand settling in his hair sent shivers down his spine. “I’ve had to battle you myself. I know that you have a lot to teach them.”

Well, at least someone believed in him. He certainly didn’t most days.

“Speaking of. Did you leave someone to watch over them while we’re together? I hope you didn’t leave your team alone, Rival.”

“Pakkun and Akino are with them,” He assured the other man. “I took a page out of your book on that one and decided to trust my summons to watch over them. Maybe they’ll actually do something to stop them from finding us.”

Not that he really blamed Ningame for not trying to stop Gai’s students. They had a right to know about what their Sensei was up to when he disappeared on them. He was just thankful that Gai was able to convince all three of them to keep what they had found a secret, and that they didn’t try to attack Kakashi.

He’d feel bad if he had to beat up his boyfriend’s students.

“It’s too bad,” tilting his head back, he stared up at Gai. A little confused about why he would say something like that. “I wouldn’t mind meeting the kids who were making my love’s life so difficult that he feels the need to complain about it. Someone has to tell them that they’re doing a good job.”

“Meh, one day,” when things weren’t so difficult. When the villages could maybe get along and work together as Obito had always dreamed. Then he’d be able to introduce Gai to his team. “Until then, we should enjoy the time that we have together. Who knows when we’ll be able to sneak away again.”

It was a little disappointing that they didn’t have much to do. If he had known beforehand that Gai would be nearby, he would have packed some snacks for them to have a mock picnic. Or he might have brought a present from Konoha for Gai to enjoy. He always liked Dango when Kakashi brought it, and seeing him chomp into the sweet treat was always an experience for Kakashi.

Still, he appreciated that Akino had told him he smelled a familiar shinobi nearby. He hadn’t actually told Kakashi who it was, but that playful look on his face had told him all he needed to know.

Reaching up, he poked Gai’s nose playfully. “Thank you,” he whispered, chuckling when Gai responded with a confused look. “You didn’t have to meet me.”

A soft expression appeared on Gai’s face. His eyes staring down at Kakashi with a fondness that Kakashi wasn’t used to seeing from anyone else. “Our moments together are often fleeting and rare,” he reminded him while gently running his fingers through his long silver hair. “I wouldn’t give up a single one of those moments for anything. So long as I am able to meet you, I will,” Leaning down slightly, he pressed a kiss against Kakashi’s forehead, as if the action cemented his words into Kakashi’s mind. “No matter the risk.”

Oh, and how much risk there was. Tenzo had almost given Kakashi up the one time he found him with Gai during their Anbu days, which would have quickly led to Kakashi following a very similar path to his father. Disgrace falling on his name, and the hatred of those he had lived for years to protect weighing down on his soul.

He had been lucky enough that Tenzo liked him. That he had trusted Kakashi when he assured him he’d never betray Konoha, not even for Gai. No matter how much it hurt his heart, or how he longed to just give up and find his place by Gai’s side.

The same couldn’t be said of his students. If they believed for even a second that their Sensei could no longer be trusted, they’d be in the right to tell Tsunade-sama about his private meetings with Iwagakure’s great green beast.

“Naruto!” Sakura’s voice cut through the air, and Kakashi’s body stiffened against Gai. His stomach twisting into knots as everything he had been trying to avoid came heading straight for him. “Naruto! You can’t just go running off! If Sensei…”

“If Sensei cared, he would have stuck around at the camp with us,” that was on him. He really should have known that Naruto would take his absence as a chance to act out. It was what he was known for. “Besides, he might be in trouble.”

Gai snorted above him.

“Should we…” It wasn’t preferable, but if he could at least look like he wasn’t cuddling up to the enemy, it was a win. Right?

Crawling off of Gai’s lap, he sat up in his spot and sighed. Was it really so much to ask for just a little time with the other man? Just a few hours uninterrupted for them to enjoy each other’s company? Without Kakashi having to worry about the fall out of being found with an enemy shinobi.

“Naruto!” Sakura’s voice called out once more as a blur of orange burst through the bushes and came to a hard stop in front of Kakashi and Gai, a familiar grin plastered on his face.

“There you are, Sensei!” Throwing his arms behind his head, Naruto chuckled. “You’re getting easier to find. Are you even trying anymore?”

Holding back the urge to yell at Naruto about learning some patience and staying at the camp where he left them, Kakashi slowly gathered himself to his feet and dusted his pants off. “Congratulations, you found me,” he responded with a bland, bored tone. “Now that this little game is done, we should head back home.”

“Sensei, you don’t sound so...oh!” Naruto’s eyes widened when he finally spotted the man beside Gai. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Gai waved back at him, chuckling when the other two finally caught up and landed by Naruto’s side. As soon as they had come to a full stop, Sakura lifted up a hand and brought her fist down across the back of Naruto’s head hard.

“I told you not to go after Sensei like that,” She scolded him. “He was clearly in the middle of something important!”

Glancing back to Gai, Kakashi couldn’t help but smile when he saw him staring at his students. It wasn’t how he had wanted them to meet, but just seeing the amused look in Gai’s eyes was worth it, and he had no doubt Gai would have some things to say about his students the next time they saw each other.”

“Though,” Sakura spoke up once again, her eyes zeroing in on the headband around Gai’s waist. “Why are you speaking with an Iwagakure Shinobi, Sensei? I thought the only village we got along with was Suna?”

Just what he didn’t want to deal with.

Surely he could just tell his team that he was on a mission. Doing some information gathering, and the informant he was meeting happened to be a shinobi from Iwagakure.

They would believe that, right?

“I think we’re done here. You got what you needed and I have to get back to my current mission,” Glancing back over at Gai, he watched as he gathered himself to his feet and smiled his way. “Until next time?”

“Until next time,” Gai agreed, disappearing from in front of them and into the woods.

Watching Gai leave was the worst part. They had no idea when they’d be able to see each other again, and if they were lucky enough to find themselves close to each other once again they had no idea if they’d be able to get away from their teams to spend even just a few precious moments together.

He hadn’t even been able to say a proper goodbye. With a kiss and a promise that they’d keep in contact. That they’d find their way back to each other’s sides again.

If something happened to one of them on another mission, it would be an empty goodbye. Something that Kakashi would never be able to take back, and all because he had to act like a good soldier.

Loyal and true to Konoha, even when his heart called out for him to stay with Gai.

“Why were you hanging out with an enemy shinobi?” Sakura asked, looking up at Kakashi with bright green eyes. “Were you...What…”

“Isn’t that obvious?” His heart dropped when he heard Sasuke scuff. This was it. The moment that he had been dreading since he had summoned the hounds and gone out to meet Gai while his students were sleeping, and he still had no idea how he was going to try and explain it to them. “Sensei got a mission while we were out. He was probably just getting information from that weirdo.”

Blinking, Kakashi glanced back down towards Sasuke. It was out of the norm for him to cover up for anyone else, and there was no way he honestly believed that Kakashi was there to gather information.

Making his way towards his students, Kakashi reached out and buried his hand into the Uchiha’s hair and laughed. Soft and happy, even as his heart broke a little knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see Gai for a long time.

“It’s always nice to know that you’re so observant,” He smiled. “I’m sorry I had to leave you behind. It was the only opening that we had to meet. Now, where are Pakkun and Akino?”

Surely they hadn’t left the kids unattended. They never failed Kakashi before.

“Oh, they’re back at Camp,” Sakura offered, smiling when she saw Kakashi frown. “Pakkun said it was your problem for running off and leaving them in charge of us. Muttered something about being able to catch us easily if he wanted to as we left.”

Of course. Pakkun always chose the worst times to try and teach him a lesson.

“I guess someone’s not getting the treats I promised him,” he grumbled. “Now let’s get going. We still have two days of running before we’re home.”

Dropping his hand from Sasuke’s hair, he turned away from his students and started to walk back towards the small camp that they had set up. Maybe during his next solo mission, he’d be able to sneak away for a bit.

Get a little more time with Gai. Just a few hours. Maybe even a day if he was lucky.

It wasn’t asking too much. Just one uninterrupted visit. No students or teammates to show up unannounced.

Arriving back at the camp, Kakashi waved a hand when Pakkun and Akino turned to look at him. “Yo. Hope You didn’t miss us while we were gone.”

“Akino might have gotten into your pack,” Pakkun commented, resting his head on his paws as Kakashi walked past him. “You left the dog treats, so he decided to help himself.

“Of course he did,” stopping beside the hound in question, Kakashi sighed when he was greeted with the biggest set of puppy dog eyes he had ever seen Akino pull off. “How is it that you can look so innocent when I’ve seen you tear enemies apart with your teeth?”

“Ewww,” Naruto complained, running past him towards his pack. The only one that wasn’t already put together and ready to go. Both Sakura and Sasuke simply had to pick their packs up off of the ground and they were ready to go, but Naruto’s sleeping bag was still laid out on the ground waiting to be rolled up and put away. “Gross, Sensei.”

“We’re shinobi,” Sasuke scolded him. “That’s part of our job. Killing the enemy. Just like the fight we had against Haku and Zabuza.”

“I know that!”

Tunning out the argument, Kakashi turned back towards Pakkun. “So, were they already before they ran off to find me?”

“They were their usual selves,” the pug huffed. “That’s not the most important question though,” raising an eyebrow, Kakashi waited for Pakkun to fill him in on what the ‘important’ question was. “How was your date with Gai?”

The sound of bags dropping back to the ground echoed in his ear, as well as Naruto screaming ‘Kakashi-Sensei’ at the top of his lungs while sounding like he had just been stabbed in the back.

There was no going back. He was going to have to explain everything to the three of them now.

“No treats for a month,” he growled at his favourite summon.

For a moment, Pakkun looked like he was about to argue. However, with one look towards the three kids standing behind Kakashi trying to figure out how they were supposed to respond to this new information, he gave Kakashi a smug look. “Worth it.”

#Kakagai #Iwa Gai #Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Haruno Sakura #Uzumaki Naruto #Uchiha Sasuke #Team Seven #Taryn's Birthday celebration 2021 #Taryn's Birthday Fics #Pakkun is in trouble #and Team seven has questions for their sensei lol

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pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

Text

High School Musical: The Musical: The Series: The Rewatch pt.3

Ok, full disclosure: I should not be doing this right now. But I've been thinking about it since yesterday and, well, I reckon I can go over 1x4 and 5, and then move on to my actual work. So here we are. I'm really, really excited for these two, so without further ado, I'll dive right into:

1x4: It's hard to believe that I couldn't see... the majority of what happens in this episode when I first watched it

Why is Nini such a pro at making a scene with whoever her current boyfriend is in the middle of a public place? I mean, I get it that she's upset about EJ going through her phone — who wouldn't be — but maybe - and this is just a friendly suggestion — she could try and discuss that in private, not start a shouting match within view of all their classmates. Just saying.

'Ricky would never steal my phone' — well, perhaps not, but he's not quite above deleting stuff from it, either... I wonder if whoever is writing this show knows that there are many other ways to make a relationship unhealthy... it's not funny anymore. Just repetitive.

Ahhh Natalie and her emotional support hamster! At least there's one good thing about this scene.

Sure, Ricky, blame Big Red for the fact that you misplace your stuff... a very nice best friend he's got, indeed.

Gosh, everything is so awkward and there is just so much tension all over the place — Ricky's parents, then EJ and Nini, and then Carlos just being oblivious to the fact that they just broke up... you know, that last part just made me laugh. And then Ricky's reaction to his parents legally separating just broke my heart. That boy's been through too much.

Big Red being completely clueless about theatre terms is super funny and endearing, but let me just put myself in his shoes for a sec. He's followed his best friend into a badly thought-out scheme to get back together with his ex, got dragged into joining the crew, and is now expected to know what everything is. I would not put up with that... ok, who are we kidding, I'm a massive pushover and would put up with anything, but my point is... he shouldn't have to. At least people are doing the bare minimum to help him learn and nobody's laughed at him for not knowing. That's the good thing about this crew.

Ok, so I have posted about my thoughts of their take on What I've Been Looking For before, back when the episode was brand new, so I won't go into detail about that. In short, I think they've got the arrangement all wrong considering that it is a plot point in the original movie, but... the execution is funny. The scene is about Nini and EJ's post-breakup tension and it shows. I just kind of wish now Miss Jenn had pulled Nini out and put Gina in, even just for this rehearsal — and I might or might not be saying this as a Portwell shipper.

Miss Jenn is done with the students' personal drama and honestly, I'm right behind her. These kids are being completely unprofessional — and well, I realise that we can't expect them to be professional at this stage, but... they could at least try to concentrate on rehearsal and not their personal lives for a second.

Ricky hugging a cushion is my spirit animal. That's it, that's the comment.

Ahhh the tension between EJ and Gina though... 'around here seniors don't follow sophomores' — well, we'll see how it goes, Mr. Senior.

What gives Nini the right to shout at strangers about their relationship? I am honestly so frustrated with her these days. Wonder why I never was during season 1. The reasons are all there.

'He loves you' — yeah, like a little sister, he does. Also, Ash is so precious, always trying to see the good in other people. EJ 1.0 is so lucky he had her as an example.

Ok, I'm not going to go into what an amazing best friend Big Red is because we all know that (plus I'm saving it for a certain scene in 1x5), but this must be so hard for him. I mean, he's trying his absolute best to help Ricky feel better and distract him from his problems, and Ricky is turning everything down. I mean, I guess I understand where he's coming from too, but I'm unable to look at things through the lead-centric lens alone anymore. I'm more aware of non-lead characters now (some more so than others) and this is putting a whole new spin on my perception of everything that happens.

I've got no idea how Big Red can sleep with all this noise, though. I could never. But to each their own.

'perfect on paper' — that's EJ 1.0 to a T. I've got to give Nini that.

Ricky wearing the pride t-shirt... we love to see it.

See, this is why I keep forgetting why I ever shipped Rini and then remembering again... their chemistry is just so on-again-off-again, and here it's definitely present, but I just need a couple with consistent chemistry, you know. Hey, isn't that kind of what All I Want is about? Kind of. I don't know. I've been unable to listen to that song ever since it got big irl. I have this... problem with media that becomes popular and mainstream... I mean, I never hold a grudge against things just for being popular, but I just... relate to underrated stuff much easier. Not because it's underrated, but it just so happens that nearly everything I like and relate to is underrated in some capacity. Even HSMTMTS itself — it's practically unheard of here in Bulgaria, so I would not have found it if I hadn't been looking for it specifically. Ok, this comment got derailed several times. I guess I'll just stop here and move right on to 1x5 at this point.

1x5: A bedazzled tablecloth, a perfectly balanced unicycle and bad reception at the barn... not the perfect ingredients, but they can still... Work This Out

'Miss Jenn says that's a life in the arts... well, that and almost constant unemployment' — alright, I know this line is not supposed to be funny, and that it's a painful reality for a lot of people, but... maybe it's the delivery. I just laugh every time.

See, this is what I mean when I say I want to see consistent chemistry — Seblos have it. I mean, I really don't want to jinx things, but... they do.

Big Red seems to be in a more... outspoken mood today, I guess you could say. Too bad Ricky is still shutting everything he says down. Seriously, Big Red and Seb should start a club for people who try their best to be there for their loved ones and still keep being shushed.

I might be super frustrated with nearly everything Nini says and does (can somebody please tell me why that is?), but... flushing her dress down the toilet? Major mood.

Listen, I love Miss Jenn and that she's close to her students, but... emerging from a toilet cubicle and inviting herself to Kourtney and Nini's girls' night was... Will Shuester level of questionable.

Ricky being the mature one about his parents separation is... I mean, it's admirable, but how did he move past the impending depression of last episode and towards being the one who tells his dad to get up and move on? Well, I mean, good for him. But I think the issue is far from buried yet.

'Friend of the year'? Ricky? I don't think so. First of all, if he were, he'd know that Big Red does not have two left feet. Wasn't it you, Ricky, who was stumbling over the steps in HSM a couple of weeks ago? You're one to talk. Plus Big Red's been listening and trying to help while you've just been spouting off about your personal problems for... how long has it been now? I get it, Ricky has issues that he needs to work through, but he's almost legally blind in both eyes when it comes to Big Red.

Ok, but Ricky is the epitome of 'cannot solve his own problems but has a suggestion on how everybody else should solve theirs' in this episode. Maybe take a step back and listen to your own advice?

'My parents think I'm bonding with the livestock' — I've got no idea why I find this line so funny, but I do. And I've got so much love for this entire scene. Carlos' reaction to Seb's response to his invitation is just... the most adorable thing ever! My heart might just burst. Especially given what we're about to go through tomorrow in 2x10... I am. Not. Ready.

The entire karaoke scene just reminds me of... pretty much every extended family reunion on my mum's side. Her cousins love karaoke and are also completely tone-deaf. I love it that they're able to have fun with it, but my ears are still recovering from my great aunt's birthday party two years ago.

'When did you become Nini?' — Why does Mr. Mazzara know so much about his students' dating lives? I mean, Miss Jenn does, too, but he doesn't strike me as someone as invested in them as her. Idk, it just struck me as kind of weird.

'I didn't agree to photos' — please, EJ, I'm sure you'll want memories from your first fake-dating gig with Gina... once you're no longer fake-dating, you know. Boy, these two are going to have stories to tell to their grandchildren.

I've said some stuff about Nini, but... 'a bedazzled tablecloth' is the funniest description I've heard for Gina's homecoming dress.

'Maybe it's not actually about you at all.' Yeah, you tell him, Reddy! Ricky needs to get over himself.

The way Big Red sniffs out the drama, though... I was not-so-randomly reminded of that moment in 2x9 where Seb was like Carlos. and Big Red was like, 'Are you guys fighting?'...

Big Red doing a comedic lip-reading of Gina and EJ's dramatic scene is absolutely hilarious. I might or might not have sold my heart and soul to him after seeing that scene for the first time. But I just remembered how he said earlier that maybe he can't read lips and that just makes this 100% funnier — he was basically like a child who can't read yet making up a story based on the pictures in a book, and I mean it in the best way possible. He's a theatre dark horse, this one, and they should all be intimidated — or inspired, whatever they choose — by his hidden talents. Gosh, I love this guy. But can you blame me?

