#her breath catches?? her effort in drawing the note?? them both BEAMING??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyspaceradio · 3 years

Text

Population: Me + You

Summary: The last thing on Ryders mind was having kids. She didn’t even have a significant other, let alone a romantic interest. However when Tann proposes something to help the colonist with repopulation efforts, asking Ryder to be the forerunner of it, she wasn’t sure how to take it. But now she's got a missing Sage, a grumpy baby daddy, a convention that might change everything, oh and she has to figure out how to tell Evfra he's going to be a father!

Warning: NSFW SMUT

AO3 LINK

Chapter One

“I’m-I’m sorry can you repeat that?” Ryder sat there stunned, eyes unable to focus on the Asari doctor whose name she couldn’t remember.

Stepping closer, the doctor placed their hand on Ryder's shoulder. “You’re pregnant, congratulations.”

Ryder’s head tilted to the side, glazed eyes stared at the asari though she wasn’t exactly seeing her. “I’m...what?” She breathed, mind swirling in chaos not really able to grab on coherent thought. “Pregnant.” The asari spoke slower, softer, there was a frown marring her expression. She probably wondered why the human pathfinder wasn’t jumping for joy.

She’s gotten it wrong. Ryder clings to that thought. Because she couldn’t be pregnant. Not her. Because if she was-

Not possible.

“That's not possible.” Ryder sinks deeper into the bed, the white paper sheet crinkles under her. She takes note that the asari is young, not even having her matriarch marks yet.

“You would think,” The asari beamed. “Andromeda is full of surprises. We’re still looking into what exactly dissolved the blockers. Some think it's a bacteria, but I’ve been looking into those vaults. If they can make planets viable, just imagine what else they can make fertile!” Her excitement starts to dwindle as she studies Ryder’s pale face. “Erm, I’ll go get you a cup of water.”

“I can’t be pregnant.” Ryder slid off the table. Her feet feel light, and head lighter. Something turns in her stomach. “It’s not possible.” “Pathfinder,-” “Your tests are wrong.” She waved a hand. “I can’t be….” She shakes her head. The asari studies her. “If you need proof.” She opens the door to the hallway. “Follow me.”

Ryder stands in the mouth of the doorway, swaying. Her stomach twisted into knots. Lexi would probably say she’s in denial, some psychological trauma from her childhood. But then Lexi wouldn’t be lying to her.

“Come on.” The asari smiles, it seems false, twisted in Ryders opinion. Perhaps this was just another one of Tann’s tricks. He was the reason she was here to begin with.

He had contacted her, pestered and nagged her into this. Coming into the clinic to remove her blockers, to be a leading light for colonists to follow.

“They need comfort to know that it's safe.” Tann folded his spindly fingers, a smile stretched across his leathery skin. “It is your job to lead them down the path of the future.”

The future.

Her eyes dropped to the trashcan by the door, she just might vomit into the bag there.

“Pathfinder?” The asari dipped her head catching Ryders eye.

Lifting her chin she stepped forward into the dim hallways.

----3 weeks earlier-----

The humidity on Aya was a hell of a thing. Paradise that came with a price, already she could feel the droplets of water clinging to her skin. It wasn’t that it was hot, but rather misty. Sighing Ryder ran a hand over her deflated curls and eyed the surrounding Angara celebrating with pride. Their joy, while delightful to watch, gave her a splitting headache and rattled the teeth in her jaw from the burst of concentrated bioelectricity. This was the reason she chose to sit at the bar.

And because Evfra was currently nursing another cup of Taavum looking spiteful.

“Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” Ryder leans against the bar, her tall cup of Taavum, a lovely smelling angara beverage, cupped between her hands. She knows how potent this stuff can be and has no desire to get drunk tonight.

So she tilted her head down, letting the red curls cover her face as she studied the obviously displeased angara general who was hunched over his third glass of Taavum dissuading any of his soldiers from coming up and speaking with him.

“I am.” Short and concise, but his sour face made him look as if he’d been sucking on lemons and not being adored by his people over what they thought was the last Kett ground base on Voeld being defeated.

“Truly?” Ryder slides into the seat beside him, giving Roaan a small wave across the bar. “And is that true joy I hear ringing in your voice?” She puts her elbows on the counter, angling her body to look at him.

“It is...” He pauses looking at her, the dark blue of his iris look darker against the contrast of the white rofjinn wrapped and his broad shoulders. A gift from the initiative, one Evfra hadn’t enjoyed considering the small initiative logo stitched into the corner. He was likely to wear it tonight only for political gain, and destroy the offending material later.

A pity considering how handsome he looked in it.

“Hard.”

She blinks looking into his eyes and away from his physique. More than once Evfra had been a star player in some fantasies she had brewing in her subconscious. “What is hard?” Her voice is low and husky, she does not think he gets the innuendo.

“To believe this war is almost over.”

Almost

It’s been three years since she killed the Archon. In that time they’ve worked together to build alliance between their people, cultivate a culture of respect and peace, and fuck the kett up so hard they wouldn’t even think of coming back for fear of getting their asses kicked again.

“Hard to believe I slept over 600 years just to hear you bellyache about my cooking.” She tossed out, feeling a high as the slow releasing alcohol ran through her veins.

His face contorted in disgust. “Your food is bland, tasteless, and should have been used against the kett.”

“Hey now! I’ll have you know Prime Rib is a delicacy, you should be thanking me for sharing.” She huffed out a small laugh and nudged his foot beneath the counter. “Your people have a future Evfra, and it’s thanks to you.”

“Our people Ryder.” Evfra reaches over and touches her bare shoulder. She shivers at the power in the one hand that spans over half her back. “This is all possible because of you.”

She licks her lip, tapping the countertop. “And to think, in the beginning you stole all my credit-I’m kidding wipe that look off your face.” He’s not looking at her but rather something behind her.

Turning her head she surveyed the crowd of angara when her eyes landed on the odd couple drawing everyone attention.

Tilting her head to the side she watched Evfra observe the woman, who held the hand of a human male. It wouldn’t be such an odd sight except she was heavily pregnant. It seemed all the angara had taken notice. This was a rare sight considering there were delays on the repopulation efforts. Most to do with the fact that colonists wanted safety and security before starting a new family. Another part that so many families had been ripped apart by the war before.

The woman stopped and smiled at the man who touched his hand to her expansive stomach.

Ryder hummed softly and peered at Evfra’s face, noticing his eyes were slitted. He looked ready to shoot something. “Something wrong?” There was a noise of disgust that left his lips as he spoke. “Your people do not recluse during late stages of pregnancy?” He turned looking at Ryder, dragging his gaze down her face then form, settling on her stomach. Something fluttered inside her womb at the gaze.

Or it was the alcohol.

“Nah, we’re social butterflies.” She picked up her drink, sipping it, taking any excuse to not look at his face. “Not the same for your people, I’m guessing.” Now that she thinks about it she definitely never saw a pregnant angara.

At least she didn’t think so. She knew that the angara had pouches, and that pups were small.

“No.” He snarled, lips peeled back, his scar wrinkling under the expression. He turned back to the bar and downed the cup in front of him.

She waited to see if he said more he just stared at his hands. Silently brooding.

“I can’t imagine being cooped up.” Ryder swiveled in her chair grinning at the obviously happy pair making their way through the market. “I’d probably put a knife if anyone tried to cage me.”

Evfra snorted. “Like you did the Primus?” He offered.

She pursed her lips. “Wish I did more to her.” She muttered, taking a gulp of the drink. It had a heady salty taste that ended in a sweet tang.

Primus had been a Devil, far worse than the Archon since she had not desire to waste time gawking at the Remnant. She was pure evil, seeping a dark claws into Heleus seeking to erase everything but the Kett.

In the end it had been her pride that led to her demise. She had wanted to see Ryder die by her own hands, for the ‘glory of the Empire.’

But there had been no glory in her death as she choked on her own blood watching Ryder stand over her.

Taking another gulp of the drink, Abigail shook away the memory. Smacking her lips she looked at Evfra. “You ever just think about how you're getting older?” Eyes crinkle in the corner when his face delved into a sour expression.

“No.”

“L-I-A-R,” She sang angling her body towards him. “You think about it. I think about, we all think about it. Its like waking up one day going, huh my life's half over and what do I have to show for it? A whole lotta nuthin’” She slapped her palm on the table. “Sure I’m the savior of the galaxy but that jazz is worth what?” “Millions of lives.” Evfra offered, looking almost amused as she swayed in her chair.

“Exactly! And do you know how many of those lives I’ve had in my bed?” She threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over her drink, if Evfra hadn’t grabbed it. “Not a one!” She sinks into the counter, both arms stretched out in front of her.

“Why would you want that many in your bed?” Evfra moves her cup to the other side of the bar.

“I don’t want a million dicks.” Ryder grumbled, lifting her head to glare at him. “I want one. One glorious dick to be my dick forever.”

“Perhaps you should speak with your doctor about this obsession-” He grunted and caught Ryders flailing hand as it smacked him in the chest.

She stares at her tiny hand in his massive one. Completely swallowed. She shivers at the heat radiating even through the glove.

“No one needs a Pathfinder anymore.” She murmurs looking up at him. “And what will I do then?”

They’re both silent for a moment before he sighs. “You find something else to occupy your time. Your nose is large enough to be in everyone's business.” He’d seen how she sought out even the little task to perform. Just the other day she stopped to show a recruit how to take apart a milky way gun.

“I have a beautiful nose.” She grunted looking at him, said nose wrinkled. Much to Evfra’s annoyance however her eyes began to mist over. “Why can’t anyone recognize that?” Her bottom lip jutted out starting to quiver.

Evfra cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with this situation. “Your nose is the right fit for your face.” He offered.

“Really?” Ryder squeaked looking up at him. “I thought it was too big.” She touched her face and sagged.

His hand touched her jaw, turning her to look at him. “You are perfect.”

Three words. Three simple words that came from the most unlikeliest of people.

Ryder stared at him even after he pulled his hand back and looked away. He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable from her silence or her staring.

“You're handsome.” She blurts as he starts to speak, her declaration silencing him. He turns to look at her, eyes roaming over her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “You are drunk.” He decides with a sigh. “I will call the tempest and have Jaal fetch you.”

“I��m not drunk.” Ryder pushed her thick hair back. “I’m high on liquid courage.” She smiles at him, though she is inclined to think she might be drunk when her mouth continues to spew thoughts from her brain. “I always thought you were handsome. Scar really adds to the good looks.” She nibbles her lips looking at him now, eyes tracing along the scar.

How many times had she fantasized kissing those twin lines that defined his features. Oh how she pictured nibbling them down to his lips that looked so plump that she knew they would cradle her own against them.

Ryder shuddered leaning forward. He’s studying her expression when she reaches over, laying a hand on his muscular thigh.

“If you weren’t so walled off, Evfra, I’d almost suggest we hook up.” Ryder wiggles her brows.

He lets out a soft snorting chuff, his hand grabs hers and pulls it away before it could wander up to the crux of his thighs. “I think you’ve had enough.” He rasps in a husky tone, one that makes her thighs clench together as heat floods her core. “I will walk you back to your ship.” He slides out of the seat in a smooth motion that makes her head a bit dizzy.

“No thanks,” She jerks her arm out of his grip. “I don’t….I don’t want to go back there.” She curled an arm around her waist. “It’s lonely.”

They had come to Aya for more than this celebration, she’d come to say goodbye to Jaal as he and Avale were uniting their families and starting a life together. Just a few months prior Drack had left as well to be with Kesh and her second clutch of baby Krogan. Peebee had one foot out the door, Ryder could feel everyday she was itching for more than what the Tempest was doing. She knew that their time together wasn’t forever, but watching her family drift apart little by little was harder than she expected.

Evfra was silent as she slumped down in her seat, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Let me crash at the resistance.” She grumbled.

“That isn’t something I can do.” He took hold of her arm again, and she allowed herself to be tugged out of the chair, though she misjudged the distance from her seat to the ground and landed directly into his chest with a soft ‘oomf.’

His hand settled on the back of her neck, the other holding her arm ran down to cup her hip. She looked up at him, breath caught in the back of her throat. She was pressed tightly to his chest, breast molding to the hard plains of his, nipples stiffening as she felt a knot of arousal bubbling in her stomach.

Gasping she watched his nose wiggle, eyes slitting as he bent his head. “You’re…”

She doesn’t think about it, in the future she’ll blame the alcohol running through her system, and the mix of Evfra’s heady scent, but she lunges, cutting off his words, smashing her mouth against his in a teeth clicking kiss that is more pain then pleasure.

Evfra hisses, hand on her neck tangles with her hair, pulling her head back. Her lip is busted and bleeding, eyes glazed. Ryder sucked in a breath, her last bit of dignity began to shrivel as her hazy mind grasped at the lingering sanity pointing out she just kissed Evfra De Tershaav and likely ruined any type of friendship they have built over the past 4 years.

“Evfra,” She twisted in his hold, hands pushing on his chest. “I’m-“

Her wobbly tone cut off as he bend his head, brushing his mouth against her nose, down her cheek, and ghosted over her lips. “You are too impatient, Ryder.” His husky tone sent a thrill down her spine that settled in her stomach.

She tilted her head back trying to catch his mouth. She mewled softly when he pulled away.

“Not here.” He tugged her into his side tucking her against him, chuffing softly.

He doesn’t seem to mind her wandering hands this time. In fact she can hear the faintest sound of a purr thrumming deep in his chest. She almost calls him a pussy she’s willing to stroke when he suddenly tugs her off the main road and presses her up against the wall.

Massive hands span over her hips as he dips his head towards hers. Letting out a sigh as their lips touch, he takes control keeping her head tilted with a fist in her fiery hair. He laps at the seam of her lips, but doesn’t go deeper despite her wiggling and whimpers of protest.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy torturing me.” She gasp fingers curling around the straps laying against his chest. Her body’s pressed against his, hips grinding into his front. She makes needy keens in the back of her throat.

“Are you always this impatient Ryder?” He chuckles against her skin, lips igniting a fire beneath them.

“Call me Abigail, Evfra.” She panted against his mouth. She hadn’t the will power to extract herself from those delectable lips. Oh how she pictured kissing him! The reality blew all those lusty fantasies away. She made a wanton noise in the back of her throat as he nibbled her bottom lip.

“Ahbee-gal” He purrs against her ear. The reverberating sound of his voice sends twings of pleasure down her spine, settling at her contracting core. He inhales deeply, chuckling at her reaction. “I’m going to ravish you.”

“Oh god yes!” She mewls digging her fingers into his rofjinn, tugging to bring him back to her.

He laughs, a deep throat thrum that she’s never heard before. If she had been more clear headed and less horny she would try desprately to remember the sound. Though that isn’t what is keeping her focus at the moment while ehr hands trail southward. Not that they get very far when the wall behind her suddenly disappears.

Letting out a small wail, she nearly tumbles down to her ass if Evfra hadn’t snatched her waist.

“Rude!” She huffed, craning her neck back to stare at the room behind her. Not that she can see much through the dim interior lighting. What she can see is a spare room filled with only the essentials.

Of course her mind isn’t on the surrounding area long when a hot mouth presses to her shoulder sucking the the flesh there.

“Clothing off.” She mewls hands tugging at his shirt trying to magic it off him with each tug. Why did angara clothing have so many buckles! Ryder begins to pout at the sight, muttering dark words about forbidden treasures being locked away.

Chuffing in amusement he gently extracts her hands. “Let me.” His fingers make dizzly fast work of all the buckles and clasps.

Hands free she starts work on her own clothing, while following Evfra as he tugs off his Rofjinn. Of course wanting to be naked soon as possible she attempts to take the shirt off without properly unbuttoning it first.

Ryder stumbled into the bedroom door, her arms caught up in the sleeves as she tried to rip off the blouse she wore. She could hear Evfra huffing at her. Grinning she shimmied out of her shirt and tossed it onto the floor and wiggled a brow at him.

“I would say your seduction talents needs some work.” He stated dryly folding the rofjinn and setting it aside.

Licking her bottom lip she greedily drank in the sight of him shirtless, taking in his broad chest to his tampered waist. She especially appreciated the hard muscles that moved beneath his deep blue skin. Letting out a groan she moved toward him, hands out stretched to touch his skin.

Catching her small hand by the wrist, Evfra let out a soft chuffing sound. “What happed to undressing?” He lifted her wrist and kissed the racing pulse beating beneath the skin.

“I got caught up wanting to touch this perfection.” She whispered, swallowing back the saliva that built in her mouth.

“Mmm.” He nips her skin before letting her go. “Are all humans so easily distracted or is it just you?”

She let out an indignant huff. “Oh no it’s just me when there’s a particularly inviting male….” She steps closer, hands on his stomach stroking up and down grinning as his muscles contracted at the touch. “Needing to be stroked.”

He had scars across his skin, faded blue colors, almost white. She couldn’t resist leaning in and licking the one across his ribs. He let out a shuddering purr and yanked her into his chest.

“Abigail.” Her name is a deep groan that leaves his mouth.

And then he was kissing her again. Tongue sliding against her own, tangling together as his palmed her heavy breast. The skin of his palm sends electrical current through her breast, making her nipples stiffen and pleasure rock down to the clenching of her core.

Abigail moans against his mouth, enjoying the feeling of his touch too much to even notice when it became skin to skin contact. Until he breaks their kiss to pull away the tattered remains of her bra off her body.

“Did you just he-man my bra off?” She spread her fingers against his chest, using his imposing unmoving form to steady herself. She thinks the alcohol has hit her system. She feels all warm and tingling. There’s a heat that starts in her stomach and pulses down.

“I am unsure of your word,” He presses his mouth to her throat sucking on the skin there. “But yes, I did just rip that flimsy fabric.” He licked at the hollow of her throat, paying special attention to her jumping pulse. “I will buy you another, better, one.”

“Mmm.” She tilted her head back, fuzzy brain can’t really focus on his words only on the sensation of his mouth making a path up her throat to her jaw, then his breath ghosted against her ear.

“Hold onto me.” He lifted her hands to his shoulders. And before her bogged mind could grasp his order he hefted her up, with one arm, wrapped around her ass.

Squealing she hooked her thighs around those slim hips, pressing her heated core against his side. Her eyes rolled back at the sensation of his hip brushing against the wet crux between her thighs.

Silencing her soft mewling noises he dropped her to the bed suddenly making a shriek leave her lips as she bounced against the mattress. Propping herself up on her elbows Abigail huffed at him, glaring up at his smirk. “Evf-”

Suddenly bending he grabbed the legs of her pants and yanked. Dragging them off her hips, along with her underwear. Which was left dangling of her ankle as he tossed her pants aside. They were less than flattering being the initiative issued clothing. A bland cotton cloth that as Liam described it, were ‘whitie tighties.’

If she had known the night would have gone differently she would have gotten her her red thong-

These thoughts abruptly disintegrated as Evfra lifts her ankle, looping a finger through one of the leg holes and holds the pair of plain undies up.

He drank in her scent with huffing breathes, large hands gripping the thin strip of clothing covering her soaked core. He growled as she let out a soft noise of disapproval.

With a fangy smirk he lifted the soaked cloth to his nose. “Sweeter than pairpo.” Evfra purred, licking the panties then dropping them to finish ridding himself of his own pants.

Abigail's eyes were glued to the movements, watching the fabric slide down his hips, lower and lower until Evfra was completely revealed to her.

Lips parted in surprise, she stared at his cock. It was a darker blue and violet color, speckled with white across the underside of the shaft. He was thick and similar to a human male: if you didn’t count the fluttering ridges, the tapered head and bulbous base. The thing that shocked her and had her inching up the bed was that is was writhing against his stomach as if it had a mind of its own.

Abigail didn't get to study him much before he grabbed her ankles and pulled her forward to the edge of the bed.

Kissing each ankle Evfra placed the on his elbow, spreading her wide open for him like a flower blooming in spring. His eyes glued to her flushed skin. Pupils dilated, lips curled upward, he made a low snarling sound.

Abigail flushed shifted against the bed feeling utterly vulnerable being spread before him like a feast. Which is how he was looking at her. She could even see him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“I must look alien to you.” She whispered self-conscious of her nudity. She curled an arm over her breast and sucked on her bottom lip.

“You are….” He swallowed audibly, drawing his gaze from her pink cunt to her eyes. “Beautiful.” He purred, kneeling between her thighs. “I have never seen anything close to you.”

“I’ve been curious,” his tone has taken a raspier note. The ‘r’s of his words dragged out in a sound that makes her shiver. Warm hands drag along her thighs. Her muscles quiver in anticipation as he settled between her parted legs and inhales.

Mewling she arches into him, head tossing back and forth in frustration. She wants him to touch her-why wasn’t he touching her.

“Your kinds coupling is violent,” He strokes a hand down her skin. Petting her with the lightest touches on her stomach, hips, arms. But no where she WANTS him to touch.

There is a tiny thought that wonders at what he’s seen to make such a judgement but it’s swept away in the tidal wave of arousal beneath his gentle touches.

“Please!” Ryder keens softly her own hands trail up her body cupping the gentle slopes of her breast.

He watches her but does nothing to end her torment as he speaks with slow decisive touch’s over her skin. “Your softer than any Angara I’ve been with.” As if to emphasize this point he groped the fat of her hips. She sighs as the touch, undulating beneath him. “I will not take you as your people do.” He bends tongue drags across the divot of her hip bone up the planes of her stomach.

“Don’t care!” She cries out pinching her nipple watching him taste her skin with small licks traveling up her body. Everything throbs at the sight. She can feel herself spasm with need, a yearning to feel him slip between her thighs, to fill her to the edge of pain. To fuck her into this mattress till she can no longer move.

“Evfra!”

He smirks leaning over her. “Responsive.” He stops her hands gathering both wrist. “Much better then the vids.” He murmurs softly against the swell of her breast. She’s holding her breath, nearly vibrating with wanton need.

A small thought bubbles in the back of her mind, that she’s edging the point of no return. That this was going to be a bad idea that spirals into a pit of despair if she didn’t stop. But that little bubble popped the moment his tongue sweeps out against her pert nipple.

Crying out she arches into him, hands twist in the hold that has them. “Sensitive.” He growled lapping at the pink nub, circling it with the tip of his blunt tongue. Her toes curl at the feeling, his tongue had a texture to them and seemed to vibrate against the peak of her breast.

He nibbled down the slope of her puffy breast, switching to lavish the other with attention.

“I like how soft you are.” He growls squeezing and molding the breast to the palm of his hand. “How incredibly soft.” His mouth seals of the taunt peak, making her arch up into the sucking of his hot mouth.

He’s making a wet slurping sound while he suckles the peak of her nipple. His hand spanning her ribs moves down her side, cupping her rear that is pressed against his clavicle bone, which she’s been rutting unconsciously again.

She let out a moan as his finger slid along her cunt. He let out a rumble, seemingly surprised at how wet she was. Abandoning her breast with gentle kisses he travels down her stomach. Stopping to lavish attention to each of her small scars, freckles, and stretch marks. He grins at her as he nibbles her hip bone.

“Your scent is driving me wild.” He noses her red curls purring when she jerks against his hold. “It always drives me wild.” He lets out huffs parting her lips and stares at the pink clutch dripping with arousal. “I have longed to taste.”

“E-evfra.” Abigail wiggles in his hold, mind hazy with arousal. She mewls, trembling in anticipation. He seems to be taking his time savoring her scent that has her flushing with embarrassment. That doesn’t last long when he opens his mouth and licks along her slit with a decisive stroke.

She mewls softly, hips jerking against his mouth. His spans a hand against her stomach, keeping her in place while his tongue makes feather soft touches across her cunt. It was light and gentle touches that were driving her wildly mad.

Thighs kept spread with his shoulders, he had full control of her body. She let out a deep cry, body shuddering. “Evfra!” She grabs his sheets jerking up into his mouth, trying to grind into him.

He lets out a purr, vibrating that tongue against her clit that sends her spiralling down. Eyes rolling back as a slow building orgasm trickles into her system. Every muscle in her body quivers beneath the slow lazy licks of his tongue. Gasping, her knees fall open, hips ground up into his mouth. Rocking in time with his broad strokes.

“Evfra, Evfra evfra.” She chants feeling the burn of overstimulation but she can’t stop rocking into him, can’t stop the second orgasm building as he audibly gulps at her cream. She lets out a sharp yelp when he presses a thick, blunt, finger into her weeping entrance.

“Look at how you grasp me.” He purrs. “Greedy.” He sinks his finger deeper into her swollen, pink, clutch. Cooing at the way she grips his digit. Like a hungry mouth suckling him back in.

Moaning, her head tossed side to side as he filled her up, opening her wide with slick wet noises as he moved his finger inside of her. It had been a long dry season since she last been with a man. At the moment she couldn’t even remember it, only what Evfra was doing to her body as he shifted pulling her hips higher.

Nibbling her outer lip he thrust his finger deeper, both groaning as he did. “So soft.” He rasped. “How can any male leave this body.” His eyes met hers. “I’m going to make you sing for me.”

Singing wasn’t what she felt her throat was doing. Opera more like it as she shrieked at the powerful orgasm that made her body arch and clench. She practically bowed off the bed while her vision went dark. All the while she could feel him still working his finger deeper into her cunt while loudly licking up the cum dripping out of her.

“Stars.” He rasped looking at her flushed body and shaking limbs.

Abigail certainly felt like she saw stars as she went limp against the mattress. Her body jerked against him as he withdrew his finger. Drowsiness edged into her consciousness as she stretched languid.

Of course two orgasms later and Evfra was nowhere near done with her. He chuckled as he kissed up her body, saying hello to the girls before he was fully looming over Ryder.

“I hope you aren’t about to fall asleep.” He nudged his nose against her chin, urging her thighs to wrap around his waist.

“Mmm.” Ryder cracked an eye open suddenly far more awake as something rolled against her sensitive lips. Breath hitched when he nudged her entrance with the head of his cock.

“Oh!” SHe gasped as the odd sensation of being filled by something that wasn’t entirely human.

Thighs quivering against his hips, she attempted to roll away from the burrowing entity that was Evfra’s cock, only to feel the first set of ridges slip into her and go completely still. She was instantly melting into a puddle of pleasure as they rowed against the walls of her. Especially tickling her g-spot. Making her clench around him with a groan.

Scar wrinkled he closed his eyes holding her hips, soft a mewling noise left his throat. “Stars.” He looked down at her then, eyes slitted. “The way you grip me…” He rubbed the mark he left on her skin, breathing hard.

Drool was dribbling out of her mouth while she gazed up at Evfra, hips rolling against the thick cock. Toes curling, heels digging into his back to spur him on. But Evfra seemed determined to drive her mad. He moved in a slow pace, until he was completely sheathed within her warmth.

