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portaltothevoid · 2 years

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Foolin’ (11/20) // eddie munson x ofc

Summary: Robin calls out Kat. Before Kat finally witnesses a Hellfire meeting, she runs into Chrissy. There’s some cute bonding moment.

Warnings: I don’t there really are any here? We are still burning slow, embers are strong. Weed is mentioned. Dialogue heavy. don’t worry next chapter will be juicy

Word count: 2.2k

Taglist: @munchabunch @morphie316sims @madaboutmunson @riffcrusader @michele131

On Wednesday, Kat was going through her morning routine at her locker. “Kat! Kat! Hey. Hi. Long time, no talk.” She turned to see Robin barreling toward her, awkwardly stopping herself before she ran into the lockers next to Kat.

“Hey Robin! Yeah I’ve been–”

“Hanging out with Eddie, yeah yeah. I know I have eyeballs.”

“Well, I… I mean…” Kat stammered trying to think of a way to deny it or come up with a reason for why that’s exactly what she had been doing.

“So what are your plans for Halloween?” Robin asked, cutting Kat off. “Because I was thinking if you don't have any, there’s gonna be this huge party. Could be fun to dress up and maybe this time you could stick around?”

“Definitely. I just have no idea what to do for a costume.”

Robin looked at Kat like she had three heads. “I’m pretty sure you of all people can come up with something dark and spooky.”

“Thank you? I’m taking that as a compliment. I’ve been trying to decide between some kind of hot witch or go with some kind of cloaked Satanic look.”

“Hot witch. Definitely hot witch.” Robin replied quickly. Almost too quickly. Kat gave her a smirk. “Or both. I mean, you could do both. Like, be a cloaked hot witch that just got done with a ritual?”

“I like the way you think. Do you need a ride again?”

“No, no. I’ll make Steve drive me. And this way you can ride with Eddie, so you don’t have to sneak off and ditch us.” Now it was Robin who was smirking. Kat’s eyes widened and she lightly hit Robin on the arm.

“Do you– Do you actually think something happened?! Never. I would never! Absolutely not. Nothing happened. Oh my god,” exclaimed Kat defiantly.

“Come on, Kat! Seriously, nothing? I’ve seen the way he looks at you!”

“What? How does he look at me? He doesn’t look at me.”

“He looks at you like you are the best thing to have ever walked this earth.”

Kat sighed and shook her head. If that was really how Eddie looked at her, she had never noticed it. “We’re just friends, Robin. That’s it.”

Robin smiled, nodding sarcastically and gave Kat a couple pats on the shoulder. “Be sure to let me know how long that lasts.” She then glanced at the time on her watch. “I gotta run!” She said as she was backing away. “Think about the party!”

“What party? The Halloween party?” Eddie asked as he walked right up beside Kat as she began to go to her first class.

“Eddie! I swear to S–”

“Now, now. Don’t wanna scare our neighbors.” Kat just glared at him as he snickered. “Are you going to the party?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Are you?”

Eddie scoffed. “And miss out on a night of debauchery?”

“Well, what are you gonna dress up as?”

“A metalhead.”

“Wow! That is just so original!” Kat said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And if you went, what would you dress up as?”

“I don’t know. I think my aunt has some cloaks from her old costumes. I could be some kind of devil worshiper. Really give the kids something to talk about.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7:00 then.”

“What? No. Why? What if I don’t wanna go?”

“You do, you will, and someone has to be brave enough to make sure you get home alright.”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.”

Eddie smiled triumphantly at her. “Good. Oh, and I need you to help me set up for tomorrow. Thank you in advance. I’ll let you know where to meet me.” And before Kat could even protest, he disappeared into the throng of students.

“Wh-what? God damn it.” Kat muttered as she turned the hallway. Maybe Robin was right.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kat juggled a small sugar pumpkin and the two she had carved on Monday in her arms as she tried to open the door to the room where Hellfire club was held. She peeked in the small window in the door to see Eddie completely engrossed in setting up corn stalks around his “throne.” Kat being the independent girl that she is somehow was able to push down on the handle with her elbow and use her body weight to open the door.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Didn’t need any help at all with the door. I got it!” She said as she walked the pumpkins over to the table, attempting to try to set them down gingerly.

Eddie whirled around, snapping out of his concentration, and grabbed the small pumpkin and one other one from Kat’s arms. “Sorry. Thanks.” He said as he placed the uncarved one on top of a hay bale and the other on the floor in front of it. He stood back, scrutinizing it, then moved one pumpkin over maybe an inch, before he clapped his hands together. “It’ll do. Okay now, can you run over to the vending machine and get some Mountain Dews for us? I’m gonna set up the candy bowls.” He asked, reaching into his pocket and handing Kat a couple of crumpled up dollar bills.

“Alright, this is gonna start costing you.” Kat said as she took the money out of his hand.

Eddie smiled at her as he picked up his black lunch box off the floor and flipped it open once he put it on the table. Reaching in he pulled out a bag and bowed as he presented it to Kat on open palms. “A token of gratitude, m’lady.”

“You know me too well.” Kat said as she took the eighth of weed from his hands and put it in her backpack that she propped up against one of the chairs. “Be right back.” She said as she slung it over her shoulder.

There were still a few students lingering around. Some were staying after for other academic clubs and those that did sports. Kat made her way over to the vending machine and got what she hoped would be enough sodas for the night. She zipped up her bag and headed back. On her way, she saw Chrissy exiting the bathroom. She looked so tired and almost seemed weak. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her cheerleading jacket before smoothing out the rest of her cheer outfit.

“Hey Chrissy.” Kat said warmly.

“Oh, hey Kat!” As soon as Chrissy knew someone saw her, her entire demeanor changed. It was like a switch went off and she was all of a sudden reanimated.

“Um, are you okay? I’m sorry if I’m being out of line here, but just…you’ve seemed…off lately.” Kat said fidgeting with her backpack straps.

“You’ve noticed that, huh? I’m okay, really. I’ve just been practicing extra for all the football games we have coming up. Between that and all the homework and stuff, I haven’t been sleeping like I should have.” Chrissy smiled halfheartedly. It seemed like she was trying to convince herself that she was okay more so than she was Kat.

“Oh okay, that makes total sense.” Kat knew it wasn’t the whole truth. Not only did she see Chrissy’s façade break from time to time, she could feel that something was off. Kat could almost compare it to the feeling she had at the farm the other day, but shoved that thought right out of her mind. “Hey, if you’re ever not, and need anything, like to talk to or whatever, just drop a note in my locker, or something.”

Chrissy’s welcoming smile returned. “Thanks, Kat. I, uh, should get back to practice.”

“Of course, yeah, I gotta drop these off. I’ll see you around.”

Both the girls turned to leave, but Chrissy hesitated. “Kat?” She turned around at the sound of her name. “Really, I, um, I appreciate you checking on me. It means a lot.”

“No big, I’m always here if you need anything.” Kat flashed her a reassuring smile, which Chrissy returned abashedly before she quickly headed off towards the gym.

Eddie was organizing all his things for D&D, setting up the little figurines, and sorting through all the pages of notes he had. Kat placed a soda at every chair, leaving a few in the middle near the candy bowls. When she was done, she sat herself on the table and grabbed a Three Musketeers and a Reese’s. Eddie looked up at her from behind his dungeon master covering. “Hey, those are for Hellfire members only.” He said in a warning tone.

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have two beautifully carved sword pumpkins and extra time to do whatever it is you’re doing, because you would have had to get the sodas.” She retorted in a defiant tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, was an eighth not enough for your trouble?” Now his tone had a tinge of mock-innocence to it.

“Don’t put my favorite candies in front of me and expect me not to eat at least one!”

Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just lay off the Musketeers. Those are for Henderson.”

“He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

“I don’t play favorites. I just see a lot of myself in him. Like, if I had someone decent around me when I was that age, and not a piece of shit old man, maybe I wouldn’t be pegged as the town’s freak.”

“That whole freak thing actually bothers you, doesn’t it?” Kat asked, a look of concern covering her face. Eddie’s brows furrowed together for a split second. “What? No. I don’t care about that shit.” He started to go back to shuffling his papers around.

“You shouldn’t. I mean, in a way, it helps you surround yourself with real people.” Kat took a bite of her Reese’s. “Ya know, keep the phonies away.” She added out of the side of her mouth and she chewed the candy.

Eddie glanced at her quickly before drawing his attention to the door. His smile became big and friendly. “Henderson! Are you ready to find out the fate of Kas the Bloody Handed?” He asked as he went over to greet his friend. “In the spirit of Halloween, help yourself to the hors d'oeuvres I’ve prepared.”

Dustin gasped. “Three Musketeers?! You remembered!” He exclaimed diving right in.

Kat hopped off the table. “Well I should get going before more of your comrades file in.”

“But Kat you’re finally here! You need to see what Hellfire is all about.” Dustin persuaded.

“He’s right, Ramsay. You sit at our table every day and as an honorary member, it is your duty to see this story unfold.” Eddie walked over to her and put his hands behind his back and leaned into her, batting his eyelashes at her.

“Not gonna work, Munson.” She said as she batted him away by his shoulder.

“Come on, Kat! You would love it if you just gave it a chance.” Dustin pleaded with her.

Eddie went to Dustin and put his arm around his shoulder. “Can you really say no to this adorable face?” He said pinching Dustin’s cheek while he tried to push Eddie off of him. Even Kat had to admit, it was hard to say no to him. He was just such a happy and loveable kid.

Kat sighed, pulling out a chair and plopping herself in it. “I’m only staying for you Dustin, so you better explain to me what the hell goes on. And,” she said as she reached for another Three Musketeer bar, “share these with me.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up. “You like those!?”

“Hell yeah. In my top three favorite candies. First is Reese’s, these are second, and third is Milky Way.”

“Finally! Someone else who appreciates nougat!”

“And they call me a freak.” Eddie deadpanned.

Soon the rest of the Hellfire club filed in. Kat found herself actually enjoying watching the game. She was entertained by Eddie’s theatrics as he led them on this quest to defeat some big bad named Vecna. Dustin was helpful, answering Kat’s questions. He appreciated that she could keep up with them, for the most part.

“So, what’d ya think?” Dustin asked her as they packed up.

“Alright, so it was entertaining. Fine. You’re still a bunch of nerds though.” Kat teased.

“See, Eddie? I told you, she’ll be playing in no time!” Dustin wiggled his eyebrows at Eddie when he said that. Eddie quickly looked up and shot daggers at him, which only made him chuckle. Kat, realizing Eddie must have talked about her to him, was getting flashbacks to her earlier conversation with Robin.

“No way. Not gonna happen.” Kat said, waving her arms in an X in front of her.

Eventually everyone filed out. Dustin stayed with them to help with the clean up, but ended up having to leave when Eddie him reminded of the time, so it was just the two of them again.

“You don’t have to stay and help me.” Eddie said, putting all his supplies into his backpack.

“If I didn’t want to, I would be home in front of my TV right now.”

“Well then, I thank you for your servitude.”

Kat scoffed. “Being called a Dungeon Master really inflates that ego of yours, doesn’t it?”

A coy smile flitted across his face as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and glided towards the door, holding it open for Kat.

#eddie munson #dustin henderson #robin buckley #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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izzysarchivedblogs · 8 months

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💋 ( @ clint <3 )

la era la era la era third time is the charm

NOT TO STEAL KATE'S THUNDER ⸻ No, he would never want to do that. Kate's about to embark on one of the biggest journeys for a hero. Leading a team, and sure he had been the one to suggest this because the West Coast isn't really a hot spot for heroes (not like people thought). It's an oversight, and Kate's Hawkeye Investigations had been going well (or at least in his humble bias opinion).

He's proud of her, and now he's out in Santa Monica with her. He had come out West earlier, after he had been getting his life in order. That had came about after his travels across America with Red Wolf. The man had really been huge for him, and he knows he had been the same for Wolf. They had been lost, and it had been Wolf who would be picking him up off of bar floors and fetching the hangover cures.

Long story short, that led to Clint going sober; with the time-displaced man helping him out with that. Staring the program, he had learnt a thing or two about making amends and there had been one girl on the top of the list. Jessica Drew. He apologized a handful times, tried, and the sober apology had been the biggest.