'You think I'm actually going to confide in you?' — Absolutely. You can't bully someone from your position of authority over them and then act like you're their friend. I do know now that Mr. Mazzara has hidden depths, but he had no right to be as rude to Carlos as he was in 1x3. He was right about one thing, though — Carlos doesn't need a dance partner to dance.

Ricky saying he was going to apologise to Gina and counting that as an apology is giving me major TJ/ Buffy flashbacks. I wonder why that is... * sarcasm *

Nini feeling like a fraud makes me actually sympathise with her for a second. But I feel like Nini's flaw of defining herself through boys and Ricky in particular has been addressed one time too many now, since it was first addressed here in this episode. If they make her and Ricky get back together again in season 2, I will riot. [side note: I feel like the Born to Be Brave scene says a lot about both Rini and Seblos as couples. Nini and Carlos both feel, in the moments leading up to the song, like they are incomplete without their partners. Ricky, too, has built his personality entirely around Nini at that time (and is still not completely over that in s2). And then the song comes in to remind them that they don't need a partner to be happy. I'm just thinking of Big Red's 'perfectly balanced unicycle' comment from the promotional materials, and of how he and Ashlyn, even when they're dating in s2, are never portrayed as being incomplete without each other. I guess there's a reason why they're the Beta Couple of the show — their relationship drama is nearly non-existent, and when it does exist, it's just caused by them caring too much about each other. Every other couple on the show should learn from them.]

Everybody supporting Carlos during the Born to Be Brave number just warms my heart so much... I am actually crying real tears. And then the end, when Seb finally shows up, right in time for the slow dance... I have a lot of feelings about this scene.

Seblos' dialogue here still kind of makes me cringe a little... but like, in a good way.

Yikes... Miss Jenn's getting into trouble... I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later. But she's lucky she's had enough time with her students for them to love her enough to fight for her. Still, this is a topic for another episode, and so I won't expand on it in this post.

Well, that's it. That was 1x4 and 5. Those were pretty much my favourite episodes when season 1 was airing. And I can definitely see why, even if my views on some things have changed due to stuff that happens later. But, as I constantly say, that's what rewatches are for. In other words, 'once more, with feeling this time' as my choir director used to say.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts: the rewatch #nini salazar-roberts #ricky bowen #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #rini #seblos #redlyn #portwell #jnk

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freedom-of-writing · 3 years

Text

Forever my wife

Just my take on how the WayHaught wedding could’ve turned out. I wrote this before the airing of episode 4x12, so expect it to be different.

It’s here. Their weeding day has finally arrived. Nicole has been smiling her brightest smile all morning. She can’t believe she is finally getting married to the love of her life, her Angel, the Guardian of her heart. Waverly Earp. Her wife. Wow... that sounds so good.

She is all dressed up and almost ready for the ceremony, thanks to Rachel. She is wearing a beautiful maroon suit with a very simple and natural-looking makeup. It was Rachel’s idea, and she absolutely loves the result. As for Waverly, she has Wynonna to help her get ready. Obviously. Part of Nicole wishes she could just peek at them, sure they must be having a lot of fun right now. But she and Waverly agreed their wedding looks should be a surprise, so she is getting ready in the barn, while Waverly is in their room in the Homestead.

“Alright, there you go!” Rachel exclaims when she’s done with Nicole’s hair. “What do you think?”

Rachel curled her beautiful red hair, and clipped it backwards on one side, so that it is falling nicely on her right shoulder.

“Wow...” Nicole stares in awe at her figure in the mirror.

“I know. I’m pretty proud of my work too.” Rachel says with a proud smirk.

Nicole chuckles lightly at that, and then she turns to face her. “Thank you.”

Rachel smiles brightly at her, moving her hand up to fix a lock of Nicole’s hair. “I’m... I’m gonna go check on Waves. See if Wynonna needs any help...”

“Okay.”

When Rachel leaves, Nicole moves to sit on Wynonna’s bed. Closing her eyes, she tries to recall all of the milestones that led them here. Their first meeting at Shorty’s... Waverly Earp smiling at her from her front porch... her heart shattering when Waverly told her they should’ve been just friends, and all its pieces coming back together the minute Waverly kissed her in Nedley’s office... their first time, their big fight, all of the times they’d lost and found each other over the years... her regret of not having said yes right away... her hope slowly fading away in those 18 months alone... what they did on the stairs, and on the kitchen floor, and in the barn this morning... What a ride they had, huh?

That’s what she said. She can imagine Wynonna saying to her. The thought makes her smile. That woman is a real sucker for a dirty joke. And she’s part of their journey too. Who would’ve thought they could become best friends. And yet, here they are. It’s crazy how close they’ve become.

Right as she’s thinking about that, Nicole is brought back to reality by the sound of knocking on the front door. Speaking of the devil...

“May I come in? Please, tell me you’re not naked...” Wynonna asks as she walks in with a hand covering her eyes.

“Actually, I’m lying completely naked on your bed right now.” Nicole jokes.

“I’d rather not think about what you did on my bed this morning...” Wynonna says lowering her hand.

“Excuse me?!” How the hell does she know about their morning... exchange of love.

“Poor innocent Jeremy told me about it. Poor soul, I think you traumatized him for life...” she mocks her.

Nicole shakes her head in disbelief. “Just come here, and sit with me, Earp.” She invites her patting at the space beside her on the mattress.

“Huh uh, no way. I’m never touching that bed again.”

“We didn’t even do it on the bed!” Nicole yells before she can realize what she is actually saying.

“Yep. I’m burning this whole barn to the ground tonight.” Wynonna states in a joking tone before going to sit on the bed near Nicole.

When she was settled, Nicole smiled her beautiful bright smile at her, and Wynonna noticed her eyes were sparkling with tears.

“You okay, Haught?”

“I’m getting married to Waverly Earp today...” she says as if that could answer Wynonna’s question.

“You’d better.”

Nicole chuckles lightly at that, and then she asks: “how is she?”

“She’s ready.” Somehow Wynonna knows exactly what Nicole needed to hear. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something” She exclaims a moment later, taking a necklace from her dress, in the space right over her boob. “No pockets.” She explains with a shrug when Nicole laughs lightly at her. Same old Wynonna.

“Please tell me it’s not a boner necklace...” Nicole jokes.

“Damn it! Now I’m mad I didn’t think of that!”

That makes Nicole laugh again. And in that moment, she realizes the tears that once threatened to fall are now completely gone. Wynonna did it again. It crazy how this woman can make it all go away with just one joke.

“But seriously... here.” Wynonna says as she hands over the necklace to Nicole.

Nicole takes it and lays it on the palm of her hand, so she can study the pendant. It’s the shape of a heart, and inside it there are two small figures, two girls sitting on its outline as if the pendant was a swing. On the outline of the heart, then, there are two small inscriptions: always my sister / forever my friend. Nicole reads them, and then turns to look at Wynonna in shock. That’s definitely not the gift she was expecting to get from “miss everything’s a joke to me”.

“Waverly gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, right before I left Purgatory... She wanted me to know that I’d always have a home here if I wanted to come back. I always have it with me. Even if I’m not wearing it. It’s like my lucky charm. Which is kind of stupid considering all the troubles I got in in my life...”

“Wynonna, I...” Nicole’s at a loss of words. No one’s ever given her something that was so special to them.

“You’re gonna be my sister now, right?” she says matter-of-factly, and Nicole can feel herself getting all emotional again.

“I’ve never had a sister…” She states, mimicking what Wynonna had told her a little less than two years ago. I’ve never had a best friend.

“You do now.” Wynonna states in all seriousness as she fights back the tears blurring her eyes. “A pretty messed up one, but...” she starts to joke, but Nicole interrupts her.

“She’s perfect that way.” She says taking hold of Wynonna’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

They stay like that for a moment, neither one breaking the peaceful silence that fell upon them. Nicole can’t take her eyes off the necklace. Waverly gave it to Wynonna, and now Wynonna is giving it to her. It’s not just a promise to be friends and sisters forever, it’s also a way for Wynonna to say “Waverly’s the most precious thing that I have, and now she’s yours to protect and love”. The idea makes her even more emotional, but if she cries now, she’ll ruin all her makeup, and it took Rachel half an hour to put it on. So she takes a deep breath to force back the tears, and then she gets up and turns to face Wynonna.

“Help me put it on?” She asks, holding out the necklace for Wynonna to take.

A tear falls down Wynonna’s cheek as she smiles at her friend. She wipes it away quickly with the back of her hand, and then, she gets up grabbing the necklace. As she is fastening it, they hear a knock on the door. It’s Rachel. In a very Wynonna-fashion she does not wait for an answer before walking in. She is here to let them know everyone’s ready, and they’re just waiting for the two of them. All of a sudden Nicole feels like she can’t breathe. It’s happening. It’s time. OMG. Her heart is racing uncontrollably, and she thinks she might get sick. That, of course, does not go unnoticed on Wynonna, who puts her hand on Nicole’s shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“C’mon, Haught. You’ve waited long enough. Now you get to be happy.” She smiles lovingly at her friend. Best friend. God, she’s so happy for her right now. She finally gets to be happily married to the love of her life. It’s what she deserves.

When she feels Nicole is breathing somewhat steadily again, she offers up her arm for her to lean on as they walk out. With a deep breath, Nicole puts her hand on Wynonna’s arm, and she lets her friend lead her out of the barn, with Rachel in tow. It’s a beautiful sunny day, and she can smell the perfumes of a thousand flowers, and the green grass around the Homestead is glowing bright in the summer sun. Nicole takes a look at the guests waiting for them by their seats. It’s not many people, it’s true, but all the ones who matter are here. Jeremy, Doc, Nedley, Billy, Mercedes… wait. No way! No! She turns towards Wynonna in shock.

“Are you serious right now?!” she exclaims in disbelief.

“Do you know someone else who can officiate your wedding?!”

“Anyone but Bunny!”

“Listen, sheriff, she’s who I found, okay? Do you wanna get married or what?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Earp…”

“Oh, please, your life would be so boring without me.”

“I’m marrying your sister, I can think of a few ways to entertain myself…” she objects with a smirk.

Their banter is interrupted by Nedley clearing his throat to get their attention. “Ladies…”

Both turn to look at him. Nicole can instantly feel the tears forming in her eyes. He’s here to walk her down the aisle. This is all surreal. How is this real life? She feels like she’s in a dream.

“Wow… Look at you.” Nedley says in admiration.

“Yeah, you don’t look bad yourself.”

“I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He says in her ear as he brings her in for a tight hug.

Nicole’s been able to hold back the tears so far, but after those words she just can’t. Her parents might not be there to support her, but she has Nedley, and that’s all that matters. She allows one tear to stream down her cheek, but then she collects herself quickly. She can’t cry. Not before the ceremony has even started. Nedley smiles lovingly at her as they let go of each other, and then he holds out his arm for her to lean on. Nicole takes one last look around, and she notices Wynonna is gone. She must’ve gone get Waverly. It’s time. No more waiting. This time it’s for real. Smiling back at Nedley, she puts her hand on his arm, and they start walking towards the others. My God, this is crazy. She thinks as she sees Bunny waving at her happily. Just a perfect Earp-fashion wedding...

As they walk slowly down the aisle, her eyes get wet all over again. She just can’t help it. When she got to Purgatory she was completely alone, and now she’s getting married to the love of her life and she’s got a family who loves and supports her. She is smiling so big right now, she can feel her cheeks beginning to hurt, and just the idea of seeing Waverly makes her hearts burst with joy. She looks at Rachel, her maid of honor, and she feels so proud. The past 19 months weren’t easy for either of them, but they got through. Together. They’ve seen each other at their worst, and now hopefully they’ll get to see each other at their best too. Today a new chapter begins. A better one for sure. No matter what happens next, nothing can be worse than the hopelessness and loneliness she’s felt in those eighteen months alone.

Nicole is brought back from her thoughts when Nedley gives her hand a gentle squeeze. Nicole gives him a sweet kiss on the cheek, and then he moves away to get to his seat. All of a sudden, murmurs fill the air, and she turns to see Waverly and Wynonna walking out of the homestead and towards them. Nicole can feel her heart pounding hard. Wow… Waverly looks so beautiful… She is in a long sleeveless white lace dress. Her hair is tied up on the back of her head, and it has beautiful colorful flowers in it. Her makeup, just like Nicole’s, is very simple, and she is absolutely breathtaking. Nicole can’t help but stare at her in awe as she walks down the aisle leaning on Wynonna’s arm. And the same goes for Waverly as she studies her fiancée’s look. They both look perfect. This is all so perfect.

“Hi” “Hey” They greet each other once they’re standing side by side.

“Haught.” Wynonna says as she lets go of Waverly to embrace Nicole. “You take care of my baby sis, okay?” she whispers in her ear, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Always.”

“You got the girl, Nicole. Now go get your wife.” Wynonna says leaning back and winking at her.

What happens next is a mystery to Nicole and Waverly. All they can focus on is the person standing right in front of them, and it feels like they’re in a bubble, just the two of them. They can barely process what’s going on as Bunny takes the word to let the ceremony begin. They come back to reality when it’s time for them to say their vows.

“Sheriff…” Bunny invites her to go first.

She’s had a hard time in the past few days trying to find the right things to say, but she’s figure it out at last. Although no words could ever fully express how much Waverly Earp really means to her. As she takes Waverly’s hands into her own, she begins.

“Waverly Earp… You are my home, my love, my Angel. You are the oxygen that keeps me breathing, and the light that brightens my days. Being loved by you is by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You came into my life at a time when I was lost, and alone, and you turned my world completely upside down. You filled the void in my heart with joy, and laughter, and love. You gave me memories to hold onto, and reasons to fight, and stay. You turned this unfamiliar place into my home, and these strangers into my family, and all of my insecurities into my biggest strengths. You taught me to love myself just as much as I love you, and you showed me perfection where I could only see flaws. You inspire me to be the best version of me, and to always be fighting for what I believe in. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, and so so much more.” She pauses briefly to turn and take the ring from Rachel, and then she continues.

“So today, in front of our friends, and family, I take you, Waverly Earp, to be my wife. I give you this ring as a promise to love you, respect you, cherish you, and support you as my partner, my person, and my equal. And I swear I’ll do my absolute best to make you smile as bright as you do today for the rest of our lives. I vow to be a loving and protective wife, to be open to change, and ready for every challenge that comes our way. And for as long as I live and breathe, I will be by your side. Always your shield, forever your wife.”

Wow... that was a lot. Waverly knows it’s her turn now, but she is so emotional she is afraid she might forget everything that she wanted to say. She looks down at the ring on her finger, and somehow it calms her down. Looking back up into Nicole’s beautiful brown eyes, she knows she just has to speak from her heart, and the right words will come. So she takes a deep breath to steady her voice, and then she begins.

“Nicole Haught... wow, I can’t believe this is actually happening! I’ll never forget the day you walked into Shorty’s with your uniform, and your Stetson in your hands, and confidence for days. I’d been living a life in black and white for so long that I’d forgotten what real happiness felt like. But then you smiled your beautiful bright smile at me, and it all turned into colors. You showed me that it’s okay to be ambitious, and that I should never settle for anything less than what I deserve. You gave me a choice when I thought I had none. In a world of people telling me who to be, you just asked me to be myself. You held me together when my world was falling apart, and you made me feel special, when I didn’t know who I was anymore. You... you, Nicole Haught, are extraordinary. Whenever I’m in a dark place, you light my way back to safety. You are my harbor, my anchor, my rock. I don’t have anything to give you if not unconditional love, and support. And I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I’m not afraid. Because I know that, whatever comes next, we will face it together. Side by side as it’s always been.” Mimicking Nicole, she pauses briefly to turn and take the ring from Wynonna. And then, she continues.

“Today, I take you to be my wife, on this land that’s always been my home, because you, Nicole Rayleigh Haught, are my home. With this ring, I promise to love you, respect you and support you as my love, my equal, and my partner. I will be your shoulder to cry on, and a rock to lean on. Your number one fan, the reason for your smile, and your light in the darkness. I vow to be a loving and protective wife, to love all of your flaws and imperfections, and to stand by your side for the rest of my life. Always your angel, forever your wife.”

Tears are streaming down their faces by the time Waverly finishes talking. They turn to look at their family, and they are all crying as well. Even Bunny seems to be a little bit emotional when she takes the word to conclude the ceremony.

“Alright then. Let’s make this official!” She exclaims. “By the power vested in me by... Wynonna Earp this morning, I now pronounce you partners for life, wife and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Waverly and Nicole don’t waste a second. Without letting go of each other’s hands, they lean in for their first of many many kisses as wives. It’s just a tender kiss, but it still conveys all the love they have just professed for one another. When they part, Nicole leans down so her forehead is resting on Waverly’s. And as they stay like that for a moment, it seems like everything else disappears, and it’s just the two of them. Their eyes are blurry with tears, and all they can see are the big bright smiles lighting up their faces. This is doubtless the happiest day of their lives. There is so much joy in their hearts right now that it feels as if they might even explode.

“My wife.” Nicole states in a dreaming tone.

“Forever.” Waverly adds.

“I love you, Waverly Earp.”

“And I love you, Nicole Haught.”

None of the rest matters. As long as they have each, there is nothing they can’t overcome. Their love has survived the most impossible situations, and it will last forever. Of that they are sure.

Always your shield, forever your wife.

Always you angel, forever your wife.

#Wynonna Earp #Bring Wynonna Home #wayhaught #wedding #fanfiction #fanfic #love wins #waverly earp #nicole haught

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thebtswritersclub · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Aditi!!!!

The BTS Writers Club is here to wish our lovely admin, @ditttiii a very happy birthday! Here’s all the messages we’ve collected, from admins and members alike for Aditi day (January 14)!

Aditi! Happy Birthday! Thank you so much for being an amazing Admin. The network would not be the same without you and all that you do. I mean, just look at the layout! You do so much for us and it’s 1000% appreciated. We’re so lucky to have you! Thank you for being with us from the start and being there to help everything grow. You’re such a valued and loved member and a wonderful friend. I love you so much. Even though this past year was an absolute garbage fire, I hope that next year will be much better. You’re going to do amazing things and I can’t wait to see them!