“Tight.” He growled against her skin, he was making many marks against her collarbone, sinking his fangs into the yielding skin. Ryders own nails were clawing at his back as she felt the bulbous base popping into her cunt.

“Evfra!” She cried so sweetly, tears leaking out of her eyes as he began to pull out of her at the same slow pace. He could feel her climax as he pushed in, feeling the way her walls clenched and pulsed, beckoning him to seed her.

How he thought of her swollen with his child, like the human he saw before. His lips peeled back in the though as he pulled her hips flush against his, sinking into her depths. A hand span up between the valley of her bouncing breast and lay over her vunerable throat.

She gasped, tilting her head back giving his hand more room as he cupped her throat, thumb stroking over her racing pulse. She murmured how she couldn’t give him another one. But she would-oh she would cum again on his cock, and he would fill her womb with his seed. And once she was limp beneath him he would slide down her body to taste their coupling, coax yet another orgasm from her.

Maybe then he would let her rest, but he would spend the night between her thighs.

“You’re a treasure.” He bent over her, hips gliding along her thighs, sticking to the steady pace. Those ridges rubbed against her walls. He can feel the tells of his own climax coming as the ridges began to row, seeking to interlock with a female angara’s grooves. They would become thicker as he climaxed, ensure that none of his seed escaped.

He watched as Abigail’s green eyes widen at the feeling, her wet lips parting with a soft ‘Oh!’ as a shudder rocks her body. She orgam’s against him, he can feel her soak him as a wordless cry escapes her. He growls bending down to capture her lips, sinking deep into her cunt as spurts of his seed coat her womb.

-----Present-----

She chewed on her nail, biting into the skin but not breaking it.

How did one tell the grumpy resistance leader that his one night stand led to a new life?

She hadn’t even seen Evfra since then. Much less spoke to him. Her hands threaded together behind her head as she let out a low sigh staring at the screen of the empty email. Twice she started typing, both started with an apology neither made past the second sentence. She wanted to be a coward, send him an email, throw the proverbial ball at him and wait.

Turning in her chair she pulled out the glossy black and white photo. Though it was hard to discern what exactly the picture was, she could make out the small pea like blobs in the photo as her children.

Multiple...

She shuddered, a sour taste filled her mouth, her stomach rolled. Taking gulping breathes she warded off the nausea. Apparently the Doctor, Y’lusia, Sara remembered her name after leaving, said she was in 10 weeks along. Funny considering she’d slept with Evfra 3 weeks ago. But Ryder hadn’t said a word, just numbly taken the photo.

Y’lusia informed her that she would be sending the file over to Lexi, who was her main doctor, but thought it best for her to set up another appointment at the clinic to see a specialist. She wouldn’t be returning to that clinic, Ryder thinks with a bitter expression.

It was a shame Lexi was attending the Nexus seminars at the moment, and Harry was acting at the Tempest replacement.

Gave her plenty of time to avoid, ignore, this predicament a little longer.

::Ryder, Director Tann wishes to speak with you.:: SAM popped up at his router, to the left of her elbow. She let out a low noise of discomfort thinking about talking to him.

“Any way I can put him off?” She leaned back into the chair, putting the ultrasound photo into a draw where it was to be forgotten for a time. ::I can tell him you are occupied with personal matters.:: SAM offered.

“Uuuugh no,” She stood and pulled her hair back into a bun. “It will only make matters worse.” She stood and looked at the Orb. “How do I look?” ::Like Abigail Ryder.::

She snorted softly. “Remind me to have Jaal teach you some sauve lessons SAM.’ She took a few breaths shaking her hands out. “Maybe I should change.” She glanced down at her sweat stained sleepshirt. She hadn’t bothered dressing, as there was no one needing her attention. They’d just gone to Eos, dropping Peebee off.

It had been a sad, and regretfully sober, party for Ryder. While Peebee bounced around the remaining tempest crew wishing them good tidings, Abigail had been preoccupied with thoughts of what her future was now going to look like.

Groaning she tugged her shirt off and ambled over to her messy wardrobe. She shifts and sniffs each article till she finds a decent one and tugs it on. It's here she glances at the mirror and frowns as the material stretches thin across her abdomen. A hand settles across the swelling between her hips.

Letting out a slow sigh she turns away from the mirror quickly and heads to the door.

She is lucky that she can play it all off on the removal of the blockers for the time being.

“Ryder,” Tann’s eyes blinked one just slower than the other. Abigail tilted her head to the side, was it old age? Perhaps he was having a silent seizure. She almost wanted to call a doctor just to end this meeting.

“Tann.” She says his name in a slow draw, blinking her eyes one just slower than the other.

“I see you have gone into the clinic, I will be setting up a meeting for you on Nexus, we’ll get this ball rolling. Addison will be in touch shortly, she’s eager to begin this campaign. The colonist need something to look towards.” His babbling seemed to cause the spiking ache behind her eyes. One that had her stomach turning. “Mmm.” Ryder replied, rubbing her temple. “I’ll be stopping at Aya first.” She had to speak with baby-babies-daddy about something.

Like the very impeding existence of being a baby daddy.

“That’s perfect! I’ll send the reporters there,” Her stomach drops as she tries to speak but Tann prattles on regardless of her protest. “Good scenery, the angara are good place to start. Being all about family as they are. It will be a good start, very good Ryder,” She wonders if good was the only vocabulary he knew when he waves his hand in a wide arch. “I will let Addison know. Tann out.”

Then he was gone, and she was left there, feeling bamboozled.

How did my life become this?

She sucked in a sharp breath a gurgle logged in the back of her throat and she stumbled away from the vid coms racing to the crosswalk where she jumped down and shoved Liam out of the way.

“Hey!” He hollered. “I have to piss.”

Ryder didn’t answer as she bent over the sink and vomited.

“Never mind.” He backed out of the bathroom and turned away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If you Enjoyed this please leave me a like or comment!

#Mass Effect #mass effect andromeda #mass effect evfra #evfra de tershaav #evfra x ryder #evfra #smut #unplanned pregnancy

65 notes · View notes

captainrexforever · 3 years

Text

His Queen

Rating: T

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: You’re a little hesitant about wearing makeup due to a past experience. Din has no problem changing your mind.

Warnings: childhood trauma??, little bit of angst, fluff, steamy makeout

Note: After the amazing response I received on my last fic I decided to write another one. After all, these ideas are still going to be swirling around my head even if I don’t put them in writing. I hope you enjoy!

Sidenote: Imagine him looking at you like this *swoon*

“Are you sure we don’t have any additional rations in the crates?”

“No, the kid snuck into the stash last night. I didn’t notice until after he polished off the last of the rations.”

Din just sighs.

“I can make the trip to the market while you finish the repairs.”

“No, I’ll go, I don’t want you to deal with all the bantha shit that goes on at these markets.”

For some reason-don’t ask why-it’s incredibly attractive to hear him curse.

It’s touching to hear the protective note in his voice, but you feel that you are well enough equipped to handle yourself. As a teenager, you had been taught the essentials of self defense by a family friend.

“It’s alright. I’ll have my comm with me and it won’t take long if I just place an order for delivery of the rations.”

“Alright, if you insist. Be careful.”

“I will.”

He stands from his kneeling position on the floor, where he had been checking the netting beneath the bench for any additional ration packets. You prepare to leave, patting down your pockets to make sure you have your credits, your blaster, and your comm before you set off. When you look up again, he’s standing in front of you, a tilt of his helmet betraying his inner thought process. A smile tugs at your lips.

“Looking for a goodbye kiss?”

He sighs again, and you’re certain he’s rolling his eyes beneath the helmet.

“Ner verd’ika, you are a tease.”

You giggle before raising your hands to the sides of his helmet, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt it upwards. With an accuracy born from hours of practice you lean forward, raising on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before allowing the beskar to fall back into place. He lets out a disgruntled huff, his hands falling to your hips and tugging you against his torso so that he can rest his forehead against yours.

“Be careful.” He repeats.

“Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s surprising how many people can squeeze into the small marketplace, vendors and townsfolk chattering away as they bargain for an agreeable price. Animals bellow in the distance, adding to the noisy buzz that fills the crowded streets.

You find yourself enjoying the bustling atmosphere, welcoming the stark juxtaposition to the quiet serenity of the Razor Crest. Before you can become too distracted, you steer your feet towards the largest area of the forum where several shops display food and beverages.

After placing an order of rations and directing the shop owner to deliver the crates to the spaceport, you find there are a few spare moments to wander around the market before returning to the ship and tending to the delivery.

After traveling with Din for some time now, it has come to your attention that each planet you visit boasts a unique variety of wares. The citizens of this particular planet seem to possess a fascination with water-colored mugs and delicate embroidery. Not that you are complaining, everything that greets your eyes is absolutely gorgeous.

Upon rounding the next corner though, you stop dead in your tracks. Before you stands what is obviously a cosmetics shop. Holoimages are projected against the walls of the stand, each image featuring breathtaking models who-to your immense surprise-don't have you feeling even a dash of envy. What has you so enamored is the crowd of young women that peruse the shop. They are obviously a group of friends, but what shocks you the most is the presence of their mothers. Each parent is eagerly pointing out cosmetic items and encouraging the younger women to apply the samples that are provided. Bitter tears bite at the surface of your eyes, and you blink furiously in an effort to keep them contained.

As a young woman you had constantly been dissuaded from wearing makeup, told that it wasn’t appropriate at your age. You feel pathetic, chastising yourself and turning around with the intention of returning to the ship. But you don’t get very far, a feminine voice floating past your ears.

“Miss, Miss? Would you like to join us?”

Not wanting to expose your current state of turmoil, you scrub frantically at your tear-stained face, hoping to avoid further humiliation. When you feel presentable, you turn slowly, coming face-to-face with a girl that stands even shorter than you. Practically an impossible occurrence at your height, Mando would have teased you if he was here.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were by yourself, and well, on our planet it’s tradition for women to join together and add to their makeup collection on this particular day. It’s like the New Years of cosmetics.” Her eyes are shining, and she seems so genuine that you feel silly for your earlier judgement. “Although I am almost certain you are just visiting, my friends and I would be honored if you would join us.” Almost as if on cue, her friends rush up behind her, pleading with you to stay for just a little bit.

“Well, I…” Din will be expecting you back soon, and you don’t want to worry him.

“Pleeeaaaase!” They all beg, drawing out the word as they stare at you.

“Alright, just for a few minutes.” He won’t mind, you think to yourself. He and the kid can catch up while you are gone anyways, they haven’t been able to spend much time together lately.

The girls’ smiles are blinding and the first one grabs your hand, pulling you along as they all return to the stand to continue shopping. “I’m Tasha, by the way.” She beams. You smile back, sharing your name as well.

“What will you purchase?” Another girl questions.

“Oh, actually I don’t wear makeup.”

“You don’t?” They looked like you just told them Life day was made up.

“No, I....I never learned how to apply it.” That was close enough to the truth.

“Don’t worry, we’ll show you how!” Then Tasha is beckoning her mother over and soon they are exchanging ideas so quickly that you lose track, only picking up on fragments such as “transition”, and “complementary shade”.

“Could you please sit for a moment?” Tasha’s mother inquires, gesturing to a chair that rests next to the booth.

You’re a little hesitant, the assortment of items that they are both clutching in their hands has you yearning to turn your back and run.

Take a deep breath, it’s just a little bit of makeup, it’s not going to kill you.

After your flight instinct recedes a little, you move to sit in front of the older woman, trying not to flinch as she gently dabs several types of cream-like products on your face. She tuts here and there, discarding some of the products that she is holding as she works through all of the samples. Eventually, she finishes, holding out a wipe as she gestures for you to wipe your face. Once that is accomplished, she’s attacking the various assortment of products that Tasha is still holding. You idly wonder if it’s sanitary to be layering so many products over the sensitive skin of your face, but assume that it is probably alright if this is a common practice for most women.

What feels like hours later, after your face has been contorted into every position imaginable, your eyes weighed down by what seems to be a boat anchor attached to your eyelashes, Tasha and her mother proudly declare that you are ‘finished’-whatever that means. Then Tasha is holding out a bag of products for you to take. You eagerly accept the bag, feeling quite mature all of a sudden, and swagger over to the counter to pay the clerk. To your immense shock, Tasha’s own mother is sitting behind the register, and when you approach she insists that the items are ‘on the house’, refusing to accept any form of payment.

With a blush, you suddenly realize you have no idea how to apply any of the products yourself, but before you can even open your mouth, the older woman is sliding a piece of flimsy towards you. A detailed assembly of holoimages decorates the flimsy, demonstrations and instructions outlining the correct application technique for each product. There are tears welling in your eyes again, but you blink them back and circle the table to engulf the woman in a heartfelt embrace. She accepts the action with an affection you can only describe as motherly, patting your back gently until you pull away, then fixing you with a radiant smile.

Suddenly your heart drops into your throat, and your own smile fails. You can’t return to the ship looking like this! Din will be appalled that you delayed your departure from the spaceport to indulge in a personal shopping trip. Tasha’s mother frowns, watching as you suddenly turn frantic, scanning the nearby vicinity like a child who has been caught stealing a dessert cube. You reach for the packet of makeup wipes that sits upon the table, hastily rushing to explain the thoughts running through your head.

“This makeup is lovely, but I can’t return to my…” kriff, what should you call him...“friend looking like this.”

“And why not?” You are taken aback a little at the tone of your voice. She’s not angry, though there are hints of disapproval and surprise laced into her words.

You stammer for a response. “He...I…” Your brain sputters as you try to conjure the right words.

“Oh, I see. He’s that kind of friend. Well, if he doesn’t like the way you look, then you seem like the type of person who will have no trouble putting him back into his place.”

She continues speaking even as your jaw falls open.

“However, I heavily suspect that won’t be necessary.” The knowing grin that spreads across her face is like that of a loth-cat that just caught a canary.

“....” You can’t manage to utter a single word, trying to force down the blush that is rising to your cheeks.

“Here, take a look into this mirror.”

Woah, is that your face? Whatever had been applied to your eyes had caused the color to pop, drawing attention to your now piercing gaze. Every feature appeared to be enhanced, and you couldn’t help but note that your jawline seemed capable of cutting through duraplast, like a vibroblade through bantha butter on a hot Tatooine day.

“I look...wow.”

The older woman chuckles gently. “You look amazing dear. Embracing your natural beauty is important, but you shouldn’t be afraid of enhancing it either. No matter what, your inner beauty always speaks louder than any outer appearance ever will. Now go catch that man of yours. I’m sure he will agree with me too.” She ends with a pointed wink.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadows stream past you as you jog back to the Razor Crest, hoping you are not too late to meet the merchant who is delivering the order of rations. Of course your luck is worse than you expected, and not only is there no merchant in sight, but it seems that Din has already finished the repairs. Kriff. Well, you’ll just have to return to the shop and apologize to the owner before pleading for another delivery opportunity. Then, after you settle that, you will need to prepare an explanation for Din.

Kriffing hell.

How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?

“And here you had me thinking that you might have finally ditched me.” Din startles you, but there is a teasing lilt to his voice.

How is he still in a good mood? Wait, where is he?

“Up here.” He’s chuckling now too, probably at your apparent confusion, the bastard.

You look up and place your hands on your hips in disbelief of what you’re seeing. A shake of your head does nothing to help you understand what exactly is going on. At the moment, Din is flying figure eights in the air using his jetpack, the kid tucked securely in his arms while he squeals in delight. You shake your head again, looking down at the ground as a rush of affection floods your chest. The damned Mandalorian can be such a romantic without even realizing it.

As of late, it has been difficult for either of you to discreetly purchase jetpack fuel at a decent price. Yet, here he is taking the kid for a ride, probably because he looked into those big brown eyes and couldn’t resist indulging the kid in a quick flight.

Their maneuvers continue for a few more minutes, and you wonder if you should head back to the market while Din and the kid are still occupied. Abruptly, you decide to take a seat inside the Crest for just a moment before jogging back to the store. It’s not until you scale the ramp that you notice the newly delivered crates resting inside the storage netting.

“The delivery arrived before you did, so I made sure that it was unloaded onto the right ship.” If you weren’t so relieved you might scold him for scaring you like that. Then again, he probably enjoys sneaking up on you. You scowl goodnaturedly, he’s lucky you lov--. Oh no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no.

No, no.

No.

He’s lucky you love the kid. That’s right, that’s what you meant to say.

Whew.

You move to rub your forehead, then realize that you’re still wearing what feels like fifteen layers of bantha paste and an entire canister of glitter on your face. Uh-oh. Has Din seen your face yet? You don’t think so. Your back is still facing him, but at any second he’s bound to step in front of you and notice that you’re all decked-out in makeup.

Despite the kind words from the woman back at the market, you feel yourself begin to panic. What if he thinks you look silly, or worse what if it changes his perception of you?

His footsteps advance forwards and you hold your breath, only for him to continue towards the kid’s hammock. It’s then that you realize the kid has fallen asleep in his buir’s arms, obviously worn out after his latest adventure. Din is exceedingly gentle as he sets him into his hammock, rocking the child for a few seconds to ensure he remains fully asleep.

As you bask in the sight of a soft, caring Din you don’t realize he’s turning around until it’s too late. He lets out a punched out sound once he is face-to-helmet with you, and although you are never sure where his visor is pointing, you know without a doubt that it is currently directed at your face.

Neither of you move, gaze fixed firmly on the other for several minutes as a lingering tension brushes at your spine. Before you can explain yourself the lights flicker and plunge the hull into darkness, gloved hands and a beskar covered chest suddenly slamming into you, pinning you against the nearest wall so quickly that your back aches a little from the force of the impact.

“Kriffing hell.” He manages.

Oh, you definitely shouldn’t find that as attractive as you do.

“Is this what you were doing all afternoon?” His words are followed by a resonating clang, and you find yourself begging whatever deity is above that he is about to kiss you senseless. Sadly, he seems too interested in pressing a kiss to your neck while he whispers shamelessly into your ear. It’s a close second though, and you're definitely not complaining, especially when the position allows you to drop a hand down to squeeze his perfectly sculpted ass.

He lets out a growl at your feistiness, sucking at your neck in a manner that is sure to leave a visible hickey. “Maybe I should send you to the marketplace more often if this is how you’ll return.”

You let out a pleased mewl at that, proud that you are able to elicit such a passionate response from your usually stoic companion. “Sounds...sounds good to me.” Your reply is breathy, and there is no way that your lungs are supplying sufficient oxygen to your brain right now. It doesn’t help that Din has decided to wrap one of your thighs around his waist, your body erupting into flames at the suggestive positioning.

“Look so good.” It’s muttered between butterfly kisses, his lips charting the skin of your neck like it’s a flight path. “So pretty.” Another scorching kiss on your neck. “My sweet girl.” It’s half spoken-half growled against your throat.

A moan is ripped from your throat at that last sentence, and your free hand is scrabbling for purchase in his hair, using your touch to coax his lips to meet your own neglected ones. This man is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it. He’s mewling into your mouth, half-chuckling because he knows how much you appreciate that specific action, then he’s pressing his tongue in as well, sliding it across yours as he dares you into a battle of dominance. You can’t help but indulge him, fingers tightening in his curls as you allow yourself to be a little more aggressive, pushing into his mouth as you lead him on a merry chase. Even in the most intimate of acts, Din is ever the hunter and he takes control in a record amount of time, knotting his hand in your hair so that he can position your head in whatever manner he desires. The whole act is absolutely delicious and your toe curls as you wedge yourself even closer to his armor-clad chest.

“I sure hope you have more of that stuff.” He mumbles against your lips when you both separate for a breath.

“Huh?” You finally manage after gasping down a breath.

“It makes you look like a queen.” He elaborates.

There’s no point in arguing with him, especially when his mouth returns to yours to shut down any rebuttal you might have.

It’s safe to say that any of your hesitations towards wearing makeup were cleared up after that particular incident, and you learned a couple valuable lessons that day. The most important being to buy extra makeup wipes for the Mandalorian himself. Let’s just say Din was an...enthusiastic kisser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ner verd’ika: my little warrior

Buir: (mother or father), in this case it pertains to ‘father’

Life day: the equivalent of Christmas in the star wars universe

#mando reader fluff #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian fanfic

234 notes · View notes

asexualdrago · 3 years

Text

20 Questions

b@babycakes1983 shoutout to them for the FNAF prompts

Glamrock Freddy laid flat with his back against a wall in a sitting position as Gregory was nestled in his lap.His breathing was slow and his heartbeat was calm. No wrinkle of worry or fear on the boy’s face. He had to admit that Roxanne and Glamrock Chica were right. He was adorable when he slept. How they knew this, no idea. Maybe he had taken naps in their green rooms and he didn’t notice. He didn’t mind it all that much. At least he can admire these peaceful moments after a long day of work. No Glitchtrap, no Vanny and no worries.

Gregory shifted in his lap and rested his head against Glamrock Freddy’s chest where the empty compartment sat. A low, rhythmic ticking echoed in the boy’s ears. He slowly opened his brown eyes and yawned. Glamrock Freddy felt his circuits stop flowing suddenly seeing his boy wake up. “Hello Gregory, sleep well?” He asked in amusement as the boy looked a bit dazed from waking up. Looking up he saw Freddy’s kind, glowing blue eyes.

Nearly blushing he said “I-uh. Yeah I slept well.” He smiled at the animatronic as Glamrock Freddy maneuvered his jaw to smile down at the boy. “Um Freddy, how long was I asleep?” “2 hours and 30 minutes. If you are wondering how you got here, Vanessa told us that your mother dropped you off with her and she brought you here as she had work to do and trusted me to watch you.” Glamrock Freddy explained. Gregory’s blush deepened and laughed awkwardly. “Oh, um sorry about that Freddy.” Said animatronic laughed and ruffled the child’s hair making him giggle and try to push it away. “Hey! C-cut it out! Freddy’s response was to jab his metallic fingers into the boy’s sides and making him squeak adorably. “Stop it!” He continued to squeak. Glamrock Freddy loved it when his boy laughed. It made him feel alive and he was certain it made him feel better too. To laugh and have joy surge in him. Glamrock Freddy noticed he doesn’t laugh as much as most children he would meet on the daily. He guessed he was terribly shy. To be honest, he didn’t react like most kids, he felt that Gregory was lonely. Just meeting him made Gregory feel better and he was still shy but he made more of an effort to socialize with others thanks to the gang’s encouragement.

He continued to jab him as gently as possible as he didn’t want to hurt him. He stopped after a few minutes and ruffled Gregory’s hair again. “Y-you’re mean” He pants. “I am not mean Gregory. Its not in my programming, I am playful and energetic.” “Not energetic enough to catch Roxy when she’s running.” The boy then stuck out his tongue at him. Glamrock Freddy playfully rolled his eyes and picked Gregory up in his arms.

“Hey Freddy, where are the others?” “Working on their performances for the talent show after closing hours.” Gregory looked at him dumbfounded. “You guys have talent shows?” Freddy nodded. “Yes, what do you think we do after hours? Scare the night guards?” ;) “I am pretty sure Vanessa would hate that.” Glamrock Freddy chuckled. “Yes, yes she would.” Glamrock Freddy walked towards the green rooms. Specifically his, passing both the sun and moon animatronic jumping along beams and pipes. “Freddy, w-what are t-they d-doing? Noting his slight stutter he rubbed the boy’s back to calm him. “Its ok. They are not going to harm you. I would take a guess and say they are playing. Better than Moondrop pranking us constantly till 6 am.” He sighed. “Figured the sun animatronic would be asleep right now.” “Asleep? Oh, powered down correct?” Glamrock Freddy nodded. Ruffling his hair again, another thing he noticed. Gregory didn’t react to affection very well and was confused by it. Just when Glamrock Freddy showed him these acts of affection he slowly became more comfortable to his touch and didn’t flinch when he came too close.

“Why don’t we play a game? To pass the time.” He suggested. Partially to get his thoughts at ease. His metal feet clanking against the tiles of the pizzeria museum. Gregory nodded and thought of the 20 question game.”20 questions hmm? I’ve never played it before. I guess we can try. Do we just ask each other questions till we reach 20?” Gregory looked up at him with bright brown eyes. “I guess so. Should I start or you?” His metal jaw maneuvered into a smile and said he’ll start. 1. what’s your favorite color?” “Yellow. 2. What’s your favorite music?” “Hmm. I’d say 80′s rock.” Gregory laughed. “Don’t you guys play 80′s rock? There has to be something else.” Gregory laughed. “To be honest, I am not certain but I do have an assortment of songs. 3. what’s your favorite past time?” “I’d say coloring or drawing. 4. Who’s your favorite Glamrock member?” Freddy shook his head. “I don’t have a favorite , they are all family to me. That also includes you and sadly Vanessa.” He leaned his head down to nuzzle him. Gregory leaned his head towards the nuzzling with a small smile on his face,

Just to think, a few weeks ago he was afraid of him doing that thinking he was going to hurt him. Which brought back the thoughts he had about his family. Gregory felt like his child. In other words, his cub. The others would mention or joke how he and Gregory have gotten closer and Vanessa mentioning that she had a feeling the reason was because he didn’t have a father or the relationship wasn’t as great as it was supposed to. “I been at their house, I didn’t see a picture of the father. Just Gregory and his mother. Makes me wonder though.” It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right? “5. What is your family like?” Gregory’s cheerful smile slowly faded. He looked nervous and didn’t know what to say. “Why do you want to know about that?” He asks. His voice becoming shy and soft. “Well, I have been thinking over it lately. And wondered what families are like, outside the complex.” Gregory looked down and seemed to think it over before sighing. “You already seen my mom. Right?” “I have, and Vanessa told us that she met her and they usually get smoothies together.” “Well, my mom is around but since she works at the diner and she isn’t home a lot. But she tries her best to raise me. Making sure everything is ok and that I am doing well.”

Glamrock Freddy’s metallic ears twitched. “Are you usually alone?” “Sometimes, but she’ll have me stay with the neighbor or have a family member watch me if they have time and if they don’t mind.” Gregory took on a saddened look that Glamrock Freddy didn’t like seeing. As much as he wanted to do something but he let him continue. “She cares a lot about me. She doesn’t want me to be alone but she doesn’t have much of a choice. She’s a good person Freddy. She just has it hard.” “What about your father? What does he do?” “He....he is....not around anymore Freddy. I don’t know my dad....all that well....” Glamrock Freddy titled his head in confusion. “What do you mean? Did he pass away or...?” Gregory shrugged. “Mom doesn’t like talking about it. No less mentioning him. Sometimes I feel like when she does or someone mentions him, she gets visibly upset. So I never ask her. I doubt I want to know when she gets upset.” Gregory looked down and looked as if about to cry. “Is that why you don’t react well to affection? They don’t show much of it?” Gregory shrugged. “I-I don’t know Freddy.” Noting the boy was becoming more upset. He held him close and started consoling him.