It led to them talking, texting, and to where they were going to be today. CLINT BARTON MOVING TO THE WEST COAST. Who knows how long that will stick but for the time being? He was here. Bed-Stuy building would stay his property, but he's left Deke and Tito to play the super since he won't be in New York for an indefinite amount of time. The tenants got a nice landlord from afar. Under his protection, or well, he asked a few supers to check on (make sure they were safe).

Out here, he'd closer to Kate again. Helping out with Hawkeye Investigations, and he told her that he'd be around when she gets a team organized too. Yet he wasn't running it, he'd mentor and guide; be part-time on the team. Whatever Kat needs from him, but there's something bigger happening here. ONCE AGAIN, NOT TO STEAL KATE'S THUNDER.

Clint's moving up, starting something new and serious. Third time is the charm, and he had Jessica had been texting, calling a lot. He was kind of in love with her after all, and with all this West Coast business he had coming up? HE WANTED TO TALK A BIG LEAP. He asked her out again, but now just that. HEY CUPCAKE, TAKE A CHANCE ON ME. MOVE OUT HERE WITH ME.

⸻ And here's why he loves this woman, she said yes.

That's what lead him today, he's gotten them an apartment. Good size, nice location with plenty of food places in a reasonable distance, rooftop space and balcony, and what not. They still had some furnishing to do, stuff coming from their New York places of the must needs.

They had already seen each other, she had already been in the apartment doing her own things (keys sent to her so she could come home right away). However, they hadn't been in the apartment together yet. America yoinking him through a portal had kind of side tracked that.

Clint and Jess had gone for a walk, mostly to scout out what they wanted to have for dinner and pick it up right away. FOOD ACQUIRED, they were head for their apartment (it paid to be one of avengers who hoped between active status salary to reserve stipends; and to let Tony talk him once on how to be smart with money). IT'S A NICE PLACE.

Okay, call him corny. HE'S OOZING CHEESE KIND OF CHEESY. And yeah, he knows what this tradition is. He's done it before, but Clint's excited about this new lease on life. About the healing he's done, and sobriety was hard (he's talked to Jess about that, what to expect). NEW OPPORTUNITIES OUT WEST.

He feels like a cowboy, just a little bit with heading west again. Without warning once Jess has unlocked the door, turned the knob and pushed the door open ⸻ HE GOES TO LIFT HER UP. An arm tucking under her knees, another to support her back and sure it makes it awkward with their food bags. BUT HE'S GOT HER UP IN HIS ARMS.

A few steady steps through the door, and than Clint's leaning his face in to kiss her lips. BIGGEST GRIN, ❝ Welcome home, baby! ❞ He lets her down after another kiss, because they are hungry and they should probably try to assemble one more thing.

#ships; biitchcakes; and her kisses on his skin felt like wisps of butterfly wings turn to a slow inferno (spiderhawk)#ic; clint barton #asks; clint barton #biitchcakes #clint barton; biitchcakes #HE'S SO HAPPPY ! LOVEY !!#verse; clint barton; how many more chances can i have with you (biitchcakes)

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bakugohoex · 3 years

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Can I request Bakugo’s s/o having a major sweet tooth, like for some reason every time he thinks he got rid of her candy he just finds a handful in her pocket

“you bought more, didn’t you”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: fluff, language

word count: 1100+

a/n: i dont even know what this is, it is so stupidly funny because it doesnt even make sense, like what the fuck, bruh but i know we all had a faze where toast would just become amazing and avidly eat it 24/7

summary: in which your sweet tooth becomes the bane of bakugo’s life, finding out you house even more sweets in your pockets, his only way to finally get you stop seems to be a bit more different than his initial plan

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Lollipops were definitely your go to sweets, you loved sucking on them and the different flavours you had each day brought joy to your mouth. It was easier to suck on them then bite your nails when you became anxious, so you always kept a lollypop with you.

Of course you told Bakugo about it, your reasonings being evident and he had been fine with it, not really caring and as long as you had something to help your anxiety then he was fine with it.

That’s what he thought it had been, until he found the wrappers, the containers filled with different sweets, from the sour worms to the gumdrops.

He seriously could feel his heart ache at the mountains of containers you had, he seriously had to take a double take thinking he’d walked into Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Surprisingly, there was no chocolate, but the sweets littered your new dorm, your bin filled with wrappers.

That's when he knew he had to sort this problem out, he couldn't watch you eat anymore knowing how much you had already eaten.

He got scary not gonna lie, shouting at the side effects off excessive sugar, made a presentation of just rotting teeth, he made you watch the whole thing with his stupid laser pen as he went around the rotted teeth.

It was gross as fuck, very traumatic.

He helped you a lot to cut down on the sugar with your sweets, wanting you to try and get down to one lollypop a day and that was it.

He tried, but you’d end up buying some more, hell knows where you got the money from.

Threatens you but in the end, it gets to you after he finds the wrappers again and confesses how he just wants the best for you.

You ask for a substitute and this man brings you the worst substitute ever.

It’s when he leaves something that it seems your excessive sugar intake may have finally gone down.

Bakugo had been left waiting outside your dorm as you wore your UA uniform, he never understood how you could wake up so late. But he didn’t question it seeing you walk out happily, your mouth sucking a sweet to calm you down. You had described it like marijuana but without the consequences of it, which he glared at you for saying. Even then your avid sweet tooth had become an insane problem, you may have cut down on the sweets, but you always seemed to get your hands on some.

“Want to try?” You popped the lollypop out from your mouth, your saliva sticking to the purple sweet. Bakugo would regret agreeing knowing having a sugar rush in the morning was not the best bet but if it stopped you from eating it all he’d take it.

He nodded, watching as you put the sweet in his mouth, the white stick being the only thing visible as he sucked on the grape flavouring, still being able to taste your spit mixed in with it.

Walking into class hand in hand, he kept the lollypop in his mouth watching you leave without a trace of sweets on you. You seemed calmer as he watched you sit beside him, well that's until he saw your stuffed pockets. Aizawa had been running late and everybody began conversing with each other, “you bought more, didn’t you.” He mutters stuffing his hand in your grey blazer to find small hard sweets inside the pocket. “Y/n, really, even after my presentation.”

“I just love them so much.” You pouted grabbing them and stuffing them in your pocket.

“Fuck Y/n, please can you calm down with your sugar intake, I don’t want you to die or get rotten teeth.” He threw the lollypop into the bin, just missing Mineta who had bent over to sharpen his pencil. “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am healthy, I just love it so much.”

He gave a glare turning to face you properly, you put your head to side watching his cold red eyes warm at your features. “Just find something else to help you instead, you can't live off sweet things forever.”

“You find me something else and then I'll give it up.” You muttered, popping a hard candy in your mouth just as Aizawa walked in.

Bakugo thought for a while, throughout the whole day event, thinking of foods he knew you liked. Of course having a sweet tooth wasn't a bad thing but you needed a balance to not have type 2 diabetes when you grow old. He continued to think until he found the basic things on google as replacements, by the end of the day, he had sought out what was needed and called you into the kitchen.

“Fruit.” He pushed the bananas and apples into your arms, you gave a confused look taking an apple and biting into it. “I read it’s good or whatever.”

“You read?” You mock.

He glares back at you, “shut up, idiot.” He grabs your hand with the bitten apple and stuffs it back into your face. “Eat it all.”

He seemed content with what he had done, pushing the 3 apples and 2 bananas onto you, not even letting you get a word in. He goes to put some bread in the toaster, hungry after a long day and keeping an eye on your fruits, watching as you just stared at it as if it was some unknown thing.

“Oi Bakugo, help move this.” Kirishima shouts from the common area.

Bakugo gives a scowl before staring at you, “eat.” You mutter profanity before taking another bite, watching as the man leaves for Kirishima. The sound of the toaster finally letting the toast out, even the smell of toast almost became intoxicating, how could you not refuse.

Going over to the two toasts you butter them and that's when it starts, toasting more as you went through the two toast with such ease. It seemed like hours since Bakugo left and with that you had already eaten 5 toasts going onto the sixth.

“What the fuck?” Bakugo stares at the toast in your hand and the missing six slices, staring between you and the toaster. You take another bite, and he continues to give such a blank look, “fruit?”

“Toast?” You question back taking another bite, Bakugo comes up to you grabbing one of the fruits after you'd eaten all the bread and gives a glare. “I like bread now.

“Of course you do baby.” He mutters ruffling your head as you continue to chew on the toast happily. He might hate how you’d gotten onto another food craving but at least you had variety and weren't going to die of a heart attack from it all. “You really are an idiot.”

“Shut up, want some?” You spoke like a child with only one bite left he opened his mouth, watching as you put the buttered toast in his mouth, your fingers graving against his lips as he was to just lick the butter off your fingers, a satisfied face that he had finally gotten to you.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac @dai-tsukki-desu @fandomsinthegalaxies @crimsonbows-and-arrows @admin-in-residence @otterlockholmes @gabrann

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

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On Losing One’s Head

Or, in other words, my entry to @shipwreckedcomedy‘s fanfiction contest. I have had a really fun time reading the works of Washington Irving to prep for this, and it’s only made me more excited for this series. Even though I know in a modern adaptation it may be changed I’m sticking to a lot of the facts that Irving gives us about the Headless Horseman. Thank you to everyone on here who gave me ideas/ inspiration/ let me rant to you for a bit while I figured this out. It took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I’m really happy with it. This is probably so far from canon, but I got a prompt from the wonderful ‘S’ anon on here and I had to write it. Enjoy!

Genre: Comedy/ Fluff/ Mystery/ A Pinch of Angst

Words: 4249

TL;DR: Ichabod Crane tries to unravel a bit of the Headless Horseman’s past in order to try and figure out where his head might be.

TW: Minor bullying, Mentions of war, mentions of PTSD, mentions of decapitation

__________________________________________________________

Ichabod Crane navigated the hallways of the school, eyes trained on his feet. He normally wouldn’t allow himself to walk with such a closed posture- it exposed him for how nervous he was (which was, contrary to popular belief, a more recent development in his personality). This town had put him a bit on edge. This town and his roommate, who was as inexplicable as he was persistent, and happened to be the reason he was allowing himself to walk with such a closed posture. He had a series of questions to ask his roommate at the forefront of his mind, and he’d spent a majority of the day figuring out how to word them so that he didn’t sound completely heartless. He didn’t want anything or anyone distracting him, because the talk he was about to have was very important- well, he thought it was anyways. It was important to him. His roommate seemed like a good person, and he really did want to help him (though it seemed like his roommate was doing more ‘helping’ at the moment than Ichabod was).

Ichabod’s roommate was, of course, the infamous Headless Horseman. It had certainly made his life interesting- especially given that he was only just settling into this new town and his new position. He was just navigating his new life, and now on top of that, he was also trying to find his friend’s head. So far, no luck on that front. He hadn’t had a lot of luck on many fronts. It didn’t seem like his colleagues were particularly fond of him- especially not Douffe Martling or Brom Bones and his cronies. He wasn’t quite sure what it was with Martling other than perhaps a naturally uptight attitude, but he could at least venture a guess on why Brom Bones didn’t like him. It seemed they both had their eyes set on the same woman- which was another front on which Ichabod had not been very lucky. Katrina Van Tassel, the woman his heart had decided to set on, did not seem to reciprocate his affections in the slightest. Mind you Ichabod also found her incredibly hard to read. She was confident and smart, and one could interpret nearly everything she did as flirtatious. But you also got the overwhelming sense when interacting with her that she was not flirting in the slightest.

Ichabod needed to stop distracting himself, he thought, as pleasant of a distraction as Kat was. He was on a roll. He was trying to get back to his room in a timely matter because (and I cannot emphasize this enough) this conversation was important. It was also a conversation that his friend would prefer to keep confidential, so he needed to get back to his room and have it before anyone could decide to tag along. He wasn’t the only person in Sleepy Hollow who wanted to help the Headless Horseman find his head. In fact, he had many supporters. But this particular conversation was delicate. Ichabod intended to ask how precisely his new friend had come about losing his head. Ichabod believed that perhaps even though this head wasn’t the Horseman’s original one, it may be able to help with some of his memories- physical memories, that was. It would likely be a hard conversation, Ichabod considered. Losing one’s head seemed like it would be traumatic. Remembering that feeling wouldn’t be pleasant for his friend. He would eventually need to share the necessary details with those who were intent on helping him and his friend, but perhaps the Horseman might feel slightly more comfortable having the initial conversation privately where he could express his emotions without judgement- if, of course, he had any. It was more of a precaution.