- Love, Eva @aroseforyoongi

PS: Please share more pictures of your puppy

Happy birthday, Adi!! Babe, you're an amazing person, a marvelous woman and an awesome friend. I wish you the best things in the world, that's what you deserve nothing less. I can't thank you enough for your love and support, always. Know that you'll always have in me a friend and a hype woman. Congratulations, Queen!

- Danna @unoriginal-username15432

Aditi! Though we have only known one another for a chunk of a year, I can safely say that you are one of the best people I could have met in 2020 and I am so glad I did! I think you have so much to offer the world in both intelligence and charm and you will go so far! Keep your head up through 2021 and never let anyone tell you you cannot do whatever you set your mind to. Keep writing and relaxing and enjoying life. Also, please remember to rest and sleep! Happy Birthday!!!

- Dean @eternalseokjin

Happy Birthday Aditi! You're so sweet and kind and I hope you have a great birthday!!!

- Donna @untaemedqueen

Aditi

I hope you have an amazing birthday. You deserve one. You’re so wonderful, sweet, hardworking, intelligent, caring, encouraging, talented, pretty... I could go on forever. In short, you’re awesome & held in high regard. Thank you for being you & thank yo for being a vital part of BTS Writers Club & its admin team. You’re an html goddess & a goddess of kindness and looks. Your presence brightens my day & I look forward to all of our conversations.

So, to BTS Writers Clubs’ resident Goddess, Happy Birthday!

- Lillia @moccahobi

Hello, luv

I remember the first time we talked. I had come to you asking for advice because I was thinking about posting on tumblr, and somehow we ended up talking for hours that day. Ever since then, you have been such an amazing and precious friend to me, and I am so incredibly glad that I decided to come out of my shell that day. I am so thankful for everything about you and our friendship, and also for you quite literally dragging me into this net to meet so many other lovely people I have the pleasure of calling my friends as well. I wish you all the best, today and every other day, and never forget that I love you very much!

- Keri @kerikaaria

happy birthday dearest aditi! i hope that you have the happiest, most wonderful, most magical birthday ever! you deserve everything good and more! sending you all of the love, hugs, and good vibes i can offer!

- Carese @honeyj00ns

Adiiiiii ily!! my lovely waifuuu!!! you work so hard and are so nice!! i married right keep doing what you love and remember to treat yo'self!!!!

- Dae @birbdae

Lovely! It's your birthday and I would be remiss not to let you know that you are so loved and so appreciated! I hope you have an amazing day with those you love (especially Toto), and get something you were hoping for, be that quality time or a nice gift! Happy Birthday Aditi!

- Day @baepsaetan

Aditi, my love, my darling, my honey, ily. You’re such a good friend and a good wine bibi, i love u muchly and appreciate u. I’d like to thank u from the bottom of my heart for being there for me when i needed u, ty for helping me with my writing and helping me be happy, you truly are the best and there’s only one u. Keep shining u star. Keep being u, you literally are so cute and adorable and pretty like words can’t even describe how amazing u are, happy birthday to u ma love, i hope u have the greatest day bc u deserve it! I can’t offer u a hug rn but i can give u a virtual hug (sending u the biggest virtual hug) i hope it sent!

- Ellie, signing off w a big big kiss for u @jungkooksbroski

Happy Birthday Aditi! I hope all your birthday wishes come true on your special day! You have such a hardworking and vivacious personality, it's no wonder why I admire you a lot I'm glad I can call you a friend of mine and I only want nothing but the best for you

- Gwen @prettyboongi

happy birthday aditi! although we haven't talked all that much, i'm glad to have met you through the net! you are such a caring and loving person and i hope you have the best birthday today and many more amazing birthdays! thank you for being you and happy birthday!

- Ivory @sunkissedjk

Aditi, you have the sweetest soul and the kindest heart, I love our chats and how helpful you are. You've given me so much confidence, right from the get go. You never stop believing in people and will bend over backwards to help them, even when you're ill. You're so freaking talented, honestly, I just can't praise you enough. Happy birthday my lovely hareem queen, hope you have the best day!

- Ley @pars-ley

Aditi! The beautiful, amazing angel! I'm so glad I have gotten to know you through this net and I'm excited to get to know you better. Thank you for always being available to read my crap and for creating amazing works of fiction. You are one of a kind and the world is so lucky to have you in it! Happy birthday

- Mars @joheun-saram

Hey Diti Darling, Apparently it's your birthday. Haps Borth! Ok, I know I give you hard time whenever we talk but that's because I am just a big nervous and confused mess all the time. We don't even talk that much. Even with that, I love you very much, as a chaotic sister. I just love seeing your name around. Every interaction I have with you is precious no matter how confused I come out of it. You are so sweet and so loving. I hope that you keep that light and keep growing. May this next year that approaches you is a fruitful one and bring you happiness in what ways that it can. Look up, smile bright.

-Your ever worried brother, Nep. :33 @dawndrms

lovely adi!! i'm so lucky to have met you this summer, because i'm pretty sure you're one of the first desi writers i met on tumblr i love seeing all your posts on my dash, you're really such a sunshine and happy pill on dumblr and i wish more people saw that. your style of writing is so so so enchanting, something i wish everyone would read. in the net, you're a ray of light on everyone and i can tell that bring you so much energy and liveliness wherever you go. have a lovely birthday aditi appi, and to many more!!

- Noor @papillonsgf

Happy birthday Aditi!! I want to say a massive thank you for everything you do for the net to make it what it is. you are so friendly and helpful, you really make everyone feel so at home there! I'm so happy to have joined and met you. I hope you have a great day because you deserve it xx

- Ru @btsmosphere

Hey Aditi! I just wanted to say, happy birthday from the bottom of my heart! You've made being in here so special, helping me with everything I needed! I remember the first person to say Hello to me in the net was you! You were also the one who told me I was accepted! Your really special to me! So is your hate for Mee6 Thank you so much for everything! I wanted to give you something special for your birthday so I'll be posting Transvaal Daisies very soon! Once again, thank you for everything

- Tailia @namyoongles

Hi Aditi!!! I hope you have a wonderful birthday I love how sincere and enthusiastic you are and how you’re always hyping us and all our ideas and i hppe your birthday matches how awesome you are

- Tanooki @crystaljins

Happy Birthday lovely Aditi! I hope this year brings a ton of happiness, positive growth, success and prosperity! I’m so happy we got to meet over this net. I love love LOVE gushing about Bollywood movies and Indian music with you and I absolutely love how supportive and helpful and kind you are. You are awesome, beautiful and just so lovely! I’m so happy that we get to celebrate your birthday together (relatively) and I’m wishing you all the best today and onwards! Cheering you on! Happy Birthday!

- Yours, Triv @purpletigertaetae

We love you, Aditi! Have an amazing birthday!!!!

All graphics and pictures used made with buckets of love by @kerikaaria

#birthday #happy birthday #birthday post #aditi birthday

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hayffiebird · 3 years

Text

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 25

Author’s note: BIG trigger warning for this chapter! Also, mega long author’s note (feel free to skip it.) The birth is SO close! I hope you enjoy reading about Hayffie’s “little ones” just as much as I have writing them. They’ve been in my life, on the written page, since 2013 (Good God, it’s really that long) so they almost feel like they’re my children just as much as Hayffie’s. I always get super invested in every story and character I write (can’t you tell? 😉) and I’m so proud of these two, as Effie would say. They’re so precious to me, you have no idea. The most precious of all the things I’ve created on Suzanne Collins’s playground. I love writing Haymitch and Effie but at the end of the day they’re borrowed characters, tied to existing source material to keep in mind. Amy and Ian on the other hand are 100% my own creation, from start to finish. That’s part reason why I’ve enjoyed writing them so much, from them rolling around in Effie’s tummy and all the way up to the age of six so far. To really get to use my writing muscles as best as I can, just like in Chapter 9, and only my imagination sets the limit.