“Mom sometimes mentions I look just like him.” He sobs slightly. “Almost like she hates and loves the idea of me looking like him. Sometimes I feel like she hates me for it but doesn’t want to show it.” Glamrock Freddy felt rage surge in him. It wasn’t his cub’s fault that he has some resemblance to his father that he had no knowledge about. “It’s not your fault Gregory. Never was, you hear. You are special. Special to me. Your mother is strong, but even us adults can have our moments of self anger. You may not know him but its not your fault. I am so sorry you had to go through that.” Gregory hugged him and snuggled against his chest. He felt Glamrock Freddy nuzzle him again and stroking his back and hair. Luckily these actions helped him calm down. “I wasn’t joking when I said that you are part of our family. We love you Gregory. I love you my little cub.” Gregory couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Every word coming from his mouth more genuine than the next. He cried out of happiness and said softy. “I love you too. And I hope you don’t mind me seeing you as a father to me.” “I don’t mind my cub. I don’t mind at all.”

#fnaf security breach #gregory #glamrock freddy

76 notes · View notes

bokutosworld · 4 years

Text

perfect match | miya osamu

a/n: i am so thrilled that haikyuu is back!!! can’t wait to see more of inarizaki and (excuse my bias) osamu!!!! <3 so here’s a very self-indulgent piece in celebration of their comeback haha

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

wc: 2.6k words of fluff and bit of angst if you squint lmfao.

summary: in which you and osamu go in circles, walking the fine line between keeping the friendship or taking the leap in your relationship. inspired by the prompts: “It’s you, it’s always been you.” + “Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

'for the last time, i am telling you oyakodon cannot be better than katsudon. nothing beats a good crisp, deep-fried pork or chicken over a steaming bowl of rice,' you said, putting your lunch tray on the table with a thud and settling on the bench.

'yeah, sure. but they're basically the same thing,' he slips in the space next to you, placing his food and getting his chopsticks ready. 'they're both donburi meals, only difference is how they're prepared. what matters is they're both delicious.'

taking a spoonful of your meal, you chew fast before deciding to answer back, 'i know that.' you pause to catch your breath, earning a worried glance from osamu as if he telling you to eat slowly. 'but katsudon just ranks superior. end of discussion.'

the both of you, cooped up in your own conversation, were oblivious to the stares and smirks of your friends in the table. atsumu, deciding to be the braver among the peers, cuts through the silence. 'you know, we could hear you bickering from the queue all the way here,' a hint of tease evident in his voice and osamu smacks his twin.

suna perks up, joining the conversation, 'that's like the third discourse they had today, man. and it's only lunchtime.' the rest of the group laughs and shakes their head, as atsumu adds, 'will there ever be a day where we enjoy some peace and the two of you just quietly get along?'

you share a look with osamu who simply shrugs and continues to chomp down (albeit rather cutely) his food. your friends weren't wrong but it's not like you and the boy hated each other's guts. your close friendship with him was comfortable, so much so that the two of you would talk and argue literally about anything. but as always, there were no hard feelings in those moments of disagreements.

it's just the way it has been since the day you met the twins in middle school. they were both kind and took care of you like their little sister. but somehow, you found yourself growing more attached with the quieter twin. there was something about conversing with osamu that made you feel like you can open up to him about anything. he was smart, a good listener, a natural conversationalist that he always had something ready to answer to your quips. he would always indulge whatever topic you brought up and challenge your ideas and beliefs - the latest one being the katsudon versus oyakodon dispute.

you notice the piece of rice stuck in the corner of osamu's mouth, and you were just about to wipe it off when hikari calls out your name. your hand falls limp on your side and you turn to her, 'what's up?'

'are you free this weekend? i was supposed to set up my cousin on a blind date with my co-worker but she just informed me that she can't go. they have exams this week. so,' she purposely dragged on her words, weighing if would consider being the substitute. raising an eyebrow at her, you completed the sentence for her, 'so, you want me to go on the blind date?'

she beamed, clasping her hands together as if she was reciting a prayer. 'please! i will owe you my life, this is a one time thing, i swear! i made him a promise. you know how i hate breaking promises.'

osamu took note of the way you sighed and how your shoulders slumped at your friend's request. you were never one to say no, you always found it difficult with your kind-hearted nature. so it wasn't a surprise to him when you turned and asked, 'we don't have anything planned for this weekend, right?'

truthfully, osamu wanted to say that you did have some sort of hangout planned. he didn't know why he was finding it hard to say no right now, so he was relieved when his brother spoke. 'you should be free, y/n,' swinging his arm around his twin's shoulders, atsumu looked at him and smirked. 'besides, we have a practice match this weekend. we wouldn't be able to do the usual hangout 'til after 6pm.'

this made you exclaim, 'great! you can give that guy my number then!' hikari proceeded to tell you the details - it was happening on saturday. she already arranged for the meetup time and place to be 10 am at the subway station near the park.

as hikari continued to talk to you about your date, osamu couldn't help but listen in on the conversation and take note of the details. he didn't miss the way your eyes lit up at the mention of your date's name - taichi - to which you remarked that it was 'a handsome name.' osamu rolled his eyes at that. lost in his own thoughts and conflicted feelings about your blind date, he wasn't able to control his facial reactions anymore - a slight look of envy and disappointment ghosting over his features and atsumu was enjoying every bit of it.

weekend arrived and to say that you were excited for the blind date was an understatement. you were looking forward to it, the evidence seen in the way you have prepared your outfit (with the help of osamu who you video called last night). as your closest friend, osamu tried his best to be thrilled and happy for you. he knew you have been wanting to experience a first date for a while now. but a feeling was gnawing at him, a feeling that wishes it was him who was taking you out on that weekend. nonetheless, he gave you a pep talk and reminded you to just have fun and be yourself.

so here you are now, standing in the middle of the station and waiting for your date. it wasn't as crowded as you thought it would be so you kept an eye out for taichi. he texted you just before you left, informing that he would be wearing a denim jeans and black jacket. keeping your eyes peeled for a person who fit that description, you see a shadow of a person jogging across the station and a voice calls out your name.

'y/n!!!!' you spot taichi running over to you, he crouches to try to catch his breath when he reaches you. when he's calmed down, he immediately apologizes, 'i am so sorry. have you been waiting long?' you assure him that it's fine and after a few minutes of back-and-forths of apologies and assurances, you two go on your way to your first stop: brunch.

taichi was indeed as handsome as his name initially suggests. he's got a boyish charm to him, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't drawing you in. all throughout the brunch, he proved to be someone who can keep a conversation with you. it was one of your worries that your date would find you boring, but osamu told you would do fine. thankfully, taichi could hold his ground with you, very much like your best friend who can immediately answer your witty quips with his own humorous comebacks. in your mind, the two boys were very much like and you couldn't wait to tell this to osamu.

after eating, he brought you to an aquarium. your genuine excitement made taichi smile as he shared that it was worth an effort asking hikari what you wanted if he could see you exude so much happiness. you made a face and hit him, 'i didn't know you were cheesy. thank you.' he then led you two inside and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the huge aquarium, in awe of the different fishes and feeling if you were lost in the underwater.

but all good things come to an end. by the time your date ended, it was already 6:33 pm. though it was still early, you had a curfew of 8 pm and taichi offered to accompany you home.

dropping you off at the front gate, he looked at you, hopeful, 'i had a really fun time today. hikari did great by setting me and you up together.' you laughed at this, admitting you've almost forgotten that this was a blind date, 'it's like i've known you forever!' despite the surroundings being dark already, you didn't miss the movement of a shadow just a few blocks away. you had a hunch as to what or who it was, and you couldn't wait to expose them.

'well, i don't want to keep you out any longer,' taichi began saying his goodbye. 'i'll text you when i get home. we should do this again.' your attention was brought back to the boy in front of you and you chuckled, 'don't be a stranger! just text or call me anytime, okay?' taichi began walking back to the main street, and he waved as you shouted your last farewell, 'be careful on the way home.'

when he finally turned to the street, you cleared your throat and called, 'you can come out of your hiding spot now, dumbass.' the person you were referring to sheepishly moved where the light can cast over him, revealing, 'osamu.' he could see the way your eyes glinted with a hint of mischief and he knew he wouldn't be able to escape your interrogation.

you ran up to him and tackled him, poking his sides which made him fall into a fit of laughter. he took your hands to make you stop, 'stop that.'

'how long have you been hiding out there,' you ask osamu. it wasn't impossible to miss the tinge of blush on his cheeks, your question obviously caught him off guard. 'well, osamu? are you gonna answer me or are you just going to keep staring into space?' you wave your hands in front of him, but he quickly gets hold of them and laces his fingers with yours. it was a usual gesture between the two of you, but right now, why did it feel so intimate?

after moments of silence, he speaks up, 'did you have fun on your date?' his eyes boring right into your soul and you swore your heart started beating faster. for some reason, you couldn't answer right away, your voice somehow betraying you at that moment. 'it.. it was nice.'

osamu continued to stare intently, waiting for you to finish. so you went on, 'they're a good person. he's very funny, you'd like him too, you know! he surprised me by taking me to the aquarium,' at this point, you were rambling just to avoid the awkward silence. 'it was so big, osamu! you'd like it there too. and then -'

'will you take me there with you?' now your heart was threatening to beat out of the chest. osamu was rarely serious with you, and right now, you could feel that he wants to say more but he's restraining himself.

you already had an idea of what he was trying to say. the butterflies in your stomach was starting to go wild at the thought. but you wanted to hear it from your best friend himself, so you feigned ignorance, 'what do you mean, osamu?'

the grip on your hands tightens and he pulls you a little closer to him. osamu wants to say that he wishes it was him who saw your smile in the aquarium, who you talked with nonstop in the cafe, who you exchanged stories and laughter with throughout the day. he wants to say that it should have been him who took you out on your first date. all these emotions and words were too much for him, so he takes a deep breath and rests his head on your shoulders instead. perplexed at his actions, you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. 'osamu? are you okay?'

'yeah, let me just stay like this for few minutes.' he buries himself deeper in the crook of your neck, getting lost in your familiar, comforting scent. he knows why he was acting like this and he was screwed. he loves you, but he doesn't want to risk ruining the friendship you have built. after a while, he stands up straight, shooting you his signature smile and ruffles your hair.

'thanks, i was just really tired from the practice match. i guess i missed our number one cheerleader.' he steps away and begins to walk home, but he doesn't get too far when you shout, 'are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you've been dying to ask me?'

he stops in his tracks. this time, you close the distance and he feels your presence behind him. 'come on, osamu. no secrets, right?' at this, his resolve breaks and a dam opens, his unrequited feelings for you finally flowing out in the open. osamu turns around and engulfs you in a warm embrace, and you just know.

'if you wanted to ask me out, you could have just asked me you know,' you tease him. flustered at you what just said, he looks at quizzically, 'how...'

'you're not very subtle, osamu. and the stunt you just pulled tonight basically confirmed you like me too,' you hope he caught your words at the end. because honestly, while being best friends with him has been the best thing to happen in your life. you've always wondered what it feels like to take the next step in your relationship with him.

it takes him a while to register your remarks and when the realization sets, he finally asks, 'since when?' the question was vague, but you knew what he was referring to if the hopeful look in his eyes was anything to go by. so you take a courageous leap, finally crossing that bridge to move to something more. you caress his cheeks, osamu leaning close to the warmth of your hands, 'it's you, osamu. it's always been you.'

he finally closes the gap, bringing your body to his in a tight hug, as if he was afraid to let you go. you stay like that for a few minutes, the passersby cooing at the 'lovely couple' on the street. he pulls away for a quick second, then all of a sudden, he was leaning in. your eyes instinctively shut, waiting for that sensation on your lips, but instead you feel him press a tender kiss on your forehead. he was always a man of few words and through his actions, you know that everything will never be the same again, but it was the kind of change that you have always hoped for.

so when you two go to school the following week, holding hands and finally not bickering in the morning, everyone in your friend group was dumbfounded. again, his twin was the only one brave enough to point out the difference, 'took you guys long enough. congrats, osamu! i knew you had it in you!'

hikari wanted to ask you about taichi, but after the date, the boy has already his expressed gratitude and shared how he felt that your thoughts were occupied by someone. and certainly, looking at you and osamu now - sitting by each other's side in peace and in your own love bubble - it seemed that you have already found your perfect match.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x you #osamu fluff #osamu scenarios #osamu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu miya osamu #I AM LAUGHING AT MYSELF ONCE AGAIN #THIS PIECE GOT SO LONG I PLANNED THIS TO BE JUST AROUND 1.5K

326 notes · View notes

impulsive-decisions-for-lupin · 3 years

Note

Hi there! Could I request a lupin x reader with the prompt “You’re the only thing that matters.”? Thank you in advance!!

I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go with this- I hope you do not mind this being more heist-oriented. Nonetheless, this was fun to write. And of course, Happy (-1 last minute for me-) Valentine’s Day. 🎩🎀

The True Gem of the Bunch

Pairing: Arsène Lupin iii x Reader

Prompt: “You’re the only thing that matters.”

Note: Cursing.

Everything had been going to plan at first.

Getting into the museum was a piece of cake- posing as security guards was a performance that took little effort. The cameras had already been dealt with (courtesy of one of the many gadgets Lupin possessed), and letting other security guards know that there was a malfunction with the cameras got rid of them quickly. And proceeding to the prize of the heist- a sapphire gemstone, belonging to one of the late ladies of the high-class in the 1800s- was a walk in the park. With the fiat 500 in the front lawn beneath one of the second-floor windows, you kept lookout on the main room’s first floor while Lupin and Jigen ascended the stairs to the second floor, where set before the center wall was the targeted gem. And everything had been going smoothly.

Obtaining the gem was easy. Keeping possession of it without getting caught was the fuck-up in the equation.

“Shit,” Jigen mumbled.

Lupin raised an eyebrow at his companion’s interjection. “What?”

Jigen pointed to the display case. Lupin squinted his eyes, unsure about what he was pointing at before noticing the two blinking lights on the front legs, a word of profanity slipping from him too. Motion Sensors.

On the bottom floor, you stood around keeping watch in the main room, eying the windows and then the cameras for when their blinking lights would come on, signalling the cameras were online again. You heard profanity flung around up the staircase and turned around to look up. The museum's main room was an open space with a half-second floor visible to those in its bottom space. Two staircases aligned the left and right walls, curving and going up with the interior wall before it stopped at the half-second floor. The railing on the outside part of the stairwells connected with the second-floor's balcony, ensuring safety visitors wouldn't fall off just by walking backwards (everyone knows how kids are). You couldn't see the second-floor, but you heard that along with the gem, there were two massive paintings adorning its wall, with varying smaller paintings adorning the other walls. It must look amazing when the room was lit with sunlight.

"Everything alright up there?" You called up.

A response was prolonged with more profanity before Lupin called back. "We got the gem, but the case had motion sensors."

Was he serious?

"Of course it'd have motion sensors! How could you think otherwise?"

"I didn't think otherwise!" Lupin walked over to the balcony, gesturing over to the display case as he looked at you. "I just didn't think it'd be on the display case's legs."

"But where else would it be then?" Jigen asked, the glass case he just held already placed back on the display holder.

Lupin groaned, turning his attention to Jigen. "Oh, I don't know, Jigen, maybe on the tiny holder the gem itself was on?"

"So one of those things that sets an alarm off when the proper weight of the gem is different?"

Lupin responded with exasperation. "Exactly!"

The doors to the museum swung open with a harsh slam against the wall. You looked toward the doors just as Jigen joined Lupin by the balcony, a string of ‘crap’s orchestrating upon seeing the local police, with well-known Inspector Zenigata front and center. The man’s eyes shifted between the three of you, the grin he had on growing.

“Look, what we have here- Lupin stealing the gemstone of late Lady what's-her-name with his gang, and- wait, who are you?”

Zenigata’s monologue cut short as he took a double take of you. You were a new face to him. Despite having known and worked with the gang for years, it was only recently you would appear with the gang as part of it.

Lupin’s eyes widened as he realized the debacle you could fall into. He knew you could get yourself out of there, but another instinct kicked in as he tossed Jigen the gem to hold onto before readying the grappling-hook gadget he had.

“(Y/n)!”

You whipped your head around and looked up at the balcony, watching as Lupin pulled himself onto the balcony with a grunt, brushing himself off before standing up. He raised his arm up, aiming the mini gadget on his wrist to one of the gaps in between the cieling’s beams. Upon finding an opening that wouldn’t drop him, he fired the grappling-hook. The hook fired forward, passing through the target opening before dropping, swinging under and through the beam’s gap again before Lupin pulled the wire, ensuring it would hold.

“Lupin! You’re under arrest!” Zenigata called out.

Lupin’s attention left the wire, fixing on Zenigata, and then you. Despite the circumstances, he had on a grin. “Sorry, Pops, but not today!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Jigen gawked, his expression matching the same one you had. All eyes were on Lupin as he gave the wire a hopeful tug before leaping off the balcony.

A gasp escaped you as you watched Lupin swing from the wire, curving with the stairs before looping toward you, his free arm drawing out from his body.

“Hold on!” Lupin shouted. You hardly had time to register what he meant as he hooked his arm firmly around your waist and pulled you into the air with him. Your arms latched around his neck tightly, the floor growing distant as you guys swung with the stairs on the opposite side. The breath in your throat hitched when your shoes grazed the banister, the feeling disappearing and reappearing as you and Lupin landed on the balcony. You let out a gasp as you landed in a dipped position, your grip on Lupin not faltering in fear of falling; regardless, if you had let go, Lupin’s secured hold around you would save you.

Your eyes remained locked with Lupin’s, startled by the serious look that was donned. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You stammered in your response, rendered speechless by Lupin’s save. Was it out of character for Lupin to save a friend in trouble? No, not necessarily. Was it a surprise nonetheless that he saved you? Yes.

Lupin took your response as you being fine (physically). His gaze remained locked with yours, and you were sure you could mistake it for growing firm. He then spoke once more, his voice low and whisper-like, as if his words were meant to be heard by no one but you. “You’re the only thing that matters. Don’t forget it.”

You doubted you could, even if you tried.

Lupin’s expression changed, his eyes squinting in glee as he beamed at you. “You look ravishing in that uniform, by the way,” he says abruptly, leaning forward and kissing you. When he pulled away he grinned, seeing the flustered look you wore in response to both his words and the kiss.

Clearly you weren’t the only one taken back by the gesture, as Zenigata’s voice cut through the air with a stammer.

“I- dammit, Lupin! Your gang isn’t getting away that easily!”

“Oh, I don’t think I can agree with you there!” Lupin replied. He lowered you onto the second floor with Jigen’s help, the surprise from the aftermath of Lupin’s display still visible on his face, before unlatching the grappling-hook wire from his wrist piece and hopping down from the balcony himself. “Got the gem still, Jigen?”

“Yep,” the gunman hummed, procuring the gem from his pocket. He tossed it to Lupin, him catching it and holding it up to his eye-level before turning to look over the balcony.

“Alright, we’ve got the things we needed, so we’ll take our leave. Tootles, Pops!” he caroled, already nudging you and Jigen to get going. Jigen took the hint and bolted, Lupin following behind; you remained at the balcony, your gaze fixating on the grappling-hook Lupin left behind.

“(y/n), c’mon!” Lupin called to you, stopping in his tracks to find you not behind him. You were moving to try and get the gadget down, despite the police members already bounding up the stairs.

“But- your grappling-hook-”

“What are you, crazy? Just leave it!”

The fruitless result from your tugs at the wire left you with no other option but to heed him. You let go of the hanging wire and hurried to Lupin before you two started down a hallway that branched out the left of the main room, just as the local police were reaching the second floor. Jigen was already clambering out of one of the windows near the end of the hall, and you and Lupin halted when they reached the same window. Once Jigen had got down, landing feet-first on the fiat and crawling off it, Lupin followed suit, hopping out and onto the fiat. You climbed through the window, but halted when realizing Lupin hadn't moved out of the way yet.

"Lupin, move!" You said. Instead, Lupin reached his arms out to you, coaxing you to jump into his arms. You hesitated, prompting him to try and assure you it wasn't a bad idea.

"I won't drop you, I promise!"

You weren't reassured, but you hopped down anyway. And just as he'd promise, he caught and didn't drop you. "See? I promised."

"Yeah yeah, now let me down." Your wish was your command, after giving you a startle by jumping down from the roof. You vacated into the backseat while Lupin took the passenger seat, the driver's spot already claimed. Swearing and footsteps from inside the hall were words enough that the police would find them and the fiat; this in mind, Jigen turned the key in the ignition and the car lurched forward when the engine sputtered to life. You could faintly spot Zenigata in the window as you took off, Lupin already talking up a storm once Jigen pulled off the lawn and into the road, driving away from the museum. You turned forward in your seat, leaning into the gap between the front seats as if to join Lupin and Jigen.

"Still can't believe we didn't catch the motion sensors," Jigen grumbled, already perching a cigarette bud between his lips from the car's ashtray.

Lupin hummed in response, taking out the gem from his pocket and holding it up to admire it. "Well, at least the plan went smooth from there, so we can just chalk that part up to a mishap. Anyway, so I was thinking-"

There he goes, you thought, cracking a smile as Lupin spoke. One idea finished, another in the works. As the man rambled, you couldn't help but remember what he said back in the museum, your face warming up just at the memory of it. But then what he said to Zenigata, having the things they needed.

"Hey, Lupin," you decided to ask, catching his attention, "Did you take anything else besides the gem?"

"Not that I know of- why do you ask?"

You raised an eyebrow. "It sounded like you told Zenigata you took more than just the gem, so I thought-"

"Oh, I know what you mean!" he said in realization.

Jigen glanced at him. "You do?"

"Yeah." Lupin turned to face you, his grin present. "I took your lips for a second, didn't I? Did I perhaps steal your heart, too?"

Your face warmed as you stammered a 'no,' shying away from him as you looked out your window. Lupin chuckled at your reaction, turning back around. "Sorry, must've been your voice I took instead!"

"Damn flirt," Jigen mumbled.

Lupin's grinning face was in your window's reflection, and while your face was still warm and a string of your own profanity was passing through your lips, a small smile was passed through, too.

#lupin iii #arsene lupin iii #lupin iii x reader #arsene lupin iii x reader

79 notes · View notes

sayonarasanity · 3 years

Text

Chance With You

Summary: It is hard to see beauty in everything. Especially after a life as a soldier who had witnessed so many of his fellow comrades’ and thousands of people’s death. But Hanji wears that word as an outfit every day. It is drawn aesthetically in the way her eye lights up despite everything, in the way she examines each living being she finds in the garden, in the way her curiosity never leaving her mind. She is neither a tree nor a bird. She is a forest; she has a universe and a variety of colours in her land. Beauty is a butterfly that has perched upon her shoulder and it never leaves her side.

Link to AO3

notes: for the first part of this story I was kind of inspired by this ask. I highly recommend you to check that out as well also for Hanji's short hair see this post

A house, surrounded by some young, some old trees and green grass, with a little garden outside colourful with flowers, herbs and vegetables of different species. In the morning, the birds chirp just beyond his window, they welcome the new coming day with a melody in their tongue. The sun illuminates the sky brighter as if it had a mind of its own and it thought that a world after a gruesome war, painful sacrifices and unreasonable hatred deserves to shine more.

The familiar touch of warm fingers traces the line of scars on his face while he is still half-asleep, lying one side of his face buried on the pillow. The fingers move upwards to comb his hair back, then they slide downwards to his bare shoulders, to the space between his shoulder blades where old, pale wounds are inked permanently. Then a pair of lips are pressed on his temple, they are warm, and the touch is undeniably real. If it wasn’t, he would pray for it to go away, to disappear. Because if it wasn’t, ripping his heart out of its place would be less painful to open his eyes to the empty side of a twin bed.

“Morning, handsome.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs. Insomnia post-war still has its fair share of control over him. It is like a friend that he never intended to be close to, yet he is stuck with it inside the same cell in the same prison.

But Levi post-war had something else against it. Someone else, a third one in the cell to be accurate.

She presses her lips on his shoulder, and he half opens his right eye then shifts his head a little so that he can see her properly with his only functional, left one. Her dispersed, brown hair is the first thing that comes into his view. Then her eyes, one wounded like him and the other glittering with the daylight and her smile when she rests her head on her pillow.

“Hey,” he says with a rusty, morning voice.

Hanji reaches out with her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb caresses the scars again, goes over his blind eye then fixes his brow. “How romantic,” she sighs. “We match like broken glass.” Then her hand moves down to his undercut, her fingers warm on his rough, shaved skin. “Maybe I should get an undercut too.”

He touches the old scar on her left eye, and then her hair with his three remaining fingers. It is shorter than before, now it ends a little below her ear, curling on her nape. “It would suit you.”

“You think so?” she asks a mischievous smile shapes on the corner of her lips.

“Yeah,” he tries to suppress the smile, but his lips move slightly, nonetheless.

“Armin and Onyankopon will come for a visit today,” Hanji says.

“For what?”

“They said they had something to show us,” she shrugs one shoulder. “And that it was a surprise.”

Levi cannot think of anything. Nor his or Hanji’s birthday are close, or any holiday is on sight. Levi wonders if it is Gabi and Falco’s doing. Though as far as he knew they were away, travelling.

He raises himself on one elbow and gets his face closer to her neck to press his lips on her skin. “How much time do we have?” he murmurs as he puts his right arm next to her head to balance himself and intertwines their fingers with his other hand while leaving another kiss to her jaw.

“I don’t know,” she sighs as he kisses the sensitive skin under her ear. “An hour or so, I guess.”

“Good enough,” he whispers and finally catches her lips with his own.

“Good morning, Captain,” Armin greets him when he steps inside the kitchen. He wears a black suit; his hair is combed neatly, and he carries himself with a maturity the war he had to face so early in his life and his age has brought about. There are no traces of the insecure, irresolute boy upon him any more. But his smile and the shiny blue eyes are still the same.

“Morning,” he responds as Onyankopon and Hanji follows Armin into the kitchen. They all gather around the kitchen table. He is not a captain or anything anymore, but he lets it slide whenever Armin or one of the other kids call him that. It feels nostalgic and works well as a reminder that everything that had happened wasn’t a daydream or a shitty nightmare but an unfortunate reality.

“How do you feel, Levi-san?” Onyankopon asks, sitting across from him. He too wears a suit, a light grey one and has a matching bowler hat on his head.

“Not bad,” he says sipping from his tea.

Hanji serves their visitors two cups of tea then sits down next to him. “He actually means, I feel very good and I’m glad to be fucking alive, Onyankopon. Thanks for asking, what about you?”