Ichabod found himself so consumed in his thoughts that he neglected to notice a foot extended in front of him. He was looking at his feet. He really should have seen it. But he was in a state not uncommon to him where the world within his head had taken precedence over the world outside of it. Ichabod tumbled to the ground with a thud, and it was not long until a roaring chorus of laughter resounded above him. He did not even need to look up to know precisely who he had encountered and what had happened. He did the courtesy of looking up anyways- though it was probably only feeding their egos to see the embarrassment flush on his face. As Ichabod had suspected, the figures of Brom Bones and his three usual companions Tripp, Cal and Blair loomed above him, their bodies racking with every laugh. Ichabod sighed, fixing his glasses and trying not to pay them much mind. The more upset he got with them and their shenanigans, the more satisfied they would be with their results (which meant that they’d be inclined to throw something else his way). He stood, brushing himself off and starting back on his way. Before he could get very far, though, he felt a strong grip on his arm pulling him back. Even once he had stopped walking, it didn’t let go. It seemed Brom wasn’t through terrorizing him yet.

“Where are you going?” The strapping Brom Bones smirked. It was a smirk Ichabod was all too familiar with, and one that he had very much hoped he wouldn’t be seeing. Brom was holding him up intentionally. He knew Ichabod didn’t want to be there. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“Well-” Ichabod started before being cut off.

“You going to try to pick up Katrina?” Tripp teased, pouting and cooing mockingly at the mention of the woman Ichabod had taken a liking took. He sighed as all four men found amusement in that and erupting into laughter again.

“What? No!” Ichabod blushed.

“Ichabod and Kat, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-” Cal and Blair cooed before Brom raised a hand to signal for them to stop.

“That’s enough, guys.” Brom told them, trying not to show how much that bothered him. There was only just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but it was enough for the boys to know they’d gone too far. He seemed to size up Ichabod again, before letting go of Ichabod’s arm. Ichabod sighed in relief, thinking that he was finally free... until Brom wrapped an arm around him in a seemingly friendly gesture, putting on his smug smirk again. Ichabod seized up a bit. He was not too fond of physical contact at the best of times, but especially not from Brom Bones. It took everything in him not to scowl. “So if you’re not going to see Kat... what’s the rush getting out of here?”

“I’m going to have a talk with the Horseman.” Ichabod told him plainly, hoping that was enough to get him out of this. Whatever Brom Bones had against Ichabod, the feeling was entirely mutual.

“But don’t you, like, live with him?” Cal pointed out.

“You could literally talk to him any time.” Tripp nodded.

“Yes, but I’ve spent all day planning this conversation.” Ichabod sighed. There were very few people Ichabod knew who would understand his situation, and these men were most certainly not among them. “I have to do it soon before I forget what I was going to say.”

“It’s just a conversation, man!” Tripp laughed.

“It’s not just any conversation.” Ichabod told him, getting an idea. “It’s about his head.”

“You’re still on that, are you?” Brom rolled his eyes, letting him go. He knew he didn’t need to hold Ichabod there anymore. Not only did Blair, Tripp and Cal have him surrounded, but... now Ichabod felt socially obligated to stay. Brom Bones was a lot smarter than he let on (at least socially). Most bullies were.

“Well... yes. I’d like to help him find it.” Ichabod shrugged.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Brom warned him in what Ichabod might almost consider to be a genuine tone. He hand a hand through his hair subconsciously, and Blair reached forward once he was done to fix a strand that had fallen in Brom’s face. Brom gave him a clap on the back as a silent ‘thank you’. Ichabod had always found those four men to be strangely close. “Listen, bud... he’s been missing his head a long time.”

“Since before we were born.” Blair added.

“It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and find it.” Brom sighed. “This head probably isn’t going to know anything.”

“We don’t know that.” Ichabod countered. “We’ve finally got people taking the search for his head seriously, and I think we’re making good progress!”

“Right... you keep telling yourself that.” Brom rolled his eyes. “Alright, guys, let him go.”

“But you said-” Tripp furrowed his brows.

“He’s doing enough damage himself.” Brom sighed. The boys cleared a path for Ichabod, and he meekly started to walk away. He felt oddly embarrassed, or ashamed, about what he was doing. He tried to shake it off, but Brom had successfully gotten under his skin and he knew it. Brom chuckled, almost gloating. “Have fun, dork!”

“Thank you?” Ichabod tried, unsure as to how he was supposed to respond to that.

Ichabod made his way out of the school (but not without a cold glare from Douffe). Perhaps what Brom Bones had said had some merit. His headless friend had been missing his head for a long time. Did Ichabod really think things were magically going to go better this time around? He wasn’t even dealing with the original head. He couldn’t expect to find anything new. But then again... Ichabod himself had also posed a good point. They did seem to be making progress. And how were they supposed to know if his head could ever be found until they tried? No, Brom was wrong. Brom was wrong a lot of the time, but especially about this. He walked down the streets of the town, head down but significantly more aware of his surroundings. He’d learned his lesson- at least for now. His room was within walking distance from the school. In this town, just about everything was within walking distance. He exchanged nods of acknowledgement with a few people on the street, a smile or two. Luckily, he was running into people who knew better than to bother him when he was like this. People like Judy, Rip Jr., Verla, or Matilda. Verla and Matilda probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But Judy had given him a nice smile, and it had raised his spirits. It’s funny how small things could do that.

“Ichabod!” A light voice called out from behind him. Ichabod pivoted, recognizing it instantly. For anyone else, Ichabod would have simply waved, continuing on his way. But this wasn’t anyone. This was Katrina. Ichabod smiled softly upon finding that he was right. It was a dopey sort of grin commonly found in people when they saw the person that brightened their lives. “You’re out early!”

“School ended half an hour ago.” Ichabod furrowed his brows, confused by her implication.

“Oh, I know.” Kat clarified. “You usually stay a bit longer, though.”

“Oh.” Ichabod nodded. And that was when it hit him: he had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. He’d always been a little socially awkward- especially when he was under as much pressure as he was with Kat. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. Luckily, Kat took care of that for him.

“Any particular reason you’re out so soon?” Kat asked, finally catching up with him. She kept walking as if silently asking him to walk with her, or maybe telling him it was okay for him to continue on his way. That she would follow. Either way, it was a great comfort to Ichabod.

“I thought of a few questions to ask the Horseman.” Ichabod told her.

“What kinds of questions?” Kat asked. Ichabod could tell she wasn’t teasing him. She was genuinely interested. But there was also an air of amusement to her that was undeniable, and admittedly rather attractive to Ichabod. It made him feel like she genuinely enjoyed his company. A light blush covered his cheeks.

“Well... I was hoping to ask him about how exactly he lost his head.” Ichabod admitted. “See if maybe his history might be able to help us figure out where to look in the present.”

“That’s a really good idea! Maybe this head will know!” Kat hummed in agreement. “I’ve always wondered about what happened... People say he was a Hessian soldier. You know, during the revolution.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept of Hessian soldiers.” Ichabod hummed. “German regiments for hire, if you will, employed by the British to fight in the Revolutionary War. Do you really think he’s a Hessian?”

“That’s what the lore says.” Kat shrugged, smirking.

“All the more reason for me to talk to him about this alone.” Ichabod decided. He blushed again, not having meant to think aloud like that. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Kat assured him. “He’s probably not going to want a lot of people around if you’re talking about... you know, war. It should be just you and him.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ichabod sighed softly in relief.

“I don’t like to talk about war anyways.” Kat admitted. “I don’t... I mean...”

“I understand.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. No one liked talking about war. But on top of that, he knew Kat was very against slaughter of any kind. “Have you thought about how to approach it if he has... you know, PTSD?” Kat asked. “It’s pretty common in soldiers, even if this isn’t his original head.”

“I... haven’t.” Ichabod admitted. “I did work out how to ask the in a way that I think will be the least upsetting or offensive.”

“That’s a good first step.” Kat encouraged him. “Just... respect his boundaries. Give him the space and time he needs to answer- if he can answer. Don’t pressure him if he can’t.”

“Right.” Ichabod nodded, taking mental note of those things. “Thank you, Kat.”

“No problem.” Kat smiled softly. It was smiles like those that made appearances in Ichabod’s dreams as he rested his head. She had, Ichabod thought, the most beautiful smile in the world. It was so kind. They approached the inn, and Kat sighed. “Well, this is your stop.”

“It is...” Ichabod chuckled semi-nervously. He stopped, shifting his weight awkwardly on his feet. She had him so nervous that he couldn’t quite stand still.

“Good luck, Ichabod.” Kat smirked. Ichabod blushed. It seemed that nearly everything Katrina did, intentional or not, made him blush.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her, watching for a few moments as she continued down the street.

Ichabod sighed, imagining very briefly what their family would look like. He imagined they would be a very handsome family (though the children would get their looks from their mother- he was of the opinion that he was a bit homely). He snapped himself out of it before he could go too far down that rabbit hole. He wondered for a moment if it was weird that he was already thinking that way about a woman he hadn’t even worked up the nerve to ask out. It likely was. But his heart tended pine after things and his mind did no helping, running wild with even the smallest of fantasies. When he was a child, a teacher once told him that his appetite for the fanciful was unsurpassable. He was now rather more a man of reason than he was then, where he was willing to believe just about everything he heard. But his mind did still run wild with whims about more everyday pleasures. Rational joys, like love, romance, and food. Mostly food, until Katrina came along. For a man his size, he had a surprising appetite...

“Hey, Ichabod!” Someone called. Ichabod snapped his head, looking for where it was coming from. Oh. It was Judy again. He waved. “Do you need me to call Lucretia to get you a new key?”

“What?” Ichabod blinked.

“You’ve been standing there for a while.” Judy pointed out. “Did you lose your key?”

“Oh...” Ichabod blushed. He pulled out his keys, holding them up. “I’m fine!”

“Okay! Just wanted to be sure!” Judy chuckled, going back to her own business.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her. It was lovely that she cared. He quickly and carefully opened the door to his room. He saw his friend the horseman busy at work taking a tray of what appeared to be either muffins or cupcakes out of a microwave oven he’d been gifted by the family of one of his students. The room smelled wonderful. “Hello...”

“Oh, hey Ichabod!” The Horseman turned, his- or, rather, her (for now)- hair splaying out behind her in a fan-like motion. She gave him a brief smile before busying herself with her work again. Ichabod liked this head on the Horseman. “I hope you don’t mind, but while you were out I thought you might be hungry when you got home, so... I made some carrot cake muffins.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Ichabod sighed contentedly. So long as she didn’t burn the room down, he had no objections to food.

“We just have to let those sit for a bit.” The Horseman muttered, removing the last of the muffins from the pan. “There! I’ve got a cream cheese icing in the fridge for when they cool if you want.”

“Lovely.” Ichabod chuckled.

“How was your day at school?” The Horseman asked.

“Good.” Ichabod told her, sighing and taking a seat on his bed. The mention of school had reminded him of why he had left school so promptly in the first place. She seemed to be in such a good mood... he hated to ruin it. “Would you... I have a few questions.”

“Oh... sure.” The Horseman shrugged, sitting down on the small chaise in the corner of the room. “What is it?”

“I... know this isn’t your body.” Ichabod bit his lip. “But... do you remember anything about it?”

“I... don’t know. I think, a bit.” The Horseman considered.

“Do you think you might remember how you lost it?” Ichabod asked carefully. Well, that wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. He winced. “Your head, I mean. Do you remember how...”

“I... can try to.” The Horseman offered. "I don't know what I'll be able to get, though... I don't have the eyes, ears or mind of the original body"

“You could still find something.” Ichabod reasoned.

“Just give me a moment.” The Horseman nodded, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment, head in her hands.