What do you think about my names for them? Amandalyn “Amy” Trinket Abernathy and Ian Trinket Abernathy? Haymitch and Effie’s “gift worthy of love” and yeah I wanted to nudge in Effie’s last name too. :) They’re the first two original characters in ToS and “Amy” the absolute first, way back when I planned for Hayffie to have only one child. The name truly lives in my heart. It’s been my real life baby name since I was 18 years old and wrote a love story about a couple named Amanda and Samuel so that was a given from the get-go of ToS but I also wanted to add a little spice to the mix. Something with a sorta Capitol-y quirk at the end. And Amandalyn is a name Effie would lean toward, don’t you think? Lovely and unique but not too out there so Haymitch can eventually wrap his head around it and grow to love it. 😉 Originally, she started off as Amandaline rhymes with Hayffie twin, then became AmandaLYN cause it had a feistier ring to it and therefor fitted her personality better. It is INCREDIBLY near and dear to me, both her full name and pet name, and all I can hope for is that you’ll love reading about my Amy just as much as I have writing her for close to a decade now 😌 and the same for Ian of course. His work name was Cinna for a long time after a certain beloved THG stylist 😉, short for Cinnamon, before I re-named him after the one and only sir Ian McKellen simply because I admire him so much. So yeah, the Trinket Abernathy twins are both the product of years and years and years of hard effort, blood, sweat, joy and tears and about four drafts worth of re-writes. Like I’ve mentioned before: ToS is my heart and soul project. :) What do you think? And what are you hoping for in future chapters? Tell me in the comments, I’d love to hear your thoughts! And if you wanna support the story even further, leave a like and reblog! This suuper long author’s note is coming to a close, I promise, just one more thing: I cannot stress enough how much I treasure every single one of you! The hayffie fandom has been something of a safe haven for me during these past almost ten years. It’s so chockfull of talent and it’s a kind place most of the time, save a troll or two. And after a rather shaky childhood, kindness is the one trait I value most in life. #peetapeople 😉 And you know something funny: every time I feel like quitting this massive Godzilla-sized fic novel project because it feels too big or difficult or overwhelming to piece together it’s like you guys can hear my thoughts cause then one of you, either here, on FFNET or AO3 always always let me know ToS is precious to you. You’re all such gems and I’m very lucky and fortunate to have such devoted readers! I hope you’ll enjoy the chapter and take care! Chapter 25 Bottled up “Can you get the strawberries?” Effie stood by the stove, her hair in a messy pony tail. The elegant bow on her apron bobbed with each stir and the air filled with the rich scent of what could only be the high-quality 80 % cocoa chocolate shipped in from District 1. She smiled at him when he walked through the door. “It’s about time we had some chocolate covered strawberries, don’t you think? The babies really want it.” “Mm-hm, sure.” He poked his head in the fridge. “The babies.” Effie chuckled. Leaned against her free hand to ease some weight off the small of her back she moved the whisk in precise, counterclockwise circles. A lock of sandy hair fell over her eyes and she blew it away. “What do you say we call the children after supper? It’s been a while.” “Fine with me.” Bottles and jars and meal prep containers clinked under Haymitch’s fingertips. He scanned through shelf after shelf. “Where’d you say you put ‘em?” “They’re in there somewhere.” “Nope. We don’t have it.” “Pretty sure we do. You have to look closer, that’s all.” “I am. Can’t find ‘em.” “Very well. Get me the milk then. I’ll make us some hot cocoa.” He grabbed the three quarter filled bottle and kicked the fridge shut. “Don’t,” said Effie with a pointed look when he brought it to his lips. He poured the milk into the saucepan and watched the chocolate turn from dark brown to a creamy toffee color under Effie’s swift motions. Leaned back against the kitchen counter he brushed the stray lock behind her ear. “Look at you, princess. You’re just about ready to burst a seam.” “How observant,” said Effie. “And who’s to blame, I wonder?” Grinning, Haymitch pushed himself off of the kitchen counter and rested his hands against her hips. “You get much bigger than this, I won’t be able to reach all around.” “Thanks, darling,” said Effie and rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel so much better.” He chuckled under his breath but quickly composed himself. He gave her hips a soft caress. “I’m gonna miss you like this, sweetheart.” One of the babies nudged his fingertips. He moved along her sides until his hands rested flat against her stomach. That’s where they always ended up these days. A second kick soon followed. A firm little “You’re in the way” punch. Or not so little. Not anymore. He caressed the spot. “How’s Amy and Ian?” The question coaxed a smile out of Effie, like it always did. “Pretty good.” He dropped a kiss at the corner of her lips. She was warm and soft, like a sun-kissed peach. He nuzzled her cheek, dizzy by her scent mixed together with the chocolate. The babies stirred against his palm while he kissed their mother. “What are you up to?” Effie leaned into his lips. Rested her hand on top of his, enveloped in his bear hug. “I thought you said…” “Fuck what I said,” he mumbled into her skin. She smelled like flowers. Like the expensive perfume he used to kiss off her wrists and her neck, the hollow of her throat. A sigh escaped her and Haymitch pulled her nearer. Turned the heat off, moved the saucepan to a cooler spot and wrapped his arms back around her. Filled himself with her. “Eff,” he murmured, cheek against her cheek. “Effie…” “Yes, my sweet?” “Come with me to Twelve.” Her hands stilled at the sound of those words. Not a breath stirred. “I’m serious,” Haymitch mumbled before his courage failed. “We’re a family. You’re my family. We should be together. Away from here.” Effie’s dress rustled when she turned around, still wrapped in his arms. Their faces were so close he could count every eyelash, every freckle across her nose. His eyes dropped but Effie cupped his cheek. Held his gaze. She smiled. It lit up her face. Flooded even the darkest corners of his mind. “I thought you’d never ask.” Chocolate. That’s what her lips tasted like. Rich, dark, bitter sweet chocolate. He closed his eyes. Let himself be lost in it. Pulled the hair tie out and tangled his fingers in her fragrant, sandy waves. Who needed strawberries? This was just as good. “I thought you’d never ask.” With just a handful of words, Effie lifted an elephant off his chest and he could breathe again. Breathe without effort, for the first time in months. The twins stirred between them. He felt it against his own body. They tumbled about inside Effie like they too were eager over their future prospect. Home. We’re going home. “Ahh!” Haymitch’s eyes flew open. He jerked back at the sound of her cry. “What? What!?” Effie had doubled over, hands clutched against her stomach. “What’s wrong, Eff? What is it?” And then he saw the blood, seeping through her fingers. From an object deeply embedded in her body. Hands clutched around it she pulled it from herself. Long and jagged and dripping red. Bigger than his knife. Glass. It was glass. “Haymitch,” she gasped. The broken shard trembled on her palm, slipped through her fingers and shattered against the floor. “What have you done to us?” “No!” He caught her in his arms when her knees buckled from under her and cries of agony spilled from her lips. His palms sunk through her clothes, through her flesh like she was made out of butter. Blood erupted from her lips when he followed her to the floor, splattered his shirt and his throat. “No! No, no, no, no, no!” More and more blood filled his palm, soaked through the ripped fabric. “Effie! Oh, God, Effie!” And he caught sight of himself in the window. With a shriek he let go, pushed away from her with his feet, until his back was against the wall. His hands weren’t hands. His face wasn’t his face. The monster reflected back at him was nothing but broken pieces. Razor sharp pieces of glass that jutted out from him like hoarfrost on tree limbs, red from Effie’s blood. Like someone had shattered a thousand bottles and made a person out of it. Frantically, he clawed at himself, his face, his arms, his chest. To find flesh and bone underneath so he could help Effie. But the deeper he dug the more broken he got. That’s all he was. Broken bits and pieces. “Haymitch…” Effie lay on her side. Pierced and skewered bloody on every place he’d touched her. She clutched her tummy to try and stem the blood flow pooling underneath her. He crawled to her, on all fours. More broken glass fell from him. Like bloody stars in his wake. “Haymitch, help us…” “I can’t,” he sobbed. ”Please, help them …” Her eyes clung to his, begging him. Tears rolled down his cheeks and slit open paper-fine cuts where they landed until he pulled back, not taking the outstretched hand. The house gave a violent shake. The lamp over their heads swayed back and forth and bits and powder of ceiling plaster rained on them, covered them both like snow. Effie’s lips moved but he couldn’t make out the words. Laughter ripped through the house. Echoed from room to room, distant at first but coming closer, coming fom them. The light bulb exploded and plunged them into darkness. “Effie!” But she was gone. Gone like all the others. He was alone in the dark and nothingness, the smell of their blood. The roaring sound grew louder and louder. He clamped his hands over his ears but it filled his head. Filled the whole world until there was nothing else. Nothing but death and dark and laughter. Snow’s laugher. “No, no, please no!” “Haymitch! Shh, it’s OK. It’s OK!” “Effie!” “I’m here, Haymitch! It’s just a dream!” Pain shot up his leg. His feet all twisted. Trapped. He tossed and turned while the same strangled cry spilled over his lips. “Please, try and be still. You’re all tangled up.” The familiar voice jerked through him and he saw her at the foot of the bed. Her hand against his ankle. “Stay away!” His head slammed back against the headboard. “Don’t touch me! Don’t!” “Haymitch, it’s me!” She held her hands out, palms up. “Just me.” Panting for breath he stared into Effie’s face. He blinked through the sweat that poured into his eyes, heart pounding a hundred miles an hour. Tried to believe what his eyes were telling him. He opened his mouth but what came out was little more than a croak. “Eff,” he finally managed, throat like sandpaper. “It’s… are you OK?” She looked OK. Stood there in her usual house dress and pink slippers. Pale but unharmed. No blood. No shredded flesh. She took a first tentative step toward him. “You had a bad dream,” she said, keeping her voice low. “You’re all tangled up. I’m going to help you, OK?” His gaze dropped to his legs like he saw them for the first time. He’d managed to ensnare himself in the sheets, so tight and twisted they were like ropes. He flinched at her touch but Effie’s nimble fingers freed him in less than two minutes. It was more than enough time for Haymitch’s fright to give in to shame. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The sudden shift made his head throb and he just barely held in a groan. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and they came out wet. Just sweat, he decided and wiped them on his undershirt, hot with shame. He felt creases on his cheek, that’s how tightly he’d pressed it into the pillow. “You’re not supposed to wake me when I’m like this,” he muttered under his breath, avoiding her gaze. “It’s not safe.” Effie’s lips pressed in concern. “You screamed so loudly I thought the windows might shatter.” He rubbed his arm over his damp, throbbing face, wishing her miles away. Effie pinched the back of his undershirt. The sudden touch made his heart leap in to his throat. “You’re soaking wet. You better change into something dry before you…” “Oh, God, Effie!” He looked up. “Why you always have to baby me? Save that for the kids, why don’t ya? Gimme a breather, for once in your life!” The outburst made his head pound twice as bad and he buried it against his palm. He tasted vomit at the back of his throat and breathed slowly so as not to ruin June and Annabel’s carpet. Effie didn’t touch him again. She only said, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Haymitch sighed when the door closed behind her. Great. Like he didn’t feel crappy enough. Now he was a douche bag too, snarling at the mother of his children for no reason. With an enormous effort he lifted his head from his hands. Stared miserably at the palms. All jittery and dry and criss-crossed with cracks. But the normal kind. Effie was at him 24-7 about investing in some kind of lotion. Just a dream. Nothing else. I didn’t hurt them. Didn’t hurt any of them. Not yet, anyway. He needed a drink. Hell, he needed ten drinks! But first he must sort things out with Effie. It wasn’t her fault that he was a living, breathing sack of shit who couldn’t do anything right and she was always keener to accept an apology spoken to her without a booze breath. Haymitch heaved a sigh. Clenched his fists, gave them a violent shake. Ten drinks, what a joke! With just a couple of weeks left before the big big big day Effie played the pregnancy card for all it was worth. Whenever he tried to steal a moment for himself she came up with another and yet another task for him to do. Even when she napped it was never for long. Just when the coast seemed clear and he tiptoed out of the room, the babies made good use of their elbows and knees and jabbed their mother awake. If he didn’t know better he’d say all three of them were hell-bent of keeping him from the bottles. He hadn’t run this low since Ripper was in the stocks. He pulled himself up. Didn’t bother about the undershirt, clinging to him with sweat. He stared into his miserable reflection in the vanity mirror. Yellow and unsmiling. It was all he could do not to punch his fist through the glass. Right into his own ugly mug. You couldn’t blame her, really. Headaches or no headaches. Shakes or no shakes. Of course Effie wanted him home. She was due in like a minute. A bird twittered outside, greeting another baking hot day. They were a couple of days into August. Wildfire season, as pa called it. You wouldn’t know it around here, of course. Not with the sprinkler system going all day and all night, wasting water like they wasted everything else. Lord, his life for a good night’s sleep! Without the booze to really knock him dead, every shut-eye was hell on Earth; one chapter at a time. He didn’t even have the knife anymore. Effie saw to that as well. It would have happened sooner or later. He couldn’t clutch a knife while he slept, not with two little kids having the run of the place. So, better just suck it up and get used to it. Alright. Time to face the music. But as it turned out, there was no need. Reclined comfortably in the old rocking chair Effie looked up from the picture book just long enough to flash him a smile. All curtains were pulled, keeping the sun at bay. Like she knew all along, he would join her. Haymitch gave the couch cushion a few good punches before he lay down. He stretched his legs out with a grunt. Wiggled his toes, peeking through the holes in his socks. A bouquet of tulips stood on the mantelpiece. From their latest trip downtown. They were more pink than red but the sight was still enough to turn his stomach and he covered his eyes with his forearm. “’Can’t you sleep, Little Bear?’ asked Big Bear, putting down his bear book, which was just getting to the interesting part and patting over to the bed.’” Effie’s voice fluttered into his darkness. The rocking chair creaked with each backward movement as she read and completely ignored him. Effie Trinket had many annoying qualities but this wasn’t one of them. The way she always let him pretended like it rained after each and every episode. How many times was it now? In total? Oh, who the fuck knew. Too many, that’s for sure. Even without the screams and the trashing around, Effie knew his post-nightmare face far better than he was comfortable with. She was the one he used to wake up to after all. With the taxing chore of calming his pathetic ass again and again. But once the storm blew over she was always enough of a pal to go on with things like they never even happened. “’I’m scared,’ said Little Bear. ‘Why are you scared, Little Bear?’ asked Big Bear. ‘I don’t like the dark,’ said Little Bear. ‘What dark?’ said Big Bear. ‘The dark all around us.’” Lucky kids, he thought to himself. Who had a mother loving them so hard she read them bedtime stories before they were even born. If Ma ever read to him when he was little he was too young to remember and after Amadeus joined the family Haymitch took on the job anyway. That sort of thing just didn’t come natural to her. Pa would, but anyone working 12 hour shifts slept like the dead as soon as their head touched the pillow. What’s to read anyway? They didn’t own any books. Especially not children’s books. Bedtime stories passed by mouth in the Seam. Many of them scary or with some kind of dark lesson. Tara liked them. Amadeus not so much. Which was just another reason why Haymitch relied so on his imagination for those whispered stories after dark. He yawned but caught himself mid-way. No shut-eye! Without the alcohol as a free entrance ticket he’d pay for it dearly if he gave in to Effie’s sleep syrup voice. It was a couple of weeks after he moved in that he discovered this peculiar habit. He’d wandered the place as usual after everyone had gone to bed. With the hip-flask clasped in hand he went where his feet took him and wound up outside Effie’s room. Light spilled from under the door and he was still sober enough to hear the murmurs inside. First he passed it off as the usual cooing but a few moments in he realized she actually read them a bedtime story. He never heard of such a thing. Did all mothers read to their bellies or was it just Effie? It got him quite spell-bounded, to speak the truth. Maybe because he was caught so off-guard. The stories made no sense, most of them. Not to him. But it drew in him. Even if he couldn’t see her there was something so relaxing about the whole thing while he was anything but. So he remained rooted to the spot, soaking in it. Like if he just listened long enough some of it would pass on to him. It became his favorite pastime. Effie read to the unborn children in her belly and Haymitch listened at the door, quietly sipping his hip-flask. Wasn’t like he had someplace he needed to be. He could just as well drink here as anywhere else. Katniss needed a lot of convincing but Effie Trinket had quite the melodic voice. At least when her panties weren’t in a twist, which frankly wasn’t often. Not with someone like him nearby. But once she relaxed and her shit calmed down, that shrill, glass-cutter voice transformed. Turned warm and soulful, like … sitting-by-the-fire soft with just a hint of her trademark mischief that he loved so much. She couldn’t sing worth shit but she’d make a decent narrator. A great one, in fact. It was weird how she mastered it, with that ridiculous accent. But then again: Everything about Effie Trinket surprised him at one point. A couple of nights in, just when Haymitch started to know those stories by heart, Effie closed the book she was currently reading and said, loud and clear, “I can hear you breathing, Haymitch. Why don’t you come in? Keep us company.” From that moment on they spent almost every evening together. Reckoned he should take the chance and rest his knees if nothing else. He’d be walking around all night with an infant on his shoulder before he knew it. He had to get even more creative with his drinking routine as a result but fuck it. He needed those hours with her. With all three of them. “I’ve read to them since I was 10 weeks along,” Effie told him when he asked. “It promotes brain activity and language development. And it soothes them.” “Soothes them?” Haymitch frowned. “Against what? How troubled can they be in there?” It was hard to imagine a cozier, more comfy place for two babies, than inside Effie’s tummy. Safe and warm and fed and all cuddled up with each other. Honestly, they should stay where they were for as long as possible. Days fell into one another. Turned into weeks and months. Effie read and the more time that passed the more Haymitch suspected the person reaping most benefits from this arrangement weren’t the kids. A lamp-lit room, endless cups of chicken broth, Effie. It was definitely better than being alone. He welcomed all the distractions he could get. Any escape, no matter how brief, from his prison cell of a mind. No monkey business went on. Save that one little detour in between her sheets. Even if she’d wanted him to try something, Effie was so pregnant now he simply didn’t dare. They would all just end up in the birthing room and they were heading there fast enough without his help. Just thinking about it made him softer than a marshmallow, when nothing else worked. “Big Bear looked and he saw that the dark part of the cave was very dark. So he went to the lantern cupboard and took out the tiniest lantern that was there. Big Bear lit the tiniest lantern and put it next to Little Bear’s bed. ‘There’s a tiny light to keep you from being scared, Little Bear,’ said Big Bear.” Haymitch failed to stifle his next yawn. He knew this bear book word for word. A personal gemstone from Effie’s own childhood. Just the kind of story Amadeus loved. Talking animals. Good thing she read this one so often because the rest of her picture books were trippy as fuck, most of them. You needed sunglasses just to look at the pictures. Maybe if I talk to Sae. Yeah, with her brood of children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews and their children she was bound to have at least one decent kiddie book lying around… Lulled by Effie’s voice and the steady creak of the rocking chair Haymitch’s breathing turned deeper and slower. His arm slipped from his face, slumped over the edge of the sofa where the mid-morning dipped his fingers in sunlight. Haymitch’s slumber was never deep. Had to be drunk to get more than cat naps. Five minute here. Fifteen minutes there. Effie read. Oblivious, at first glance. But for each twitch and small jerk, every choked whimper she looked up from the page. Effie didn’t have to smell him or see him hungover to know how much or how little Haymitch drank. She could tell just by his sleep behavior. On a normal week, in a normal life, Haymitch got wasted beyond belief 9 sessions out of 10. And once dawn streaked the sky he was out like a blown candle. Dropped like a sack of potatoes on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table. More dead than asleep. But this deceitful, heart-breaking sleep pattern, you only ever saw it when his alcohol intake reached under a certain level. Or when things were particularly bad. So this wasn’t a first. Far from it. She knew those whimpers well. Long before they shared a bed together. Sounds Haymitch would never allow himself awake. Did any man? Little boy whimpers. That’s the word for it. A child lost in the woods, terrified of the creatures lurking in the dark. Haymitch with all his talk of “don’t come near me when I’m under or I’ll accidentally crush you like a beer can” didn’t know it but back when they were together and she heard those heart-clenching whimpers she always snuggled in close. Burrowed into him and he clutched her sometimes to the point of pain, a cry for help without words, and she welcomed it. Anything that might help. With his heart pounding into hers she smoothed back his hair and dropped little kisses to his face; his cheek, lips, his eyelids, the tip of his ear. He never allowed that kind of affection once fully awake. Not for long. Not after a nightmare. Sooner or later he always shrugged her off. As if showing yourself that raw and exposed was some kind of weakness. Something to be ashamed of. But when a nightmare had him in its clutches, kissing helped more often than not. Because the dream changed. Took a different direction. Not in a sexual way necessarily. It just calmed him. No one was less surprised than Effie. After decades of solitary confinement where most people he did meet treated him like a sticky pool of something vile you didn’t ever want to get on your clothes, let alone your skin, Haymitch Abernathy was starved for human closeness. He’d never admit it or might even declare he preferred it that way. But it was clear as day to anyone paying as close attention as she had, that it was all a lie. A lie told so many times he believed it himself. It was many months since she last did it now. The kissing bit. Didn’t seem appropriate. Besides, with this big and clumsy, ungraceful body she‘d wake him up anyway, long before she got the chance. No, the days when she could shield him from the dark with just her lips were long gone. Maybe I was wrong to take the knife away. Scary as it was, it served a purpose. Gave him a sense of safety. It was almost unfair that her own rest had gotten better with the pregnancy. More peaceful. She didn’t expect it to last but still. The night-terrors weren’t as fierce as before. And unlike Haymitch, she was never alone when she woke from them. Because she had their little ones. Carried them with her wherever she went. Back before Kane got her pregnant that disastrous drunken night, she never imagined finding such comfort within herself. Through her unborn child. A feeling she now re-lived, with her and Haymitch’s babies. The nine months she carried her Alex were different from this twin pregnancy in many ways, but the odd sense of peace, in the midst of turmoil, was the same. Amy and Ian and Alex before them, soothed her heart just by existing. She still got worried, of course. Worried sick quite literally sometimes, even this late in the pregnancy. But each and every time she felt them move it calmed her. It was hard to explain. She worried because of Amy and Ian and those same worries melted away - because of Amy and Ian. Haymitch on the other hand, had nobody. That’s what he thought anyway and she did what she could to distract him when his mind wandered in to dark places. Tried to pull his attention elsewhere, if only by asking him to warm them some milk or join her for a walk. In the end, it was little more than quick fixes. The knife was too but at least the latter helped him go back to sleep when nothing else could. Maybe it was unfair but the moment she saw the blood she just lost it. “Ease up, Eff. It’s just a paper cut,” he said at the sound of her shriek. He bent his arm to keep from dripping on the bed sheets, pulled open the nightstand drawer and pressed a hankie to his forearm. “Won’t even scar, this one. See, it’s already stopped.” No, Haymitch accidentally cutting himself coming out of a nightmare wasn’t a first either and her hormones played a part in her reaction no doubt but it was more than that. All of it. The whole scene. The blood stains on the crumpled fabric, the lone trickle down his tender skin and, most of all, Haymitch himself. Who just sat there, completely unfazed. Bored even. Like he didn’t even matter! It was their first real fight in months. Well, she fought. Haymitch had shown a remarkably annoying strength of character in the shouting department post-conception. Just a passing thing, hopefully. But his idiotic, pig-headed insistence on keeping the knife got her so worked up she had to sit down. It wasn’t so much Haymitch’s doing as the pregnancy’s. She got winded from literally nothing these days. But it scared the living daylight out of Haymitch. She never saw anyone turn paper-white so fast and he immediately caved. “Fine, alright, no knives!” he burst and pulled her to the bed. ”Shit, Eff, calm down before the kids come shootin’ out of you.” “I am calm!” Effie cussed as he lifted her legs up on to the mattress but between her labored breathing and reddened cheeks she wasn’t very convincing. Haymitch left only to re-appear with a glass of water and remained by her bedside until she drank the whole thing. She shot him a look when he set it back on the nightstand. “It’s good to know you care more about Amy and Ian than you do my sanity,” she muttered and swatted his helping hand when she rolled over to her side. With her breathing almost back to normal she eyed Haymitch, lips pursed in annoyance. “You were never this nice and attentive before I became the sacred vessel of your children. That’s a fact.” “Nah,” he said. “I care about you, sweetheart. Hopeless human beings need a little sympathy, don’t you think?” Effie tsked and caressed her belly in tired, exasperated motions. Her gaze flitted back to the slice on his forearm, smeared with dried blood. She winced and looked away. “Please do something about that cut. You’ll give yourself blood poisoning. Really, Haymitch in a normal household the first aid kit is for scrubbed knees or nose bleeds or kitchen mishaps. Not for victors wielding knifes on themselves when they sleep. One of these days you’re going to stab your own liver and then where will we be?” Haymitch shrugged. “Better off, I’d say. One less drunk in the world.” She could have shoved him. But he kept his word. The knife disappeared. Put in a drawer somewhere, just like during their bed sharing days. She noticed the change almost immediately but it wasn’t until just recently that it dawned on her what a big deal this was for Haymitch. All throughout his adult life, save those couple of weeks every year during the Games, he always clutched either one of two things to make himself fall asleep. The knife or her. He was really trying. In more than one way. Effie closed the book. The tenseness and shadow of bad dreams had once again receded from Haymitch’s face, without her help. She watched him in his hard-earned moment of rest. Her sweet, dear, infuriating Haymitch. Hers but not. She got used to having his hands on her all the time. His hands and his lips and whispered words against her tummy. But he hadn’t touched her, really touched her, since the night of the new moon. They still had moments. Nights when their eyes locked and the world disappeared. They were only humans after all and so woven together now, intertwined in each other’s lives, it was bound to happen. She blamed it on the pregnancy. On nature ushering her to be with the father of her children and oh, sweet mercy, those stormy, silver-gray eyes! They made her knees weaken. Always had, always would. Luckily, for all four of them, Haymitch still had the wits about him. Each time the door creaked ajar he closed it shut. It’s all for the best. Sweet as the journey would be the destination hadn’t changed. Her and Haymitch… they went nowhere. Just in circles. Spinning circles. Faster every time. Things would be good, great for a couple of weeks, couple of months and then the arguments would creep in. The bickering and snide comments. The frustration, the fights, the cries and yelling. Silence and heartache and separate bedrooms. Then, as sure as the dawn, they’d kiss and make up, only to repeat the pattern all over again. Only this time, two little innocents would be there for the ride. And that’s not going to happen under my watch. Amy and Ian would be born in a calm and peaceful environment. Not thrown in to an emotional twister because their idiot parents were at each other’s throat every other day. They couldn’t change the past or the baggage they both carried but they had control over this much. So stop hoping! She rested her hand on top of her belly. It helped her determination, even with Haymitch in front of her in all his tattered, run-down beauty. It will get better after the birth. Yes, once her body wasn’t raging with hormones, then she’d make peace with this life. A life without him. Besides and this was a comforting thought: They already were in each other’s lives. They always would be. In every way that mattered. And that was enough. It had to be enough. xXx Far, far away, in a different life it seemed, a phone rang. Out in the hallway. She unplugged the one in the living room weeks ago. Deep in thought it took Haymitch’s stirring to break the spell and Effie pulled herself to her feet. This was another promise broken. He didn’t want her to wake him during nightmares and he didn’t want her to answer the phone. Not since the hate call. “Just leave it to voicemail, you pregnant ol’ ox. It’s not even our number.” She closed the door quietly between herself and Haymitch and threw a glance at the caller-ID. A smile spread across her face. “Hey, love,” a merry voice greeted her on the other end. “Annabel.” She hadn’t heard from her friend in almost a week. “How’s everything in the Capitol? No babies yet, I hope?” “No,” said Effie. “Kicking and growing. You should see the sheer size of me! I’m so big I won’t fit on the bed soon.” “I’m sure you look lovely.” Effie smiled. “If only Haymitch was as thoughtful. According to him I look like Jupiter. Because I’m the biggest or oldest remains unclear.” They laughed together. “Things are OK, though,” she said. “I think the children are doing their very best to make it easy on Haymitch. No complications. Nothing to cause alarm. You know what he told them when he kissed my belly last night? ‘Thanks for giving me a break.’” “Well, I’m glad.” Annabel hesitated. “Effie…” She lapsed into silence. For such a long time, heat rose to Effie’s cheeks even before the question. “Have you decided anything yet? What to do once they’re born, I mean?” Effie wet her lips. Never take advantage of someone’s hospitality, mother’s voice rung in her mind. It was one of the top three rules Mrs. Trinket had lived by. Rules she hammered into her daughter’s head from as early as five or six. “I’m sorry, Annabel. We won’t impose much longer. I …” But Annabel didn’t let her finish. “That’s not what I meant, silly. There’s no timetable, like we said. Stay for as long as you need.” There was commotion on the other end. Men shouting and crackles on the line when Annabel walked out into the garden. “But what do you want? What does Haymitch want?” Odd she never saw it coming, this question. It was such a normal query. Annabel was in a relationship where they talked, actually talked, with each other. Not that she and Haymitch were in any kind of relationship. Right now she wasn’t sure what they were. What do I want? There only ever was one answer, wasn’t it? Something she’d known in her heart a long time, even if she never said it out loud. She wanted him to take her home. Back to the Victor’s Village. Back to District 12. Katniss, Peeta. Even his obnoxious pet geese. The quiet woods. The quiet town. Its people and the clear air, the open sky. The Meadow overflowing with dandelions in the spring. A place of warmth and calm and welcome where her and Haymitch’s children could grow up. But… But. How would that work exactly? In the long run. Say they carried out this plan and she made a home for herself and the twins in one of the empty houses of the Victor’s Village. What would Amy’s and Ian’s life be like? Haymitch still drank. He rationed the alcohol. Never once before had he gone this long without a proper boozing. He did it for the twins, of that she had no doubt. But how long could he keep that up? Haymitch said so himself. In the end, the drink always took him. Sooner or later his resolve would crumble. She’d seen this cycle far too many times to deny it. One day Amy and Ian’s father wouldn’t manage just a sip or two every few hours. That was the cold, hard reality. One that kept her up at night. It was all just a matter of when and how. Haymitch knew this better than anyone. That’s why the gates of the Victor’s Village remained locked to them. She was sure of it. He had so many moments. So many opportunities to bring it up and offer this solution. But he didn’t and he wouldn’t and maybe he was right. Perhaps a life in different parts of the country was the answer. Their golden middle way. If they split up the week. If Haymitch spent the first half of it on his own, drinking his fill someplace where Amy and Ian wouldn’t see it then maybe, just maybe he’d stay sober enough for the rest of the week and be a father to them. And the twins would only have their dad for a couple of days at a time. They won’t understand. How do you explain something like that to babies, to toddlers? What will we tell them when they ask? “Effie? You there?” She drew a breath. Didn’t want Annabel to hear her voice quiver. “We can’t go to District 12. As much as I’d love to, it’s… We can’t. Maybe one of the other districts. I keep thinking about Four or Seven or Nine. Finding a place outside the Capitol will be easier.” “Well,” said Annabel. “Maybe not.” Author’s note: What’d she mean by that, do you suppose? Find out in the next chapter! Did you enjoy the bear story, by the way? The quotes are from a real book. “Can’t you sleep Little Bear?” by Martin Waddell. I just moved into a new apartment and found it while packing. My baby sister was obsessed with it! If you can, try and not read it or google it just yet because the book will play a role throughout the rest of ToS. Thanks for reading, lovelies and I’ll see you in chapter 26!