Armin hides a silent chuckle behind his fist, pretending to be coughing while Onyankopon smiles and even laughs quietly. “I’m great, thank you.”

“Good,” Hanji beams.

“Stop translating me,” Levi says, glaring at her. “We speak the same fucking language.”

“Yes, we do,” she approves then adds, raising her brows with a knowing look. “But they don’t.”

“Tch,” he grunts and then sees the two younger men watching them with a weird expression on their faces. Half smiling, half questioning. His body tenses without control, and he grips the arm of the wheelchair. “Armin,” he decides to ask, just to be sure. “Do you see Hanji here?”

The blond boy blinks in confusion and stares at Hanji for a few seconds. “Yes, of course, Captain. She sits next to you.”

“Right,” he sighs.

A hand slides slowly on his back, drawing circles on top of his shirt. It immediately does its magic. His strained body relaxes under her touch. “No need to be confused,” Hanji explains, and Levi doesn’t look at her, but he just knows that she is smiling. “He is just making sure that I’m not a ghost and he hasn’t gone batshit crazy.”

Levi nor approves or rejects this accusation as he quietly proceeds to drink his tea. No one plans a murder out loud.

“Well,” Onyankopon starts, he sounds a little nervous and when Levi looks at him, he sees that his expression is also the same. “Don’t worry, Levi-san. She is as real as the greys in your hair.”

The hand on his back stops its movements, Armin freezes with the teacup half lifted to his mouth, his eyes are wide and terrified and for several seconds nobody even dares to fucking breathe.

Levi feels Hanji’s body shaking. He knows she is trying to suppress her laughter. Onkankopon opens his mouth, ready to explain himself. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Levi cuts in. “They both mean that I’m still fucking alive.”

They go outside after breakfast to see what Armin and Onyankopon came here today for. Levi had only been getting used to the midday sun dazzling his vision when he heard Hanji shrieking with joy and excitement.

“Is it what I think it is?” She exclaims bending over a black thing that he had likened to a wheelchair. He doesn’t understand the reason why she is so thrilled over it.

Onyankopon joins Hanji to explain the gadget while Armin stays next to him. “The hell is that?”

“It is a special wheelchair, Captain,” Armin explains. “Hanji-san had told us that you were sick of being pushed everywhere and we had been thinking about a solution. It took a while though,” he says sheepishly. “We’ve been kind of busy. But it’s finally completed and ready to be used.”

“This was her idea?” Levi asks, watching the excitement radiating through her body. Especially her eyes are shining even brighter than the sun hanging on top of their heads.

“Well, kind of.” Hanji sits on the wheelchair, curious idiot, and presses upon some things on the arm of the chair then screams when the thing suddenly moves forward on its own. Levi blinks his eyes, surprised. “I think she didn’t want you to feel like you were being a burden to her, so she didn’t directly ask for this, and to be honest I already had an idea in my mind when she had talked to me. So, yeah, this happened.”

Levi continues to watch Hanji who is moving forwards, backwards and to the left and right. Laughing and smirking like a child in an amusement park. “It’s amazing!” she yells. “Armin, you are a genius!”

The boy laughs and clears his throat seemingly embarrassed. “I’m glad you liked it, Hanji-san.”

“Levi!” she jumps up, and walking to where he is, she catches his hands. “Come on, you have to try it!”

She helps him get up from his wheelchair. “You know I can still walk on my own, right, four-eyes?” It takes quite an effort though, but he can.

“Don’t ruin my only excuse to touch you in public, shorty,” Hanji replies as they take slow steps towards the other, more technological wheelchair.

“You don’t need an excuse to touch me,” he says.

“Oww,” she coos. “How sweet of you—”

“Because I don’t want to be touched,” he goes on as he sits down. “In public.”

“Cruel, old man,” Hanji mutters, shaking her head.

“I’m not old, I’m only in my forties,” he objects, glaring at her. “Stop acting as if I’m a walking funeral.”

“Yes, of course, grandpa,” Hanji pats his head and Levi slaps it away.

Hanji and Armin quickly show him how the thing works and apparently it doesn’t require much of a genius to understand. He pushes upon the buttons hesitantly at first, moving only inches here and there as the three of them watch him expectantly and with an annoying curiosity. It is actually quite useful, at least he won’t need Hanji to push him whenever he wants to go out for some fresh air or he won’t need to overuse his arms. It is also more comfortable, and there is even a place on the arm to put his teacup.

“Did you like it?”

Levi looks up to see them expecting his answer. Hanji was the one to ask the question, yet it is obvious that the other two are also waiting to hear what he has to say. “Yeah,” he says causing them to take a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

“I’m so happy to hear that you liked it.” Onyankopon smiles and Armin nods.

“Come on now, take a stroll.” Hanji claps her hands excitedly. “Let’s see what this baby is capable of.”

Levi had been planning to just do that. There is enough space in the yard to test the machine properly. However, before he sets on to do what Hanji has offered, he looks into her eye, intensely enough for her to frown and her expression to change into confusion. Armin and Onyankopon had already started to talk with each other and are too much preoccupied to realise what is going on. So, with that bringing him more courage, he brings one hand down and pats his knee.

She is quite surprised and a little embarrassed as a cute flush colour her cheeks and she laughs nervously, combing her hair behind her ear with one hand. “Okay.”

“Have you put on weight?” Levi questions when Hanji sits down between his knees and curls her knees to her stomach. She secures herself by putting her feet next to his leg.

“Shut up,” she chides him and wraps an arm around his neck.

He holds her by the waist with his left arm, just in case. “Ready?”

She nods and sends him a toothy grin. “Always.”

Levi presses upon the button and they move forward. There is no hesitation in his control as the machine goes faster this time, stumbling when the wheels go over some rocks or little bumps on the lawn. Hanji is ecstatic. The wind ruffles her short hair, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. It is hard to see beauty in everything. Especially after a life as a soldier who had witnessed so many of his fellow comrades’ and thousands of people’s death. But Hanji wears that word as an outfit every day. It is drawn aesthetically in the way her eye lights up despite everything, in the way she examines each living being she finds in the garden, in the way her curiosity never leaving her mind. She is neither a tree nor a bird. She is a forest; she has a universe and a variety of colours in her land. Beauty is a butterfly that has perched upon her shoulder and it never leaves her side.

“Why have you stopped?” Hanji asks, and only then does he realize that they aren’t moving anymore and that he had been staring at her thinking how fucking lucky he is to have this, this thing which is called love.

Rather than answering, he holds her nape and brings her face closer, resting her forehead against his. Then closes his eyes and inhales the smell of the soap they share together, and the odour of the tea leaves still fresh on her breath.

He feels the moment her body melts, as her fingers touch his neck, and her thumb caresses his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Just checking.”

She laughs quietly, then leans in for a brief, soft kiss on his lips ignoring the fact that they are being watched by two of their former subordinates. Levi uses that moment to press on one of the buttons which quickly swirls the wheelchair to the right with a sudden movement. The kiss is over in a second as Hanji yelps then laughs heartily tilting her head backwards. The sun shines on her skin, and a butterfly flies around her head, fluttering its wings.

And despite all those years that had passed, and despite the places, they had seen during the last few years Levi is still positive that it is the best fucking sound this crocked world has to offer.

That was just a dream.

Levi stirs and blinks his eyes open, then almost immediately winces at his stiff neck. Curses at himself as he lifts up a hand to massage the skin. He had fallen asleep on the couch again with the TV open. His mother would’ve killed him if she were here. Good thing he had moved away for his job. He is still too young for this shit.

Accepting the fact that he has to deal with a stiff neck for the rest of the day he sits up reaching for the remote control.

That was just a dream, says Michael Stipe on the TV. The clip is almost over and the song fades. Just a dream.

He turns it off.

It is almost five in the morning and there is not even a drop of sleep left in his system. He walks to the bathroom yawning and stretching his body. His neck and shoulders crackle and he wrinkles his face. “Goddamn.”

He washes his hands on the sink and then his face, getting rid of the crust around his eyes. After that, he uses a towel to dry his face, and when the towel covers the right side of his face and his right eye, and he stares before him to the mirror he stops.

Bits and pieces of strange images slide inside of his head, a man around his forties who is sitting on a wheelchair, a blind eye, a scar running up and down one side of his face, a woman with short hair and bright eyes, a house with a garden, the sound of genuine laughter, the feeling of—

He drops the towel to the side of the sink and breathes heavily. His fingers touch the smooth skin on his face absentmindedly and he stares at his reflection. And his, thankfully still functioning blue eyes stare at him back, like they have no idea what the hell is going on. He checks his right hand to see all of his fingers are in place. Then he bends a little and slaps his leg, taps his foot on the ground for good measure.

“Huh,” he murmurs then. “Weird.”

Shaking his head, he settles on the idea that whatever he had seen was just a bizarre albeit a little too much realistic dream and sends it away to the back of his mind. Although he realizes that after remembering it, he feels somehow lighter. It is similar to the feeling one gets when the winter quietly recedes, and the trees start to give life to little flowers. That feeling of being lightweight and carefree even if it is just for a little while.

He takes a shower.

When he sits back down on the couch after the shower with a cup of tea in his hand, he opens his laptop to deal with some unread emails piled up in his inbox. He leaves the tea on the coffee table, next to his phone and puts away the towel he had been using to dry his hair.

Minutes later, when he reaches for the cup, he catches the moment his phone lighting up with a new notification.

Are you awake? The text says.

Taking the phone in his hands he taps, what do you think?

It takes only a second for his phone to start ringing. “Hey,” he opens the call. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’ve only just woken up,” she says but her voice sounds clear, dispersed of the sleepy roughness like she had been awake for a while. “Had a dream.”

“Bad one?” he asks as he takes a sip from his tea, his eyes scanning his laptop screen.

“Well, not really but kind of.” A pause, like she is lost in thought, then she adds. “I saw you.”

Levi hums, approvingly. “Naked?”

She lets out a loud, heartfelt laugh. “Oh my God, Levi. No,” she giggles breathlessly. “It wouldn’t be a bad dream if you were naked, you know.”

“Right,” he chuckles. “What was it then?”

“It was weird.” She stops again for a few seconds. “Like really weird.”

“You should tell me first if you want me to believe you, Hanji,” he says, not quite seriously.

She sighs. Then there is another pause which is relatively longer. Levi knits his brows and sits a little more upright. Something is wrong.

“What is it—”

“You were sitting on a wheelchair,” Hanji spills eventually, and the words die on his tongue. “And there were scars on your face. They were like war scars like you were once a soldier, a veteran. And—and you looked peaceful but also a little sad too. I don’t know. You were also older. Then there were two young people with you and a tall man. I don’t really remember their faces. I think you were travelling, you looked like tourists though I am not so sure but I-" she breaths fast, she hasn’t stopped talking for a while. “I wasn’t there.”

“Hanji,” he manages to say, despite the fact that he feels like he is choking in his own breath.

“It felt so wrong,” she goes on with a thin, frail voice. “I remember how I felt in the dream. I wanted to reach you, but I couldn’t, I tried to call out to you, but you didn’t hear. It was almost like… like I was a ghost. I was invisible. I was so desperate to just be with you and it felt so damn wrong that I wasn’t.”

“It was just a dream,” he whispers when he finds his voice. His body is frozen like he was paralyzed by something he had no control over.

“It felt so real.” He hears the tremble in her breath, and he notices how tight he had been holding the teacup. It is almost a miracle that it hadn’t been shattered to pieces yet.

“I had a dream too,” he decides to tell her.

“Oh?” She sounds interested and he is relieved to hear that her voice is back to its natural tone. “What did you see?”

So, he tells her the dream, not leaving much out except for the things he remembers himself feeling. She listens without almost a sound. He only occasionally hears her gasps and thoughtful hums and the quiet rhythm of her breaths. Only when he tells her that one of the men's in his dream was looking suspiciously similar to Armin, she adds thoughtfully that now that she thinks about it, the man in her dream was very much like Onyankopon. He flicks his fingers, of course, the other man was Onyanokpon. Though the identities of the two younger people remains a mystery.

When he finishes she is silent for a while. Possibly thinking.

“Hey, Levi,” she says, at last, drawing him out of his own deep thoughts. “Do you think we might’ve lived another life together?”

He examines the keyboard of the laptop for a handful of thoughtful seconds. “I don’t know,” he replies, honestly. Frankly, it is not that much of a long shot. “Maybe.”

“I don’t remember anything, though,” she continues. Levi imagines her lying on her back, watching the ceiling, her dark hair scattered on the pillow. “Do you?”

He almost says no, but then he recalls the dream again, and the way her skin reflected the morning sun, how her laughter touched the forgotten, drought lands in his heart and how lucky he felt to have her right beside. “I remember loving you,” he blurts, surprised even himself.

For an uncomfortably, and terrifyingly long second, she doesn’t respond. He chuckles, somewhat nervously. “Too much?”

“No,” she breathes. “No, it’s not. I just didn't expect you to say something like that.”

“Yeah,” he says dryly. “Tell me about it.”

“So, what do you think?” She asks, shifting the matter masterfully. “Which one was real?”

“How would I know?”

“Might be both,” she reasons. “Alternate realities and all that.”

“Yeah,” he mutters and shrugs although she can’t see it. “Why not?”

“Weird.” Levi holds the handle of the teacup and taps the table absently. “I wonder what happened. In my version, you know. Did I die before you? Maybe I was a soldier as well.”

Levi doesn’t like that possibility. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth but considering the two obscure dreams, it is likely. “You had a scar on your eye,” he says remembering his dream. “You most probably were.”

“Oh,” she sighs woefully. “Sorry for leaving you alone, then.”

“Yeah. Sorry for letting you die.”

She laughs. “Well, you probably had no other choice.”

He runs a hand over his face. What the actual fuck they are talking about in the goddamn wee hours? “Hanji, this doesn’t make any sense. Seriously, go back to sleep.”

“I don’t want to go back to sleep. I keep remembering the dream. I wish I had seen your version.”

He wishes the same too, to be honest. “Forget about it. Just sleep.”

“I can’t forget about it,” her voice comes muffled, like a part of her mouth is pressed upon her pillow. “You looked so fine with that scar.”

He pinches his nose but cannot stop himself from grinning like a lovesick fool for the life of him. “Idiot.”

“Would you like to hear something disgustingly cheesy and cliché?” She asks, drowsily.

“No.”

She goes on as if he had never talked. “I’m your idiot.”

“Dear, fucking Lord,” Levi struggles very hard to keep his laughter inside. “Just sleep already.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs, she is most probably about to fall asleep. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No, you will see me today.”

“Right, good, good,” she sighs, sleepily. “Later, then my handsome, my shorty, my one and only.”

“Dumbass,” he says affectionately but she is already snorting on the other side of the line.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

40 notes · View notes

captain-josslett · 3 years

Text

Enigma - Part Four

Masterlist

Summary: Emma Swan’s world gets turned upside down when her memories are altered, erasing her knowledge of a magical town and those she loves.

Things start to look up when Emma meets a striking redhead and a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Fluff, Period, Blood, slight angst? Maybe?

Pairings: Emma Swan x Regina Mills, Emma Swan x ??

This Part: Emma and Henry start to settle into their routine and Henry meets Nat.

Who is this Natalie Rushman? 🧐

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated. Please! I like knowing your thoughts.

Taglist: (Let me know if you want to come off this one) @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz, @camslightstories, @thinking1bee, @aznblossom, @crispykidcookiebasketball

The rest of the week goes extremely well for both Henry and Emma. Henry makes fast friends with those similar to his age, especially with two teenage boys he met on the first day of camp, called Peter Parker and Ned Leeds.

Emma had been surprised when she came home to find the trio on the sofa playing video games but she was pleased Henry was making some decent friends. She enjoyed hearing their banter as she made dinner and meeting Peter’s Aunt May and Uncle Ben when they came to pick Peter and Ned up from the apartment. May had even given her phone number to the blonde with the suggestion of meeting up for coffee. Emma gladly took it with the plan of taking the brunette up on her offer.

For her friendship with Natalie it grew stronger through the week, especially during training where Nat pushes Emma to her limits, helping her know what she can do and how to improve on any areas she was struggling with.

Natalie had been impressed with her shooting skills and didn’t need to give her many tips. Only that practice makes perfect, which comes to pass because soon Emma is hitting most, if not all, the targets during gun training.

Next were the assault courses and Emma couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with herself when she had been able to keep up with Natalie as they ran through the course. Only stumbling a few times when she would get distracted by watching her redheaded friend.

They continued to spar throughout the week and finally Emma was able to win a few rounds against her partner. One time she had knocked Nat to the floor but when Emma held out her hand to help her friend up, Natalie kicked her leg out, causing Emma to fall onto her back and letting out a high pitched squeal.

Both burst out laughing as they lay on the floor and eventually had to abandon training because they couldn't focus due to crying with laughter.

Today was finally Friday and Emma is feeling very nervous about having her new friend round to meet Henry. Especially after the possible kiss that was interrupted and never brought up again.

But as Emma feverishly cleans the apartment she decides to leave things with Nat as they are. To figuratively brush the almost kiss under the rug.

After all this is the first real friendship the blonde has had for a long time or for as long as she can remember. Yes she has had friends but not with the easy connection she has with Nat and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

Finally Emma is putting the cleaning supplies back under the sink and she rushes to the cupboard by the door to get the vacuum. Henry is playing video games with his legs up on the coffee table, but will occasionally watch his Mom as she zips around the apartment. When the vacuum blares to life he pauses the game, annoyed he can’t hear anything.

“MA!” Henry yells, causing Emma to pause and look at him, turning the machine off.

“What Henry?”

“I can’t hear the TV!” He groans pointing at his game. But he gulps when Emma gives him an unimpressed glare.

“You know it would have been nice if you offered to help. But I left you to it.” Emma crosses her arms. “I am trying to make our home nice for our guest. Now can you please get changed while I finish up in here? And make sure you close your door so she doesn’t catch sight of your room. Which you will clean and tidy tomorrow.”

“Aw Maaa!!” Henry whines and slams his hands either side of him on the sofa.

“Hen-rryyy.” Copies her son before turning around, hiding the smirk on her face. Her kid was truly entertaining sometimes, though admittedly somewhat annoying. But what young teenager wasn’t?

Emma continues vacuuming the apartment, making sure it shines and smells fresh. When she has completed her task Emma happily gazes around to triple check it’s to her standard.

Satisfied with the result she hops into the shower. Afterwards she quickly dries herself and gets to work on her hair. Blow drying it but allowing the natural waves in her hair to show and putting some basic makeup on. She stands for a while in her underwear, debating what to wear. ‘Smart? No this isn’t a meeting! But I don’t want to be too casual…’ Emma goes back and forth through her clothes. Her eyes land on her skinny jeans a few times but something pulls her away from them.

Finally she settles on a dark green skater dress, finishing it off with a few accessories. Her swan necklace and some pearl studded earrings. The intercom buzzes by the door making Emma jump. She quickly gives herself the once over, spraying vanilla perfume in the air and walking through it.

She rushes to the intercom as it buzzes again.

“Please desist that awful sound! It is terribly annoying.”

A silky laugh resonates from the machine. “Well if you had answered the first time I wouldn't have had to keep pressing it!”

“True.” Emma grins into the intercom.

“So… you gonna let me in?”

“Maybe.” Emma quickly presses the button and allows Natalie into the building.

Emma gives the apartment another once over and nods at Henry who is getting up from the sofa. Showing he had changed into a shirt. Emma is at least pleased he’s put a bit of effort into what he’s wearing.

A loud knock echoes through the apartment and Emma flies to the door. Opening it to reveal a beaming Natalie wearing black skinny jeans, black boots and red wine sheer blouse. Her hair is tied back into a high ponytail and her makeup is subtle but makes her features pop.

“Hi.” Emma breathes out before hugging the redhead. For a moment her mind screams at her for diving in straight away as she realises this is the first time they’ve hugged. Though she is relieved to feel Natalie’s arm reach up and hug her in return.

Emma pulls away before waving the redhead into the apartment. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know what you drank so I brought everything!” Nat laughs while bending down to pick up a case of beer and a bag full of jangling bottles.

“Aww you didn’t have too!” Emma smiles as she takes the goods off her friend and heads to the kitchen.

“Well I am the first guest around your apartment. Would be rude not to.” Natasha says while following behind the blonde. She smiles when she sees a teenage boy standing awkwardly by the sofa. “And you must be Henry.”

“Hi.” Henry says timidly.

Emma smirks at how shy Henry has gone. Certain that if she was standing next to him he’d hide behind her.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Thay you are going to be the next Tony Stark of inventing?”

Henry beams at Natalie’s question. “That's the plan.” He moves to the other side of the island where the two women are standing by.

“He’s only a week in and already his coaches are impressed with him.” Emma says with pride while putting the drinks in the fridge. “What do you want Nat?”

“I’m happy with a beer.” The redhead responds, Emma passes her one and opens one for herself. Natalie takes a sip and focuses back on the teenager. “That is amazing Henry. It isn’t an easy camp to be in, they certainly don’t mess around.”

“Yea? How do you know?” Henry tilts his head curiously at her.

“I know a few people that work there.” She smiles at him as his eyes go wide.

“Do you know Mr Stark?” Henry can’t help but bounce on his feet, showing his excitement.

“I do actually.”

Both Mother and Son gape at her and Emma blinks at how she didn’t know this information. Nat sees this and her smile widens.

“But only from a few parties he has hosted.”

“That's so cool!! Did he get his Iron Man suit out?!” Henry continues to bounce on his feet and Emma grins at his enthusiasm.

“Not the full suit but he let me try his gauntlet on and shoot an ice sculpture.”

Emma laughs into her drink at how Henry’s eyes widen even more that they could almost fall out of his head.

“That-is- AWESOME!!” Henry whoops but Emma interrupts him from the barrage of questions she knew he was going to ask the redhead.

“So.” Emma claps her hands drawing the pair's attention. “What pizza shall we order?”

“Pizza!” Henry quickly zips over to the cupboard where they keep all their take-out menus.

“What do you guys normally get?” Natalie asks casually while sipping her beer.

“Well, we have a great pizza place down the road and we’ve actually been going through the menu. There are still a few we haven’t tried.” Emma licks her lips. “What do you say Rushman? Feeling brave?”

“Always.” Natalie says coolly, raising a sculpted eyebrow at her.

Henry bounds towards them and they look through the menu. Nat laughs at the ratings and notes the mother and son have put against the ones they have tried.

“How bout we try the BBQ supreme, the oceano special and the carbonara pizza?” Emma points at the different choices.

“Fish on pizza? Yuck!” Henry pulls a face of disgust, Emma rolls her eyes but Nat smiles widely at him and winks. Henry’s cheeks redden slightly and he quickly stares down at the menu.

“Okay-” Emma taps the island as she looks over the options again. Trying to figure out what her taste buds are telling her. “How about…”

“The Hawaiian?” Natalie asks seriously, noticing how no writings were near the selection, before bursting out laughing as Henry’s head snaps up, the disgust on his face deepening. “I’m kidding Henry.”

“Good!” Henry says with relief flooding his face.

The trio look back down at the menu. “How bout Granny’s pizza? That sounds nice.” Nat offers up as she points at the description of the pizza.

“Yea, sounds good.” Emma smiles at her and Henry nods. Emma picks up the phone and dials the number she’s learnt off by heart. Not surprised when her voice is recognised by the person answering.

She banters with the owner while she watches Henry guide Nat over to the sofa to show her Diablo III and make the redhead a character.

Emma grins at how the conversation between the pair flows easily. Especially when Henry asks her which superhero character she likes, ultimately getting into a debate about Supergirl and Superman.

When she hangs up the phone she quietly sighs in relief as she looks at the back of their heads, relieved that they are getting along, before walking over to join them.

-- -- --

The evening was a success and after Henry went to bed Emma and Nat stayed up talking well into the early hours of the morning. When they realised the time, Emma was adamant that Nat stays over and sets the sofa up for her.

In the morning Nat seamlessly fits in with the relaxed Saturday morning ritual of the Swans. Helping Henry with the pancake mixture while Emma cooked, though some flour did get tossed around between her and Henry. Both gave the blonde puppy dog eyes when she turned on them. Ultimately cleaning up after themselves but Nat gave Henry a mischievous look before placing her flour covered hand on Emma’s face. Causing Emma to shriek and chase after the redhead, promptly promoting Henry to chef.

After they ate they played a few board games and Henry couldn’t help but smile and laugh at how competitive the two women got against each other.

Eventually it was time for Nat to leave and both of the Swans were sad to see her go as they waved goodbye from their doorway.

When Sunday comes, the mother and son go for an adventure around New York and try a few places to eat that they have heard about. When they venture back into the apartment they feel truly stuffed and satisfied and ready for a Sunday nap.

The weeks pass and they fall into a comfortable routine of work and camp, followed by Friday nights with Nat, who mostly always stays over and sleeps on the sofa. Emma had offered for Nat to sleep in her huge bed with her, but Nat would always politely refuse. Stating she would probably kick Emma hard in the night.

Saturdays are filled with either Henry hanging out with his Mom and Nat or he would go out with Peter and Ned to the arcade or some other adventure. Secretly happy about this as it gives his Mom some time with Nat, who Henry suspects is increasingly becoming someone special to his Ma.

This becomes apparent when one early Monday morning Emma groans as she starts to wake up. She had been experiencing a good dream involving the brunette beauty she keeps seeing, but pain radiates from her stomach. Pulling Emma into consciousness with the feeling she’s being stabbed constantly. Sighing heavily, she slowly lifts herself up, whimpering at the pain and stumbles to the bathroom.

She goes to use the toilet and crack open an eye, her suspicions are confirmed.

Her period has started.

Normally she was on the pill but with the move she completely forgot about it. Sorting herself out with lidded eyes she manages to get back to her bed and collapses into it. She groans and curls up into a tight ball, gritting her teeth as another powerful cramp makes her whole body tense.

Somehow Emma falls back to sleep or falls unconscious, she isn’t sure, when a few hours later she is awoken by Henry knocking on her door but she doesn’t have the energy to answer him.

“Ma? Are you up?” Henry’s muffled voice calls through the door. Emma groans in response and starts to uncurl. Suddenly her eyes shoot open as she feels her stomach roll dangerously. She gags and stumbles to the en-suite, just making it before she vomits. “Ma?!” Henry’s panicked voice yells as he opens her bedroom door.

Emma wants to tell him she is okay, but her energy has been zapped. Instead she moans, her breathing becomes ragged and tears fall down her face as she continues to throw up. The cramps are becoming worse and worse. Her whole body aches and feels like she's been run over multiple times.

“I’m going to get help!” Henry is gone before she can say anything. Once her stomach has settled again she flushes and tries to get to her feet. But her body isn’t cooperating with her demands.