Ichabod gave her space and silence to think. Each new head the Horseman donned seemed to unveil a bit more about his personality. He hadn’t thought to ask about any memories before because it didn’t seem entirely logical to assume that any head other than his own would hold them. But... he’d gotten the idea at school today that maybe the body had a few memories of its own. Like a physical memory. It was silly. And it might lead to nothing. But the chance that it might amount to something was too much for Ichabod to pass us. He was a man of science. And with science comes experimentation. It’s how humanity evolves and grows. This was an experiment that might prove fruitless but was still necessary. Because like many experiments, you can never be certain of what you’re going to find until you conduct it. After a moment, the Horseman raised her head and opened her eyes.

“Anything?” Ichabod asked cautiously.

“Not much.” The Horseman shook her head.

“Not much is better than nothing.” Ichabod blinked, pleasantly surprised. “What did you remember?”

“Well... I don’t have anything visual or auditory... because like I said, those are kind of gone...” The Horseman warned him. “But I can remember... I think the body was fighting. I mean, obviously it was on horseback. That’s how it got its name. But... I think it was holding a gun of some sort. Maybe a musket?”

“Interesting... so perhaps you were a soldier...” Ichabod hypothesized. “Anything else?”

“Well... you’re not gonna like this.” The Horseman chuckled nervously. She clearly didn’t like it either. “I don’t think this body’s head was cut off.”

“What?” Ichabod blinked.

“From what I got, it felt more like the head was ripped off. Or blown off. I’m kinda leaning towards it being blown off...” The Horseman winced.

“With a gun?” Ichabod asked cautiously.

“I’m thinking something a bit bigger than a bullet.” The Horseman shook her head. “I don’t know what, though.”

“Well, a cannonball would be too big...” Ichabod thought aloud.

“You know what, I don’t think it would.” The Horseman snapped her fingers. An almost cartoonish ‘lightbulb moment' look graced her features.

“A cannonball?” Ichabod gulped.

Well... she was right. he didn’t like that. Because if his friend had lost his head to a cannonball, the odds of it being in good shape were slim. He certainly hoped that this Headless Helper, as he’d named her, was wrong. That maybe the head had been cut clean off. Or that if it hadn’t, it was at least in usable shape. Mind you, he realized, his friend was certainly not around by any natural means, and it was wrong to assume that his head would have been preserved by any natural means either. This entire situation was unlike anything Ichabod had ever been through. It was terrifying... and absolutely thrilling. Ichabod had always imagined himself playing hero, and though these circumstances were odd ones, he was finally living that reality in a way. But back to the matter at hand... perhaps he now had more clues to his Headless friend’s identity.

“I’m sorry...” The Horseman winced. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“Actually, it really helps. Very useful information.” Ichabod assured her. “This is the closest we’ve gotten to finding out who the Horseman is. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy I could help.” The Horseman smiled shyly.

“Are you okay?” Ichabod asked carefully.

“I think so.” The Horseman shrugged. “I just... I feel bad for this guy. What he went through sucks.”

“Yes it does.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically.

“I mean, I guess it was a quick death.” The Horseman reasoned. “I just... wow.”

“I’m sorry for-” Ichabod started.

“No. Don’t be. I really want this guy to find his head.” The Horseman cut him off. “I’m fine.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Ichabod nodded, not wanting to push. There was a moment of silence between them. “You know, it’s okay not to be.”

“What?” The Horseman blinked, confused.

“It’s okay not to be fine.” Ichabod told her. “And if you’re not, or you need anything... I’m here.”

“Thank you.” The Horseman sighed. There was another moment of silence. Ichabod didn’t know what else to say. "I think the muffins have probably cooled enough for us to try. Want one?”

“I would love one.” Ichabod nodded getting up, walking to his desk, and pulling out his notebook.

And so Ichabod Crane took some rather detailed notes on his findings, however scarce, and his new hypotheses about where they might find his friend’s head. While he did this, he snacked on one (or two, or three) of the Headless Helper’s muffins- which were exceptional. Especially for the grade of the oven they’d been baked in. This head had a knack for knowing precisely what Ichabod needed and providing it to him. The other heads he’d encountered... not so much. It was a finicky business working with his headless friend because with every new head he changed fairly drastically- almost as if he were an entirely different person. What a mess Ichabod had gotten himself wrapped up in... Truly, he’d only come to Sleepy Hollow to teach science. Teaching was his passion, and he was very much enjoying his job in Sleepy Hollow. But his mind had always wandered towards the inexplicable, and that was a term that more than aptly described his friend the Horseman.

In a sense, Ichabod felt that maybe that had been the true reason he was drawn to this little town. That perhaps a higher purpose did exist in his life than simply to teach. He had always thought teaching was his calling, but perhaps it was simply a step on the journey that was meant to be his life. Or a vessel, he supposed, for it was teaching that had brought him to where he was. Whatever the case may be, Ichabod knew that what he was doing in helping the Horseman felt right. He wasn’t usually a man to trust pure gut instinct, but this was different. This felt like the start of something. Ichabod hoped that it was a good something. He would hate to be on the wrong side of history. The Headless Horseman had been a beloved legend for so long, and Ichabod felt it in his bones that he was now building onto that legend. That was a scary prospect. Because if he made a wrong move, all that he was building could crumble as quickly and as easily as a Jenga tower and leave him buried under the weight of his failure, the villain of a story he had never intended to be written into.

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drowningbydegrees · 3 years

Text

This is my @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @kat-atomic, who mentioned liking modern AU’s with witcher powers etc. and humor. I hope this delivers! Thank you so much @goodheavensgwen for betaing this! <3 Note: This is largely fluffy and ridiculous, but there’s some canon typical mention of blood and injury.

Read on AO3

There are very few things Jaskier can genuinely say he enjoys about working the night shift at the diner. There’s the 3 a.m. rush of customers when all the bars close who usually tip pretty decently. There’s the fact that Triss, the night manager, doesn’t mind if he spends his downtime writing music when his sidework is done. And there’s the occasional regular Jaskier finds himself enamored with.

Like the one on the sidewalk just outside, for instance, who Jaskier privately suspects is some sort of cryptid. With good reason! He only ever seems to turn up in the quietest part of Jaskier’s shift. He doesn’t look old by any stretch of the imagination, and he doesn’t strike Jaskier as the sort to commit to any sort of high maintenance beauty regimen, all of which is at odds with the silvery white hair that falls just a touch past his shoulders. If the hair weren’t noteworthy enough, his unnaturally gold eyes are haunting, like nothing Jaskier has ever seen. Not that he means to look, mind you, but they’re the kind of thing that sticks with Jaskier long after the man is gone. Appearances aside, there’s something about this particular customer that discourages questions and he always pays with cash, so despite coming in on a somewhat regular basis over the last year and a half - not often enough that Jaskier can work out any sort of pattern, but enough that there’s a table Jaskier has more or less decided is his - Jaskier doesn’t even know his name.

The blood is new though.

“Holy mother of- Are you okay?” Jaskier asks when he looks up and sees the man trudging through the door. Is that a limp? It’s hard to tell if he’s hurt or just exhausted. It seems like maybe hurt because that’s definitely blood matting his hair. Probably. Jaskier vaguely remembers hitting his head on the slide when he was little and it looking a bit like that, anyway. And if that’s blood, it suggests that the substance making the guy’s shirt stick unnaturally to his body is also blood, which kinda tracks with the fact that one of the sleeves is ripped to shreds.

The guy freezes, leaving Jaskier with the distinct impression that he’d hoped to come in unnoticed. As much as Jaskier enjoys listening to his gravelly voice, there’s nothing comforting about the reply. “It’s not mine.”

“Right. Okay. That’s- That’s a completely normal and not concerning thing to say. Also, I’m going to go ahead and call bullshit because your arm is… umm. Oh fuck! Your arm. Just, uhh… hang on a sec, okay?” Jaskier rushes off to the kitchen for the diner’s first aid kit, a few bar towels, and, after a hurried explanation to Triss, one of the work uniform button down shirts. First aid isn’t something that was really covered in training, but leaving someone bleeding in the foyer is almost certainly some kind of health code violation. Whatever the case, not wanting his favorite customer to bleed to death in the middle of his shift wins out over entertaining the notion that said customer might possibly be dangerous.

The foyer is empty when Jaskier returns, which admittedly makes more sense than the guy having stayed put. He’s undeniably mysterious, but he doesn’t seem unhinged enough to just wander in here like that without some kind of reason. Jaskier pokes his head into the restroom, assuming the man has gone there and… isn’t wrong. It’s just that he’s also not in a state of dress Jaskier would expect in a public space. The tattered remains of his shirt sit in the sink, and without the fabric to hide it, the gashes at the back of his shoulder, just where it meets his arm, are rather prominent. Oddly, that quells any real concern Jaskier might have had about what events led him here because they look like claw marks rather than anything human. Equally prominent are a really quite alarming number of other scars that litter the man’s back and chest from what Jaskier can see in the mirror.

The man has never struck Jaskier as particularly polite. He speaks very little. He never smiles. He always looks vaguely put upon when Jaskier tries to be nice to him. So it’s strangely endearing to see that, despite Jaskier being pretty sure he communicated he’d be right back, the man still looks sort of surprised to see him. That surprise only grows more visible when he sees the supplies Jaskier is holding. “I thought you might want to get cleaned up.”

The look the man gives him, like he’s expecting some kind of catch, makes Jaskier’s chest ache. Honestly, who does he interact with that getting help when he’s clearly injured is… not the expectation? The guy offers a quiet thanks that is very, very at odds with the whole possible (but probably not) serial killer vibe he’s got going on at the moment when Jaskier sets the supplies on the counter and starts to head back for the door.

“Do you need me to call someone for you… uh, sorry, I don’t actually know your name,” Jaskier finds himself asking, not sure why he can’t bring himself to just leave.

In the mirror the man’s brows crinkle in confusion, or maybe exasperation and he shakes his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Jaskier asks, watching the man awkwardly try to balance a pad against his wounded shoulder and wrap gauze around it without nearly enough hands. “It kinda looks like those might need stitches.”

“I said no.” Definitely exasperation this time, probably at Jaskier, but maybe also at his current predicament. Tape would be better than the roll of gauze, but there isn’t any.

“Right. Okay…” The reasonable thing to do would be to go back to work and just leave the guy to it. It’s not his job. They don’t know each other. The guy’s insistence on not wanting him to call for assistance should probably be suspicious. But, Jaskier has never done the reasonable thing once in his entire life and he doesn’t intend to start now. If he can’t get the guy actual, maybe qualified assistance, he also can’t bring himself to walk away. “Can I help?”

The man shifts in obvious discomfort, but eventually he concedes with a terse nod. He silently holds the pad against his shoulder while Jaskier unrolls the gauze and tries very hard to keep his eyes mostly averted. It’s that or Jaskier is going to end up ogling the guy’s quite frankly gorgeous everything and this really doesn’t seem like the time for that.

“Geralt,” the man says sort of out of the blue as Jaskier winds the gauze around the injury. It startles Jaskier into looking up. “My name.”

“Oh!” Geralt. Jaskier repeats it in his head. It’s nice to finally have a name to go with Geralt’s unfairly pretty face. He’s being rude though, Jaskier realizes, and shakes his head and ties off the bandaging. “I’m Jaskier.”

“I know,” Geralt says softly, like it’s some sort of confession.

Right. Of course. He’s probably introduced himself a dozen times. But customers usually forget his name, so it makes Jaskier smile anyway.

“So… Geralt. I don’t want to pry or anything.” The way Geralt tenses, Jaskier is sorry for opening his mouth. But, contrary to what everyone else in his life seems to think, he is not entirely without a self-preservation instinct. He’s not blind to how weird this whole situation is, even though he’s pretty sure Geralt didn’t actually kill anyone. “Did something happen? You’re not in some kind of trouble, are you?”

“No.”

“Right.” It seems whatever strange set of circumstances made Geralt inclined to talk to him has passed. “Well, that’s illuminating.”

Geralt’s expression scrunches like he’s just bitten into a lemon. “It’s not important.”