#hayffie #hayffie twins #haymitch x effie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #amy trinket abernathy #ian trinket abernathy #the hunger games #post-mockingjay #myfanfiction #the capitol

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vampiregirl1797 · 4 years

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When You Need a Shoulder to Sleep On

Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

GIF Not Mine

Summary: When you return back to work as a profiler with the BAU after being gone for maternity leave, the job is harder than it used to be, being as you’re functioning on little to no sleep and no caffeine. Lucky for you, you have your wonderful husband, Spencer, and your family at the BAU to support you.

Word Count: 2,642

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It had been fourteen months since I’d had a cup of coffee. While I’d been pregnant, ironically enough I hadn’t noticed the absence of the heavenly hot beverage. But now I was returning to work and functioning on less than three hours sleep? Yeah, I was exhausted. Spencer, my wonderful, loving husband and doting father, bless his soul, had even less sleep. He tended to sleep light anyway, and since the baby had arrived he’s been a little... protective. So it was routine for us both to attend to little baby Gideon Derek together, as neither of us were able to think about sleep until we knew the baby was back down.

The difference of course was that I was functioning with no caffeinated stimulants to keep my brain working, while Spencer was on his third cup of heavenly goodness since we’d arrived at the Bureau. Which of course meant that I was barely functioning at all.

‘Denise Hernandez was found murdered in her apartment a week ago. She was discovered by her landlord three days later when he went to check on her, after another tenant had voiced their concern.’ Garcia said, the beeping of her pressing the buttons on her beepy echoing throughout the room, ‘there were no signs of sexual assault and the body was in her bed and she was tucked in underneath her own duvet.’

I blinked, trying to force some energy into my body as I flipped open the file in front of me, detailing the murder Garcia was narrating.

‘The unsub wrapped her in plastic underneath the covers to prevent her blood from sleeping through the fabric.’ I voiced aloud as I read it in the report, ‘that indicates that the way he leaves her behind is important to him.’

‘That’s true, before the covers were removed she looks asleep.’ Rossi agreed, flicking through the photographs in his own file.

‘If that’s the case it’s interesting he doesn’t chose a less gruesome method of murder. If the charade of the victim appearing asleep is so important to him, why go through the trouble of stabbing her twelve times?’ Tara added, taking a sip of her coffee after she spoke.

I tried not to stare too longingly at the mug, despite knowing that a cup would jolt the energy back into my system.

‘If she didn’t live alone I’d suggest it’s done by way of giving him more time before the murder is discovered. It would be a while before anyone realized she was asleep.’ I said, looking over to the enhanced crime scene photos on the screen. There was something bothering me about the whole picture, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

‘But since she did live alone it’s more likely that the manner he’s displayed her, as well as the method he’s employed, are both important to him.’ Spencer said, his lips pursed in thought as his eyes quickly moved over the pages in his hand.

The amount of information his beautiful brain could take in, in such little time, still blew me away after all these years. I’d never get tired of his incredible mind, whether it be the facts he knew and eagerly shared, or the way he excitedly took in new information. He was amazing and so sexy.

‘Have there been any other victims?’ Derek asked, his eyes moving from the file in front of him to the colorfully dressed blonde.

‘Yes. Danielle Richmond was discovered in her apartment this morning. She lives alone and according to the M.E. She died yesterday, she was discovered quicker than the last victim as she had plans with a friend who called the cops when she didn’t show up or answer her phone.’ She clicked her beeper three more times, bringing up a picture of Danielle and a few pictures from the crime scene.

‘They look like they could be twins.’ I noted, both had brown eyes, olive complexions, long brown hair and a slender figure, ‘seems like he has a very specific type in terms of victimology. Either he’s working up to killing someone specific in his life that looks like these women, or someone who looks like her has died and triggered these killings.’

‘Those are both things we should keep in mind.’ Prentiss nodded, closing her file, ‘wheels up in ten.’

‘There’s something out of place here.’ I murmured, taking a step back with my arms crossed over my chest

‘What is it?’ Morgan asked, standing next to me and taking in the room as well.

‘I’m not sure...’ I trailed off, my gaze landing on the book next to Danielle’s bed. I walked over and picked it up, reading the title aloud, ‘A book of fairytales. That’s what’s out of place.’

I pulled out my phone and dialed JJ— her and Alvez were at the other crime scene.

‘Hey, Y/N, what’s up?’

‘At your crime scene, are their any novels by the bed?’

‘Hang on,’ she said, there was some shuffling over the receiver as I handed the book I was holding to Morgan, ‘yeah there’s a copy of fairytales. Oh my god.’

Morgan opened the book, he brows lifting in surprise before he turned it around. It was a picture of Snow White dead in her see through coffin, but the victims face had been glued over the cartoon features.

‘Can you bring your book back to the station? I think I know what he’s doing.’ I sighed, hanging up my phone and sliding it into my back pocket.

I smiled as I entered the station, telling Morgan that I’d meet him in the briefing room in a minute after I’d been to the bathroom. Of course he knew I was lying, but he must have sympathized with the dark circles under my eyes because he didn’t call me on it.

I discretely but firmly grasped my husband’s hand and led him down an unpopulated corridor.

‘How are you feeling, honey?’ he asked, pulling me close and rubbing my lower back as I practically melted into his chest. I loved that he didn’t have to ask why I’d commandeered him for a moment alone—I assumed he was used to my clingy behaviour and heightened emotional state when I was so exhausted.

‘I’m feeling drained, Spence.’ I sighed, nuzzling into the cotton of his cardigan and relaxing even further at the scents that emitted from the fabric—softener, his cologne and a faint trace of mint from the shower he’d taken earlier that morning.

‘If you’re too tired, there’s no shame in saying so. Emily, actually everyone, would understand if you needed a quick power nap, honey.’ He kissed my hair, his other hand resting at the bottom of my neck and rubbing the flesh there—he knew I carried a lot of tension in that particular area.

A soft groan fell from my lips as he kneaded the knots out of my flesh, my bones practically melting as he continued.

‘Hmm,’ I murmured, trying to focus, but it was hard when I felt so calm and relaxed to the point of wanting to sleep, ‘no it’s okay, I’m not that bad yet. I promise.’

It was something we’d talked about before I’d returned from maternity leave—he knew my stubbornness often led to me pushing myself too far before the baby, and now I was running on no sleep it was likely to get worse due to my heightened emotions. He proposed that we come up with a deal—if I ever felt too tired, or like I needed a few hours to recuperate then I had to tell him and not push myself too far.

This deal had been proposed after I’d been taking care of our precious baby boy for thirty-six hours straight with no sleep. I’d practically been a zombie when Spence came home from a case and when he’d offered to take the baby so I could get some much needed sleep I’d nearly bitten his head off, insisting I could do it. I’d then promptly burst into tears because I’d snapped at my husband when all he was trying to do was help, and because I was so exhausted and all the emotions chose that moment to break free.

The next day after I’d slept for twelve hours straight, he’d told me it was common for new mothers to feel like they weren’t doing enough and they often felt like they couldn’t ask for help, even from their spouses. The knowledge had soothed me, as had his assurance that I was doing a good job, and that admitting I needed some time for myself was okay. That’s when he’d made me promise to not push it too far, and it now transferred to the field now I was back at work.

‘Okay,’ he kissed my hair again and I lifted my head up, my lips pursed for a kiss. I heard him chuckle lightly before he complied, his lips soft and warm against my own. I sighed, the pleasant zing his lips always inspired shooting through me from my head all the way down to my toes.

‘I love you, Spencer Reid.’ I told him, the sparkle and adoration in his eyes made my heart expand in my chest—it’d been like that for five years now and I didn’t see it ever dissipating.

‘I love you, Y/N Reid.’ He kissed my forehead and we stayed there for a few moments longer, appreciating the quiet tranquility of the moment before we reluctantly agreed to join the team in the briefing room.

‘This unsub is replicating fairytales.’ I said as Morgan opened the book we’d bought back from the crime scene and slid it into the middle of the table so everyone could see.

‘Danielle was the replication of Snow White. After we discovered this, we also found an apple underneath her bed that had been bitten into. It was bagged for evidence and they’re going to try and pull the teeth imprints, but my guess is it’s going to be a match to the victim.’ I pulled out a chair, scooting close enough to Spencer so that I could smell his cologne.

‘Denise’s death is tied to Sleeping Beauty.’ Alvez slid the book he’d bought back next to the other, ‘we found a miniature spindle wheel underneath her bed next to a few drops of what we assume to be the victims blood. We’ve asked the M.E. To see if there are any wounds on Denise’s fingers that look like they could’ve been made on a spindle wheel.’

‘Well this is good, in the sense that we can predict what fairytale the unsub is going to replicate next, but it doesn’t help us with identifying the next victim.’ Tara said, looking over to the clear board at the head of the room, which showcased the crime scene and victim’s pictures.

‘There has to be something, other than appearance, that these women have in common.’ Alvez commented, twirling his pen between his fingers.

‘And you would be correct, newbie.’ I smiled at the nickname— Alvez had been on the team for almost two years now, yet Garcia still called him that, ‘both women were part of a fairytale online reading club.’

‘Are there any other women in the club who look like the first two victims?’ Prentiss asked.

‘Great minds think alike my dear Emily, pictures and addresses of the three women who share similar appearances have been sent to your tablets.’

Our iPad’s beeped before she’d even finished her sentence and we all looked at the pictures, noting their characteristics were eerily similar to Danielle and Denise.

‘We should contact the women to warn them and assign them each a protective detail.’ Spence said as I observed the pictures with my lips pursed, hoping I’d have a brain wave and be able to pinpoint a connection. The Sheriff left the room to assign that responsibility to some uniform officers.

‘We know who he’s likely going after, but we haven’t figured out why or how he’d have a connection to this—.’ I paused a thought echoing through my brain so astoundingly fast that I felt a little light headed, ‘what if the unsub is a partner to one of these girls? And he’s killing them this way because he resents his partner’s love for this and he’s mocking her?’

‘That’s a good idea— maybe one of these girls cheated on him and he’s disparaging her idea of a happy ending?’ Tara added.

‘Garcia, have any of these three women recently gotten divorced?’ Spence asked.

‘Yes, Regina Kingston, the creator of the book club filed for divorce ten days ago. It hasn’t been finalized yet, but the paperwork was finalized and submitted eight days ago.’ Garcia reeled off, her voice coated with realization.

‘That’s the stressor.’ Alvez said as we all begun to stand from around the table.

‘Garcia,’ Emily started but our I.T genius cut her off and assured us his name and home address had been sent to us already.

We all geared up, adding our bullet proof vests and making sure our guns were sufficiently loaded, should they be necessary in his capture. I bit back a yawn as we made our way to the cars—now was not the time to not be one hundred percent focused. We had an unsub to detain, and so I slapped my cheeks a few times during the drive, to make sure I was definitely awake.

Another yawn fell from my mouth; I’d lost count of how many times I’d done so since we’d got on the jet.

‘Woah momma, why are you still awake? I thought you would have dropped off as soon as we got on here.’ Derek commented, his signature smile on his face but the concern in his eyes was just as prominent.

‘I tried, every time I close my eyes I keep seeing flashes of the things I need to do when I get home.’ I sighed, though a small bright smile formed on my face when my husband took a seat next to me.

‘How is little Gideon Derek?’ JJ asked, taking a seat next to Morgan, ‘do you have anymore pictures?’

I grinned, my face lighting up at the mention of our little bundle of joy, ‘I have around a hundred new ones I took before we left for this case.’

I handed her my phone and she scrolled through the images, her smile growing at each new one. Morgan couldn’t help joining in after a while, unable to resist pictures of his godson. I’d caught a glimpse of his home background earlier and I was pretty sure it was the picture JJ had taken of Derek holding the baby for the first time at the hospital. He was a big softie, no matter how hard he tried to appear the opposite.

I was bought out of my thoughts by Spence’s arm wrapping around my shoulders. I cuddled up into his side, eagerly snuggling into his warmth; I took a deep breath, his familiar and comforting scent relaxing me down to my bones. The voices around me became unfocused as I fell further and further into unconsciousness, the endless list of tasks that had been plaguing me before disappearing now that I was in the arms of my husband. I registered was the low vibration of Spence’s voice as he talked to JJ and Morgan, and the feel of his lips as he kissed my hair. The last thought that filtered through my mind before I surrendered to sleep was how lucky I was to have a husband as amazing as Spencer, a son as wonderful as Gideon and a family as incredible as the people that made up the B.A.U.

A/N: This one came to me after I watched the episode where JJ returns after maternity leave and has trouble staying awake without being able to drink caffeine. I kind of like how it turned out, I hope you did too!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds

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benaffleckofcrowdsurfing · 4 years

Text

bundle of love (alex turner x reader)

description: a very fluffy alex learns big news regarding your child-to-be

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

she looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me, and suddenly the sky is a scissor / sitting on the floor with a tambourine / crushing up a bundle of love

**************

When a muffled sound pulled you out of your sleep, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and groan. For a brief moment you thought it might be something from outside, that when you rolled over in your bed you’d find your husband sleeping soundly, but you knew that just wasn’t the case. The sound was all too familiar for it to not have been Alex and the space behind you was all too cold for him to still be sleeping there. When you rolled over, you frowned at the empty place in the bed, and muttered a few profanities to yourself when you looked over at the clock.

“God dammit, Alex. 3 a.m.”

You huffed as you did your best to rise up out of bed - the large bump that was your stomach making things a bit more difficult than normal - before grabbing your silk house robe and slippers and shuffling towards your bedroom door. As soon as you opened it, the noise that had woken you became clear and far louder, causing you to once again mumble some not-so-nice words to yourself as you walked toward the living room.

“Al, it’s three in the morning. Can you please go to bed?” You nearly had to yell over the sound of your husband playing his guitar. When you had come around the corner into the living room, you found him on the floor with sheets of music and lyrics sprawled out everywhere, strumming an acoustic guitar.

“Hey, darling!” He chirped and smiled as you came around the couch and stood beside him, but his expression quickly changed. “I’ve woken you, haven't I?”

“Yes Alexander, you woke me. I don’t know how you thought you wouldn’t, with that bloody guitar and these thin walls.” You tisked, and put an arm on his shoulder.

He smiled sheepishly up at you and put an arm around both of your legs. “Would you mind helping me, for just a second? I wanna get this hook before I go to bed, and Miles isn’t here to be my tambourine-ist. I’ll only be a few minutes, I promise.”

You sighed and used the couch and his shoulder to support you as you lowered yourself onto the soft carpet beside him. “Fine. Maybe some of the musical talent will rub off on the baby if I’m around you while you’re working more.”