“Henry?” Her voice is weak and rough. She tries to move again but is horrified when another severe cramp causes nausea to bubble up and she’s throwing up again.

Gentle hands pull her damp hair back, making Emma jump.

“Sorry.” A soft velvet voice apologises. Nat grabs a hair tie from on top of the sink and ties the blonde’s hair into a loose bun on top of Emma’s head. She gently rubs Emma’s back, looking at her friend sympathetically.

“Grss-you-shnd’nt, be here.” Emma’s mumbles come out in strained gasps.

“That’s what best friends are for, right?” Nat says and looks up at Henry who stands nervously in the doorway of Emma’s en-suite. His worry etched on his face.

“Henry, can you get your Mom a bottle of water please?” She smiles comfortingly at the teenager and Henry nods, taking off towards the fridge. Her smile widens slightly when Emma flops back into her. The blonde’s head rests on Nat’s shoulder, but Nat's smile fades when she notes how pale Emma is. “Wow Em, what’s wrong?”

“Period.” Emma mutters and she swallows, trying to relieve the acidic pain in her throat.

“Poor Em.” Nat leans over slightly to flush the toilet. Causing Emma to whine with the movement. Henry re-enters the bathroom with the bottle of water. “Thank you Henry.” She says as she takes it from him.

“Is she going to be okay?” Henry's voice is small as he looks down at his Mom.

“Yea she’s going to be just fine.” Nat says, trying to reassure him. “Shouldn’t you get going?”

Henry nods looking at the time on his watch. “Will you stay with her?”

“Yes, I’ve already told Johnson we aren’t coming in today.”

“Okay, bye Ma, hope you feel better soon.”

“Bye Hen.” Emma groans out. The pair hear Henry move into the corridor and out the apartment door.

Nat opens the bottle. “Drink this Em.”

Emma sluggishly lifts her hand to take the bottle.

Nat frowns at the lack of energy Emma is displaying. “Are your periods always this bad?”

Emma nods her head. “When I forget to take my meds. Aren’t yours?”

Nat stays quiet for a moment and Emma turns her head to squint up at the redhead.

“Try and drink a few sips for me.” Nat says, obviously ending the subject and helps Emma manage to drink a bit more.

The redhead somehow even manages to grab some medication from a drawer nearby and not jolt the blonde. After swallowing them, Emma starts to settle back into the redhead. Resting her head on her shoulder again. But Nat knows she won’t be comfortable soon.

“Can you get up?” Nat looks down at the blonde but Emma doesn’t respond. “Em?”

A green eye slowly opens before another one.

“Hi there.” Nat smirks down at her friend as Emma’s eyes connect with hers. “Can you get up?”

Emma nods, slowly sitting up and reaching out for the sink. She’s almost up until her legs buckle, making her slip and almost hit her head on the porcelain. But two strong arms catch her.

“Wow, careful there Em!” Nat pulls the blonde towards herself and lifts her up carefully. If Emma was fully with it she’d be freaking out at how Nat easily lifts her. “Do you want to go back to bed or on the sofa?”

“Sofa, watch movie.” Emma sighs out, enjoying the feeling of being in the redhead’s arms.

“Good idea.” Nat says and carefully walks through the apartment, not wanting to jostle the blonde and lays Emma on the sofa, pulling a teal blanket over her. “What do you want to eat?”

“No food.” Emma groans with the thought of eating and places her arm over her eyes.

“Em, you need to eat something.” Nat says firmly while crossing her arms.

“Toast.” Emma whispers out and Nat moves towards the kitchen. “And I need my glasses.”

Nat quickly backtracks to the sofa and looks down at her friend. “You wear glasses?”

Emma moves her arm away and nods tiredly. “Normally wear contacts. Glasses are beside my bed.” Emma curls up as pain shoots through her. She hears Nat go into her room to get them.

“Wow Em you're blind!” Nat exclaims, amazed at how thick the lenses are and how blurry everything looks when she gazes through them. She carefully cleans them as she makes her way back to the sofa. “Here you go Em.” Nat holds the glasses out to her.

“Thanks Nat.” Emma says weakly.

“So, toast, anything else?” Nat looks down as Emma places the thick rimmed glasses on, making her eyes magnified.

“Apple juice please.”

“Okay.” Nat smiles at Emma and walks to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the both of them. Already knowing where everything is she pops four slices of bread in the toaster. “I’m gonna have some scrambled eggs with the toast. Do you want any?”

“Yea please.” Emma’s weak voice calls out from the sofa.

After a few minutes Natalie places the food on the coffee table and looks over at the films on the bookcase. “What do you want to watch?”

“Erm… Before that.” Emma says nervously as she slowly sits up to face the redhead. Nat sees this and turns so she’s facing Emma as well, who fiddles with her hands and looks anxiously at Nat. Who tilts her head as she waits for Emma to continue. “Earlier you said, that’s what best friends are for and I…” Emma falters, feeling ridiculous and like a child for bringing it up.

“You what?” Natalie asks softly, but when it's clear Emma wasn’t going to continue her sentence, the redhead takes a deep breath. “Do you not want to be my best friend?”

“No! I mean I do! I just-” Emma runs a frustrated hand over her forehead, before flopping into the side of the sofa cushion. “I’ve never really had a best friend before. People have come close but I’ve never felt able to let them in or felt so at ease with someone before.” Emma panic when Nat just stares at her for a moment “And now I’ve ruined it and-”

“Em breathe.” Nat quickly cuts her off and takes Emma’s hand. Smiles fondly at her. “And I feel the same way. My work has become my life and it's nice to have someone I can share it and the other things with.”

“Other things?”

“Pizza, movies, walks in the park, kicking your ass in training-”

“Hey!” Emma protests weakly. “Not as much.” She grumbles and crosses her arms across her chest but winces at the pain.

“Okay, okay, not as much, not anymore at least.” Nat says while reaching out and unlocking Emma’s arms. “You need to stay relaxed.”

“Yes Mom.” Emma mutters and Nat chuckles, heading over to where the DVD’s are.

“So bestie! What is it you want to watch?”

“Tangled.” Emma says while playing with a loose thread on the blanket.

She smiles at the warm feelings radiating from her chest. Happy that her little confession hasn’t ruined anything with her friend, her best friend.

Emma is also relieved that she is starting to feel that the painkillers were taking effect in dulling the pain. Carefully she stretches her legs out and sighs heavily.

Nat reaches out for the DVD. “Tangled it is!” She quickly turns the Xbox on and puts the disc in. Walking back over to the sofa she lifts Emma’s legs so she can sit down. Gently places Emma’s legs on her lap and grabs the controller to start the film.

Soon the room is filled with Disney's intro music and the friends are whisked away on Repunzel’s adventure.

The waft of food reminds Emma she hasn’t eaten yet and she's pretty sure her stomach is beyond empty and will start to eat itself. Her stomach then growls, seemingly confirming Emma’s theory. Slowly Emma sits up removing her legs from Nat’s lap and sits cross legged.

“You can keep your feet there you know?” Natalie tells her softly, her attention momentarily moves off the screen and on the blonde beside her.

“Yea, but it would be harder to eat.” Emma gives the redhead a small smile.

“True.” Nat smiles back, especially when Emma drapes the blanket across both their laps and grabs their plates. Handing the redhead her portion.

The friends eat in silence as they watch Rapunzel and Flynn travel across the land to get to the Kingdom of Corona. They laugh at the jokes and Emma bounces along to the I have a dream song, causing Nat to grin at her.

Emma bellows with laughter when Flynn admits his name is Eugene. Nat doesn’t understand why it's that funny to Emma, but shrugs and chuckles with her anyway.

When Rapunzel and Eugene get to the Kingdom Nat notices Emma starting to get quieter. They continue to watch Rapunzel enjoy her birthday and get into a boat to watch the lanterns get released. When Rapunzel’s parents come on the screen, still devastated by the loss of their missing daughter, she hears Emma sniff. Nat looks at her blonde best friend from the corner of her eye and sees a few tears fall as Emma is transfixed by what is happening on the screen.

When the song begins and the King and Queen release the lantern, Emma’s tears fall quicker and she sniffs a few more times.

“You okay?” Nat asks softly. Emma nods her head and wipes her face under her glasses. Nat opens her arm out, beckoning Emma into her. Emma immediately shuffles over and falls into her best friend’s lap. She sighs in content as she rests her head on the crook of Nat’s arms.

The redhead gazes down at Emma and places her hand gently on Emma’s head. Softly moving her finger to stroke Emma’s head.

She looks back at the tv and sees the way Eugene watches Rapunzel. The adoration he feels for the blonde princess is clear.

Her hand and arm suddenly feels warm around Emma but she doesn’t want to pull away.

“I’d love for someone to look at me the way Eugene looks at her.” Emma says sadly with a sniff.

“One day, someone will.” Nat reaches down and squeezes Emma’s hand. Emma looks down at their joined hands and gives her a small smile through her tears.

“Yea, one day.” She wipes her wet face again. ‘Damn hormones!’

They continue watching the film and how things turn south when Mother Gothel makes Rapunzel believe Eugene doesn’t love her. Taking Rapunzel back to the tower, her prison.

Emma cheers when Eugene breaks free from the Kingdom’s prison after getting arrested by the guards and how Repunzel realises she is the lost princess.

But her mood soon grows solemn again when Eugene climbs Rapunzel's hair only to find her gagged and chained. She leans back further into Nat when Eugene is stabbed by Gothel and they watch the sequence unfold that leads to Eugene cutting Repunzel’s hair. Freeing her from Gothel who trips and falls out of the tower, becoming dust before she hits the ground.

Nat frowns at the tv as Eugene is dying in Rapunzel’s arms. She breathes a sigh of relief when Rapunzel’s tear gives Eugene another chance. As the scene switches to Rapunzel’s parents, Nat feels Emma tense up and feels her arm getting wet with tears as the parents rush to meet their lost daughter.

When Repunzel’s Mother slowly approaches Rapunzel, looking at her in awe and wonder and realising it is her daughter, Emma lets out a quiet sob. Her shoulders shake when the mother and daughter hug and Emma lets out another sob as the father joins the hug.

Emma buries her head into the crook of Nat’s arm and openly weeps.

“Hey, Em, what’s wrong?” Nat says concerned but Emma just shakes her head and continues crying. Nat carefully turns Emma over and lifts her slightly so she can hold her in a tight hug. Confused and worried at how Emma is reacting.

The blonde buries her head into the redhead’s shoulder, cursing her hormones. “It’s- stupid.” Emma’s muffled voice breaks as she continues to cry into the redhead’s shoulder.

“What is?” Nat rubs her hand over Emma’s back, trying to soothe her.

“My parents- do they- think of me? Do they light- a candle- on my birthday? Do they regret giving- me up?” Emma voices out her deepest thoughts to her best friend.

Nat sighs as she begins to understand what Emma is thinking. “Oh Em.” For the first time in a while Nat doesn’t know what to say. So she just continues to hold her best friend, looking down at the broken woman in her arms.

Soon Emma’s sobs fade and her breathing slows down. “Sorry.” Emma feels embarrassed and starts to move out of Nat’s arms.

“It’s fine Em.” She holds on, not allowing Emma to move. “I know you don’t really want to get up.”

Emma stops trying and nods. Settling back in the comforting embrace. Her eyes grow heavy and before she knows it she is asleep.

Nat smiles sadly down at Emma and places a gentle kiss on the blonde’s head before she reaches out to the remote beside her and settles back to watch some tv.

(Part Five)

#ouat #once upon a time #once upon a time x avengers #emma swan #henry mills #natalie rushman #who is she?#OUAT x Avengers #emma swan imagine

13 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

masterlist - ao3 - prologue - next chapter

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The auditorium clapped loudly and Elide could hear her friend’s cheers as she finished her valedictorian speech for the Fenharrow University School of International Relations. She smiled brightly, accepting the gold plaque that the dean held out to her and posing for the photographer.

Elide waved as she walked off the stage. She didn’t have time to wait for the other announcements - Ress was already trying to hurry her up - but she managed to catch Asterin and Yrene’s eyes, blowing them both a kiss and waving.

She made a note to ask Lysandra if she could fly them both out over the summer. Elide knew she’d be busy, with the title and the official resignation of her uncle, but hopefully she could sneak a weekend away before the ceremony, which they were both coming for anyway.

“Miss Lochan, we really–”

“Ress, I told you to call me Elide,” she reminded the young man, smirking at the way he blushed. He was Aelin’s favourite guard and her most trusted, which was probably why he’d been sent to collect her from university and whisk her back to Perranth.

Ress cleared his throat, “Of course. Elide, we need to hurry. The plane is waiting.”

She smiled and followed him through the back halls. Ress led her out to the street, where a black SUV was waiting. He opened the door for her and Elide smiled her thanks, sighing in relief once she was sitting.

A bag was on the seat next to her. Elide rolled up the partition just as Ress started the car, pulling smoothly away from the curb to the airport.

She changed into a pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a hoodie from her now alma mater. Then, she rolled down the partition again, leaning forward to rest her forearms against it and her chin on her wrists. “So,” Elide cackled when Ress jumped, spooked by her proximity, “how’s Terrasen?”

“It’s very good,” he replied, slowing to a stop at a red light. Elide took the opportunity to crawl through to the passenger seat. “Miss Lochan- Elide, stop that! It’s not safe for you to be up here!”

“Oh, come on! I know you have bulletproof windows and the windshield is too,” she argued, relenting by buckling her seatbelt. Elide continued, adding, “Plus, if someone does shoot at me, you’re closer to throw your body in front of mine to save me.”

Ress rolled his eyes in jest and the light turned green. “Your logic is impeccable as always, milady.”

Elide punched his shoulder for that, cursing when her ineffectual blow was met with solid muscle, “Fuck me, you couldn’t be a bit softer for when I punch you?”

He just laughed and continued driving.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The plane started to rumble beneath her and Elide gripped the armrest tightly, her long, black acrylics digging into the plush, cream-coloured leather. Despite being a regular flier, she never had gotten used to the sudden lurch in her stomach as the glorified tin can sped up and shot into the sky.

Landing was easier, but only by a smidgen.

Elide kept her eyes screwed shut until a soft ding sounded, indicating that they had reached cruising altitudes. She let out a long breath, opening her eyes to look out the window as they flew away from Bellhaven.

The stewardess came by with tea and a sandwich for both Elide and Ress, who was sitting in the comfortable chair opposite hers. Elide thanked her and started on her tea while Ress practically inhaled his sandwich.

Elide snorted and handed him hers. When he declined, she insisted, “C’mon. I’m not hungry, we went to the diner to see Sorscha anyway, just take it.” He conceded, obviously making an effort to eat it slower as Elide stirred her tea.

She watched him curiously and sipped from her tea.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Ress muttered, his cheeks pinking.

“I’m not staring at you,” she replied loftily. Elide placed her cup to the side and rested her elbow on her armrest, propping her chin on her fist. “Are you still seeing that boy?”

Ress choked on a bite of food and coughed. When he finally got his breath back, he shook his head, “Did Aelin say- is the sandwich a bribe?”

Elide gasped, “So there is a boy, I knew it!”

“Don’t you have preparations to look over,” he shot back at her, eyeing the manila folder on the tray next to her.

Elide sighed and gave him a dirty look up as she picked up the smooth packet, looking at the shiny seal, her family’s crest staring up at her. Ress took it as his exit and practically fled. Elide called after him, “This isn’t over, Ress!”

“Oh, yes it is!” he yelled back, collapsing into a seat facing away from her and slinking down so she couldn’t even see his brown-haired head.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide smoothed her hands over her white tweed jacket, fingering the button stamped with a double C. She turned to appraise the matching pants.

Her hair was curled, clipped back and resting over one shoulder. As usual her makeup was done to perfection - she had long since perfected the barely-there look - and Elide decided to finish the look off with a dark black lip that matched the piping of her suit.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, “Elide? Captain says we need to return to our seats.”

“I’ll be right out,” she called back, testing her ankle. She had gotten the necessary surgeries two months after she turned eighteen and had control over her medical needs. Since the injury and subsequent abuse due to her uncle’s refusal for medical attention, it would never heal to what it once was, but Elide was diligent about her physio-therapy, so she could usually go without her brace unless she was exercising.

Elide packed her bags up and walked out, stashing them on her carry-on before sliding into her seat and buckling her seatbelt.

Ress smiled at her, tilting his head to the window, “Welcome home, Duchess of Perranth.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ress half covered her from the press as she walked off the plane and across the tarmac. “Elide, I don’t want you being too open.”

“I’ll just smile and wave,” she argued, flashing him a blinding smile as she stepped around him and waved, “What’s the point of looking this good if I can’t show off?”

He grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Aelin is rubbing off on you. Elide laughed and approached the fence, bending down to accept the bouquet from a little girl dressed to the nines in a tulle dress and a tiara. “Oh, thank you. I love peonies,” Elide said, “and your tiara, it’s beautiful.”

The little girl beamed, flashing where she was missing her top front teeth, and then ran back to her mother, who shared a warm smile with Elide.

Elide waved once more and dodged Remelle DuBois, one of the countless entertainment reporters who spent her days chasing down royals and their family members. She had always been too… friendly with Rowan. Remelle wasn’t one for subtlety and was a vocal critic of Aelin’s policies.

Elide had always doubted it had anything with her cousin’s skills as a competent monarch.

Ress ushered her away before Remelle could sink her claws into Elide and showed her into yet another SUV, its windows tinted black.

Elide stayed glued to the window for the entire drive. She always returned to Perranth during her breaks, but that reading week back in February, she had been too busy with midterms and couldn’t find the time to fly out.

She had missed her home more than she thought possible and drank in the sights as Ress drove through the city. The castle was a short ten minute drive from the city limits and Elide looked excitedly at the landmarks telling her she was getting closer and closer.

They turned onto a nondescript road. After a minute of thick forest - strategically grown as a natural defence - the rolling green hills of the property came into view. Elide gasped happily at the sight of the soaring towers.

When Ress parked in the roundabout driveway, Elide didn’t bother waiting for one of the footmen to open her door before she was hopping out. A familiar pair stood at the top of the limestone steps, next to Vernon, who looked at Elide with a slight sneer.

Aelin smiled and managed to contain herself as the majordomo announced, “Her Royal Grace, Elide Amara Lochan of Perranth.”

There was a short trumpet fanfare played as Elide walked up the steps. She thanked Anneith that it was customary to address the queen and king consort before any other royal. Elide curtsied formally, bowing her head before Aelin and Rowan.

Their arresting eyes were both filled with mild amusement at the formality of it all. “Welcome home, Elide,” Aelin said, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks and squeeze her hands. In a soft whisper, she said, “I’m so proud of you, my love.”

Elide mouthed Thank you and turned to Rowan, breaking protocol to throw her arms around his shoulders. The silver-haired man laughed deeply and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head, “Hey, Ellie.”

“Hi, Ro,” she croaked. They had grown even closer and it wouldn’t be remiss to call Rowan her best friend. Vernon cleared his throat obnoxiously and Rowan reluctantly put her down, never happy to relinquish his protective hold on her around her uncle.

Elide patted his bicep, telling him she was fine. She dipped her head, internalising her smirk at the indignation on Vernon’s face when she hardly bowed. “Uncle, it’s lovely to see you again.”

He gave her a slimy smile and Elide visibly stiffened when he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, his grip near crushing. “My sentiments exactly, niece.”

Aelin’s personal assistant, Lysandra, appeared, smiling widely. “Elide, I thought I heard your name.”

“Hi, Lyss,” she said, hugging the green eyed beauty warmly. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you,” Lysandra answered before drawing back. “Now that we’ve all said hello, why don’t we move this inside?”

They all chuckled and followed her as she led them through the front doors, thanking the doormen with a dazzling grin. The moment the doors shut behind them, Aelin squealed and threw herself at Elide, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, it’s like it’d kill you to visit your poor cousin - you know how I loathe spending my days with stuffy old men.”

Elide laughed, “You’re the one who insisted I finish my degree before assuming the title.” Tears pricked her eyes, “I missed you, Ace. You have to tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Aelin pulled away, looping her arm through Elide’s, “It’s been a busy year. Most of my meetings are about you, you know. It takes a lot to prepare for your–” The blonde was interrupted by a derisive snort, poorly disguised by a cough. Slowly, she turned to face Vernon. “Have a cold, do you?”

“No, no, I’m quite alright.” He cleared his throat, “I thought I might be more involved with the preparations, that’s all. If I may, how far along are the plans?”

Elide glanced between her uncle and her cousin, feeling dread settle in the pit of her stomach.

“...quite far. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves.”

Elide tugged Aelin along before she could snap back a snarky response, “I think we can discuss this later. I’m rather tired and would like to get settled.”

Aelin looked ready to fight, but softened after Elide’s pleading look, “Of course. I have a surprise for you, El.”

The tension eased from her shoulders as their party moved swiftly, leaving Vernon in their wake.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin insisted on keeping Elide’s eyes closed as they moved through the halls.

Elide was sure her cousin purposefully took her all over, so she had no idea where they had ended up. “Ae, come on, let me see!”

“Ok, ok, ready?”

“For the love of the gods, yes!”

Aelin pulled her hands away and stepped away. Elide exhaled sharply, “This- it’s my parents rooms.” She looked in confusion at Aelin, not understanding what was happening. “Wh-what?”

Aelin shrugged, “Since you’re about to be the duchess, I thought it might be more appropriate for you to live here instead of your old rooms.”

Elide reached out, squeezing Aelin’s hand. She hadn’t spent much time in the rooms since her parents died - no one had. Vernon had once mentioned moving in, but after Elide objected by refusing to eat, he relented and they remained empty. “Thank you, love.”

Aelin beamed, “The pleasure is all mine. Now,” she put a hand on the handle, turning it to the side, “shall we?”

Nodding, Elide braced herself as Aelin opened the door and she walked in, taking in the entry hall. A flash of black, brown, and white fur shot towards her.

She managed to keep on her feet as Bear crashed into her, the large pup’s body wiggling uncontrollably in excitement. Elide laughed and kicked off her precarious heels, crouching down to hug her dog. “Hi, Bear, oh, hi, lovie.”

Bear barked excitedly, her fluffy tail whipping back and forth, coming close to toppling the hall stand and the vase placed there for Elide’s flowers. The house she had rented with Asterin, Sorscha, and Yrene hadn’t allowed pets, so Bear stayed in Orynth with Fleetfoot.

The fluffy Bernese Mountain dog butted her big head into Elide’s hands, asking for pets. Elide laughed and scratched her floppy ears, “Were they treating you well in the castle? Yeah?”

Bear growled playfully, nipping at Elide’s hand before moving past her to the door and sitting expectantly. Elide stood and dusted off her pants, chuckling at her eagerness, “Not now, Bear. I just got home!”

“Speaking of,” Aelin said, patting Bear’s head, “let me show you what I’ve done!”

Elide faked a groan and let herself be dragged over through the entry hall, noticing the new armchairs placed around the table. She waited excitedly as Aelin dramatically flung the double doors open to her bedroom, “Welcome!”

Stepping in, Elide took in the opulence of her room. It was painted a pastel mint and cream. She smiled, looking at the large bed in the middle of the room, its wooden frame edged in gold with a diamond-tufted headboard.

Pillows upon pillows practically overtook the bed, the sheets a neutral white. Aelin stood nervously by the bed, running her hand along the soft throw blanket, “I got the white just in case you wanted to change it, you can. And we can repaint this, too, of course. And–”

“Aelin, really, it’s amazing. I love it,” Elide said, turning to take in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase flanking the fireplace and large, flat screen television. There was a white armchair by the wall of windows, the middle two Elide knew were French doors that opened to the balcony that oversaw the courtyard and the gardens.

The queen smiled softly and beckoned her over to the closet, “And this is a little birthday present, just from me to you, ok?”

Elide bit her lip to contain her smile as Aelin opened the door with a flourish, “Ta-da!”

She walked in, her mouth dropping as she took in the racks of clothes in the walk-in dressing room. There was a full length mirror that lit up when Elide touched it and she gasped, whirling to look at the clothes hanging. “Oh my gods, Aelin.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me show you this,” Aelin said, drawing her attention to the island in the middle of the room. She pressed a button and after a slick hiss, drawers popped open, sliding out to display accessories and beautiful jewellery.

“Oh, Aelin, it’s beautiful,” Elide gushed, most excited about the wall of shoes and purses. She pulled Aelin into another hug, “Thank you for everything, Ace. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Too overcome with emotion to say a word, Aelin just returned the embrace and they stayed there for a while, trapped in the moment.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide sighed calmly as she sipped a glass of wine, holding a tattered paperback in the other hand.

She rested her feet on the opposite lip of the sunken bath, tapping her toes to the rhythm in her head. The bathroom door was nudged open and big paws padded against the marble tiles. Elide smiled, turning to look at Bear as she rested her head on edge of the tub and whined softly.

Laughing, Elide put her glass and book down. “Have I not paid enough attention to you?” she asked, lovingly stroking her hand over Bear’s head. The dog huffed through her nose, making her eyes big and wide.

Elide laughed again, leaning over to kiss the top of Bear’s head, “I missed you too, Bear.” She reclined further back as Bear slumped to the floor, her chin resting on her paws. It seemed for the first time in Elide’s life, the future was clear and nothing could ruin that for her.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: i hope u liked her 🥺 next chapter is fun ! really really quite fun hehe

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @ladyverena @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse e @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss @superspiritfestival @januarystears

#knowing me knowing you #kmky chapter one #princess diaries au #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

99 notes · View notes

ma-sulevin · 3 years

Text

Fuckuary Day 3: “Wanna Taste?”

Benjamin Fox x Gwen Porter ( @roguelioness ) rated E

Words: 2,074

---

There aren’t a lot of things Benji likes more than letting himself into Gwen’s apartment at the end of a long shift and finding it full of the scent of baking cookies. If you asked him directly, the only thing he’d be able to say he likes more is Gwen herself, especially when she’s in shorts and a tee against the heat of the oven, her hair in a bun and flour on one cheekbone. She must have a big project due soon, because it looks like she’s been working in the kitchen for a while.

She’s humming along to the music on her phone when he walks into the kitchen, but she doesn’t turn to greet him. She’s too wrapped up in the icing she’s making, the sound of the mixer covering up his footsteps, so he leans against the doorframe to watch her with a smile.

He doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to be able to call her his, but he soaks up every minute he can. Now, as the song gets to her favorite part and she does a little dance, he lets his gaze drop to her hips, then to her bare thighs, and he smiles as warmth fills him.

If she’s already procrastinating something anyway…

She jumps when he puts his hands on her shoulders, startled enough to let out a cute little squeak, but she relaxes once she looks up and sees him grinning down at her.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says. “You didn’t hear me come in.”