Inexplicably, that hurts. Not for his own sake. Geralt has no reason to confide in Jaskier specifically. It’s just that it seems like Geralt’s default assumption that he won’t be trusted, coupled with literally everything else Jaskier has seen tonight, paints a sort of lonely, heartbreaking picture. Or, maybe that’s just Jaskier’s inner poet talking. He’s never entirely certain. All the same, he offers what he hopes is a friendly smile. “Suit yourself, but you should know if you don’t tell me, I’m going to make something up and it will be absolutely ridiculous.”

Geralt’s expression smoothes out into a careful sort of indifference. Jaskier is sort of tempted to linger, but there’s really no excuse, and the longer he stays, the more likely Jaskier is to say something that’s just going to embarrass them both. Reluctantly, he steps away. “Well, I’ll just, you know, leave you to it.”

***

By the time Jaskier comes back out into the dining room, Triss looks like she’d been about thirty seconds away from coming in to check on them herself. As he assures her that it’s not actually as bad as he’d first thought, and no she really doesn’t need to call an ambulance or anything, Jaskier finds himself very, very glad he had been in too much of a rush to share his initial concerns with her or he suspects this conversation would be going very differently.

But Triss lets things be, and Jaskier tries to get back to normal.

It’s very convenient, Jaskier thinks, that Geralt always orders the same thing. In retrospect, that might be because he’s some kind of world champion at avoiding conversation at all costs, but Jaskier assumes he’s just a creature of habit. Probably. Either way, Jaskier puts in an order and pours a cup of coffee, glad for something to busy himself with while he waits.

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt looks more or less himself when he emerges from the restroom. His hair is wet, probably from rinsing the mess out of it, but with long sleeves covering the gash Jaskier had patched up, only the slight unevenness in his step gives away that anything is wrong at all. That and the heavy sigh he breathes out when he finally sits down in the diner booth. Jaskier has heard that one before and wonders if Geralt makes a habit of coming in here when he’s hurting or if that sigh is just one born of exhaustion.

Geralt’s expression does a funny thing when he sees the coffee mug. It might be surprise, but Jaskier can’t think for the life of him why. “Thank you.”

It’s the same quiet, sort of reluctant tone Geralt had thanked him with earlier, and dear lord is no one ever just kind to him or something? Nevermind that this is literally Jaskier’s job. He wants to ask, but he can’t imagine the question going over well, so Jaskier leans against the side of the bench opposite Geralt and smiles, gesturing at the uniform shirt. “It’s a good look. You might have a real future here.”

By some miracle, that pulls what Jaskier thinks might be a smile from Geralt. It’s a small, subtle thing like Geralt isn’t quite certain how the expression fits on his face, and gone almost immediately, but it was there, if just for a second. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need a new line of work.”

“I mean, if my line of work tore up my wardrobe like that, I’d probably have noped out already,” Jaskier jokes.

“Hmm,” Geralt replies, staring resolutely into his coffee mug.

“So, I gotta ask,” Jaskier ventures when a few seconds pass and Geralt doesn’t glare at him for lingering. “Not that I mind, but there are like, a dozen places I’d be more apt to patch myself up than a diner bathroom.”

“Everything else is closed,” Geralt says from behind his mug, amber eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Of course. That explains… Wait. That doesn’t explain anything. There’s literally a hospital two miles down the road. I’d probably-” Jaskier pauses when Geralt’s eyes crack open again, fixating on him. Something about it makes Jaskier far less certain of what he’s saying, and it comes out with a questioning sort of uptick at the end. “You know, try… there?”

“They don’t tend to be keen on my kind,” Geralt replies gruffly.

Jaskier has no idea what that means. “Uhh… uninsured?”

“A witcher.” Geralt glowers at Jaskier, but he says the word like it’s physically painful, a mouth full of broken glass.

Jaskier has never met a witcher, he’s pretty sure, but he’s heard the stories, same as everyone. Witchers are supposedly nearly as dangerous as the creatures they hunt, more monsters than men and never to be trusted. They’re not quiet and unobtrusive and startled by acts of kindness, surely. So, either Geralt is not what he seems or the stories are bullshit, and given the way this particular witcher looks like he’s braced for a blow, Jaskier is willing to bet it’s the latter.

Jaskier can’t help wanting to understand what kind of life Geralt must live that this is where he ends up in the small hours of the morning, injured and seemingly alone. It makes him privately furious, but somehow he doesn’t think the spectacle will be appreciated, even though it’s on Geralt’s behalf. Maybe especially because it’s on Geralt’s behalf, judging by the efforts the witcher goes to to be unobtrusive. So, Jaskier doesn’t say the first thing that comes to mind about how rotten humanity is. Instead, he says the second thing that comes to mind, which is equally unfortunate. “Well, that explains your eyes.”

Geralt’s expression goes stormy, and Jaskier only belatedly realizes he must have taken that as an insult. But about the time Jaskier opens his mouth to explain, Geralt seems to gather that he might have misunderstood. His brows crease as he looks at Jaskier, as if trying to puzzle something out. “What about them?”

“They’re beautiful,” Jaskier blurts out, which, oh that was not what he meant to say at all. Melting through the floor would be great about now. Or maybe disappearing entirely. Really, anything but standing here with Geralt staring at him like he’s grown a second head. Scrambling for an excuse to leave that won’t look like he’s running away - even though he definitely is - Jaskier forces a smile, taking a step backwards. “I’ll just… go get you some more coffee.”

Suddenly discovering his escaped sense of self-preservation, Jaskier doesn’t come back with coffee. His curiosity is tempered by embarrassment, so he stays away until Geralt’s order is up and he has an actual legitimate reason to drift back to the guy’s table. Jaskier does his best to straddle the line between friendly and professional as he sets down the plate. He has every intention of leaving Geralt to eat in peace, so Jaskier startles a little when Geralt speaks up before he can leave. “It was a basilisk.”

“A… like the ‘turn you into stone’ kind of basilisk?” Jaskier turns back and sort of wishes he hadn’t because Geralt looks rather sorry for having said anything.

“That’s just a myth. They don’t do that,” Geralt counters. Jaskier waits for him to expound on that further, but he doesn’t.

Jaskier has never seen a basilisk either, so it seems entirely natural to ask, “Then, what do they do?”

A funny thing happens. To Jaskier’s complete and utter surprise Geralt talks. Not in the teeth pulling miserable way he’s said most everything else, but like it’s a conversation he genuinely doesn’t mind having. Jaskier keeps half an eye on the door, but it’s Monday night, so it’s no great surprise that no one else comes in.

In the absence of other customers to tend to, Jaskier eventually just slides into the seat across from Geralt to listen. It’s not subject matter that Jaskier has ever considered, but it’s interesting if only for how it relates to Geralt. Huffing out a laugh, Jaskier cuts in. “To hear you tell it, people are as stupid and superstitious as they are… unkind. I suppose next thing you’ll be telling me is that vampires don’t actually burn up in the sunlight.”

Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs for definitely not the first time tonight. Honestly, Jaskier is coming to be just a bit fond of it. “They don’t.”

“Wait, really?”

Jaskier is thrilled to discover he doesn’t even have to press for details. Before he knows it, he’s learned more about vampires than he even thought there was to know. Along with fiends, leshens, and what might possibly be the entire list of contracts Geralt has taken in the last month. There’s a consistent thread through all of it that leaves Jaskier warm and maybe a bit embarrassed that he’d ever thought Geralt could be dangerous. “You don’t talk about them like they’re things you kill.”

“I don’t if I can help it. It’s not their fault humans sprawl out into the places they live.” Geralt thumbs at the handle of his coffee mug, staring at the contents that have long since gone cold.

Desperate to drive off the strange sense of melancholy creeping in, Jaskier grasps for some other direction he can steer the conversation. Hastily, he runs through what Geralt has talked about already, and gets a bit stuck on a concerning thought, given how often the witcher is here. “So, are there a lot of monsters around here?”

Crisis averted, Jaskier thinks. Geralt’s shoulders tense across the table, but at least he doesn’t seem sad anymore. “Not really.”

That really just brings more questions than it answers. “Oh, well that’s a relief, I guess. I’d hate to be out hiking and get eaten by a noonwraith or something.”

“Noonwraiths don’t live in forests. Don’t even live, really. They’re...” Geralt makes a face that Jaskier assumes means he’s caught on that it was a joke. That said, Jaskier admires his commitment to finishing anyway. “More like trapped spirits.”

“You’re the expert,” Jaskier says agreeably, not quite managing to stifle the urge to laugh. “So what is it that keeps bringing you here, then? Do witchers have territories or something? Do you live around here? Actually, no. That’s a stupid question. If you lived around here you wouldn’t have wound up here like that…”

He expects the look of annoyance he seems to have gotten very good at drawing from Geralt so far. What he doesn’t expect is the way Geralt’s gaze darts away, looking at pretty much anything but Jaskier. “No.”

“No what?”

“All of it. This is just on the way to a lot of the places I end up,” Geralt clarifies with a heavy sigh. It’s a lie, Jaskier is pretty sure, because this podunk down isn’t really on the way to anywhere, and the rest of Geralt’s answer confirms as much. “... ish.”

“The coffee isn’t that good,” Jaskier teases. He doesn’t get it, but he does like Geralt, no matter how taciturn the witcher might be.

“It’s not.” Geralt tenses where he sits, and Jaskier thinks maybe he ought not to have pressed. As strange as today has been for him, it’s probably been awful for Geralt. Only Geralt doesn’t look upset. If anything, he ducks his head, a bit sheepish, muttering something under his breath.

Jaskier doesn’t even realize he’s leaned in closer until Geralt’s eyes widen just a fraction. “Sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

The way Geralt scowls, not at Jaskier but just in general, he thinks he’s not going to get an answer. He especially doesn’t think he’s going to get this particular answer, and yet Geralt very abruptly surrenders. “I don’t come here for the coffee.”

Oh. Jaskier bows his head to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. Somehow, it’s comforting to think that Geralt, who faces down monsters and seems generally put together is as awkward as he is. So much so that it takes him a second to even realize Geralt is maybe flirting with him. Definitely trying to judging by the vaguely terrified, deer in the headlights expression on the witcher’s face.

“I’m much better off the clock.” Jaskier immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, but it’s far too late. This is the point where Geralt realizes he’s made a terrible mistake. This is the moment where he decides maybe not to come back.

Whatever Jaskier expects, it’s not Geralt’s laughter, a surprised huff that sprawls out into something more concrete. It’s the loveliest sound Jaskier thinks he’s ever heard, and he can’t even bring himself to mind that it’s a little bit at his expense. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before Jaskier can say anything, flirtatious or otherwise, there’s the familiar chime of someone coming through the door. Not that he needs the door to alert him. The raucous laughter does a good job on its own. That’d be the 3 a.m. crowd.

“I should… get back to work,” Jaskier reluctantly concedes and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t imagine the faintly disappointed look on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs just as Jaskier is about to leave, softly enough he almost misses it. When he turns to look, the witcher’s jaw works for a moment before he says, “Thank you. For all this.”

“Any time,” Jaskier replies, not entirely surprised to find he means it. Even if nothing comes of their newfound camaraderie, maybe he’ll get a song out of it or something.

The 3 a.m. rush keeps him busy after that, and Jaskier only really makes it back to Geralt’s table to refill his coffee and bring him the check. By the time things slow down, Geralt is out the door, which is a good thing, honestly. He’s gotta sleep some time, Jaskier supposes.

Jaskier watches Geralt’s car disappear before he goes to clean up the table. As always, Geralt has left everything neatly stacked (yet another reason he’s Jaskier’s favorite customer). There are a few bills, and it’s only as he’s pocketing them that he notices writing on the receipt Geralt left behind.

A phone number is scrawled across the slip of paper, but it’s the note underneath that makes Jaskier grin as he pockets it for later.

Just in case you run into any noonwraiths in the woods.