You looked at your husband to find him beaming down at your belly. Or, well, the thing growing in your belly. The sight made you smile as well, the way he looked at your future child was so sweet it put tears in your eyes, he had never looked at anything like he did at your bump. His sweet brown irises held a different sort of twinkle, the creases around his eyes seemed deeper yet softer, and his lips held a sort of content smile that could only be associated with unrequited love. He loved you, he loved the house the two of you owned, he loved the dog the two of you had adopted a few years back, but he loved nothing like you knew he loved your unborn child. He constantly had his hands on your stomach, feeling for little kicks and movements, he couldn’t help but smile any time you wore anything that showed your bump off, and - he didn’t know that you knew this - but sometimes at night after he thought you were asleep he’d lay next to your tum and sing softly to the baby. You thought it was absolutely precious and you could not wait to see the daddy-to-be’s face in a few months when your baby girl finally entered the world.

“Alright, darling. Here’s what I want you to do for me. Take this here tambourine, right, and just bang it along with what I’m playin’.” Alex passed you the instrument and gave you a tap on the thigh for encouragement. He gave you a little “one, two, three,” before beginning to strum his guitar, and within a few seconds you had caught onto the beat and began to play to the best of your ability. Alex wasn’t singing any lyrics, just humming a melody, and yet you thought it was one of the prettiest songs he had ever written. A large smile emerged on your face and you began to have a bit more fun playing the tambourine, bopping your head along and adding some fancy handwork to your playing.

You hardly noticed when Alex turned his attention to you, you were too caught up in your own little musical world to care about or acknowledge anything but the strumming of your lover’s guitar, his thick voice humming an unfinished melody, and the hiss of your tambourine. Alex’s face was lit up, his smile lines and crow's feet complimented his rosy cheeks, his tired eyes had a new sort of sparkle to them. When he stopped strumming abruptly and you were yanked out of your rhythm and back into the moment, you gave him a disappointed look.

“Why’d we stop? I was just starting to have fun!” You whined.

Alex let out a hearty laugh and pulled you close to him, so your head was resting in his shoulder and his arm was wrapped around you. “I got the hook, Love. You’re an absolute natural, only took me one try to find something that sounded right. Almost wanted to keep playing, though. You looked right gorgeous playin’ like that.” He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

You looked up at him with a look of adoration. He was so perfect, he always knew exactly how to send butterflies shooting through you, even years later. “Aw, Al.”

“I love you so much Sweetheart. Every time I look at you, the ring on my finger, the bed we share, the pup, everything. All I can think about is how happy I am to be here with you.” Alex whispered. “And now with this baby so close to being here, I just can’t believe it. Makes me want to cry. I’m literally the luckiest man alive.”

It took everything in you not to start bawling tears of joy yourself, what he had just said was so incredibly beautiful. You looked up at him once again and caressed his face. “You’re perfect, Alexander. You’re gonna be an incredible daddy. Our little girl is so lucky.”

“Little...girl?”

Your eyes widened. Your hand shot to cover your mouth. Fuck. Alex had wanted to wait to find out the sex of the baby until she was born, you were meant to keep it a secret just so you could buy the appropriate clothes and toys for the baby.

“Oh my God Alex, I can’t believe I’ve said that. I’m so sorry, baby.” You winced as you turned to face him completely, fully expecting to look at him and see an expression of disappointment. You had ruined his surprise.

However, when you looked at Alex, you were faced with something far different. His mouth was slightly ajar due to shock, but a massive grin was painted across his face, and tears were streaming down his face. “We’re having a baby girl?”

You nodded and your eyes filled with tears too. “We’re having a baby girl.”

Alex jumped up from the floor, a wild look on his face. “We’re having a baby girl,” he giggled, still not completely at terms with the information you had just slipped.

He held out a hand to help you off the ground, and once you stood up as well, he put his hands on your shoulders. “My love... my baby… My angel. My darling, my sweetheart, my princess…. My wife, my soulmate, the actual mother of my child… is having a beautiful baby girl with me.” Tears were still streaming down his face.

You couldn’t get any words out, you were too emotional. All you could do is smile and nod. Alex let out a broken laugh through his tears and pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and when you snaked yours around his back he began rocking the two of you back and forth. You were both practically sobbing now, the realization that you were going to be the parents of a baby girl in only a few short months had finally really set in. Alex seemed to hug you for hours before pulling back and looking into your eyes once again. You giggled as you placed your hands on the sides of his face and wiped his tears away with your thumbs. He took a deep sigh and did the same for you, then he broke the silence.

“I want to name her Willow. We met in Willow park, I proposed to you under a willow tree, the first thing you planted in our garden was a willow sapling. I think it’s only fitting that our first baby is a Willow, too.”

You had never felt the way you felt at that moment. Your heart felt so full it could burst. Your smile was so wide you thought your face would tear. You felt so much love in your soul at that moment, you couldn’t even respond. All you could bring yourself to do was take the hands still cupping Alex’s face and pull them towards you. You attached your lips to his and he grinned into the kiss, moving his hands onto the small of your back and pulling you closer. The kiss was passionate but not lustful, your lips moved together gently and in harmony. It was as if the kiss was saying “I love you”. When Alex pulled out of the kiss, his lips were puffy and his cheeks red. It warmed your heart that even now, years after the two of you had met, the two of you still got flustered every once and awhile. Alex pressed his forehead to yours, so the tip of your nose was touching his and your eyes were staring up into his. Alex’s hands were on either side of your head, tangled in your hair. He said nothing, just looked at you with loving eyes and a toothy grin. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before patting his cheek.

“Alright, Daddy, off to bed. You won’t be able to do this late night stuff anymore when little miss Willow hits the world, so get used to it now,” you whispered and gave your husband a kiss on the forehead before making your way back to bed.

“Right behind you, Mum,” you heard Alex giggle, and he gave you a playful slap on the arse as the two of you reached your bedroom. Alex took off his shirt and practically jumped into bed, whereas you took your time to take off your robe, put your slippers away, and stretch your back before slowly strolling to bed. Alex had an impatient look on his face. “Please, for the love of God, Darling, get into bed. I want to say hi to my little angel before going to sleep.”

You shook your head slightly and chuckled, you knew exactly what he meant. When you finally slid into bed, Alex turned toward you and began tracing little circles on your tummy.

“You know, sometimes after you’ve fallen asleep, I like to sing to her.” Alex whispered.

“I know Al, it’s really sweet,” you beamed.

Alex looked up at you with furrowed brows. “You know? I always wait till you’ve gone to sleep, though.”

“Babe, it’s kind of hard to not know when there’s someone singing to your stomach. I’m only a few inches away from you,” you muttered. “I think it’s really quite precious, though. I never mind hearing your voice.”

Alex rested his head on your pelvis, so he was looking up at you and was right next to your swollen stomach. You began running a hand through his hair, and he cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I won’t have to wait for you to fall asleep then.”

You nodded and gave him an endearing look.

“And I know just the serenade for my two ladies tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about it while we were in the living room. It was just too perfect.” Alex giggled.

You did your best to hide your excitement when Alex began softly humming the opening to That’s Where You’re Wrong. You were mesmerized as Alex stroked your stomach and began singing softly.

a pussyfooting setting sun

make a wish that weighs a ton

there are no handles for you to hold

and no understanding where it goes

you laid your head back into the pillow and gently shut your eyes as Alex kissed your stomach and started into the next verse.

jealousy in technicolor

fear by name, love by numbers

street light amber, wanderlust

hide her in a blunderbus

by the time Alex got to the chorus, which obviously was the part of the song that he was thinking of when he mentioned the song being ‘too perfect’ for tonight, you were practically asleep. Alex’s hands on your belly, his voice in your ear, his hair tangled in your fingers, it was all so perfect. If you could choose to have one moment last forever, it would have been that one.

she looks as if she’s blowing a kiss at me

and suddenly the sky is a scissor

sitting in the floor with a tambourine

crushing up a bundle of love

don’t take it so personally

you’re not the only one

that time has got it in for honey

that’s where you’re wrong

Alex’s voice faded out as you began to lose consciousness, the last thing you remember hearing was his final “oooh”s after the chorus, and then him kissing your bump once again before getting up and kissing your forehead. You mumbled an “I love you” to your husband as he laid down beside you and wrapped his arms around you, so your head was in his chest. He then tangled his legs in yours before letting out a deep sigh and shutting his eyes.

“I love you too.”

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys #tlsp #alex turner fanfiction #am #the last shadow puppets

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moonchildsaurora · 4 years

Text

Before the sun is rising up

✤ knight!Jongho x knight!reader ✤ genre: royal AU // angst, fluff (if you squint) ✤ t/w: sfw, non-descriptive battle fight, sad reacts only, rated PG ✤ count: 1.6k ✤ [ part 1 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - o m f g it’s finally done. . .well overdue one shot for our precious maknae & the 1st of 8 parts for my new miniseries! Here I was thinking that it’ll be a more condensed piece, but yet again my mind decided to be loud. Perhaps I’ll be able to reign it in a bit more with the others (who am I kidding really tho). I hope I wrote well enough for Jongho’s character, even though it still feels slightly rushed. Thanks to @a-tiny-8iny for insightful convos which gave me the idea of considering the focus around platonic bonds too (which honestly gave me a plotline I was much happier with)! Also @hereisleo @monbae @s1ardusk @barsformars I remember yelling bout this series idea to you guys ages ago and here we are 💙

It was rare for a champion knight to be able to bask in serenity, especially on the eve of the final battle. The kingdoms of Rivaria and Nethilor have long been at war with one another, what once was a united empire now torn apart from betrayal and greed. There simply wasn’t room for two powers to rule, and so by the time the sun rises tomorrow, only one will be left standing triumphantly. How twisted fate must be, to have childhood friends who had endlessly supported one another since their gruelling training days when they were mere squires only to end up serving royalties of opposite sides.

The cooling night breeze played around with your hair as your legs dangled freely over the cliff’s edge where you sat waiting patiently for him. You leaned back on your arms, hands gently curling into the slightly damp but still soft grass and face tilted up towards the star-lit skies. The moon was out in full tonight, somehow knowing it may be the very last time it could greet you.

Your ears managed to pick up the familiar sound of steady footsteps from behind, without turning around and a grin already forming on your lips.

“And here I thought you’d best me in arriving first for once, Sir Choi” you said, trying to hold back a chuckle.

The sound of metal clinking against another indicated that he had let his sword, Shadowmist, rest against the tree next to your Windsong. Forged by the same swordsmith, intended to be wield together as a complementary pair.

“My deepest apologies, had to use the good ol’ distraction to sneak past the night guards of my own camp.”

“How rebellious of you.”

Jongho gave a playful shove to your shoulder as he sat down next to you, an immediate comforting warmth radiated off him. You noticed that he was in his casual tunic, the soft linen matching your own one. It’s almost a foreign sight to you considering how used you are seeing one another in the heavy metal of armour rather than something more care-free.

Just as you were about to ask how long he had before his troops would start noticing their own commander’s absence, a bundle was unceremoniously dropped on your lap.

“And pray tell, what is this?”

Your fingers fiddled with the thin leather cord that wrapped around the cloth, managing to unwrap the cover and your eyes crinkled with glee immediately upon seeing the contents inside.

“I made my squire swear not to tell the others that I was stealing extras for my supposed woodland friends,” a dramatic sigh escaped Jongho.

That caused you to burst out laughing, “You mean to say that the great leader of the Nethilorian army secretly befriends little creatures?”

“I always did say that your resemblance to that of a raccoon is uncanny.”

Now it was your turn to shove him, though you had to admit that his cover-up reasons were ridiculously endearing. “I wonder how your squire puts up with you at times, must be confusing for the poor lad.”

“What will it take for you to express your gratitude without mocking my pride?”

“Fortunately for you, I may be more inclined to accept certain incentives at times…” and picking up a Goldhorn biscuit, you held it towards Jongho, “Truce?”

Instead of taking the biscuit with his fingers he proceeded to bite down lightly, stealing it right out of your hold.

“You fiend!”

“Now we can have a truce.”

You purposely wiped your fingers on his tunic, earning a protest from him before tasting one of the sweet treats for yourself. These were the biscuits that you and Jongho used to eat regularly as children, the same honeyed taste bringing back fond memories. A fleeting image of your parents and home came to mind, the echoes of childish laughter and, “Watch where you’re running you two little rascals!”

“Remember that time you chased me with your mother’s rolling pin and it got us in so much trouble?”

You turned to look at Jongho, still to this day you haven’t quite figured out how he always seem to be on the same wavelength as you. Another biscuit was popped into your mouth before you replied, “Only because you not so accidentally spilled the rest of my potato stew.” That particular memory managed to coax a smile out of you, silently apologising to your parents for being the cause of their grey hairs.

A comfortable silence settled, the little fireflies were coming out to dance and the night breeze was still calm as before. From where the both of you sat on the cliff, the view of the valley was magnificent. It was a pleasant surprise that you discovered this hidden spot during the training camp and it became yours and Jongho’s meeting place ever since.

“I’m going to miss this.”

You could feel your heart clenching at his words, knowing full well what he meant. Setting the food down, you shuffled around a bit so you could retrieve something from your pocket. Dangling the two silver chains right in front of Jongho seem to break him out of whatever nostalgia trance he was in.

He blinked owlishly at the pendants, each holding an athesotile gem. You gave his one over and Jongho observed the iridescent glow it had under the moonlight.

“You sure know how to make a man feel special,” said Jongho as he teasingly held a hand over his heart .

“Had it been a confession token, sure. Unfortunately for you it’s only a lucky charm.”

“Trust you to still believe in that old tale,” he chuckled as he looped the pendant around his neck. This particular gem was sought after in the past for supposedly bringing great luck or so it has been old across generations by your elders. You had found these pendants as you were passing through the major town of Millbelle after a successful patrol.

“I’d trust in anything that will bring us hope at this point.”

The breeze picked up a little bit, rustling the trees around as if it became restless at your words. You really hadn’t mean to dampen the mood but reality was starting to sink heavily on your entire being. Anger and fear both seeped in, for being placed in such a predicament – you didn’t even get to bid your family a proper farewell with how fast war was declared. Your hands gripped the pendant tightly as you forced the choked sobs back down, though the corners of your eyes had tears already gathering.

“I’m terrified Jongho. I don’t want either of us to –“

“Hey now, are you forgetting something?” Even if he holds his gaze so strongly, you could still feel the slight trembles in his hands that interlocked with yours as he spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“You remember when I said I’ll be with you till the end?” His thumb caught a stray tear and wiped it gently from your face, “I intend to follow that through.”

A million and one thoughts ran through your head as you looked at him, endlessly thanking the gods above for blessing you with Choi Jongho. Though death lingered over yourselves, knowing that you wouldn’t have to face it alone eased your soul that little bit more.

With a wet laugh you leaned into his touch, “I won’t hold back if you don’t either.”

Jongho stood up from his previous seating spot, pulling you up with him. You watched as he made his way over to the swords and retrieved them both, quickly using the sleeves of your tunic to dry your eyes before Jongho held Windsong out towards you for the taking.

Tilting your head to the side with a silent question that you only got an answer to after Jongho unsheathed Shadowmist. He directed the blade to be pointing at you, no hostility behind the action, just a determined glint in his dark eyes and a solemn nod of his head.

With the moon as a witness, a final oath was made by the crossing of swords.

The thundering of hooves and roars of the cavalries were enough to shake the land, as the Rivarians fearlessly gave their war cry. The grip on your mount’s reins was painfully tight as you stood observing the enemy ranks across the battle field. Dawn was upon you, the rosy hues of red and orange matched the accents on your silver suit of armour. It was a harsh contrast to the striking black and gold that the Nethilorian army wore.

Another war horn sounded, this time from the other side and your jaw clenched with tension as you watched Jongho lead the charge down the hill.

“Leave the Commander to me, cover the flanks and keep your formations in order,” your voice resonated with finality as you addressed your elite guards.

“Archers! At the ready!”

A wave of a flag with a griffin, your kingdom’s emblem, embroidered on it signalled a rain of arrows to be let loose. You couldn’t tell how long you held your breath for as you watch the arrows land around Jongho’s charging form, his soldiers bringing up their sturdy shields as protection. Relief ran through you as the arrows took out the slower foot soldiers around him instead.

Shadowmist was raised high and proud, equally deafening war cries echoed in multitude getting closer and closer to your side. You drew out Windsong and walked your mount towards the front lines.

“We ride…for honour,” the visor of your helmet was flipped down, “…for the safety of our people….for our lives.” You kicked your mount into a gallop with your riders following your lead, raising their spears and swords.

“FOR RIVARIA!”

Ironically everything seemed to slow down as you faced head on towards Jongho. Even the noise have become muffled, all you could focus on was your breathing within the helmet. Your eyes never wavered from his figure and when his mount stormed faster ahead of the rest, you matched his change in pace as well.

“To thee I swear this oath, only by your blade will…”

As the first ray of light pierced over the horizon, the waking sun was greeted with the resounding clash of two blades; and the mourning for two loyal hearts.

“…we meet once again at the elysian fields, my dearest friend.”

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 38 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 37 here. Part 39 here.

Summary: Dangerops! Will it hurt baby top of his head???

Words: 5300

Warnings: I googled it and it's possible leave me alone

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Watch me as I slowly descend into madnesssss come with me to helllll!

Hi, thanks everyone for your kind words last week, it means a lot. I feel very lucky and grateful to have support and love. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you are still enjoying the story. We only have a few left to go! I'm very excited to pull everything together, I hope I do it in a satisfying way.

I love y'all very much. There will likely be no chapter for the next week or two. Please forgive me, but I promise I won't be gone long. Stay safe. <3

Seconds ticked by. Despite the rapid beat of your pulse, you didn’t move.

You were petrified, stone in your bed, as your brain attempted to birth the words on your tongue, the words you knew you’d have to say, the words that would change your life forever. To say them to Johana, an invested second-party, was one thing. To say them to the father of your child, your Commander, your owner, your lover--that was something else, entirely. And if you had known he would have returned the day you’d told her, you would have waited. But it was too late for that, now.

Sighing, you stared at your belly. It was too late for a lot of things.

The familiar, powerful stride of Kylo Ren resonated through the hardwood, each step gripping the chambers of your heart, binding tighter as he drew closer. Your mouth was a tundra, frozen and dry, your throat knotted with one thousand thick fears. Another step, and another--your fingers dug into the sheets--another step, and one more--you focused on the ceiling, hoping he wouldn’t see you quaking from the threshold.