Her cheeks are stained pink now, and that color blooms when he slides his hand from her shoulder over her throat, then to tilt her chin up higher so he can bend down and press a kiss to her lips. She gasps against his mouth and pushes up onto her toes to get closer to him, and the mixer whirrs to a stop as she flicks the button.

She ducks her head when he breaks the kiss, embarrassed, but she still turns in his arms to face him.

“You busy?” His voice is lower than he meant it to be, a little deeper, but the effect it has on Gwen is almost immediate. Her blush deepens and she bites her lower lip, swaying forward until she’s resting against him. It makes the warmth from earlier flare up, bright and hot, a wanting that he doesn’t think will ever go away.

She shakes her head. “I guess I lost track of time. I was trying to get these iced before you got here.”

Benji keeps his hands on her shoulders as he looks around at the kitchen, taking in the way it’s buried under cooled cookies and dirty dishes before he looks back down at her. “Are you trying to give a cookie to everyone in the entire town?”

She kicks at his ankle with her bare foot. “Baking relaxes me.”

“Hmm.” He nods like he’s being serious, but instead of leaving her to it, he reaches down and lifts her up onto the counter so their faces will be closer together. She squeaks again, clutching at him, then laughs when her body is steady and he’s pushing her knees apart so he can stand between them. “You know what else relaxes you?”

She’s already staring at his lips. “What’s that?”

“Me.”

He beams at her when she starts to laugh, proud that he’s the one to bring that sound out of her. She rests her hands on his arms and squeezes a little, still smiling, and tilts her chin so he’ll know she wants him to kiss her.

He does know, but he doesn’t kiss her. Instead, he looks over her shoulder at the icing. “Is that all mixed up?”

“What? Oh.” She looks down at it, then back up to him. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Is it good?” He reaches past her and dips his first two fingers in the icing, just the littlest bit, and comes back with a good sized sample. “Wanna taste?”

She draws in a sharp breath when he offers his fingers to her, but she barely hesitates before leaning forward and drawing them into her mouth. Her tongue traces over the pads of his fingers, cleaning the icing off until he’s sure there’s none left. He stares into her eyes as she sucks on his fingers, watching her pupils widen, feeling almost dizzy as all the blood in his body rushes to his dick.

“Fuck, baby.”

She releases his fingers and grabs him by the back of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. She tastes like the vanilla icing, sweet and sugary, and he’s tempted to tug her shorts off right there in the middle of the baking supplies. Instead, he slides his hands down her legs to her calves, guiding her to lock her ankles behind his back, and then he lifts her again.

She’s small enough that it’s easy to carry her through her apartment to her bedroom, to turn and sit on her bed so she can rest in his lap and feel how crazy she makes him. She moans as she settles against him, rocking her hips in a steady grind that makes him groan into their kiss.

She buries her fingers in his hair and he palms at her ass through her shorts, squeezing and guiding her to move harder against him.

She only breaks the kiss when he moves his hands up under her loose tee, smoothing up her spine and then scratching down over her ribs when she reaches down to pull it off over her head. She drops it to the floor as he turns his attention to kiss down her throat to her chest, then she scratches over his scalp as she runs her fingers into the shorter hair on the back of his head.

He flips them then, rolling them so he can pin her to the bed with his hips on hers. She gasps as they spin, then laughs against his lips as he leans down to kiss her again.

He just can’t get enough of her. The need is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and he can’t fight it. He doesn’t even try -- he just gives in, kissing her until they’re both breathless, until she’s boneless under him.

She stretches her arms up over her head when he finally leans back enough to get her shorts off, and she bites her lower lip when he moves off the bed to kneel on the floor. He tugs her along with him, until she’s close enough to the edge of the bed for him to kiss her thighs without straining his neck.

“Benji…” Her voice is quiet, heavy, a note of pleading under the desire. He smiles up at her, meeting her eyes as he kisses higher. “Please?”

“ ‘Please’?” He knows what she wants but echoes her words anyway, just to watch the way it makes her squirm. Instead of answering, she reaches down and grabs the top of his head, pushing a little to get him to go where she wants him.

And he’s never been able to say no to her.

Her taste bursts across his tongue and her fingers tighten in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan again. He buries the noise between her thighs and holds onto her hips so she won’t be able to squirm away from him.

The noises that fall from her lips are some of his favorites, and he could kneel on the floor between her thighs and listen to them for hours. He’ll have to try that, one day, when they both don’t have to work. Just to see how many times he can make her come on his tongue before she begs him to stop instead of to keep going.

Today, though, he’s on a mission to get her off as fast as possible, and she’s making it as easy as she can. Her thighs start to shake on either side of his head and it’s too much for him -- he can’t stop himself from reaching down with one hand to yank at his belt and the fly of his jeans until the material pools around his knees and he can finally wrap his fingers around his dick for some relief.

He squeezes himself and groans aloud, redoubling his efforts on Gwen until she suddenly pulls his head away from her with an insistence he doesn’t usually see. He sits back on his heels and blinks up at her, confused.

“Are you okay?”

She sits up and stares back at him, then drops her eyes down to where his hand is still working between his legs. When she meets his gaze again, she takes a deep breath before she finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, I just… I want…” Her expression is pleading, and he knows what she wants without her having to spell it out for him.

He pulls his shirt off over his head and wipes at his face as he stands, kicking his jeans off the rest of the way before he moves to crawl on the bed. Gwen scoots back up to the pillows as he moves over her, and she meets him there with a smile and a soft kiss that turns into something deeper and messier as he presses inside her.

She’s soaked, on the edge already, and she clutches at his arms as he bottoms out with a groan.

“Fuck.” He pulls away a little so he can look in her eyes, so he can watch the way they flutter shut as he pulls out and pushes back in slow enough to tease them both. “You miss me today, baby?”

She nods, fast, and clenches around him as he thrusts again. He brushes her hair away from her forehead and then guides her face back up to his for another kiss.

He sets a steady pace, fast and deep the way she likes it, watching the way her tits bounce with each thrust, the way she arches her back and holds tight onto him, listening to the way she whimpers and moans each time he completely fills her.

It’s almost too much, and he can feel himself getting too close to the edge. She feels too good, wet and hot, but he needs to feel her unravel under him.

“You feel amazing,” he says, just because he knows the compliment will make her clench around him again. He groans when she does, drawn even closer, and more compliments spill out of him as he continues. “You always get so wet for me. You’re fucking perfect.”

Gwen’s eyes open and she looks up at him, her lips parted, her eyebrows furrowed. She’s blushing from her face down to her chest, desperate and on edge, and the way she scratches at his back let him know she’s too close to fight it.

“Come for me,” he says, trying to make it sound like an order. He fucks into her harder as her mouth drops open on a gasp. “That’s my good girl, come on my dick.”

She does, like the compliment is the thing that did it. She all but screams his name as some comes, and he only manages to last a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s coming too. He bends over her, curling enough to press his face into the crook of her neck as he fills her, a desperate moan dropping from his own lips too.

They calm down together, catching their breath, and he stays buried inside her for as long as he can before he reluctantly pulls out and stretches out on the bed next to her.

She covers her face with both her hands and laughs, and he slips his arm around her waist to pull her against him as she does.

“I still have to put the cookies away,” she says, and it sounds like a complaint even as her voice sounds fucked out and raw. “And… I do have to finish that piece I’ve been working on this week.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Hmm? Benji!”

He ignores her and rolls back over on top of her, using his bigger body to press her into the mattress as he relaxes. She squirms under him and laughs again, but gives up after a second to just run her fingers through his hair as she relaxes too.

Perfect.

#fuckuary 2021 #my writing #oc: benjamin fox #foc: gwen porter #x: gwenji

15 notes · View notes

goldshadowsarchive · 2 years

Note

jami's gift is a duo this year. one in aisling's mind, the other in a box wrapped in canary yellow paper and a vibrant purple ribbon to tie it in place. in the box, lies three bracelets; lime green, fiery orange, and scarlet red. deceptively plain, granted. but that's the way appearances can be.

" so, these are tools. okay? the green one, it's got my face, yondu's face, gem, kraglin and corvus too. and if you're ever in danger, or scared, you twist it until the face is glowing, and you push the button, and that'll bring you to us. the orange one is a tiny laser. not long range, but if you press the stone into a surface, it'll burn a hole through it for you to crawl out of. it can't burn living things, but cages and walls? they're gone. and the red one... honestly, the red one is just cute. it also has an air supply inside, so you scrunch it up and put it in your mouth and it'll keep you breathing for six hours in deep space. neat, huh?? fashionable and useful all at once! "

@soulstcne / christmas let's go!!

CHRISTMAS has become one of her favourite terran traditions - right after halloween. a time to be thoughtful and spend time with family. humans had definitely perfected decorating with pretty lights and trees for this holiday. children usually do not have to give gifts, except for something self-made maybe. however, she found it important this goes both ways.

opening up the brightly packaged present, she marvels at the equally colourful bracelets. yellow glowing fingertips grazing them carefully as aisling goes on explaining. while she seems to be lost in the present, she does actually catch all of that. " woah, so it's like teleporting? " she was sure it was meant for emergencies or if she got lost but this definitely would come in handy on the labyrinth that is the ecclector. the laser one might also be fun to play with and confuse some of the crew but she makes a note of the usefulness of all of them. a quick leap forward, she has both arms wrapped around her aunt. " thank you !! i love them ! " drawing back some moments later, she beams at her before reaching to the side and grab hold of the gift meant for aisling.

this year, she will be getting a messily wrapped photo album with a bright red bow on top. inside the album, there are many many photos assembled that jami had taken and collected over the years. of the two of them. ash with the rest of the crew. ash with her kids. jami with ash's kids and so on. all of them in many different situations on many different adventures. some even with description - mostly written by corvus - except for every single one of the names. the difference is quite clear. jami's handwriting still a bit messy despite maeve's best efforts. definitely written with love though. " i hope you like it. "

#soulstcne #cmas 2021.#conversations. / jami.#honorary mention:#doctordonovan #astralwalker #also i'm emoooooooooooooooooooo.

1 note · View note

tickle-fic-chick · 4 years

Text

Learning Your Lesson || An Umbrella Academy Tickle Fic

Author’s Note: The follow-up to my fic Umbrella Academy fic. Diego finally gets what is coming to him and Luther is shockingly teasy. I will admit, Diego is my favorite of the main seven, and I really enjoyed writing for him. There is just so much potential for smart alec comebacks. Now, without further ado, lets get this show on the road!

Luther’s fingers dug into his brother’s sides, tickling vigorously. The knife master instantly bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold back his giggles. “Really? That’s your big plan to make him behave? I expected more, Luther.” Klaus tutted, shaking his head. “Watch it, Klaus. I remember your spots too.” Luther replied, eyes never leaving the struggling torso beneath him. His fingers scribbled expertly across Diego’s sides, trying to draw giggles from his overly sensitive sibling. Klaus blushed, subconsciously crossing his arms. “Hey! That was rude!” He borderline whined. Vanya chuckled, shaking her head. They were all ridiculous, the lot of them. She wouldn’t have them any other way. Suddenly giggles erupted from Diego’s lips, uncharacteristically high-pitched and frantic. Luther had begun pinching at his lower ribs, a smirk decorating his features. “Oh yeah, the ribs are a weak spot. I almost forgot about that. I’ll have to tickle you more often to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The vigilante was dying and the tickling had only just begun! Since when did Luther tease anyone but Allison? Since when did he tease period? Since when was he such a good tickler? These questions rushed through Diego’s head as giggles poured out of his mouth. “Shuhuhuhuhuhuhuhut up! Nohohohohohohohoho! Gehehehehehet off mehehehehehehehe!” He protested. “After all the trouble you’ve out me through? After all the sass you’ve given me? Nah, I don’t think I will. You deserve this for being such a pain in the ass.” Luther chuckled. “Cursing? Our big, strong leader is cursing? Wow, you must have really pissed him off.” Klaus smirked, speaking to Diego now. Luther was not vibrating his fingers just under Diego’s rib cage, drawing more frantic laughter from his brother. Diego’s cheeks were bright red, both from the laughter and the teasing. He never had been able to handle teasing. “Yohohohohohohou all suhuhuhuhuhuck!” He cried out, a snort slipping out.

Vanya’s eyes widened. She hadn’t heard Diego snort before; Luther must have really been doing a number on him. Klaus noticed her surprise and the reality of the situation dawned on him. They had all gotten into tickle fights frequently when they were kids. It wasn’t uncommon to hear laughter echoing through the house on the rare occasions where their father had been away. Every time...Vanya had been excluded. They had never thought to include her; not once. While she probably knew they were ticklish, she likely didn’t know their exact spots and reactions. Well, Klaus was going to change that! “Oh, you think this is great? Just wait until Luther gets his really bad spots!” He grinned, nudging his sister’s side with his elbow. Vanya flinched, gently rubbing the spot with a chuckle. “Is he that bad?” Klaus filed her reaction away for later and nodded. “Oh yes, he can’t stand it when Luther-” His reply was cut off by a loud shriek coming from the couch. “Does that.” He finished, unable to hold back a laugh of his own. Luther’s fingers were drilling into Diego’s ribs, vibrating into the sensitive bones.

“LUUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUTHER! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The knife master called out, shaking his head furiously. He was trying his best to squirm free; to get away from his tickle monster of a brother. However, this proved to be a fruitless effort. “What’s wrong, Diego? Can’t take a little tickling? You always talked a big game when we were little; about how you could take anything we dished out. Is that not the case anymore?” Luther didn’t know what had gotten into himself. He almost never teased his siblings, especially not Diego. Usually he only felt comfortable being so playful with Allison. For some reason, Luther felt different that day. Perhaps it was a newfound need to bond with his siblings. Perhaps it was guilt; a desire to put a smile on their faces after years of hardship. Whatever the reason, he was determined to give Diego a wrecking he would never forget. His fingers scratched between each rib, focusing on the spots that made Diego’s laughter jump in pitch. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP TEHEHEHEHEHEHEASING, YOU AHAHAHAHAHAHASS!” Diego cackled.

“I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.” Luther warned, drilling into a particularly ticklish spot on Diego’s lower rib cage. Diego shrieked, trying to buck Luther off as laughter overtook him once more. After a moment he managed to force out a response. “BIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHITE ME!” He growled, though his laughter took away any malice behind those words. Luther’s face changed, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Klaus and Vanya knew instantly that Diego had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Unfortunately for Diego, the vigilante himself didn’t seem to grasp the reality of his situation. “BIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHITE MEHEHEHE!” He repeated, an obvious defiance to his words. “Well, if that’s what you want...” Luther tugged up Diego’s shirt, exposing his torso. Confusion flashed in the knife master’s eyes before he finally caught on. His struggling instantly intensified as he tried desperately to escape. Threats began to fall from his lips before Luther had even done anything. “DOHOHOHON’T YOU DAHAHAHAHAHAHARE! LUHUHUHUHUHUTHER, I SWEHEHEHEAR TO-” Luther began lowering his lips to Diego’s stomach.

Diego was frantically to break free from Luther’s iron-like grip. He knew exactly what was going to happen. He had only been on the receiving end of this attack a few times, as it was reserved for when Diego had done something troublesome annoying, but he remembered the effects well. His threats quickly turned to pleas when he saw that Luther wasn’t stopping. Luther’s ribs continued to torment his ribs all the while. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, DOHOHOHOHOHON’T! LUHUHUHUHUHUTHER, YOU KNOHOHOHOHOW I CAHAHAHAHAN’T-” He managed to call out before another snort escaped his lips. Luther paused for a moment, lifting his head to smirk at his brother. “Can’t what, Diego?” He asked, fingers stilling momentarily. Diego panted, trying desperately to regain his breath. He wasn’t expecting mercy; not from Luther. He just needed a chance to catch his breath before the real torture began. “S-Screhehehew yourself...” He grumbled. That was the final nail in the coffin for Diego. Luther’s head ducked down, beginning to blow raspberries into the vigilante’s quivering stomach. His hands shot down, latching onto Diego’s thighs and squeezing rapidly. Poor Diego instantly fell to pieces, shrieks of laughter overtaking him.

The dark haired hero couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His thoughts were a jumble and incoherent mess. He couldn’t focus on anything but the intense attack on his sensitive nerves. “P-PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! L-LUHUHUHUHUHUTHER!” Vanya’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t heard Diego stutter in years; mom had broken him of it years ago. He had always been so self-conscious about it so she was surprised to hear it pop up. Then again, she doubted he was able to focus on properly forming his words while he was laughing his head off. Klaus was beaming from ear to ear, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “See? What did I tell you?” He gestured to the fiasco on the couch. “Diego always pushes his luck and Luther always destroys him. If I didn’t know any better, I would think Diego wanted to be wrecked.” Klaus glanced knowingly at the shrieking hero on the couch. Diego’s cheeks felt like they were on fire now. He didn’t even have the energy for a snappy response; he couldn’t even formulate words anymore. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE-” He was fading in and out of silent laughter. It was then that Luther finally relented, releasing Diego from his hold and giving him some space. Diego laid there for a minute, panting and giggling quietly. Vanya had never seen him smile so much before.

Luther looked down at the giggly vigilante, an amused smile playing at his lips. “Learn your lesson?” He asked. Diego didn’t respond, still catching his breath. Klaus strode over to the two, leaning over Diego and grinning down at him. “Haven’t seen you like this in years. I almost forgot you had emotions other than angry and brooding.” He laughed. Diego shot him a glare, though the huge grin still plastered to his face betrayed his true emotions. “Just shut up and help me get him back.” Klaus, never one to turn down a challenge, nodded in agreement. Luther’s eyes widened and the larger man quickly tried to make a break for it. He stumbled out of the room, knowing that if he could reach his bedroom he would be safe. Well, at least for the time being. Diego was on his feet in seconds, bolting after his prey. Klaus paused, glancing at Vanya and gesturing for her to follow. “Come on, Vanya! He’s getting away!” He yelled before shooting out of the room. Vanya stood there for a moment, a little awestruck, then laughed. Shaking her head, she slowly followed the sound of threats and laughter.

It felt good to finally be included...

#diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #umbrella academy #tickle fic #tickling #tickle community #tickle blog #writing blog

54 notes · View notes

cynicallystiles · 3 years

Text

Seasons of Love: The One with How They Met

Disclaimer: Moodboard made by me. Pictures found on Google!

Author: @cynicallystiles

Request: @itrocksmysocks basically requested this by making me obsessed with the triplets a year ago.

Warning: Swearing maybe.

Notes: The long awaited series is here! The whole thing still isn’t finished ahead of time like I wanted. So, we’ll see if I actually stay on schedule with this one. Credit to @thotmendes for imagining the triplets into existence about a year ago! Thanks for your patience! Please COMMENT/REBLOG if you enjoy it!

Pairing: Kallie Hayes (OC) x Mendes Triplets

Masterlist Series Masterlist

SOL Teaser Chapter Two

Words: ~3.5k

Anais Nin once said, "Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

The first encounter Kallie had with the triplets was a memorable one. This could be because she didn't know they were triplets. She had just moved to town with her family and started her first day in the middle of October.

Kallie was just eight or nine years old, but she was nervous about starting a new school way behind the other kids. Once her parents dropped her off with the principal, she was led to a small classroom. The teacher smiled brightly as he welcomed her in.

"Hello! It's very nice to meet you..." he trailed off, expecting her to reply. Her gaze was anxiously flitting around to all the other students staring at her curiously. So, he cleared his throat.

With a slight jump, she whipped her head back to him. "Kallie, sir." She held out her little hand and gave him a firm shake. Well, as firm as an eight-year-old could give an old person with hands the size of baseball gloves.

"You're very polite! I can't wait to meet your parents," he beamed at her, not noticing the small flinch of her eye. Things don't always go nicely when her parents come to school. It's why she's always on her best behavior. "Well, I'm Mr. Flannigan."

He stood up straight and turned toward the class with a smile that was bright against his tan skin. "Class...this is Kalliope Hayes." So, he already knew her full name before she came into the room?

There was a pause as the students ceremoniously said, "Hi, Kalliope!"

Mr. Flannigan nodded as if the response was what he wanted. "Kalliope, why don't you tell us three fun things about yourself, and then we'll go into the lesson plan for today?"

Funny. He phrased it as if it were a question. But, when adults ask questions like that, they're more likely strong suggestions. So, she took one step forward and cleared her throat.

"Hi," she squeaked out. "My full name is Kalliope but I like Kallie better. Three things about me are..." She stalled a moment, forgetting every single fun thing about her. "Uh...I like bike riding...I'm really good at holding my breath!...and...I've never ice skated?"

Her green eyes look up to the teacher for approval as everyone claps politely. He's about to point to her seat when a small voice cuts him off. "How long??"

"Huh?" She asks as she scans the other kids for the voice.

The boy in the last row, second from her right and wearing a forest green hoodie peers past the rest of the students. "You said you're really good at holding your breath! How long?"

"Um, like, thirty-five seconds? I think," she responds uncertainly. It's been a while since the last time she had her sister time her. His brown eyes stare at her for a moment longer.

Then, he nods. "Nice." He grins at her in approval. She smiles a little wider in response and Mr. Flannigan tells her to take the only open seat left.

She walks toward the back, finding the open seat next to the kid who had questioned her breath-holding skills. As Mr. Flannigan starts the lesson plan, the boy leans over and offers his hand.

"I'm Shawn!" The eagerness of his voice makes her relax. Maybe she just made her first friend here. She takes his hand and shakes it a little. "Let's make up a secret handshake later at recess, okay?" She nods enthusiastically before they turn forward in their seats to pay attention.

Later at recess, Shawn and Kallie are standing under one of the shady trees on the playground, mixing an unnecessary amount of steps to their secret friendship handshake.

"Hey, Shawn! Come play tag!" Some other kids begin to call him to play games with them.

He looks over at Kallie. "Wanna come play?"

"No, thanks," she shakes her head causing her light brown hair to rustle in the wind, "I don't really like tag." He shrugs and squints at her a little, but accepts her answer before running off to join the game.

She decides to take a stroll along the fence to see if she could find some cool rocks to take home for the new garden her parents were gonna plant. As she does, she sees a boy crouched down with his hands cupped around something. He's wearing a jean jacket over his white T-shirt.

As she approaches, she calls out excitedly, "Watchya got in your hand?" The boy startles, his hands opening to let a frog jump out. He hurriedly reaches out and catches it again as Kallie takes a step back. She notes how carefully he cups his hand around it.

"A frog," he says plainly and he sounds slightly similar to...who does he sound like?

Her face contorts in minor disgust. "Why?" Is all she asks. When he turns to look at her, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I thought you went to play tag!"

"What?" He asks in genuine ignorance.

She looks him over and her brows come even closer together. "How did you change your clothes so fast, Shawn?"

"I'm not Shawn," he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

"What do you mean? You said your name was Shawn in class today," she reminds him.

He silently sticks his tiny closed fist through the fence to release the frog toward its home. Standing up, he wipes his hand on his jeans. "That's my brother. I'm Raul." He sticks out his frog contaminated hand.

"Oh, so you're like twins?" She swallows her squeamishness and shakes his hand quickly, then wipes it on the back of her shorts.

He shrugs. "You could say that." With that, he walks past her without another word. She turns and watches him run to another group of kids who are playing on the monkey bars.

She heads back to the tree, collapsing against its bark to enjoy the rest of recess. Her relaxing doesn't last long as something drops into her lap from above. "Ow!" She exclaims and opens her eyes to find a notebook in her lap.

"Sorry!" A voice calls out from above. She looks up quickly and finds an increasingly familiar face looking down at her.

His puppy dog eyes match his apologetic smile. Kallie sighs deeply. "Now, when did you get up there??" She was seriously starting to think she'd never woken up this morning.

"I've been here all recess!" He replies with an adorable smile. "Can you hand that back to me?" He asks, laying on his stomach to reach down.

She stands, stretching on her tiptoes to hand it back. Kallie then sees that he's wearing neither a green hoodie nor a jean jacket. Instead, he's wearing a blue, plaid button-up shirt. She frowns. "Don't tell me there's another one of you?"

"Huh?" He quirks his eyebrow for a moment. "Oh! You mean my brothers! Shawn and Raul?" She nods, but in her mind, she hopes it stops at three. Already, she could tell she'd never be able to tell them apart. "I'm Peter!"

"Why are you in a tree with a notebook?"

"It keeps me from getting hit by the dodgeballs while I'm trying to draw." He scrunches up his face like it's obvious. "Duh," he adds on.

The apparent obviousness of the statement makes her giggle. "What are you drawing?" She asks curiously.

He pauses for a long moment, sizing her up. Then, an adorable grin spreads across his lips. "Climb up here, and I'll show you," he half-invites, half-challenges her.

"Okay!" Without hesitation, she rolls the sleeves up on her Princess Belle shirt and scales the tree with only minimal effort.

Peter watches her settle in on the branch next to him in awe. "That was really fast!"

"Thanks!" She beams at him. "My sister can't climb so when she chases me with gross stuff I had to find somewhere to hide," she informs him happily.

He laughs and scoots next to her as he opens his notebook across both of their laps. Slowly, he flips through the pages to show her the different drawings. "These are really good!" She compliments him.

"Really?" He asks shyly. Kallie nods vigorously and continues to marvel at the sketches. Peter smiles and watches her admire his work for a few minutes more.

But, they're not alone for much longer. "Kallie? Where'd you go?" She looks over the notebook below them. Shawn is looking around the base of the tree.

"Up here!" She giggles. His head turns toward the sound of her voice. "Peter was showing me some drawings!"

Shawn covers the urge to frown with a bright smile. "Come down! We gotta finish our super-secret handshake before recess is over," he reminds her.

"One second!" She calls down and turns to Peter. "I gotta go. Thanks for letting me see your notebook!" Then, she carefully climbs down the tree.

Once she hops onto the ground, Shawn slings an arm around her shoulders as he leads her away. "Our handshake is gonna be so awesome! And it'll be just for us! You know what else? You can come with me and my family to our lake house to ice skate in the winter since you've never been!" He chatters happily as he leads her further away from Peter.

From that day on, the two of them were inseparable. That day was the first time the boys had gotten jealous or competitive over Kallie. But, it wasn't the last.

It was disorienting at first, never knowing who was who. Except for Shawn, of course. Kallie could always tell which one was Shawn because out of the three, those two were the ones joined at the hip. Not to say that she didn't grow close with the rest of the boys. Just that Shawn was who she was close with first.

Throughout the years, they were like the Four Musketeers. Getting into all kinds of trouble and mischief. They enjoyed the best of their times throughout the year at the Mendes' cabin in the Muskoka Lake District. Since the very first year they became friends, their parents were kind enough to bring her along on all of their little trips.