(Fic Masterpost)

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #The Witcher #my fic #This was ridiculously fun to write #thewitchersecretsanta

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usernoneexistent · 3 years

Text

So, a situation has happened. @oneirataxia-girl sent a message ‘You know it’s a tradition to answer every of Meg’s questions’ for the OC ask and as I was making a response, dumb me accidentally pressed the post button and then out of panic I deleted it. Now I feel like more of an idiot that I could simply edit it or save it drafts or make it private whatever so here is an alternative. This will be a ridiculously long post so here it is. I’m sorry I lost the message but I accept the challenge. I will skip some questions as I’ve already answered them in a previous post.

1. What's MCs favorite subject and why?

Charms just for the reason that she is good at it and is one of the few things that she likes that inherited from her dad plus her paternal grandmother was once a professorial (Wandless) duellist.

2. What does MC think about dragons?

Loves them but not to the same extent as Charlie Weasley does.

3. Did MC get the permission slip for Hogsmeade from the parents without any problems?

Juniper just asked her mum and she signed it without any problems.

4. Butter beer or pumpkin juice?

Butterbeer, it makes her feel older and mature (even though she isn’t lol)

5. Does MC sleep with a stuff toy?

Not anymore no but when she was younger she had an ugly, green toy rabbit that she got as a gift from Jacob.

6. Sandwiches or Soup?

Sandwiches as a kid but she heading more into the soup direction.

7. Who does your MC hate the most?

R, since they dragged Jacob, Juniper and the rest into a whole conspiracy on top of losing her closest friend because of R.

8. What is MC’s weakness?

Juniper’s greatest weakness is her loyalty. She likes to understand and see what a person has been through and believes that most people can be good so she often tries to befriend almost everyone she meets which can be exploited.

9. What is MC’s opinion on magical creatures?

Absolutely loves them and loves to learn and interact with them.

10. Angel or Devil?

Juniper would be an angel for the main fact that she is very good natured despite having moments of pettiness and vengeance.

11. Pessimistic or Optimistic?

Juniper leans more on the optimistic side of the spectrum but over the years at Hogwarts it slides over to the pessimistic side.

12. Which house does MC find chill?

Gryffindor

13. Selfish or sharing?

Depends on the context, in terms of herself she doesn’t share any details of her life to others but also if they need her help she’s always there. However she is also very stubborn and kinda has a tendency to do her thing so maybe more selfish.

14. How does MC eat kit kat? breaking the sticks or eating it as a whole?

Unfortunately, Juniper would eat it like a normal human being and breaks the sticks to but she would share it.

15. What is MC’s element?

It’s air because air can be quiet and gentle but it can also be dangerous and turbulent just like Juniper.

16. Does MC have a part-time job for money?

No, she doesn’t need to worry about money, her father’s side of the family are quite rich.

18. Does your MC like Rowan?

Yes she does (platonically), what even kind of question is that. Rowan was Juniper’s first ever friend of her own age and was the few people she fully let into her life, like her family situation and how she truly feels about them and her guilt with the cursed vaults and Jacob.

19. Who does MC have a platonic relationship?

Bill Weasley. During Hogwarts he was a brother figure, pretty much the Jacob she wanted and after Hogwarts they ended working together in Egypt. They turn to each other when it comes to love advise and are there for each other when one of them is heartbroken and rejoice when one of them finds love again. Juniper was upset that didn’t make it to Bill’s wedding cause she would totally be his other best man and Juniper would make Bill her bridesmaid at hers.

20. Who’s your MC’s non-NPC bestie? Any other MC?

Juniper is just recently made friends with Alvina and Hana.

22. What is MC’s blood status?

Juniper’s maternal grandmother was a half blood while her father’s side is pureblood which makes her technically a half-blood.

23. How is MC’s relationship with their family?

It’s complicated so lets break it down.

Jacob (brother): Perhaps the best relationship she has with her family. She admires Jacob and sees him as her hero. She was hurt when he disappeared and felt betrayed since he left only a year after their dad left. When Juniper finds Jacob again, she was so relieved that he was alive and that her quest was not in vain. When he disappeared, Juniper was less forgiving that time. They still argue a lot but she also bails him out many times.

Jalil Hasni (father): Juniper really doesn’t like her father, she views him as a traitor to the family because when Jacob got expelled, Jalil felt that Jacob brought dishonour to the family and left to work in Algeria. She also struggles with her identity as people have pointed out that they very similar, in their explosive temperament to their ambitious nature but Juniper refuses to accept that they are similar and often ends resenting those parts about her.

Julia Moss (mother): Juniper has a very emotionally sensitive relationship with her mum. She always had the sense that Julia preferred Jacob over Juniper and when both Jalil left and Jacob disappeared within a year span, it caused Julia to fall into a deep depression and when Juniper said she wanted to be with dad, it spiralled Julia into deeper despair. This caused Juniper to feel tremendous guilt and they ended up just tiptoeing around, constantly worried they would say the wrong thing leaving them emotionally distant to each other.

25. What is MC favourite magical creature?

Nifflers

Okay so, I have been working on this for about a day and decided that I will split this into 4 parts, just to ease the workload.

#hphm mc asks #hogwarts mystery oc #juniper moss #hphm jacob #rowan khanna #bill weasley #alvina arcane-zheng #ywa hana #nifflers #long post #this is only part 1

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thevirgodoll · 4 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you have any advice for keeping the 🐈🐈🐈 area looking and feeling it’s best. My mom never really told me anything; so here I am trying to figure it all out 😂

•Don’t always sleep with underwear, let her breathe please!

•Always wearing tight clothing can be irritating/make her sweat so be mindful. Let her breathe!

•Cotton underwear is your best bet.

•Exfoliate!!! Get exfoliating gloves.

•It doesn’t matter if you shave, use “hair removal”, wax, trim, or go 70s with it - just keep everything relatively maintained no one cares. Whatever you do is up to you and your kitty kat.

•Use hair removal for the allotted time, never past.

•To shave- men’s razors get a close shave. An oil to apply beforehand is nice, like extra virgin olive. Some people use coconut oil to shave with(on the outside, don’t stick this inside), some people use conditioner, some use a men’s cream but make sure whatever you use let it sit on the hair. Shave with the grain or downwards or side to side, don’t press too hard. For aftercare, rubbing alcohol, tend skin, or some swear by a natural deodorant to avoid bumps.

•Don’t put anything IN the vagina. No ma’am.

•If you need anything product wise for the vagina your best bet is Honey Pot.

•Use organic tampons, pads, cups, and liners.

•Drink your water (easiest with a refillable bottle/large jar), drink tea, don’t always eat junk/processed food, drink less coffee and soda, try to eat your fruits and yogurt. Drink apple juices and 100% cranberry. Try to incorporate more whole foods in your week.

•Discharge is normal, it varies especially depending on your week, but you should never have a foul odor or green, yellow, funky gunky stuff. No ma’am. Every vagina has a specific scent and taste (not lollipops or anything like that) but not a foul odor.

•Don’t put harsh cleansers in your vagina. Don’t put perfumes all in your vagina. Again, if you have foul odors something is not right! Do not do random remedies if your pH is thrown off.

•This brings me to my next point. Make you are getting your regular checkups with a gynecologist. Get your pap smear when it is time!!!

•If you are sexually active, pee afterwards. Or if you did it yourself, pee afterwards.

•Use simply a wet washcloth to clean in the folds!!!!!!! People forget this. Only mild soaps and water for the vulva. Pat dry with a towel especially after any hair removal.

•Wipe from front to back. Not the other way around. You don’t want to transfer bacteria from your butt crack...

•Use a separate washcloth to get your butt crack. For some reason, people ignore their crack!!! You better let some water and mild soap go between your crack. 😭

#answered #self care tips

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ask-jokeboi · 4 years

Photo

The Party

Hope everyone's having a great holiday season so far! This time of year isn't always easy but thankfully friends and a good distraction can make things easier.

I drew these pic’s to pair with a moderately long fic I wrote to follow up the aforementioned party from earlier, it’s below the the cut! Read it if you want! Either way, Happy Holidays! 💜💚💛

Words: 4,142 Relationships: Harlivy /Harley & Joker friendship / Batjokes (mentioned) Universe: Mine / Lego Batman

A/N: sorry for any typos or weird grammatical stuff, I'm good at art, not writing

Summary: Joker’s felt a little down since Batman’s been out of town, will his best friend Harley be able to cheer him up?

Warnings: Alcohol use, implied depression

_____________________

"C'mon Jay it'll be be fun!" Cheered Harley, mustering all the enthusiasm she could in an attempt to persuade Gotham's former clown prince of crime to pull himself together

"I don't care!…. Go bother your girlfriend or something. Leave me alone…" He was currently piled under several layers of blankets, sunk deep into the ball pit he called a bed

"Nuh uh, I'm not haulin' my butt outta this room 'till you haul yours. You can stay in that pit and cry all ya like, but it won't fix nothin', you gott-"

"I don't GOTTA do anything!" Jay snapped. Throwing his blanket aside and revealing his less than kempt appearance, his face twisted into a frustrated glare

Harley, already familiar with Jay's usual harmless outbursts only sighed as she looked her long time friend up and down, taking in his surroundings with a curious eye

It'd been a month or two since Batman left the scene and his absence was definitely beginning to take a toll on the poor clown.

She could tell it'd been a while since he'd done anything to care for himself…. His hair, which was usually swept back into a flawless green pomp, lazily draped his face. The dull forest black of his roots beginning to seep back into the rest of it. Same could be said for the state his room which, due to his erratic nature, was always a bit untidy but had recently fallen into a state of near disrepair. Bags of half eaten junk food and empty bottles of all sorts of things lay strewn across the floor, particularly around his half deflated bed.

Despite the mess, he still seemed a little...thin… more so than usual to be honest… his ribs visible beneath the loose shirt he wore, arms comparable to sticks despite the muscle.

most of all though, he just seemed... tired. Jay always looked tired out of makeup. It was one of the first things she'd managed to take note of when he'd first entered her office years ago…. But right now the purple rings beneath his eyes that never seemed to go away were deepened to a point that made it clear he wasn't getting much sleep or doing much for himself in general...

Seeing her best friend in a state like this was hard to witness… and although her partner, Ivy, didn't have much but mild disdain for Jay, Harley couldn't find it in herself to leave him like this… which is why she thought a party might lift his spirits a little

"C'mooon! You love parties!! It'll just be a small one anyway!" It was actually much bigger than she was implying but Jay liked big and she didn't wanna scare him off too soon…

"Yeah, like that'll make things any better… who did you even invite?? A good half of the rogues don't even like me…"

"Sure they do!"

Jay only looked at her, bereft and unimpressed.

"I mean ok you and Riddler don't always get along and it took a lot a beggin' ta get ya un-banned from the iceberg lounge but still!!"

"Uhg whatever! It doesn't matter! I don't need those bozos seein' me like this anyway..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know! I'm just…... I'm not in the right… mood for something like that right now.... You know how this works… they'd see right through me. "

Back when Jay was still her patient they'd end up talking a lot about masks…Batman's would come up more often than not but every now and then he'd end up discussing his own…. Or more specifically, the metaphorical one he'd put on every time he picked up a brush and painted himself a new face…..

"Jay, sweetie… you don't have to pretend to be okay… they won't think you're weak or nothin', you know that right?..."

Jay gave her an incredibly tired look before turning away.

"What happened to the Jay that wasn't afraid to let people know how he's feelin' huh? The one that turned every emotion into a show….?"

He kept his head down, shoulders stiff, before speaking...

"....Cause I'm not just sad this time…. " As he looked up slowly an emotion that was rarely seen on the mans face showed itself, flooding his eyes.

"W- when I'd talked to Robin and Batgirl that last time and asked about Batman they gave each other this look and…. Something's wrong… he's in trouble or something I… I can feel it….. W-what if he doesn't come back and he leaves me here all alone an-"

Harley put a polished nail up to Jay's lips and smiled warmly.

"Shhhh…. You're worryin' too much puds… ur big dumb brain is just an overdramatic liar… don't listen to it okay?"

Jay sniffled, giving her an understanding nod.

"You still got me an' your crew an' Bud and all the other little silly things that make ya days good doncha?"

He smiles halfheartedly. "Y-yeah…. But still… he was..."