The door opened, and there stood your Commander, his broad shoulders flooding the frame, dressed entirely in black--a fitted, tactical jacket, a matching outfit that covered up to his neck, his leather gloves, and knee-high boots. His hair was mussed, wild with sweat, framing his face in a raven storm, and when he gazed at you, sparks of excitement snapped within his eyes. You went to swallow those thousand fears, and they lodged in your larynx, halting any sounds that could have hoped to form. He was a meal you’d been starved of for weeks--you wanted him to fill you, stuff you until hunger was only a memory.

“You’re here,” he said plainly, as if he hadn’t expected to find his slave in the home he owned.

You nodded. Despite it all, his presence let you breathe for the first time in days. None of the words you wanted to say seemed right. “You’re back.”

“A short detour,” he replied. “The Knights and I are headed to finish what we started.”

Blushing, you bit your lip to hide the smile that began to form. You couldn’t remember ever aching to be in someone’s arms. “You wanted to see me.”

His focus traveled over your body, shoulders falling. “You’re safe.” The knot in his throat bobbed, and he met your eyes again. “I’ll be departing shortly.”

“Oh.” You needed to tell him. He needed to know from you before anyone else that you were pregnant. With his child. Chin quivering, you steadied your breath. “I’m… I…” As you stared into him, you met a void. It stole every ember of courage you had. So you told another truth instead. “I really… I really missed you.”

Kylo blinked, head tilting. A muscle in his jaw tensed, and his focus drifted to the floor, shoulders crowding as he drew in air through his nose. He glanced at you, lips parting--and he wet them. “Yes.” Something flashed over his gaze. “Come.”

A distant tingle at the back of your neck. He turned into the hall, and you followed.

Trailing behind him, you cursed yourself. Two words--there were only two words that you needed to say, yet it seemed impossible to get them into the world, the mere notion nauseating. Kylo’s position had the capability to decimate you and your dreams for this child--to think of growing, nurturing, and bearing it for him to raise with another woman was horrifying. And perhaps even more horrifying was the possibility that he’d reject that future with just as much vehemence as you.

On its surface, it seemed ideal--an actualization of what you desperately wanted. But between you and your Commander, a baby became an ultimatum, a jagged iron ball in your chest. He would have to choose between you and Gilead, choose to free you or possess you, and in turn force your own hand with the Resistance. You did not want him to make you make that decision--you wanted this unborn child to one day know its father. And you wanted that knowledge to be more than a photograph in a textbook. More than seeing his name headlined in the news.

Through the halls and up the stairs, not a soul stirred. Johana had departed before he’d even arrived. It was difficult not to watch him move; even in his stride he was commanding, seemingly dictating to the air how much oxygen it could hold. And if that truly wasbwhat he was doing, it was working--your lungs grew hungrier with every step. His boots creaked the floorboards, naming your fear in rhythm, and when you reached the entrance to his room, you followed him in.

The door shut behind you, and Kylo moved past you, shrugging off his coat and stowing it on a hook. He turned, drinking you in, need pouring into his eyes.

“Your dress,” he said. “I don’t want you in it.”

Heat rushed your thighs. “There was nothing else for me to wear.”

He sniffed. “I know,” he said. “But now you’re with me.” A slight shift in his feet, his gaze raking over you. “Take it off.”

A shiver skittered up your spine, and you looked to your right, a dark oak cheval mirror framing your reflection. You imagined your stomach big and wide in front of you, red dress billowing with your burgeoning belly. Who knew how long he might be gone after this? Perhaps this would be the last time he’d see your body as he’d known it, before it morphed to a mother’s image. A shallow, self-conscious part of you bit its nails, forgetting the question of your future entirely, more concerned about how he’d perceive your changing figure. You shook the anxiety away--you could do it. You could tell him.

Kylo stepped closer. “Don’t make me wait.”

Your mouth dried, brain screeching to speak, to let it go, to just say it, say the words--

Another step. “You said you missed me.”

--just say the fucking words just tell him--

He stepped again, closer still. “Show me.”

--just fucking tell him that--

“Little bird--”

“I’m pregnant!”

Kylo stopped, paralyzed in place. You searched his expression, seeking anything that could be confused for comfort, finding nothing in the vacancy of his face--he only stared, a statue, not even bothering to breathe. Heart thumping in your ears, you shrugged, gesturing to yourself in resignation.

“I am,” you said. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence lingered, a suffocating unknown. Kylo’s jaw clenched--yet he still said nothing, still refused to move, still denied you the relief of his response. Holding a sigh, you folded your arms over your chest, meeting his unyielding eyes.

“Well.” You shrugged again. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

He blinked, and his fists furled, gaze roaming your body in something you could have sworn was divination. Air fled him. He swallowed.

“What, um…” You chewed your cheek. You wanted to explode. “What do you think?”

A long pause. He continued to scrutinize you. “I think…” He approached, peeling off his gloves, a malicious delight darkening his face. “You’re finally mine.”

You choked. His meant so many things, a word in purgatory, its intention tugged taut between the ether of heaven and hell. And it was true: you were his, wanted to be his in nearly every aspect of your existence except for the most meaningful and precious part, a part you hadn’t surrendered, your only source of sanity within the typhoon of your mutual obsession. He didn’t have your mind, yet, had not broken your will. A tiny, shrinking hope believed he no longer wanted to--but that same hope knew that at any moment, it could be dashed.

“But what’s…” Your lips trembled. “What’s going to happen, then?”

Kylo crowded you, stalked behind you to tower over you; he pinched your cheeks in his long fingers, forcing you to meet his glittering eyes in the mirror. You shuddered, stepping back to feel more of his solid figure. His enormity dizzied you, weakened your knees--against this howitzer of a human, you were a red and white shell, prepared especially for him to use up and spit out.

“Mm.” He reached down, still gripping your chin, and gathered your dress in his fist, exposing your calves, your knees, your thighs, until he’d revealed your underwear. Lingering for a moment, he hiked the whole skirt to your waist. “Hold it.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed.

“What’s going to happen.” A warm, smooth hand coasted over the curve of your hip, across the expanse of your naked thigh. “Your hips will get wider.” He squeezed the flesh, kneading it in his palm. “Thicker.” The word was molasses on his tongue. Leaning closer, he pressed his mouth to your throat--you whimpered, cunt clenching. He slipped between your legs for only a moment, choosing instead to graze your abdomen.

In anticipation, you lifted your skirt to your ribs. This hadn’t been what you’d meant. But

Kylo Ren’s power crackled from him like crimson lightning, a dragon strength that had been unchained now for weeks. It intoxicated you, fuzzied your brain with a creeping desire so terrible you wished for a muzzle. Unfortunately, you were without one. And it was consuming you.

“Your belly will grow with my child.” He caressed your stomach, reveling as it tensed under his touch. His gaze never wavered from yours, drilling you in your reflection as he rubbed you. “So round and swollen.” Soft lips skimmed your pulse, mouthing the quickening beat of your heart--a sharp, rough movement, and your dress was gone, the effort tossing your bonnet aside with it.

Yes, any discussion you might have been willing to have was certainly tabled, now. Eighteen days without his touch had left you raw, and your skin sparkled with it, a craving chorus in your cells. In this moment, fuck what being his meant--you wanted it. You’d be pregnant for 8 more months, anyway. For now, you’d drown in the delicious, vulgar words leaving your Commander’s mouth.

“And your breasts.” He snatched your jaw again, humming into your ear while he squeezed one in his big hand, thumb brushing your stiffening nipple, pleasure echoing in your pussy. His stare was ravenous, flaying you with hungry claws. “They’ll be full and tight and heavy…”

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, reaching to dig into his legs. Kylo stilled you, tugging you to his lips, rolling and pressing your tit. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you groaned, catching the mirror from the corner of your vision--in your black bear’s embrace, you were his half-shucked supper, begging in silence to be devoured.

Kylo nipped your lower lip, pinching tighter to your chin, and you whined, jerking his pelvis into you, tongue fighting with his own. His kiss was hot, needy, selfish, his mouth working yours while he rocked his arousal along your backside. A strong hand pushed and kneaded your breast, twisting and pulling the bud; you gasped in pleasure, broke the kiss--and felt something wet seep over your skin.

The sensation nearly strangled you, and you stumbled back to his chest, meeting his gaze in the mirror, your eyes wide with shock. Beneath his lower lid, a muscle fluttered. He crushed your tit, earning another tingle in your nerves, another unmistakable damp blot in your bra. You squirmed in his hold, face hot with humiliation, chin quaking as the realization washed over you both.

Growling, Kylo tore the garment from your shoulders, popping the hooks at your back apart, and following that, he yanked your underwear to your ankles, tossing them with your boots before wrapping you back in his arms. He nuzzled into your neck as he watched you in the mirror, basking in the sight of your naked flesh before pinning you across the waist with his forearm, free hand cupping your tit, rolling and kneading it again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening; at only 6 or 7 weeks along, you knew enough to know it was rare that you’d be producing at all. But what was more unbelievable was how deeply it excited Kylo--his eyes dark, his grip possessive--and in turn, how deeply it excited you. His thick fingers tweaked your tender nipple, his breath catching as thin, white fluid trickled from the tip and over his knuckles--you writhed, tides of heat crashing over your skin.

“Stop.” He bit your neck in warning, licking his lips and squeezing more warm milk from your breast, mesmerized by the little forming creeks. The sight was tantalizingly lewd, inspiring fire between your thighs, making your cunt ache for friction. He sneered. “You like this, hm?”

Goosebumps covered half of your body by now. Why lie? “Yes,” you admitted, cheeks burning.

“Filthy thing.” He trapped you in his gaze, the hand at your breast skimming over your stomach, dipping into your slit, teasing your clit, sending ripples of bliss through your thighs. “Getting wet from me playing with your tits like this.” He stroked the now stiff, swollen bud, clear drops beading. “Is this how the mother of my child should behave?”

You shuddered. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize, little whore.” Kylo snickered, collecting a thumbful, and shoved it into your mouth. “Do your job and suck.”

Groaning, you sealed your lips and swirled your tongue around his digit, lids fluttering with the taste of sour-sweet fluid, blood swimming with perverted exhilaration. He continued to stare into you, now working your other breast, his pelvis still rocking, his chest heaving at your back. You bucked against him, a famished animal, grateful for the iron of his erection along your ass as your clit twitched--you weren’t sure how much longer you could go without attending to it. Purring, Kylo removed his thumb from your mouth and wet his hand in the milk that had spilled over your stomach, painting you with it before pushing his own fingers between his teeth and suckling them clean. A moan escaped him, and you echoed him, the sheer deviancy wringing you of sanity, and with that same hand, he seized your chin and pulled you into a rough, desperate kiss.

As he kissed you, he sank to his knees, taking you with him--he had you bound, groping at your sore breast, your mouth stuck to his, your hands still holding his hips. He growled, bit your lip again before smothering the column of your throat with kisses, pulling away to see more milk drip through his digits and over your belly. You shivered, and his back crested with desire; he released your breast, still holding your neck as he unbuckled his belt and freed his cock.

The heavy, thick length slid between your spread thighs, slicking itself on your throbbing cunt--you gasped, melting into him, dragging your folds along his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Kylo sneered again, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

“Stroke me, slut,” he muttered at your skin. “Make me feel good.”

Your core ached, and with a trembling hand, you gripped him, watching his gaze darken as you glided your comparably small fist up and down his dick, clenching when it twitched in your palm.

He hummed in approval. “Good girl...”

Kylo continued to nip and suck at your shoulder while you jerked him, stare unfaltering, still massaging milk from your tit, soaking his fingers in fluid. His cock was so smooth, so hard, you wanted, needed it inside of you--you chewed your lip, trying to wiggle yourself flush with his frame. Grunting, he crushed you in his hold, and you squeaked in assent; when he resumed nibbling your throat, you passed your thumb over the head of his dick, coating the shaft with precum, stroking him faster.

“That’s right.” He was thrusting into your hand, teeth cutting welts across your neck. “Look at you. Dirty little bitch.” Smirking, he dropped your breast, licking your milk from his fingers before shoving them in your mouth, forcing a moan. “It’s been almost three weeks.” He reached the back of your tongue, and you gagged. “Do you think my cock will still fit in that little pussy?” Kylo left a long, lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, spearing you with his gaze. “Is it going to hurt when I fuck you open?”

You swallowed and nodded, clenching around the very obvious nothing inside of you, tightening your grip on his hot, throbbing length.

“Good.” He bit your jawline, now. “It should hurt.” A sharp jerk into you, and you groaned onto his fingers, drool streaming down your chin. “Your cunt should only stretch for me.”

Lust clouded your brain; any thought outside of the demand for Kylo Ren’s dick ramming deep into your pussy had long dissipated into the air. This was salacious, disgusting, thrilling, your body completely in his service, about to be filled with both his child and his cock. Freedom be damned--in this moment, you were a vessel, and you clamored for him to vindicate you, to make your purpose whole.

Swiveling your neck, he kissed you, murmuring against your lips. “You want me?”

You nodded again, whimpering around his hand.

He pulled out of your mouth and dropped your breast, leaning back onto his heels. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Your cunt pulsed with anticipation. Nodding, you eased back, heat at your cheeks as you glimpsed yourself in the mirror attempting to situate yourself over his length. Kylo was stoic, observing you with only a hint of amusement in his eyes, and you took his shaft in your fingers, leading it toward your wet, aching core. Catching his gaze in the mirror, you lowered yourself onto it, seething as it split you inch by inch.

Kylo’s jaw tensed, and he sucked in air through his teeth, fists at his sides while he watched your tight pussy swallow his dick. You fought for air and winced while you eased to the hilt, his girth stretching you, stuffing you with a sting. Panting, you shifted your legs, feeling it full and warm inside your cunt, driving into the pit of your belly. You cinched around him, and he hissed in pleasure, stifling the urge to buck into you.

Locking with his eyes, you rolled your hips with slow, controlled movements, sliding up and down his cock, bracing your thighs. He pulsed at your entrance, spurring you on, letting him bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, Kylo’s cheeks were pink, his lips parted, his chest rising with steadied breath--he was hypnotized by the view of your cunt riding his dick.

“Good girl.” His voice was heavy with desire, and his hands moved to caress your thighs--not in assistance, but in admiration. “That’s it. I know how greedy your pussy is.” He squeezed you, gliding up your sides.

Quaking with hunger, you crept toward your clit, glancing it with a feather-touch--you clamped around him, beaten with bliss. But Kylo batted you away, humming in admonishment.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” He clucked his tongue, and you whined, rocking faster on top of him. “There we go.” Groping your sides, he caught a moan in his throat. “You have me inside of you. A part of me I gave you.” He shifted your legs wider. “You belong to me, now. This cunt.” Calloused fingers skimmed your clit, flicking it, and you squealed, slamming onto him, his dick twitching in delight. “These tits.” His free hand kneaded them, coaxing drops of milk onto his palm. “Even this nasty little mouth is mine.” Kylo snagged your chin, crushing your lips with his.

His tongue wrestled with yours while you undulated your hips, leaning into him until you were seated on his lap, pace quickening. Drawing in air through his nose, he traced circles around your clit, and you wailed into him, the stimulation tightening your pussy, soaking your walls. You bounced on him, kissing him in heated fervor, your bodies rocking in time as you chased his soft lips.

Kylo broke away, heaving, and whipped your head toward the mirror. His eyes were wild ebony, his hips canting with yours--and you could see it, see the root of his throbbing cock as it drove into you, see the slick coat of your juices along his shaft, see him rubbing your stiff nub. The obscenity of it shook you, and you gasped, climax building between your thighs.

“Little slut,” he purred. “You love watching yourself get fucked.” Faster friction on your clit, pleasure rushing you, and you groaned, unable to tear your gaze from the sight of him sinking over and over into your pussy. ”You’re going to cum for me, hm? I can feel it.” A jolt of his hips, shoving the breath from your lungs, and he swirled your nub, panting into your ear. “Cum on it, bitch,” he muttered. “Show me how you cum on my cock.”

Rapture ripped through you, and you quailed, attention glued to your pussy, watching it throb and clench and squeeze his shaft with every wave of ecstasy--and Kylo saw too, grunting behind you as you rode the rest of your orgasm, dick twitching with an urgent need to pour his seed inside of you.

“Fuck.”

He tossed you to your hands and knees, ignoring your wobble for stability in the aftershocks of your climax. Your head spun--you’d barely said a word since he’d started fucking you out of pure bewilderment. Between your tits leaking milk, the performance in the mirror, and the pure passion that had enthralled your Commander, speech had become useless. All you needed was his touch, his voice, his presence, and all you needed from them was their promise of oblivion.

You looked to the mirror--behind you, Kylo Ren was starved, his mouth dropped in anticipation while he lined up his cock with your dripping core. Strong hand burying bruises to your hip, he snarled and slammed deep; you sobbed in bliss, locking your elbows, and he grappled your hips, holding you tight and pounding your cunt.

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Kylo growled, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps--you were captivated, flames flickering in your belly, stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge--you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself, his hair tumbling onto his face as he plowed you again and again, piercing your cervix, relishing in his domination of your body.

He met your gaze, huffing in satisfaction. “It’s going to get worse,” he said. “You’ll be desperate for my cock.” A shift, and he yanked your ass into the air, pumping faster, intensity shaking your frame. “You’ll be begging for it the second you wake up.” He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. “I’ll have to tie you to my bed.”

“Kylo...”

“You wanted this,” he said, “you wanted to have something inside of you that’s mine.”

“Yes,” you said, because despite your fears, it was your deepest, most shameful wish come true, “yes, I wanted this, wanted it with you--”

“Fuck!” Scowling, he spat a fat glob onto the mirror right in front of your face. “Lick it up.”

You whimpered, the sound stuttered from the violent pace of his cock. “Kylo--”

He spanked you, and you cried out, his other hand jerking your scalp. “Lick it up if you want to cum again.”

You leaned forward, pressing your tongue to the glass, groaning with embarrassment and gathering his spit on your tongue. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide--you could hardly focus on the motion of your mouth as you cleaned his saliva from the mirror and swallowed it. Wincing, you collapsed into your folded forearms, shuddering with every painful thrust.