Occasionally, her parents and sister came along. Which was nice because a majority of the other parents didn't take kindly to hers. She loved that they were so kind and included them in their trips. That cabin became like a lifeline to them as the years wore on.

They shared every holiday, celebrated every event, and recovered from unexpected hard times at that cabin. Christmas time? They went to the cabin. Someone's birthday? The cabin was there. The worst time of their lives? The cabin saw that too.

The four of them could never imagine not having that cabin, or each other to get through life. Which is why it hurt all the more when they got the news. After graduating high school, the four of them went on to university. Together.

While they all had different majors, it was hard to find time for each other at first. So, they made it a rule to have dinner every Saturday night at one of their dorms. Rotating between them as hosts to the gathering. Which became easier when they all moved in together after the first two years of having to live in the dorms. They were now coming off of their third year of university with one left to go.

As the four of them piled into Shawn's Jeep for the trip home with their bags stuffed in the back, excitement floated through the air to finally be able to relax for a time before heading back to Toronto for the most important year of schoolwork.

"Shotgun!" Kallie, Peter, and Raul call at the same time as they race toward the front seat.

The three slam into the side of the vehicle with laughter. Looking to Shawn to be the referee, he rolls his eyes. "Kallie got there first," he chuckles.

"C'mon!" Peter groans.

"You always let her have it," Raul mumbles as he slides into the backseat.

"My Jeep, my rules," Shawn shrugs and buckles into the driver's seat with a chuckle.

Kallie happily hops into the front seat, smiling at Shawn before turning to grab her seatbelt. "Thank you!" As she buckles it, she exchanges a secret glance with Shawn and he winks at her.

"Anytime," he responds as she bites her bottom lip to contain her laugh.

With that, the four set off toward home. Well, more like toward the cabin. They were planning on stopping at their houses to see their families first and then spend the rest of the summer in Muskoka.

Half an hour later, the boys drop Kallie off at her parents' house before heading down the street to theirs. "Dinner at ours at six?" Peter confirms as she grabs her bags out of the back.

"Mhm," she replies and walks around to his window, while Raul gets out and gets in the front seat. "And then breakfast at mine at ten tomorrow?"

He nods with a grin. "We'll be here!" She mumbles a 'perfect' and leans through the window to kiss his cheek and he kisses hers at the same time, something they've gotten in the habit of doing when they part ways. Shawn shifts his grip on the steering wheel as he watches them in the mirror.

"See you tonight!" Raul calls as his eyes trail after her, lower than they should be when she disappears into her house. Shawn reaches over and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!!" He rubs the new sore spot with a chuckle as Shawn pulls away from the curb.

Later, as promised, she enters the Mendes household as if she lives there. She's right on time for dinner, but it's unusually quiet around the house. "Hello?"

"In here!" Someone calls after a long moment of silence.

Kallie makes her way into the living room where the brothers are seated on the couch. "Hey! What's going on? Why is it so quiet?" She questions as she sits in between Shawn and Peter's legs, stretching her own across Peter's lap and resting her feet in Raul's.

"Mom has news," Shawn says surprisingly seriously. It's then that Kallie notices the shock on their faces and that Karen is sitting in one of the other chairs.

She leans her torso back into Shawn and shrugs. "What is it? Bad news?" They nod and she looks at Karen as she takes a deep breath.

"Well, sweetie," she begins sweetly. "As I've just finished telling the boys..." she pauses, gathering the strength to tell her. "We've decided to sell the cabin."

Kallie's expression falls into the same shock that the boys wear and she feels like her whole body goes numb. "Wh-no. H-how...why-no!" She finally stutters out.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know how much that cabin means to you all," she sighs. "But...we just can't afford to keep up with it year-round anymore. Especially, since we haven't been back since you all were in high school."

Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "Wha..." she breathes out, unable to think straight. To stop her mind from spinning, she focuses on the things around her.

Like the feel of Shawn's heartbeat against her back and the rhythm of his breathing. Like the goosebumps on her legs caused by Peter lightly tracing his fingers over her knees. Like the cold metal of Raul's rings as he squeezes her ankles comfortingly.

"When are you selling it?" Raul asks, taking charge of the situation. It's something he tends to do as the oldest of the three brothers. When things get tough, he steps in to steady everyone.

Karen shrugs. "We haven't found a buyer yet."

"Well," he sighs. "Then, we're still gonna go out for the summer. And every chance we get until you sell it. We can clean and pack up stuff along the way."

She smiles gratefully at him. "Thank you, honey. I hope you all enjoy the summer there...you deserve it before your last year at university!" She smiles, the tension slightly diffused but not dissipated. "Dinner will be ready soon."

Then, she silently heads to the kitchen to leave the four of them alone. Kallie shifts her body to stand up and face the boys. One hand goes to her hip as her eyes train on the carpet. With the other, she pushes some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"I'm gonna..." she trails off, not having any words. "I'll be outside," she whispers and immediately exits the room.

Shawn leans forward to stand up. "I'll get her-"

"No. Lemme handle it," Raul interrupts and follows her without another word.

Sitting back down defeatedly, Shawn looks at Peter. "The hell was that about? Thought I was her best friend..." he grumbles.

"We're all best friends," Peter reminds him. "Besides...they have been closer since the twelfth grade." He shrugs and pulls his sketchbook out of his bag.

Shawn's brows crease together and then rise on his forehead. "You don't think they're-" He stops himself short because he doesn't even want to go there.

"What?" Peter looks up from the sketch he's working on. His face falls flat when he sees Shawn's panicked look. "Oh my god! They're not. Raul isn't even Kallie's type," he scoffs and focuses on the bright green irises he's drawing, only slightly concerned that Shawn may be right.

Shawn twists his features into an offended sort of confusion. "Her type? We all have the same face!"

"Yeah, but none of us are dating her...are we?" Peter scoffs dismissively.

"No," Shawn grumbles as he sinks further into the couch and crosses his arms grumpily.

Raul steps out onto the porch, barely squinting his eyes at the now-setting sun. Kallie's ash brown hair catches the light stunningly, almost as if it were milk chocolate silk. The red undertones give her hair a cinnamon-like shine you can only see under the sun. He sits next to her on the top step as she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her chin there.

He doesn't say anything as he leans back, letting his palms press into the wood. Time ticks by and he doesn't talk. She doesn't talk. Her body just slowly tips toward Raul until she's collapsed into his side. He feels her sigh heavily and he scoots closer to circle his arm around her waist.

"This isn't the end of the world," he promises like he always does when she gets like this. She huffs, annoyed that he seems to always downplay her sadness at first. "I'm serious."

She sits up, turning on the step to stare at him direly. "Oh, are you? I couldn't tell," she deadpans. "I know it's not the end of the world, Raul...that doesn't mean this all still doesn't suck," she murmurs as her hands move to her words.

"Life's allowed to suck," he chuckles. She watches the light dance in his hazel eyes and sighs. "You're even allowed to wallow about it," he continues.

She throws herself into his lap dramatically. "Then, let me wallowwww," she whines playfully. He rests his arm across her torso.

"But-"

"No...no buts," she begs as she turns her face into his stomach to hide. She curls her legs up until she's almost in a ball on her side.

Raul gently strokes her back. "But," he says pointedly, "you're not allowed to wallow forever. Eventually, you have to pull on your big girl pants and show life who it's messing with."

"You're so lame," she laughs and ventures a peek up at him.

He tilts his head and smiles smugly. "Got you to laugh didn't I?" She nods slightly. "I know how much the cabin means to you. It means that much to all of us," he soothes her.

"I somehow always forget that you guys feel it too," she whispers.

Raul moves his hand to brush her hair out of her face. "I'll make you a deal," he begins. Her attention peaks because he always offers her the same deal and she'd never pass it up. No matter what it is. "Suck it up for now. You can wallow when the place is actually sold."

"What do I get for pulling on my big girl pants?" She challenges.

He scrunches up his face in obvious sarcasm. "What do you always get?"

"Prom night?" She replies hopefully.

"Prom night," he confirms mischievously.

14 notes · View notes

rhaenyratargeryn · 3 years

Text

EXIT WOUNDS (CYBERPUNK 2077) Ch. 2

Pairing: Takemura Goro x (female) V Rating: Mature Summary: When his plans for revenge fail, V and Takemura are left right where they once started. A dying thief and a disgraced soldier, with as much in common as they lack and an improbable bond that holds them to one another. Notes: Post-Canon, Nomad ending. Spoilers for post-game! Read on AO3 Read Ch. 1

The first awareness was that of light. Warm and bright behind his lids. The second awareness was ache. Persistent, painful and sharpened to a razor’s edge at every small movement.

Takemura begrudgingly accepted consciousness, finding the will somewhere inside him to open his eyes and look towards where the offending ray of sunshine was being allowed in.

The tent flap was being held open, just a sliver, and a pair of soft brown eyes, large and doe like in the middle of a tan-skinned face stared at him with interest. She had full round cheeks, youthfulness in every aspect of her cherub like features. The child froze as their eyes met, but slowly she smiled, a dimple in each corner of her mouth.

It was the height of spring, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom and their petals scattered over the still pond in the gardens of the estate. Small pink ships, sailing endlessly on the vast sea.

Takemura was twenty-nine, three years dedicated already as an elite Arasaka soldier and known for his discipline, his dutifulness and his loyalty. When he did not pace the nearby halls, or stand at attention near Saburo-sama’s side, he was allowed to sit kneeled on a small mat on the wooden floor. His hand would remain on one hip, poised over his katana and another over his gun, his eyes sharp and his cyberware readings keenly attuned to every person who may move within the family halls.

It should have been a point of great shame for him then, that the tiny stumble of socked feet did not catch his attention until he found before him a small girl, her cherub cheeks puffed with a smile. She held up a drawing, or rather, scribbles upon paper in varying shades of black and red and tanned peach, all forming together to make a familiar silhouette.

“Taka-san, I drew you!”

In his duty, Takemeru was not to engage with others. He was meant to be as the room, as furniture or a tool left out. A knife on a table. What he was not meant to do, was speak to Saburo-sama’s three year old daughter. She was Saburo-sama’s joy, his greatest treasure, a child he doted on and who went everywhere at her father’s side.

Takemura looked to him now, for guidance, he told himself, but the look he gave Saburo-sama was more aligned with pleading.

“My daughter has presented you with a gift, Takameru. Be polite.” his master said without another glance, turning his attention back to his tablet.

Hanako waited patiently, expectantly. Takemeru found it difficult to even bring the words forth, his tongue sluggish and thick from so long hardly speaking much at all.

“Thank you, Hanako-sama. It is… lovely.”

She beamed, her smile drawing wider until a tiny dimple dotted high on her cheek. With insistence, she held it out for him and with equal amounts of hesitation, Takemeru took his hand from his blade and slipped the paper from her hands.

A voice called out a name, the sound hazy and muted on Takemeru’s ears. The girl turned, answering the call without looking back, leaving only the sway of dropped tent flap to ever prove she was there at all.

Takemeru let his eyes drift back closed, trying to recall the lines, the colors of the drawing. He had kept it, folded and safe beneath his armored vest for several days… but where did it go? What had he done with it after? It had been eighteen years since the blossoms and yet the few months he had spent alone, masterless and exiled, felt so much longer.

The tent opened again and Takemura groaned when the light flashed into his pupils.

“Morning.” a voice spoke, the man who had sewn up his shoulder and his side coming to sit near the cot Takemura was still shackled too. The man, too his wisdom, kept a good distance between them still.

“Is the pain bad? We scrounged up some MaxDoc to help take the edge off if you’re needin’ some.”

Takemura did not reply.

“Also need to change your IV. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways when it comes to saline and good ole H2O…. unless you’re feeling up to drinking some water?”

Water. The very word drew Takemura’s attention to how dry his throat was, how paperlike his tongue felt against the roof of his mouth. Water. His body pleaded to his mind. Water.

Takemura nodded, short and curt.

“Great. Hold on— “

Takemura watched the man as he moved around the tent, doing a good job still of keeping out of arm's reach. As his eyes traced his movements, he noted a change to the room.

There was a second cot set up at his other side.

In the second cot, was V.

Takemura felt a snarl build up near his teeth, a look of disgust and outrage ready to mar his features… until his eyes caught up with his emotions.

V looked terrible. Worse than terrible. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, greyish and clammy. Her breaths were short and slow, as if her own lungs were too tired to make more of an effort. Some strange band was attached around her head, monitors fixed to her temples as a nearby computer beeped and monitored large spikes and numbers that made no sense to Takemura.

The doctor caught him staring as he returned with a cup of water. Takemura sat up as best he could manage, unsurprised when the doctor called in another to stand guard with a gun in their hand while he held the cup for Takemura to drink from. He was not to be unrestrained it would seem, though his prey lay but a scant few feet away.

“Another seizure. Hit her hard. Been out as long as you now, but… well. We’ll see what happens.”

Takemura frowned, “‘What happens’?”

He cursed himself for speaking, but the words were out before he could catch himself.

“If she wakes up. Every time it seems she has one it takes longer and longer… one day I figure she just won’t.”

V had succeeded in removing the relic, had rid herself of her demon and in doing so had thought to free herself from impending doom… and it had all been for nothing. Saburo was dead. Hanako was dead… and V was still going to die.

Takemura refused food when offered and drank only a little, the pain of his wounds a welcome distraction for the turmoil in his chest.

He never would have thought nomads would have such tech available to them, but in the large tent there was enough equipment and cases to fill a small clinic. This man is what Takemura could only imagine was their version of a ripperdoc, but he didn’t have to worry about the man trying to invoke his sympathies towards V for long. A young woman entered the tent and the ripperdoc gave her a respectful nod.

“She good, Tom?” the woman asked and Tom nodded, “Okay. Take a breather.”

She shrugged toward the tent entrance. Tom frowned, but he didn’t argue, getting up and exiting the tent and offering Takemura a quick view of the guards outside. They were still present. Not a good tactical advantage.

The woman set her fists on her hips, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him with dark brown eyes. She has no visible cyberware to speak of, but it was common for Nomads to reject enhancement, at least in his limited experience.

Takemura, despite his feelings, spoke politely enough.

“I am Takemura Goro. If V has not already informed you.”

The woman looked a bit taken back by his easy words, but after a moment that surprise resumed an expression of suspicion.

“She did. Now you wanna tell me how you found us? And who else knows where we are?”

Takemura frowned, “It is considered extremely rude not to introduce oneself. Even to enemies.”

The woman’s face flushed red down to her neck and her teeth set against the inside of her cheek. She had a short-temper, but also a position of authority and respect given how the ripperdoc had so easily relented to her requests. She was a leader, but a potentially weak one, Takemura set that information aside for later.

“You attack my people and you wanna school me on manners, Corpo?”

“...You have someone I want.” Takemura stated, a simple reasoning for why the young Nomads he encountered were threatened.

“Too god damn bad. Now who else knows where we are?”

Takemura fell silent again, a sigh held back in his throat. V stirred slightly on the cot nearby, drawing both of their attention to the other woman as she flinched and jerked slightly in sleep. The monitors sped for only a moment and then slowed again, whatever neurological event passing quickly.

The Nomad woman’s expression had broken apart quickly from one of stubbornness and annoyance to worry… colored with affection and familial concern. She cared for V. She cared for V very strongly. That would complicate any attempts of persuasion or negotiation, but then again, Takemura had not considered those to be strong tactics to begin with.

The woman looked down at her boots and then, curtly spoke, “I’m Panam Palmer.”

“It is good to meet you, Palmer-san.” Takemeru said, but his words were filled with polite detachment that would make it quite evident even to Panam that they were simply a platitude.

“How did you find us?”

“Simple reconnaissance. I visited towns. Spoke to people. It was difficult for several weeks, but then…” Takemura paused.

“Then?”

“You and your people became lazy.”

Panam sucked in her cheek again, but controlled her emotions.

“Are there others coming?”

“No.”

“Wow… I mean, wow. Didn’t expect you to just offer that one up.”

“I have no reason to lie. My purpose is simple. You and your people are responsible for the death of one I held in utmost regard and respect. I am duty bound to end the life of the one who commanded it.”

Silence followed the end of his words, the steady beeping of the monitor filling the room. Suddenly then, Panam scoffed out a laugh and Takemura jerked his head up to glare at the young woman, forgetting himself.

“Jesus christ… you Corpo’s are really crazy, you know that? You’re ‘duty bound’? By who? You aren’t Arasaka. You aren’t anything. You come here and try to kill my sister because of some deluded belief you owe a buncha criminals and psychopaths? Who don’t want you?”

With each word her volume increased, the look of revulsion so prominent on her features that even if she had chosen not to mince her words, her distaste would have been clear. Negotiation it would seem, was not a viable option.

Takemura felt her words, but only in that they stoked a growing tension edging through his limbs and fueled a gnawing want to snap this crude woman’s neck. He let his anger stream out from his chest and into his hands, clenching them a bit tighter to try and relieve some of the pressure his growing anger exuded.

“This is what is gonna happen,” Panam began, her voice having grown colder, “We’re gonna dump you out on the sand with a quart of motor oil and a pistol and take bets on whether you shoot yourself before or after the thirst makes you crazy enough to drink it.”

The image was certainly— vivid. The sadism of such a statement catching Takemura slightly off guard.

“Wow. ” said a voice instantly recognized by both of them as V’s , “I mean, that is one stone cold line. I think I’ll steal that.”

---

“Shit, V— you need me to get Tom?” Panam had all but forgotten about Takemura, moving around to V’s cot to try and prevent the other woman from getting up.

“No.”

Yes. An indignant Johnny-Silverhand-induced auditory hallucination said quietly in the back of her mind. Maybe one day she’d get lucky and forget what the guy sounded like, then her head-voice would go back to just being her voice.

More importantly, she was nauseated as all fucking get out and Panam’s hand on her arm was doing a great job of making V feel a bit more grounded. She heard a faint click, the sound of someone chidingly clicking their tongue against their teeth and looked up to see Takemura had turned from them both, staring pointedly at nothing. But it was nothing away from V.

“No execution by desert, aight?” V said, lulling her head back towards Panam.

“Sure. Fine. Execution by bullet works just as well.” Panam said, shooting Takemura a dirty look that went unnoticed.

“Talkabout it later.” V said, only slightly slurring her words as she pulled the band off her head and peeled the monitors off a moment later. The computer made an alarming noise and V had a funny feeling it was becoming quickly overcrowded and overly loud for the former Arasaka bodyguard.

“Got an idea to make everyone happy.”

Takemura’s interest had been piqued. V caught him casting a look out of the corner of his eye at her.

---

What the fuck, V. Panam's voice still rang in her head, rolling around in her ears and in her skull and fueling an oncoming headache. For once, the voice didn't sound like Johnny though and maybe that was a good sign.

Of course Panam would hate the plan. But in the end, it wasn’t her choice. It wasn’t her life and although it had gone over about as well as V expected, for now, things were set. When she came back inside the tent, Tom had provided Takemura with an old t-shirt, the design on the front so faded it was barely more than a static of print.

His hair was down, which shrouded the grey near his temples and made him look somehow… younger. Less stiff. The look in his eyes though had not changed. Steel resolve and hardened granite. He had built a wall between them and V could hardly blame him for it… in the end, she hadn’t kept her end of the deal. But then again, she was still right where she was at the start. Sick, dying and Arasaka’s most wanted. So he could hardly say he kept up his either.

“Option one,” she began, “I’m dying. So honestly, killin’ me at this juncture would be a relief from what I got coming for me. It’s gonna be slow. It’s gonna be awful. I’m offering you front row seats to watchin’ my body slowly eat itself alive.”

Takemura’s eyes narrowed.

“I know what you’re thinkin’. ‘But you’re lookin’ for a cure’. We are. Which brings me to option two. We let you stick around while we look. If we find one and I get fixed up? You get your pistols at dawn or whatever. Get the satisfaction of knowing you got to kill me when I’m not already dead. Hell, not gonna lie. You killin' me after all this bullshit and then after I save my life too? That would be... well, I’ll give you a genuine fight for my life. If that’s what you want.”

V shrugged, “And you’ve already heard option three.”

“These options require me staying with this caravan for an unknown amount of time.”

“Six months, actually. Or five rather. So yeah. Five month wait..”

“How do I know they will not kill me before either of these things happen?”

V grinned.

“I asked them nicely.”

“Why?”

Her smile faltered.

“Why not pick option three for yourself?” Takemura said, offering the most practical and simple solution. The one she was sure right now, if they were in reverse situations, he would take.

It was a good damn question too. And V was certain she had a good damn answer half a second ago, but now with Takemura staring at her, grey eyes shrewd and with just a flicker of uncertainty… shit, seeing him at all… it made the words sound so ridiculous.

“I told you I didn’t mean for what happened to happen. I owe you, for a lot and this is the only way it’ll… sit right. For us both, I think. You don’t seem the type that would get much satisfaction outta killing me how I am now.”

V laughed, a nervous bubble of sound as she turned her eyes away and picked at a frayed thread on the knee of her pants.

“Also...guess cause we were friends once I feel like I should give you some closure. Not somethin’ I’ve gotten much in life, but welp. Here is my chance to give some.”

“...You wish to die with some honor restored.” Takemura’s voice for once held no trace of disgust, no edge of hatred. His voice was quiet, resigned. Understanding. It was not a tone V had ever thought to hear again from the man.

“Yeah, sure... if you’ll let me.”

Neither of them met each other's eyes. Two people, staring holes into opposite sides of a tent, as if refusing to acknowledge one another would somehow make them feel less.

“It is two options, not three.”

V looked up at the remark.

“Option one is, remain to witness your death or be the cause of it should you recover. Option two is motor oil and pistol.”

V held back a smile just barely. How could someone remain this pedantic even when discussing such a morbid topic?

“I accept option one.” Takemura met her eyes, only briefly, “I am patient man. I can wait.”

“Plus it gives you time to actually heal and then say fuck it and off me in my sleep or something.”

Takemura wrinkled his nose, “I could ‘off’ you now if you’d like.”

He pulled up his arm, revealing that at some time during all this chatting and debating he had gotten out of one of the cuffs.

Takemura casually used his other hand to put his thumb back in its socket, finding it impossible to miss how V did a full body shudder at the sound.

“Hard pass.” she said, still cringing.

“I will honor my word,” Takemura said, easily making work of the other handcuff and tossing it aside. He flexed his fingers, bringing them up to begin pulling his hair out of his face. V, for some reason, felt compelled to avert her gaze. It felt weirdly intimate, like she was watching him undress. Takemura brushed his fingertips over his wrist, frowning to himself before letting his hair go, falling back around his shoulders.

“You need a scrunchie?” V asked, unable to stop the small smile from forming at the corner of her mouth. What could she say? Johnny had tried to kill her once and she forgave him. Her standards were never exactly high. And a part of her, a small hopeful part of her thought maybe there was still time to make something right before she died.

Wrong city for happy endings. Her inner voice chided in Johnny's flat tone. But they weren't in Night City anymore.

#cp 2077 #cp 2077 v #cp2077 fanfic #cp 2077 takemura x v #takemura x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #cp2077 fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

austennerdita2533 · 4 years

Text

A/N: Just a Literati trifle in celebration of GG’s 20th Anniversary Week. I still have another chapter or two to write but I wanted to get this out before the event officially ended. (Canon compliant + OS + divergences)

Also here: (AO3)

Enjoy!

xx Ashlee Bree

An Archive of Words Between Us

One day, many weeks into it but still no closer to clarity about what it is between them, Rory does what she does best: she makes a list.

Marked at the beginning, from when she and Jess first met, she soon starts to add to it with frightening regularity. A new entry comes any time there’s news, insight, questions, or growing confusion to report. She writes it all down. Out. She compiles everything in a beat-up old notebook she’s taken to carrying around.

Over the years that follow it becomes a confessional of sorts for her, a still developing story. She reaches for a pen whenever the mood strikes, and writes…then writes some more…

Committing to paper all the things they’ve said to each other over the course of their history, as well as many of the things they didn’t.

- i. things we said when we were strangers -

“Hey, Dodger, wait a minute,” she calls out before he disappears behind the gazebo. “Is this a gimmick of yours? Do you always write margin notes in the books you steal from strangers?”

Jess stops. Casts a cursory glance over his shoulder before turning back around with hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

“Does it matter?”

Rory shrugs.“You could be a literature-defacing miscreant on the lam for all I know. Your face might be tacked to Wanted posters all over New York City. I’ve got to edge my bets, protect my assets.”

“What,” he says, “you aiming to sentence me without a trial or something?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to bust out the cuffs already, Judge Judy,” he chuckles, raising his hands in supplication before rocking backwards on his heels like he’s been shot. “That’s not very neighborly.”

“Sounds like there’s evidence to be had if I dig a bit.” A pause. A teasing quirk of an eyebrow. “Is there?” she asks.

Though he stays silent at this, a spark of something catches deep in his dark eyes as their gazes meet, and Rory's stomach flips.

“Well?”

“You tell me,” he says, all smooth and inscrutable and James Dean cool as hell.

“I’m no Agent Scully at the FBI, but the truth is out there. Don’t think I won’t uncover it,” Rory replies, her wit flowing strong and sure. “If I think it’s warranted I could hire Kirk to lay chase for a while…he likes detecting. Takes payment in Skittles, too. Boxes of which I will have no trouble acquiring, I assure you.”

“Who the hell’s Kirk?”

“Let me worry about that,” she beams back at him coyly, bouncing the book he’d pilfered earlier against her hip.

“Save your Skittles, concerned citizen. I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah? And why should I believe you when I hold proof to the contrary?”

“Because—” Ambling backwards in the middle of the street, a crooked smirk forms along the corner of Jess’s mouth as he gives her one last idle loll of his shoulder. “I only leave notes for people who might appreciate them. Start with the one on page three, by the way,” he adds with a farewell salute. “It’s a doozy.”

Curiosity piqued, Rory ignores the warmth in her chest as she watches him turn to leave a second time. Instead, she buries her nose in the margins of Howl and peruses. Losing herself in his tiny blocked script the whole walk home.

- ii. things we said because we were lying to ourselves -

Pacifying the town's fears about their friendship isn’t easy.

Especially not after Jess outbids her boyfriend at the basket-bidding festival to win an afternoon of her company. Or the night he shows up on her doorstep unannounced, bearing food and intellectual discussion after she swears to everybody else she wanted to spend the evening alone. Or when he wrecks her car on their way back from a spontaneous hunt for ice cream cones.

Then there’s the time she misses Lorelai’s graduation because she’s stuck on a bus next to some scruffy-looking creep who spits chew into a soda can while he mumbles the names of state capitals under his breath in an Appalachian-sounding litany, Rory having skipped town impulsively to visit Jess in the Big Apple after Luke had sent him packing because of an accident that had no real bearing or blame. At least not unless it was half hers to share in, too, in any case.