"I know… he's special….but do you seriously think anything out there could actually kill Batman? THE Batman? C'mon now…. He's luckier than any bastard out there and you know it…"

"Yeah…. Yeah I guess ur right"

"Of COURSE I'm right!… now come on…" she offers her hand and helps her friend stand up. "Let's get that hair done and those nails shined up so you're brain can take a break from making all those nasty thoughts"

Jay smiled a little wider this time, forever grateful he had a friend as great as Harley around… he really didn't know what he'd do without her sometimes...

"Right…. Also… uh…. Harley?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for….uh…. Bein'... around… I guess…" Jay practically mumbled...

Harley smiled knowingly, amused with his poor attempt of gratitude

"No problem, Pud's….." she gave him a peck on the forehead leaving a black smudge behind

"now enough mush...Let's clean this mess and get ya fabbed up"

________________

A few hours later, Jay stood outside the titular iceberg lounge in his best winter fit, a long boa around his shoulders and a pair of unnecessary sunglasses obscuring the mascara he'd only half ruined on the way there….

He truly, honestly, did not feel like socializing with anyone at the moment, but who was he to refuse a doctor's orders?....

Taking a deep breath of the cold winter air, Jay stiffened up, smoothed the wrinkles from his vintage memphis style sweater and entered the lounge, heels high and head high as he could manage

____________

When the doors swung open with a swirl of winter snow, Jay was greeted by a surprisingly full and stunningly silent room. Christmas music cut through the tension like a knife as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Joker's fashionably late arrival.

He didn't know if it was because of his natural ability to demand attention or the fact that he hadn't been seen in nearly 3 weeks, but for some reason the room seemed slightly on edge. worried he'd come with another Joker brand surprise perhaps. Thankfully, Harley, who'd left his place a little earlier to get everything ready, noticed who'd finally arrived.

"JJ!! YOU MADE IT!!" she leaped off her stool and came running to grab him, The rest of the room taking it as a cue to un-tense and to go back to their festivities, the lounge lighting up with warm greetings and laughter.

" Hey…" said Jay as Harley put an arm around his shoulder and escorted him to the booth she was sitting at….

"So… is all of this for me or…?"

"No, did she tell you that?" Ivy who was sitting at the booth with his other less than fond acquaintance, Catwoman and someone else he didn't seem to recognize, gave a snide smile, Jay suddenly felt he should probably sit someplace else

"IVY!! SHHH" Harley shushed

"What? He was gonna find out out eventually…. It was supposed to be Penguin's annual winter ball"

"Uh,It still is tho…?" said Kat, mouth full of shrimp

"Well, yah…. Difference is we had to 'finesse' Penguin into letting HIM in" Ivy explained, disdain in her voice

"And you... helped with that?..." asked Jay, surprised. Ivy sighed

"for Harley's sake, yes. not yours"

Jay smiled, amused. "well how charitable of you, here's to hoping you won't regret it"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "As if I don't already" she said, taking a short sip from her drink, Harley sitting down next to her give her thank u peck on the cheek.

"Hey, why'd you get banned from this dump anyway?" Asked Kat, eyes squinting curiously

"I have no idea…." Jay shrugged

"He put a coke and mento bomb in the fountain!" Harley interrupted

"Oh yeah…." He'd totally forgot

"Ha! Awesome…"

"Right uh, anyway, who the hell are you?" Jays attention suddenly turned to the woman sitting opposite of kat. She had light blue skin, bright white eyes and hair that made her look like a human lighting rod.

"Name's Livewire." She said, voice sharp as her appearance

"She's from Metropolis" explained Ivy. Jay rose a brow.

"Metropolis huh?? How'dya like dealin' with boy scout full time over there?" He quizzed

"Sweet!…" she exclaimed enthusiastically "Big blue aint got a thing on me! 'sides, dweeb's been outta town for months now! metropolis might as well be my personal playground"

The mentioning of Superman's absence made something in Jay's chest twist. He'd known their neighbor hero had been MIA for even longer than Batman, Supergirl taking over the workload just like Batgirl had in Gotham. but still… the reminder was enough to worry him. I mean… if superman was taking so much time up there, what chance did Batman have against whatever it was they were so busy with??

Trying his best to shake off the uneasiness building in his stomach Jay took a breath and snapped back to reality, offering Livewire his hand

"Well, uh... Livewire, i'm this city's head honcho while the bat's gone so welcome to Gotham and try not to wear it out"

Harley and Ivy exchanged looks as Jay smiled slyly and took Livewires hand…

...Only for his usual gesture of hospitality to be met with an equally shocking grip that sent blue sparks flying in every direction.

"DAMN, what the- !! " Jay yanked his hand back and held it in pain, hot needles running up his arm.The new addition to Harley's crew laughed crudely and smiled

"why do you think they call me 'LIVEWIRE' genius?"

Jay stayed silent with defeat as the table went up in hysterics "Yeah fine, okay, I shoulda saw that one coming" he sighed and smoothed out his hair which had sprung up to stand on end, his face ever so slightly red "anyway, you ladies have a nice time… i'll set up shop somewhere else and let you guys… idk… flirt with each other or whatever..." without much fanfare he slunk off to sit someplace else.

After the table had settled down completely though, Harley noticed Jay making his way to the bar looking somewhat dejected.

"Aw Jay…."

The rest curiously turned their attention to the direction of Harley's gaze.

"You're not going after him are you?" Asked Ivy after a beat.

"Well… yeah…?" Harley shrugged.

"Uhm, why?" Asked kat, dipping more shrimp into her cocktail "like if he's not in the mood for a joke that's kinda his problem…?"

"Yeah, but still…. I've never seen 'im like this for so long…. He's usually so funny and animated, it's like somethin' drained all the life out of 'im…." The concern on Harley's face was very apparent. Ivy brushed back a few strands of her hair and tried her best to reassure her.

"Look i'm sure he'll get his second wind when Batman comes back at some point… but ‘til then it's not your job to take care of him…"

Harley sighed silently. "I know but… he's still my best friend… and if I hadn't met him, I wouldn'ta met you!" She squished close to her spouse with a smile, Ivy suddenly unable to hold back a small one herself.

"He helped me outta my slump all those years ago, least I can do is help 'im outta his..."

Ivy gave her a soft look before reluctantly caving "Kindness has always been your best and worst trait, silly bee…" she said with a smirk "fine, go ahead and do your thing, I've got plenty of company over here in the meantime…"

Harley smiled happily and gave her one last kiss before running off to join Jay at the bar.

____________

Jay sat alone at the bar in silence until he was suddenly startled by Harley's arrival.

"What's shakin' grumpy gills?" She asked pulling up a stool.

Jay didn't answer as the bartender slid over a funfetti martini topped with the works, Jay lazily catching it and drinking deeply.

"Those guys didn't get ta ya did they? I know they seem mean bu- "

"Ah… I don't care about them…" said Jay dismissively "we're all villains here right? I'm sure they got their reasons… sides, Livewire's pretty fun even if she did fry my Joy buzzer" He said regretfully…

"So what's up then…?" Asked Harley, head tilted

Jay looked down at the table with a frown, fingers anxiously scraping the side of the glass in his hand….

"What she'd said about metropolis…. And… superman…."

"Oh…" Harley nodded "well…. I'm sure they're together wherever they are…. Right? Him and Batman? And I mean, with Superman around, he's bound to be okay….."

Jay had a hard time matching her enthusiasm but that logic did comfort him some. "Yeah… yeah I guess so"

"C'mon Jay, you gotta get that stuff off your mind for a minute! Go mingle! Go dance!… look at everyone who came this time! Turn-out's never been so big!"

As Jay's looked around the room, Harley did have a point, usually these get-togethers only managed to scrounge up about half the gang, but it looked like almost all the rogues in town had come this time. Even D-listers like Polkadot man, Killer Moth, Crazy Quilt ect. Had managed to show up, plus people he didn't seem to recognize…

For example at the bar sat Scarecrow and a… Oddly scruffy looking man he looked to be sharing a drink with. He'd heard from Riddler over the phone some time ago that crow had found himself a friend and that the two were "in cahoots". whatever that was supposed to mean. He supposed that must've been the "friend" in question…

A few tables down sat another unfamiliar in a polkadot shirt and a pair of cracked thick lensed glasses. He had a peculiar looking puppet sitting on his lap which made J raise a brow, but he didn't judge. Looking at his woefully nervous face he guessed it must it must've been a security thing anyway…

Despite the big crowd though, Jay did notice one person missing of whom he hadn't seen in quite a while...

"Yeah I guess everyone is here... except uh, Lex I guess…?" Jay considered himself friends with metropolises king of corruption, even if the feeling wasn't always mutual. Seeing so many crooks he knew in one place made him realize how rare it was to see the mal hearted mogul at these things.

Unfortunately, Harley could only shrug with defeat. "Ah I tried to get Lex but you know how he is… nobody's seen that shut in for ages".

Jay's eyes narrowed at that "How long is ages…. ?" He pressed

"I dunno… a few months guess??? Livewire said he's been quiet lately, probably off in one of his labs making some over convoluted instrument of destruction I guess"

The growing list of missing big shots was beginning to piece something together in Jay's head… what on earth was Lex up to? Where was superman?? Why did the league need Batman's help? How did it all connect?? After a moment Harley noticed Jay slipping into his thoughts again and shook his shoulder lightly to pull him out of it.

"Hey, don't worry about that egghead. he'd only kill the mood if he were here anyway"

Jay couldn't disagree, the billionaire was kind of notorious for being a giant stick in the mud.

"If you're really worried about what's goin' on with those guys, you can come up with a plan Tomorrow…. right now we got a' open dance floor, unlimited drinks and a Karaoke competition that's about ta kick off in ten"

The word 'Karaoke' was enough to snap Jay back to reality. "Did you say Karaoke?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do they hav-"

"Yes, they have Queen"

Jay nearly looked as if someone had told him the best news of his life. "Oh thank god" maybe Harley was right. Worrying would have to wait.

_____________

The rest of the night went on with few hang ups. Drinks poured, music played and poorly screeched lyrics kept the mood upbeat.

The Karaoke stage hosted performance after performance, some more enthusiastic than others. Some painful, others surprisingly pleasant. Jay's teetered off the edge of both categories, but when "somebody to love" burst through those speakers, he'd sung it with his whole chest. The best performance by a long shot though had to be Ivy's who's affinity for 50's ballads lent to her beautifully rich voice and her's was closely followed by the Dent's who'd decided to attempt a duet with no chorus which everyone found somewhat impressive.

Emotions did flare up once or twice though, as they tend to do when it comes to villain gatherings. Ed and Jay got into a fight about something stupid and unimportant, both obviously enjoying themselves, Bane and Croc engaged in an arm wrestle that woefully ended in a tie, and Jay inevitably got worked up about Batman again, this time with a crowd of eager listeners somewhat entertained by his rambling, giving questionable advice here and there.

At the get-together's height, the dance floor had filled to the point where Penguin was just about ready to call the whole event off until Riddler dragged him on to the floor himself.

After another hour or so the party wound down some more and the night devolved into quiet discussions between friends, everyone either ready to leave or half asleep. Eventually Jay and Two-face of all people were left alone. Once Ed, Crow, Hatter and the rest had gone home.

Jay always liked Harv, for someone known for his temper he seemed to have a lot of patience and Jay found both of his selves uniquely interesting in their own ways. Harvey the "handsome" one was always very nice, easily flustered, and had a sadness in his eyes that was hard to ignore. "Dent", the one famous for all those 2 themed crimes, was a bold individual and one of the most brutally honest people he knew. That night though, even he seemed a little sad. He admitted later that it was because it'd been a while since he'd gotten to talk to his old pal Bruce, someone Jay was mildly familiar with of course, and they spent the rest of the night discussing Batman and wayne and how they seemed so similar until it really was time to head home.

sometime after midnight, long after everyone had either left or found someplace to pass out, Harley broke up with her girl gang again to come get Jay who'd fallen asleep in an empty booth.

"Wake up clown" she said loudly, nudging him a bit. Jay giggled quietly in response, turning over after a moment and opening his eyes.

"Oohh what's up??"

"Time to go."

"Aw…" Jay huffed disappointedly, then did his best to sit up straight, his head slowly spinning as he did so "ah jeeze…"

"Don't worry I called one of your guys, he's waiting outside." She explained "I dragged you here, might as well drag you home"

"You did that for me?" Jay smiled "That's so nice…."