Kylo pulled out, and you almost howled in protest, but he was quick, flipping you to your back and angling the mirror to reflect your sweating, fucked-out face. He grabbed your legs and spread them, strangling a moan as he hooked your hips and drove back in. Keeping his pace, he wrecked your cunt, grip threatening to crack your pelvis, face contorted in a focused fury, black locks now strewn over his forehead and sticking to his reddened cheeks. His primal gaze ravaged you, wandering your body before stopping at your jiggling chest.

“Look at that,” he growled through his teeth. “How your tits bounce.” He wet his lips. “How full they’re going to be for me.” Inching forward, he hiked your ankles onto his shoulders. “Play with them.”

You grabbed your breasts, the flesh soft and pliant in your palm, and kneaded them, biting your lip, wanting to drive him over the edge. It worked, you thought; he bent closer, a voracious brute, pummelling your pussy, pushing deeper than you considered possible, wracking you numb. And as he did, your display squeezed fluid from your nipples, inches from his mouth--he groaned, loud, shameless, and latched onto your tit.

His lids shut in utter elation as he sucked you, liquid leaking from his lips, and he fucked you fast, chasing his orgasm, moaning into your chest. You wove a hand through his hair, scraping his scalp, the other still working your breast, lost in the sensation of Kylo suckling it. Somehow, in the wildfire of absolute depravity within his bedroom, he remembered what you’d earned--fingers fell to your clit, teasing and stroking it, and you choked.

It descended upon you--the promise of oblivion--as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, shaking with the pistoning of Kylo’s hips. And Kylo--frizzed waves spilled over your throat, his head burrowed in your breast while he nipped, sucked, sated himself on your tits. There you both were, a diamond fragment of unacknowledged utopia; a deceptive mirage, fated to fade in a sudden cold splash.

But you were in utopia, right now--and you disintegrated inside it, crying your Commander’s name, spasming as euphoria eroded your mind. You convulsed, climax pulled like buried thread from your skin, slitting you open and bleeding you of bliss. Kylo hummed into your breast, and then shoved back, pulling from your still-pulsing pussy, panting and fucking his fist.

“Fuck,” he said, straddling your waist. “Fu--fuck!”

Jets of hot, white cum splattered across your tits, arcing over the supple swells, decorating you in debauchery. He heaved, stroking his cock as it dribbled his release, lungs pulling in long, slow breaths, the both of you descending. You gazed up at him, ribs rattling as you floated in air, and Kylo smirked, two fingers scooping up his seed and your milk--he wrapped his lips around them, cleaning them with his tongue. When he was finished, he took that same hand, pried your jaw open, and spit the mixture into your mouth.

Writhing, you gagged, but he snapped your teeth together, lip twitching cruelly.

“Swallow it,” he said. “Swallow it all.”

The concoction was thick and slimy and bitter--your eyes watered when you gulped it down, feeling it slither down your throat.

Kylo was fascinated. “Mm. Prove it.”

You stuck your empty tongue over your teeth, humiliation singing your skin.

He grunted in praise. “Good,” he said, patting your cheek. “Good girl.”

A silent moment passed, and a sigh escaped him. He rose to his feet, crossing to the bathroom, leaving you splayed over the hardwood, smothered in sweat and semen. Beyond the threshold, you heard running water, squeaking of knobs--and then Kylo returned, pieced back to modesty, a black towel in his hand. You pulled your lips in over your teeth, snuffing the flicker of affection in your ribcage.

Face blank, he wiped you off, tending to you as if you were a window or tabletop, and not the mother of his child, not the woman he’d cuddled and caressed and kissed. Once finished, he met your eyes, blinked, and stood, tossing the towel into the clothes basket.

In the hall, the thumping of heavy boots--your heart raced, and you glanced at your Commander, who seemed unconcerned. A fist or mallet or something else hefty hammered the door, shaking it in its frame.

“Intel that Pryde’s camp is moving tonight.” It was a Knight. “We need to leave now, sir.”

Kylo huffed. “Fine.” The boots exited the hall, and he looked to you. “Get dressed. You’re coming.”

You blinked, sitting up on your elbows. “What?” you asked. “Why?”

His jaw stiffened. “Your condition.” He looked to the floor and found his gloves, tugging them on. “Your safety is only guaranteed in my presence.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t decide if you were overjoyed or terrified. You gestured toward your dress. “Should I…”

“No.” He moved toward the door and grabbed his jacket. “Find a robe. Be ready when I return.”

He slipped into the hall, and you sighed, shaking your head. There was still a conversation you had yet to have, one that you now dreaded even more than before. The return of your sanity post-fuck brought with it the return of your doubts, the return of your fears. Standing, you pulled on your underwear, shoving your tender tits back into your bra.

You knew Kylo had once sought to own you in totality, and you also knew now he saw you as human, that he had rejected your personal enslavement. But it hadn’t freed you from his desire to cage you within his world, to keep you in compulsory companionship, or to convince you of his philosophy. He still saw himself--and you--entangled in the talons of destiny, manacled to misery, an inevitable, fatal conclusion. What he believed your destiny, your role to truly be, you didn’t know--but you assumed he wanted to shackle you to it, whether you agreed or not.

The robe you’d worn after Johana had stitched you still hung on the bathroom door. You draped it over you and tied it tight, the hem kissing the floor even after you put on your boots. Gazing into the mirror, you saw a woman adorned with all of the trappings of domesticity, but denied its security, refused its warmth. No matter the intimacy you craved from your Commander, you could not exist as a family in the boundaries of Gilead. His child could not be born into its father’s hopeless home.

Kylo Ren would admit the existence of choice, he would cede it to you. Or you would take it, and abandon him to his despair.

The door opened. In the threshold loomed a black reaper, a spectre of nightmares, a masked monster. Your Commander, suited with his helmet, strapped with a rifle, stared you down from behind his visor.

“Come.” The distortion of his voice iced your chest. “We’re leaving.”

He turned, deserting you in his room. Panic deafened you, screamed in your ears, but despite it all, you followed. You didn’t know where you’d be going. But you suspected that once you arrived, there’d be no turning back.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #IM VALID

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floraone · 3 years

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2020 Fanfic Year In Review

So, as is tradition now, I’m bringing @irritablevowel ’s fanfic review back and maybe you guys want to join me!

1. List of fics completed this year:

Completed Stand-alone Fics: 9 (Same number as last year woot!)

The Unintentional Seduction of Chiba Mamoru Confession Deception Valse Triste Memories Saudade Blind Excuse Me, Ami Wrote WHAT?! The Chances We Don't Take

And usually I don't list the short stories from my running series(es?), but… I figure since I NEVER will mark those as completed, I'll stop not counting them lol?

So, in addition, I wrote the following shorts (9 as well!):

Crying in Purgatory Mamoru in Drag in my Miscellaneous Stories And They Were Zoommates in my Miscellaneous Stories His Bunny Mug in my Miscellaneous Stories Mamoru, My Girlfriend in the Lemon Tree Series Playing Outside in the Lemon Tree Series Oh Crap There's Doujins of Us in the Lemon Tree Series Pretending in Purgatory The Kings New Clothes in my Miscellaneous Stories

2. Number of words written:

234.290 words this year. In 41 chapters and 12 stories.

That’s almost as much as last year even though I expected to barely hit 20k words with the busy year that was predicted for me in January - and well, then I had a lot of free time at home that I did not expect to have. Let's see if NEXT year will be the 20k year lol?

Anyway, this is a lot more than I thought it was. A LOT MORE. It felt like way less!

3. Your most popular fic this year:

The Unintentional Seduction of Chiba Mamoru (by FAR, both by favs and reviews and kudos and hits)

Runner-Up: Deception

4. Your personal favourite this year:

For the first time ever, the most popular is my favorite, too. Seduction has my heart (Especially Chapter 3: Research. Obviously.) Runner-Up for me is Blind, though. Simply because that was such a personal fic!

5. Your favourite scene:

Hands down, Mamoru researching How To Do The Sex in Seduction. That was the most fun I ever had writing a scene, let alone a chapter.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

Mamoru, My Girlfriend. Because I wanted to do well not only by gender-bend tropes, but especially by anyone who ever felt they were in the wrong body befitting their own gender identity.

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

I'm pretty proud of Valse Triste. Both because SilMil is not where my talents lie, and also because I got to subvert the Casanova-Prince trope and turn it on ist head, make him the Protected Maiden instead while keeping his character completely intact.

Anyway, that was hard, and because of that, I'm fond of this scene:

She didn't bat an eyelash at the ruckus outside, at the - to her - so foreign, bellowed words. Instead, her eyes were wide and calm and waiting and jumping between both of his, as if she were trying to look through him, as if she was searching for something, and he held his breath in careful, terrified anticipation until she found it.

The bark of the dogs rang off the palace walls, closer, and Endymion held his breath as the Moon Princess slowly stroked her fingers down his jaw, his neck, and dipped into his collarbone.

Every tendon in his neck was pulsing, his breath a heaving mess, his heart hammering in his chest, and he stood as still, still, still as he could.

But he couldn't keep the shiver in. When she ran a finger down the part in his tunic, the laces splitting open at her pull on them, her cool fingers against his burning chest.

His skin - his whole body - broke out in goosebumps where her fingernails brushed untouched skin.

"And?" she whispered to his lips, moved up onto her tiptoes. "Do you want to stay untouched?"

"No," he croaked, breaking and hushed in the dim, dim light. "No, I do not."

8. A comment that touched you:

This is ALWAYS THE HARDEST QUESTION FOR ME, EVERY YEAR. WHY MUST I CHOSE AMONG GOLD.

Anyway. I'm lucky in the review realms. I really, really am. So choosing is hard. @daikon1 wrote me a 20k+ character review the other day I wept on. So that one is up there. I also randomly screenshot reviews that made me happy though, so here, have a random sample of reviews I screenshotted from my phone gallery (i loves them):

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

This year it's all about the fandom friends. Talking to you guys has been a HUGE driver of my (struggling) pandemic-creativity. Also brought out things like spontaneous collaborations like the one with @nari20 where The King's New Clothes jumped out of!

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

Honestly? This year? Writing at ALL. I'm an extrovert soul who thrives on crowds and people and while I am ABSOLUTELY in 100% support of social distancing and do it very diligently, I SUFFER AND MY CREATIVITY SUFFERS WITH IT. So, yes, I am proud to have made words go at all this year, ngl!

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I really do want to write that smutty Evil!Endymion fic I've been talking about… And a Snow White AU or two I've had in my drafts for almost a year now!

Anyway, yes, this year was HARD but MAN did this community here keep me afloat and I am SO. FUCKING. HAPPY. To have you! So yeah, thank you for being here with me! For interacting with me, be it through tumblr, through chats, through reviews, through my ask box. You were a WHOLE DAMN LOT of my much needed social life this year!So, thanks for being here with me!

Also, PLEASE consider yourselves tagged! All of you who want to!!! Please!

Self-love is precious and needed and I wanna see your recap posts as well! So, getting this started, I'm tagging you 5: @daikon1 , @idesofnovember, @tinysagi, @allyunabridged, @ninjettetwitch - go forth and write me recaps and tag others!

Mwah! 💋

#fanfic year in review #self-love #fandom love #my fic #my stuff #I WANNA SEE ALL YOUR RECAP POSTS TOO #on reviews

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onlyhereforangst · 3 years

Text

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by @indestinatus 💕

tagging whoever wants to go thru this journey with me & see their accomplishments in this terrible terrible year!

1. List of works published this year:

Oh god there’s a lot, like 70 total in just 2020. I’ll try to categorize them so this doesn’t get too long 😅but here’s a cut for aesthetic on your dash.

Sequels/Partner Fics: Risk It All (for @hellokaelyn), Finally Home (to Come Back), They Always Do & Could She?, Lucky Day & Completely Yours, Fiery Trance (Two Can Play series), Obsessed (Particular Taste), Soul (to Ignited)

Smut: My Turn (sequel to My Pleasure), Worth It, Maybe We Should, Make it a Double (also a fic request), Shall We (AU)

Fic Requests: Coffee Run, Hold Still, Typical, Deal, Needed It, I’m Home, For Science, Cry Me A River, From Your Dreams (AU), Crystal Clear, Tempt Me, Your Fault, Prove It, Silent Proclamation, A Hundred Suns (angst smut), Duly Noted

Stand Alones: No More, Never Let Her Go, Life is Fragile, Pandemics & Peach Drinks, To Need and Be Needed, Never Let Go, Coming Home, Priceless, Behind The Mask, Need a Hand?

Angst: My Daisy, Status Quo, Can I Stay, I Refuse, Deal

Series/Multi-chaptered: Back Off (Better Apart, Missed The Mark, Change Her Mind, But You Do, Layered Love), Electrified (Don’t Stop (Senorita)), Here By Faith, Forgive & Forget, Angstober ‘20 (Never Has & Never Will, Only In My Head, Long, Long Gone, Do Something, Take Care, Waiting to Burn, Survive the Hell, Find Her, Never Ended Well, At All Costs, One Thing Right, Stay Away, Echoed Back, Smart Man, Not Interested, Flake Again, Release, Slipping Away)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Here By Faith mainly because of the topic. Pregnancy & Infant loss has been such a taboo topic for so long and something I have personal experience with so writing this was very therapeutic.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Shall We and only because I truly wanted way more plot in this and it turned out to be essentially just straight smut with a tiny bit of plot. But it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ok I had 70 fics to choose from not breaking down chapters so I’m sure I’m missing something, BUT I do love - omg typing this out I realized it’s from a fic in 2019 so I can’t use iiiiiit 😩 ok so here’s a couple excerpts. I loved typing out this stream of conscious partner fics (They Always Do & Could She?):

They Always Do:

Yet this time, this time she didn’t have the chance to rebuild. Like a Trojan horse, he waltzed right up to her and slowly dismantled her defense. Joke by joke, smirk by smirk—Nick took each brick down with care. The worst part? It was so subtle, so thoughtfully done, she didn’t even notice it was happening. Didn’t see her chest being pried open, beating heart on display for him to see, and take. Never realized her greatest defenses were missing until it was too late.

That love- precious, fragile, delicate love- had managed to grow again. In her desolate, cold heart, Nick managed to bring to life an emotion she had long given up on. An emotion she was too afraid to ever feel again. Because with it came agony.

They leave, and you’re abandoned- picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.

When you love, you lose. Always.

Could She?:

But-

Even if that was love, even if he loved Ellie with his whole heart, his entire being. Was that enough? Was Nick enough? Was he deserving?

A resounding no clanged around his skull like a church bell in a Southern town on Sunday morning. He wanted to silence it, stop the shrill metal sound that started any time he pictured forever. Any time he truly thought he might deserve to love, even after all he’d done. After all the unimaginable things he’d done, the horrors he’d seen, the pain he’d caused. That bell sounded, loud and clear.

How did he deserve love when he couldn’t bear to love himself?

[...]

Could she love him despite all his misgivings? Could she love him even when he didn’t love himself? Could she love him when there was a risk he’d be taken from her too soon?

Could she?

Please love me.

But please be sure.

There’s been a couple of other inner monologues that I have absolutely loved (I like to think it’s semi my speciality? But maybe that’s super arrogant of myself?) but that’s a different post for another time.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I said it recently but I *love* when people pick out specific line(s) from my fic and choose to comment on those. More often than not it’s a line I was so proud of either prose-wise or foreshadowing-wise or whatever and I get literally giddy with excitement that someone not only noticed it but also loved it enough to comment on it 🥰but truly any kind of comment is dopamine-inducing 😉

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

As some people may have noticed (& maybe not because I did still semi-run the other main ellick blog despite it) I was somewhat absent for most of the summer/fall. I struggled for the first time in my life with mental health issues, borderline depression after being in a shit work environment, an essential worker with a company that claimed to “care” about us, a community that I once loved but showed their true colors in the midst of the pandemic & election, add in a rough pregnancy & it was a recipe for disaster. I didn’t want to even move from the couch most days let alone write.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I had a lot of fun writing short excerpts from different characters’ perspectives (Jimmy, Kasie, McGee & Gibbs) in my Angstober series & honestly wouldn’t mind doing that again!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

Honestly not sure, I think I’ve just generally grown as a writer - better descriptions & descriptors, better dialogue, better plots. But that could all be me seeing things 😂

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I’d love to look into writing more seriously. My husband is convinced I could write an episode script or a novel, so I may look into trying my hand at that (even though I feel I’d be god-awful at it 😅)

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Hmmmm I always appreciate the support I’ve gotten from the ellick fandom despite it being rough this year for us, wonderful people like @erinchristmaselvis, @thekeyboardninja, @hellokaelyn & @wanna-be-bold are always there to either hear me vent or cheer me on ☺️

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Haaaaah yes. Lots of it (but I bet you can’t tell because I only add mini snippets so have fun finding those easter eggs 😏)

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Always, always, always write for YOU. Not for anyone else, the kudos, hits, comments, none of it. Write for YOU. And I say this as a reminder to myself as well, it’s so hard to get bogged down in that dopamine-induced craze we search for in recognition but it’s so important to not externally validate yourself rather internally validate yourself on baby steps of growth & accomplishment.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

LOL how about all my WIPs? All of those stories I started forever ago that people call me out on not finishing months later when I swear they’ve forgotten about them 😬

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

Hmmmm lemme pick one from each category because I’m indecisive 😉

Sequel/Partner Fics: Lucky Day & Completely Yours (the aaaaangst)

Smut: a tie between Maybe We Should & Make it a Double

Fic Request: A Hundred Suns (because I love me some angst smut)

Stand Alones: Pandemics & Peach Drinks (hahahaha because this was in an Insider news article at the start of the pandemic hahaha so on brand #2020)

Angst: My Daisy (I looooooove this one, but also all of the angst category lol)

Series/Multi-chaptered: literally not one of these is finished and they’re all heavy angst so take your pick 😂

15. Year word count: 103,050 in 2020 which seems like so little 😅

Here’s to 2021 being the year I finish WIPs! she says knowing she’s lying

#about me #2020 in writing #fuuuuuuun #all the writing all the angst all the smut #what's new though #ellick #ncis

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