She expends a lot of energy defending what they are to people. Clarifying what they’re not.

Pretty soon a truncated version of the truth skips from her mouth like a message she’s spent months concocting, memorizing, and then recording, with her smart enough not to speak it aloud until it sounds convincing. And it does. She makes sure of it.

Tensions abate after that, for a time. Mostly because of the distance.

Mom and Dean, in particular, seem to breathe easier with so much of it stretched between them. They’re much happier once Jess is no longer there to lurk around Luke’s, or clog the aisles of Doose’s, or stake out chalkperson outlines on the sidewalks of town where he can draw her closer to him. Too close for comfort, as far as anyone else is concerned. Even if his only aim in doing so had been to imbibe her in intellectual conversation.

Rory finds it funny how his absence from Stars Hollow makes it both easier and harder for her to placate everyone’s misgivings. The words may be simple to say, but the meaning behind them feels deflated. Half-bodied at best.

Like calculus, it causes her headaches. Forces her to work twice as hard to make everyone believe she doesn’t care that he’s gone and likely never coming back again. That the vacant space he’s left behind doesn’t sting whenever her gaze passes over it, remembering.

Exhausting though it is, however, she does her best. She makes the effort.

She starts by dolling out extra attention and assurances to Dean about her commitment to him. To their relationship. Then she pivots around mention of Jess’s existence to her mom because she knows she doesn’t approve of him let alone agree about any of his good qualities. With Lane, she focuses on school and Mrs. Kim and music they can add to her floorboard collection. And in front of Luke, so as not to burden him with more disappointment, she acts as if nothing is different. Pretends that nothing much has changed.

Omission quickly becomes a habit for Rory. A way of life.

Only once does exposure threaten to spoil everything when her mom confronts her openly one afternoon about a placeholder that’s slipped out of her copy of For Whom The Bell Tolls.

“It’s nothing,” Rory says as she makes a quick grab for it in the kitchen and blushes.

“Really? Because nothing to me looks a hell of lot like a paper plate fragment. One that’s smudged in pizza grease and blue scribbles.” Laughing, completely unaware of her daughter’s wide-eyed discomfort and humiliation, Lorelai hands it back to her without inspecting it closely. “I’m surprised by your choice is all. Messy and makeshift isn’t your typical bookmark M.O., hun.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when Paris accosts you at the break bell. You drop things. People jump, drinks spill. Beloved bookmarks go soaring…”

“Ah. I take it she was yelling in dog decibels again?”

“More like she put out an APB on all aliens living a few hundred million lightyears away and then gave them exact shouting coordinates for where to find her. So same difference, really.”

Her mom snorts. Passes over the ranch dressing.

“She’s a pill, that one. I’m telling you Pink wrote that song with her in mind.” Shaking her head, Lorelai closes the fridge behind her as she bites into another French fry. “So how’d you come by the plate?” she asks, her mouth full.

“It was spontaneous. I was running late so I nicked it from the cafeteria on my way out,” Rory lies, knowing full well Chilton never dispenses paper or plastic dishes for dining.

“Oh.” Her mom considers this. “Well, I suppose there were times even Madeleine Albright couldn’t find anything better to use in a pinch. That was very…replateful of you.”

“What can I say,” she exhales with relief, feigning amusement as her fib is accepted with alacrity, “the Forks was with me.”

“Only the Forks? Don’t tell me you’re leaving out the spoons and the knives. How could you?” says Lorelai, aghast, as she scoops stray kitchen utensils to press them against her chest in a bodily cuddle. “It’s cutlery discrimination!”

“No, it’s punning.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” A pause. A nibble of pizza. “Also, Shakespeare would agree.”

“Psssh, Shakespeare! That old killjoy,” her mom says dismissively, rolling her eyes in good humor as she tucks a box of strawberry Pop Tarts under her armpit and motions toward the living room. “What’s that you have written on the inside there, anyway? French? Calculus? Rolling Stone lyrics? A blueprint for the evil plan you’ve hatched to shoot Grandma to the moon? I’m dying to know.”

Waving her off, Rory tucks the shard back into the spine of her book where it belongs. Hiding it from view. “It’s for school,” she assures her as they settle onto the sofa.

“So tell me about it. I don’t care if it’s boring.”

“Pass.”

“Come on! I could use a good Chilton-instigated snooze.”

“Too bad. No beauty naps for you.”

Lorelai pouts, fake affronted. “Rude!”

(Turns out that ‘shard,’ that ‘thing for school’ which is stuck between the pages of Rory’s Hemingway, isn’t boring at all. In fact, it has a history. A story. The truth is it’s a souvenir she’s saved ever since she and Jess talked books over pizza at Antonioli’s on basket-bidding day.

Toward the end of the meal he’d ripped off a piece of plate so he could jot down his phone number and a quote. Only sliding it into her hand, folded in half, crinkled up like a note passed between desks at school, in the moments before they parted ways and headed home.

It’s stupid she’s kept it. She realizes that now. Stupider still to slip it between the pages of each new book she reads or unfurl it in the privacy of her bedroom to puzzle out if the line he’d included from A Moveable Feast is meant to have double meaning:

“We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and [liked] each other,” it reads.

Stupidest of all, she can’t seem to bring herself to stop looking at it. To throw the darn thing away. A note…a number…a greasy sliver of paper plate!)

“Like I said, Mom,” Rory swallows before smiling over at her convincingly, “it’s nothing. Really.”

- iii. things we said on the verge (of something) -

In early June, Sookie’s wedding day arrives.

Things are static again. Serene. Normal.

Granted, slight changes do sprinkle into the mix here and there because of her dad’s presence, because Dean holds her a little tighter around the waist now than he once did, but mostly it’s the same here as it’s always been. Pleasant people fade into gossip and nonsense while fun blurs into peculiarity.

Life feels simple once more. A tad plain and colorless, maybe, but simple.

Then Jess returns to town on a whim or a fluke or a who the devil knows what he’s thinking and everything goes sideways, pear-shaped, belly-up-and-down in seconds because this is the last thing she’d been been expecting and suddenly the only thing that registers is the length of the grass plus the number of steps it will take to close the distance between them. All that matters is he’s here, he’s back, he’s near enough to touch, and she’s smiling so hard she can hardly breathe as she drinks him in from head to foot like a glutton: her pulse leaping, her heart lurching free from the cage of her chest.

The whole world tilts. Collapses. The pale yellow of the sun shines down like a spotlight so it’s only a rippling alcove she sees. Just him, just her. Just them canopied beneath these flittering fronds of green.

Any rational thought Rory possesses scatters across the wind with the pollen. And then before she knows it, the ground tilts out like a ramp underfoot.

It pushes her forward. Outward. Sliding her toward him until she’s thrust and tangled in his arms with no memory at all of how she got there, or why their mouths feel so hot and wanton like this, so damn unsatisfied. It all seems impossible considering they’re still pressed together in a kiss that can only be described in one way: illicit.

“Not a word,” Rory pants when they stop and Jess pulls back, his jaw taut, his expression shuttered, to nod once understanding.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise me.” The huskiness of her voice feels at odds with this demand, with the trembling fist she still has curled in the lapel of his jacket, but she cannot think about her stinging mouth or his tongue right now so she clings to desperation instead. “Can you do that?”

“Okay,” he repeats, all eyes, eyes, eyes. And with that single look, she forgets to breathe let alone digest anything he’s promised.

In the end, it’s an impulse that overtakes them not a decision. It’s a moment of clandestine passion they share, not a confession that will alter the circumstances any.

And yet it’s guilt, not regret, that begins to pull like an anchor in her belly until she’s running in shoes that chafe the back of her heels. It’s terror and confusion, not apology, that ripples along her nerve endings until she’s dashing through the trees like a coward or a swindler because she needs to believe behind her there’s still a haven of black and white she can cross with both feet.

Only when Rory stops does she feel the change. Does she discern the difference. It takes one sting, one breathless stitch in her side, for her to know she’s tumbled forward into color without noticing.

Looking down, and there it is. His name already singed across her chest in scarlet letters.

- iv. things we whispered on the hood of your car -

“Tell me something no else knows.”

“About what?” he asks around midnight the following April, the two of them sprawled on the hood of his car at a deserted rest stop off the I-95 on their way back from a concert in the city.

“You, silly.”

“Funny you’re thinking about penning my biography already, Churchill. I’m honored, truly, but aren’t I too young for that sort of enumeration?”

With a roll of her eyes plus a protracted har-har, Rory lifts their intertwined hands, watching, mesmerized, as their fingers thread then unthread as they lay side-by-side parked beneath the Big Dipper in this forsaken parking lot. Though they’ve been together about six months now, prying Jess open has been slow work. It’s like taking a crowbar to cement: one chip, one crack, one crumble at a time.

“Stop deflecting, Mariano,” she warns. “Evasion’s for chumps.”

“Fine,” he sighs. She presses a kiss of reward against his knuckles before curling tighter into his side. “How about this: every year roughly sixteen hundred people in New York City are bitten by other humans.”

“Bitten?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“That’s just it,” he says in his best horror story voice, “could be vampires, could be cranky commuters, could be urban mania or road rage…nobody knows.”

“Oh, please. As if I’d let you off the hook with that obvious dodge. You’re killin’ me here, Smalls!” Rory says with an elbow rib and tsk. “Second of all, you so made that biting thing up.”

When she edges her head back onto his shoulder to look at him, Jess drags his pointer finger down her forehead before bopping her affectionately on the nose, his expression neutral.

“Didn’t you?” He shrugs in that cute off-the-cuff way of his then smirks into her hairline. “That’s unbelievable!”

“It is what it is.”

“So, what,” she says as she throws her leg over his hip to lug him closer, her arm already stretched out across his middle, “is there a case of zombiepox going around that the CDC has neglected to inform us about? Because I’ve got to tell you if that’s so then I’ll need an inoculation ASAP, mister! Frazzled, bloodshot, and half-rotted is not a good look for me. It just isn’t.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Hey!” she exclaims.

“No offense, critter of Frankenstein,” he chuckles, absorbing her retaliatory swat with a grunt and rolling her further on top of him, “but I’ve seen you pre-coffee. It isn’t pretty. We’re talkin’ bolts out your neck, monster glares, frothing purple mouth and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep up your running tally and you might find I bite you next. Rory the Ripper does have a nice alliterative ring to it—you best remember that,” she warns all narrowed eyes and silky breath and arms folded under her chin.

Jess cocks his left eyebrow, brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. “Idle threats don’t scare me, Gilmore.”

“They should.”

“Maybe.” A lazy grin forms at the edges of his mouth. “But yours don’t.”

“Fine,” she blows out a breath. With her head resting in the center of his chest, Rory fixes him with one long steady look, her voice dropping an octave lower as it drains free of sarcasm to assume a more serious edge. “Name one thing that does then. That scares you, I mean,” she says.

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he fidgets so long beneath her that by the time he settles with his hands clasped behind his head, lost in thought and translation, peering up at the sky, she’s half convinced that silence or deflection is the best she can hope to expect from him in reply.

Reticence is a quality she’s come to recognize in Jess. It’s one she can reflect back at him in part because they’re both cut from the same quiet, introspective cloth. However, it’s also one that restricts her access to his thoughts and feelings when she most wants it, and that can take a toll. Makes her wonder if they’re parked at different weigh stations in this relationship or not.

It’s bizarre to reconcile how she can understand him so well in some contexts, to the point where she can predict his next reaction or sense a good joke hanging in the periphery that's about to descend; while in others, he’s a total head-scratcher. Like a Sudoku puzzle with numbers that don’t add up to anything.

The silence between them continues to stretch. It becomes an awkward, formless wall.

The stillness, too, which is illuminated only by the light of the moon and the faint din of the car radio, hangs between them until he draws her up his body and folds her over him with a green plaid blanket. His fingers tracing languid strokes up and down her spine.

“Swans,” he says at last, his tone subdued. Scratchy. “Swans scare me.”

“What else?”

“Tennis balls. They’re too small and fast as they zip past. I hate how they can leave imprints on your face like ugly yellow snitches.”

“Okay then. Weird but fair. What else?” Rory asks all warmth and eagerness, her eyes searching his for something he wouldn’t want to slip free.

“Pennywise.” Though she snickers at that, it’s a valid fear. Clowns unsettle her, too. Evil ones especially. She’d had nightmares for eight months after she’d read Stephen King’s It for the first time, and had taken to sleeping with the bedside lamp on for years.

“Anything more?” she asks.

“Cricket bats.”

“Ooh-ho!” Poking him, “So Mrs. Kim got to you, did she?”

“Listen, I tried to be cool and unaffected but who knows what would’ve become of my head if she’d taken a swing with that thing?” Jess shudders at the same time she imagines Humpty Dumpty and laughs. “Jeez.”

“Things would’ve gotten messy,” she adds honestly.

He stalls a moment, then blinks back at her all wariness to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “How messy are we talking here?”

Rory cocks her head and bites the corner of her mouth, musing. “Think pumpkins.”

“Smashed ones?”

“Yep.”

“Figures,” he mutters miserably.

With an encouraging pat, “Don’t worry, I would’ve stepped in before Mrs. Kim buried your handsome yet indignant face beneath the floorboards or behind a brick wall in the catacombs with Fortunato. It’s the least I could do since I sort of like you and all.”

“Sort of?” Jess asks.

“Yeah. I’m no unreliable narrator girlfriend who'd escort you to your doom, you see. I’d much prefer to keep you,” she says with an adoring grasp and swivel of his chin, which he deflects by tickling her breathless as she bends down over him.

“Gee thanks, Casper. Nice to know you care about me.”

“Not about you exactly,” she teases, her flip-floppy giggles still piercing the air. “Just your head.”

That stops him. “My head, huh?”

“Sure.” Still a little breathless, she reaches toward him to fist her fingers through thick black tendrils along his nape. “It’s pretty.” She gives the strands a little tug. “Full of thoughts I’m hoping to pilfer for further study.”

“You know, I always thought there was some hoodlum in your DNA. Now I’m convinced,” he says as he leans over to commence the tickling again. “And you will pay."

The two of them continue to roll then thump against his windshield all elbows and knees until the levity starts to leaden and transform. As Jess reaches over to cup her cheek, their gazes meet in the silvery darkness and hold, kindling like flint.

Quiet washes over them again for a moment. Only this time, it’s bloated; it’s heavy. It’s a mess of a hundred thousand decipherable something’s teetering on the precipice of expression.

A flicker of alarm passes over his features as he frames her face with his hands, palms flat against the car. He hovers aloft, unsure. Indecision mixes with fear to tangle with retreat even as gravity beckons him nearer, his head dropping low enough for their foreheads to touch.

“I sort of like you, too, you know,” Jess breathes softly, his lips lowering to press against her mouth in a quick but lingering kiss. “A lot.” His jaw clenches. “Maybe too much.”

Suddenly there’s a tightrope pulled taut and vibrating in every direction because there’s no shrinking back from the dense electricity pulsating between them. There’s no more room to dance around unnamed emotion whenever it identifies itself in blown pupils, in a bobbing Adam’s apple, in hands that slip and slide until they fit together like aligning planets.

In that instant Rory knows. She knows right then and there she’s falling in love with him, that she’s half fallen already. And it’s both a revelation and a fact so natural she can feel the truth of it whistling from deep in her bones.

Looking nervous, vulnerable, more fragile than she’s ever seen him, he swallows hard then shifts to squint out at the shadowy tree line while scratching at his nape. “It’s just…so many people have treated me like garbage that all I know how to do is spoil things. I destroy, Rory—ruin what’s good. It’s what I do best. It’s all I know. I’m trying here and all, but I…don’t know how to do this,” he says, gesturing lamely between them. “How to do us right.”

“Hey now,” she thumbs his cheek, tries to turn his head back toward her but it won’t budge, and neither will he. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about. Go easy on him, will you?” He nods into her palm, softening a little. The tension leaves his body as he gathers her in his arms again, her head conforming to the crook of his neck, but she’s not convinced all is well yet.

“There’s no rulebook or anything,” Rory says placatingly. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You and me.”

“Yeah.”

“We will,” she says with an emphatic, assuring squeeze. “I know we will.”

With a caustic laugh, a heavy sigh, he runs his teeth over his lip, “I’m a screw up, Rory.”

“Hey. Not true.”

“I am.” Jess sounds so resigned, so convinced, it ties her into knots thinking he sees himself that way.

“Not to me, you’re not.”

“No,” he says with a deadened inflection, with a sad downturn of his mouth. “Not to you.”

Frowning, she feels his cynicism, his self-deprecation, descend like a slash across the gut. Helpless to do anything but try to be a soft place for him and his insecurities to land, she pulls him toward her, embracing him, quieting him, caring for him more with each passing second even though a warning gong goes off in her heart when she leans in to steal another kiss.

“Maybe I’m not a screw up to you yet,” he whispers, “but I could be at another time. On another day.”

“Stop,” Rory declares forcefully, holding her finger against his lips so he knows she means it.

Jess relents. “Okay,” he sighs. “Just know I’ll get it if you change your mind.”

- v. things we cried out at a crossroads -

Strained.

Silent.

Distant.

Those are the best adjectives to describe the status of her and Jess’s relationship as the bus pulls away from the curb a couple weeks later. After the party from hell. From her place on the sidewalk, her chest full of a heaviness she can’t name, Rory stares after it - after him - with little to no regard for the hour’s lateness or for the morning bell which signals the start of homeroom.

It’s the middle of May. That means finals, graduation, and summer loom on the periphery but she doesn’t care. None of it resonates. In the background she can hear Paris barking orders at a few trembling freshman and minted sophomores, but she does nothing to intervene. She makes no move to prevent her frenemy’s yellow journalistic splatter from crushing the innocents to smithereens.

Instead, she watches the hum and bump of the vehicle’s dusty rubber wheels as they roll down the street. She tracks the plume of smoke swirling from the exhaust pipe into the sky, which clouds over with blacks and grays instead of with clearing blues and radiant yellows. She waits until the bus turns left, its engine loud, roaring, to putt around the corner. Disappearing from view.

I hope he calls later, she thinks with a pang, with an iota of hope. We need to talk soon.

Rory’s eyes want to keep traveling with him long after he’s gone. So do her feet. They seek to follow along wherever Jess has gone, to ride beside him until they’re able to make sense of this mess between them and fix it. Fix them again.

Unfortunately for them both, they don’t. And it’ll be some time before they can, let alone before they do.

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #literati #literati fanfiction #ggturns20 #gganniversaryweek #ashlee bree's writing endeavors #it needs editing #but hopefully it's not as awful as i'm imagining it to be #*bites knuckles and hides*

19 notes · View notes

warpedlegacy · 3 years

Text

WIP Whenever

Because I’m bad at time. And keeping track of it. And completing things. Okay so I am making progress on Reprisals Book Two, but the thing keeping more of my attention than I expected was my domestic series for post-Trespasser, While Time Remains. And I just wanted to share this scene with y’all: Cullen finally reuniting with his family (well, just Mia in this scene), and introducing them to his wife. I had to cut it down quite a bit to fit within the post limits of my ff server, so anyone from there, here is the full(er) version! (PS - “Cal” is the name I’ve given the mabari hound he adopts in Halamshiral during Trespasser. Yes, it’s short for Calenhad. Yes, Cullen is very predictably Fereldan.) Thanks for the tag @dreadfutures! I’m gonna wait on more tags since I’m late on this one lol. South Reach is thoroughly rural Ferelden. Cullen takes in the vast fields, the scattered cottages, the humble mill churning its wheel, and thinks “home”. Despite the fact that this was not where he grew up. Despite the fact that he has never been here before. It all feels so achingly familiar that his heart swells.

Inquiries in the market square lead them to the right house. It sits on the north side of a field of barley, hemmed in from behind by the coniferous forest and from the west by a run-off from the Drakon River. Very well-situated. Mia must have fought tooth and nail for a spot this choice. Cullen smiles thinking of this, then grimaces, knowing the reception waiting for him is like to be anything but peaceful.

“They’ll be happy to see you.” Tess rides beside him, steady reassurance in her quiet strength. Subtle highlights in her dark hair catch the sunlight and remind Cullen of coals burned low in the hearth. Her bronze skin glows, but her eyes are dark and piercing as ever as she watches him.

“Oh, I’m sure they will be,” he allows. “Eventually.”

“After they finish lecturing you for not writing you mean?”

“Partly…” Cullen rubs at the back of his neck. He’d been dreading this confession, but now there was no avoiding it. “And also for not telling them we’re coming.”

Stunned silence follows, and he can’t bring himself to look in Tess’s direction. He doesn’t have to - he feels the growing aggravation about to boil over.

“You didn’t tell them?” She sounds somehow incredulous and not at all surprised. “Do they even know we’re married?”

More silence.

“Cullen!”

Her disapproval claps electric like one of her spells. He flinches, far too guilty to put up much of a fight. “I know, I should have told them. But with all that was going on there wasn’t time to write before our departure.”

“What is Mia going to think of me…”

“Of you?” Now Cullen glances her way, and sees his mistake. The anxiety is writ clear in her face - itself enough of an exception to be worrying - and her hand grips the reins fiercely as she purses her lips into a thin line. “Ah, I wouldn’t worry, love. It’s with me she’ll place the blame, I assure you. You’ve nothing to fear of her wrath.”

He reaches across the space to grasp her… Right. He’s on her left side, not her right. She notices his hesitation and his heart wrenches as her face withdraws into despondency. His worry for her grows. She’s been like this since Halamshiral, and every effort on his part to assist her is met with stubborn denial and more withdrawal. She’s pulling away from him, and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“Tess…”

“It’s fine.” She releases a harsh puff of air that fogs briefly in the morning chill. “There’s nothing for it now.”

They exchange no more words as they make the final approach to the cottage. It’s a modest log and thatch structure, longer than it is wide, roof rising high to accommodate a second floor. Smoke wafts up from a narrow chimney in the center. The walls are plastered smooth, a gleaming white beacon amidst the crisp green and gold foliage. Laundry hangs across lines in the garden, which is separated by a low stone wall.

The word “pristine” occurs to Cullen, and he smiles despite his worry.

A figure toils in the garden with a hoe, and as they draw near Cullen nearly chokes, thinking he’s seeing his mother. But then she straightens and raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and he realizes it’s Mia. All grown up, unlike his memories of her.

She’d only been fifteen when they last saw each other.

She spies their approach and he hears her surprised gasp even from yards away. The hoe falls to the dirt, forgotten, and she hikes up her skirts to vault the garden wall and race toward them. Cal utters a low growl at the sudden approach, but Cullen dismounts to get him quickly to heel.

“As I live and breathe…” Mia pants and slows her approach, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at a brother she’d thought thoroughly lost to her more times than she cares to count.

Up close, her resemblance to their mother is even more striking. Wheat-blonde curls fall to her waist, fighting free of the scarf tying them back. Her sleeves are rolled up past the elbows, forearms bearing the strength and tone of long hours toiling under the sun. Her eyes, the same rich, whiskey brown. Her mouth curled up at the corners, a perpetually patient smile always at hand.

“Hello Mia.” Cullen straightens with his own far more awkward smile, releasing Cal to sniff experimentally at this familiar stranger.

Mia takes it all in at a glance - Cullen’s height, his broad shoulders, his untamed curls so like her own, sideways grin so like their father’s - then her eyes drift toward a figure she recognizes only by description. Dark-eyed, wild-haired, fiercely stoic… and an unmistakable aura of legend.

The Inquisitor. Theresa Trevelyan. Or, as Cullen has frequently slipped up in his letters, “Tess”.

She dismounts with practiced grace, and that is when Mia notes the knot tied in her left sleeve, an arm that ends just above the elbow. But she sees the prideful lift of her chin and knows this woman wants no pity.

“My Lady Inquisitor.” Mia nods and wipes her hands before offering her right to shake in greeting. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” The Inquisitor takes her hand and dips her head. A surprisingly warm smile lights up her face, and Mia can see what drew Cullen so thoroughly into her orbit. “Though just Theresa will do.”

Mia nods, accepting this instantly, before turning to Cullen with a much sterner expression.

“You might’ve told me you were coming! Rosie’s gone to market in town, and Bran won’t be able to make it for at least a fortnight, what with the new baby!”

Cullen accepts the scolding with good-natured exasperation, wearing an expression Theresa has seen many times whilst reading letters from his elder sister. A true matriarch, she somehow looms before the man despite being half a head shorter. Theresa understands a little better why he was always able to withstand Leliana’s and Josephine’s teasing with such fond patience.

“I wanted to write, but there wasn’t time,” he tries to get in, but Mia is already verbalising all the new accommodations she will need to prepare.

She barely stops to breathe even as she leads them and their mounts toward the cottage. There is a lean-to stable in the back where a plow horse is already housed, nibbling on fresh hay. A cat naps in the pile nearby, taking advantage of a patch of sunlight.

When Cullen lets slip about the elopement, Mia launches into a fresh tirade.

“But I told you I planned to propose!” he protests, receiving a gentle swat upside the head for the audacity.

“Yes, but I foolishly assumed maybe you’d be holding off on the wedding until your family could be there!” Mia huffs.

“It’s not entirely his fault,” Theresa jumps in, looking fully guilty herself. “Circumstances were a bit… urgent. We didn’t want to wait.”

That gives Mia pause, and she has to remind herself of how chaotic - and dangerous - their lives are compared to hers. At last, she lets herself smile, beaming from ear to ear as she reaches out and finally hugs her brother.

“Welcome home, Cullen,” she says.

He nearly crushes her as he returns the embrace. “It’s good to finally be back.”

“And you, come here.”

She draws Theresa in as well, but this embrace is more awkward as she seems not to know what to do with half an arm. New injury, must be. Mia makes her hug all the fiercer to make up for it.

“My sister,” she declares, and plants a kiss on her cheek for good measure. “Welcome to the family.”

Unexpectedly, tears well up in Theresa’s eyes and she cannot help the happy sob that escapes. It’s too much, this feeling of unquestioned acceptance. She’s never had this before - not so soon, so easily. She catches the glint of understanding in Cullen’s eyes before the tears make it impossible to see, and she reaches up to wipe them away.

“Oh, you just let it all out my dear.” Mia looks from one to the other, belatedly realising how exhausted they both look, before nodding to herself. “You two finish stabling the horses. I’ll get your bed ready. There’ll be tea and stew waiting for you when you’re done.”

And in a flurry of motion she’s gone, leaving Theresa to fall into Cullen’s waiting embrace until the shudders stop.

#wip whenever #theresa trevelyan #dai #fanfic #cullen rutherford #domestic fluff #while time remains

1 note · View note