"Mhm" carefully, she took his hand got him to his feet, doing her best to keep him up straight. As they headed out they met up with Ivy at the door

"Taking pennywise home?" She asked

"It'll only take a minute" Harley assured

"Alright… don't take too long…" she turned to leave but before she could, Jay suddenly spoke up.

"H-hey, Wait!"

Ivy turned around, brow raised "You have something to say to me?"

"Uh… yeah? I mean… sort of? I just, uh… wanted to say i'm sorry for… messing up your garden all those times…."

Ivy blinked "Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just thought you shud kno…. And that um…. Maybe you'd hate me…. A little less... if I said sorry for once..." the frown on Jays face was absolutely pitiful, Ivy could only roll her eyes.

"I don't hate you… Joker"

"Oh?"

"I just think you're annoying…."

"Oh…." Jay couldn't really tell if that was any better but at the moment he was too drunk to care. "Okay…"

With that ivy turned around to join Kat and Livewire

"Thanks for the apology though I suppose…Take care of yourself…. And, Harley don't take too long… it's only 1:00am we still have plans."

"Don't worry Ive's i'll catch up."

after one last look, Ivy went back on her way and Harley continued walking J to his car.

As they went Jay hummed to himself, swaying slightly, until a certain thought made him go quiet again.

"....Harley….?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, J?"

"Am I a bad friend?" The question just as out of the blue as his apology to Ivy….

Harley looked at him, concerned "Why do ya ask?"

"I just…. Please?" He pleaded. Harley hesitated for a long moment but decided being honest was probably best.

" not exactly but… maybe sometimes"

"Hm…" Jay decided he'd have to work on that

"But I also know ya don't really wanna hurt anybody…. That you try your best everyday ta make people happy and that you've been through just as much any of us…. A few mean comments an' dumb pranks ain't gonna make anybody think you're the devil or somethin'….not me or any of the other guys... "

Jay had to smile at that, Harley always had something smart or nice to say no matter what. still, her answer only made him feel worse about how he'd been earlier when she was just trying to help… he really, honestly, didn't deserve her…. But the least he could do was let her know he was glad to have her...

"Harley…?"

"Yeah, J…"

"Thanks for being really, really great all the time… and… y'know… around… " Harley smiled as she secured his arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks J..."

"also sorry for sucking sometimes..."

She sighed. "It's fine Jay…."

carefully, she hauled his ragdolling body a few more feet and shoved him into the back seat of his car. J grunting as his head hit the leather seat.

"Now go home an' try not to get lost on your way to the door" She said sternly. Jay gave her a lazy wink and a pair of wobbly finger guns.

"Gotcha."

with that,Harley slammed the door shut and the J-Mobile's engine roared to life. One his lackeys sitting in the driver's seat.

"Where to boss? HQ?"

"Yup… ah, sorry t' call ya out so late…"

"S'alright boss…. Don't worry about it"

As the car lurched forward, street lights shining in through the windows as snow fell ever so lightly over Gotham like a dusting of fresh powdered sugar, Jay did inevitably start thinking about Batman again, wondering when he'd come back, desperately wishing he knew anything about where he was right now….

The thoughts were hard to ignore and when he got home he knew he'd be surrounded by the same walls he'd spent the last month trapped with them in…. even so, the world felt a little less washed out than it had before he left, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol swirling in his blood.

He may not have had Batman... But today reminded him he wasn't alone.

He had friends… real friends… In a way he'd always considered them such… but deep down there was always doubt. I mean sure he got along better with some than others, but after knowing people so long he shouldn't have been so dumb to think they hated him as much as he thought they did.

When you're a villain in Gotham sometimes all you have are other weirdos in the same boat as you to help keep you and everyone else afloat. People need people in more ways than one… and as Jay drifted off to sleep in the back of his gaudy getaway vehicle, laying in a position that was just barely comfortable, he pushed his worries aside and made sure that was something he'd never let himself forget.

~ End ~

#batman #dc comics #the joker #harley Quinn #lego batman #christmas #blogged

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years

Text

Playing Games- Part Deuce

Read Part 1

Characters: Florian Munteanu x black!reader

Summary: Things pop off in the club

Warning: Some smut 18+

A/N: This part was so fun to write! I really hope y’all enjoy this!

Songs inspired by this part:

https://open.spotify.com/track/5hgnY0mVcVetszbb85qeDg

https://open.spotify.com/track/1TMWcbxL5YF8rKsFHv5hAP

https://open.spotify.com/track/3A2yGHWIzmGEIolwonU69h

Florian didn’t know who he was playing with. He must have forgotten how petty you could be.

While he was in the shower, you decided to change into your freakum dress. He wouldn’t be able to resist you in that, but he was going to have to.

Careful not to mess up your hair or make-up, you pulled the white, skin-tight dress over your head. Looking at the full-length mirror in the locker room, you adjusted your girls, making sure they were in full display. The dress dipped to the middle of your chest, ensuring a good amount of cleavage was showing.

Facing your back to the mirror, you checked to see if your ass wasn’t making an appearance. The dress was dangerously short and even though you wanted to tempt Flo, you didn’t want to make him feral out in public.

“Ingerul meu,” (my angel) Florian muttered when he saw you checking yourself out.

“You like?” You giggled and twirled around to give him a 360 view.

“I love it,” Florian kissed you and led you out to the car. “Just don’t get too attached to it,” he claimed, admiring your figure as he let you in the car.

Sticking a finger in his face, you warned him. “Nuh uh, nope, not gonna happen. You cannot keep ruining my clothes just because you’re impatient.”

Florian just smiled at you and took the finger you had in his face and put it in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Any other objections you had died on lips, because whatever Flo was doing to your finger went straight to your pussy.

Letting go of your finger, he leaned over you as if he was going to kiss you, but instead he pressed the button to raise the partition.

“Tease.” You mumbled, inhaling his teakwood cologne.

He took your hand and raised it to his lips. “Compared to you that’s nothing.”

Crossing your arms under your boobs to push them out even more, you replied. “I’m not that bad.”

His eyes dipped to your chest with lust, then thy locked onto your neck. Leaning down, Florian sealed his lips on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

“Babe, that’s gonna bruise!” You complained, hitting him on the shoulder.

Florian tilted your neck, inspecting his handiwork with pride. “I think it goes well with the dress. It adds to its appeal.”

“Bullshit. You just want everyone to know that I belong to you,” you called him out.

Chuckling to himself, he confirmed your suspicion. The asshole was fucking up your whole aesthetic. Before you could chew him out some more, his agent called, making Flo shift his attention away from you.

That wasn’t going to work for you. It had been too long that you weren’t the center of Florian’s attention. Playing it off, you searched your sex playlist for the perfect song to set the mood. Finding Partition, you hit played and fast-forwarded the Yonce portion.

Undoing his belt buckle, Florian raised an eyebrow at you, and you raised one back before you went back on your mission. To make it a little easier for you, Florian shifted forward allowing you to reach for his erection.

Driver, roll up the partition, please Driver, roll up the partition, please I don't need you seeing Yoncé on her knees

Leaning down, you took Florian’s hardened length in your mouth and worked your magic. It seemed like forever since, you had him in your mouth, and it was glorious. You were able to inhale his natural musk, which you never could get enough of.

Relaxing your throat, you allowed his long pipe all the way down. His breath hitched, and he held back a moan, trying to focus on the conversation with his agent.

His hand went to your head to control the pace, but you slapped his hand away, because once Flo was in charge, he’ll have your hair and makeup messed up.

Took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up We ain't even gonna make it to this club Now my mascara running, red lipstick smudge

Forgetting he was on the phone, Florian growled at your boldness. “What? Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired that’s all,” he recovered.

You laughed at him almost getting caught and he was pissed. He was supposed to be in control tonight, not you. To gain back that control, he gripped the side of your cheeks hard and mouthed ‘Suck.”

Florian should be careful what he wishes for. Taking him back in your mouth, you began making the nastiest of sounds. Slurping and gagging on his dick, your mouth made Florian put his phone on mute and on speaker, so he could somewhat pay attention to what his agent said. “You dirty little girl, making those nasty sounds while I’m on the phone. Wait til we get home, I’m tearing that ass up.”

You had no response, but you hummed around his dick, focusing on making him come. Florian’s tongue poked out as he clenched his fists trying his best not to grab your hair. “Slow down, pritensa. I don’t wanna come yet.”

Oh, he so horny, yeah, he want to fuck He popped all my buttons, and he ripped my blouse He Monica Lewinsky-ed all on my gown

Disregarding his warning, you kept sucking off Florian until he roared and spurted all in your mouth.

“Helloooo??? Florian, are you there?” Florian’s agent’s voice permeated the car causing Flo to remember he was on the phone.

Tucking his dick back in his pants, you patted his crotch. “You should get that. It sounds very important.” You told Flo as if you just didn’t suck his soul out.

Florian cut his eyes at you and you knew what happened in the locker room would be nothing compared to what will happen when you get home. You had to keep your cool and let Florian know he had no effect on you, so you just smirked at him.

Upset that he couldn’t do anything yet, Flo returned his focus back to his conversation. The phone call lasted all the way to the club and Flo didn’t feel like celebrating. All he wanted to do was hem your ass up and brand your pussy with his name.

Before you two got out the car, Florian tightly cupped your sex. “I suggest you start behaving because that little stunt you pulled is gonna cost you.”

Rightfully you were scared but you were also turned on. You loved living on the edge, so you decided to tease Flo some more. Leaning closer into him, your hand mimicked his and you gripped his crotch and whispered into his ear. “How much is it gonna cost me Big Nasty?”

Fuck this club appearance. Florian was about to show you Big Nasty, but the driver knocked on the window, indicating he was about to open the door. Flo pointed a finger at you, “Oh, baby you just got lucky, but keep fucking with me tonight and you’ll find out the real reason I’m called Big Nasty.”

Opening your door for a quick getaway, you replied, “The real question is if you can handle me, Big Nasty.” Before he could snatch your ass, you were out the door, running to the curb to wait for him.

He was already out when you got there. Something was wrong with you in the head, because instead of being fearful of Flo’s pissed off face, you were turned on and planned on to tease him some more. Standing on your toes, you kissed his cheek and asked, “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah, but you better behave, Y/N.” Florian warned.

Taking his hand in yours, you led him into the club. “I make no promises.”

Once you two entered the club, everyone erupted into cheers. Cameras were flashing to capture a photo of Florian. Letting him have his moment and get his recognition, you stepped off to the side. This was everything Florian deserved, especially since people doubted that he could really box after Creed II.

Sensing that you weren’t near him, Florian reached out for you. He pulled you into him and kissed your cheek. “You think I’m not gonna show you off? Baby, even if that damn teasing was torturous it got the job done. I love you, angel.” He whispered into your ear, not caring people were only getting pictures of his profile.

Turning into him, you said, “I love you, too,” kissing him on the lips, allowing people to capture the intimate moment.

Breaking the kiss, you both posed for a few more pictures before Flo led y’all up to the VIP section. You let go of Flo’s hand, so he could properly greet his friends and so that you could get your drinks ready.

Careful not to drop your drinks, you maneuvered around yours and Flo’s friends to get to the couch he was sitting at smoking hookah. “Here you go,” you handed him his drink.

Florian thanked you, and you turned to head towards your friends, but Flo grabbed your now free hand to stop you. “Stai, îngerul meu,” (sit, my angel,) he ordered, patting his lap.

Instead of sitting on him, you continued standing. “Babe, I’m gonna go talk to the girls. You talk to the fellas. It’ll probably be awhile before we see them again,” you hinted towards him and yours sexual lockdown he undoubtedly had planned.

A wicked smile appeared on Florian’s face and he raised his glass to you. “Good idea, go have fun.”

Prancing over to your friends, you hugged each one of them like you just hadn’t seen them at the match.

“Miss Thing, I thought Florian wouldn’t be letting you out in public no time soon by the way he was clearing the hallway earlier.” Arielle commented.

“Nah, we gotta be here for two hours because of his damn agent.” You rolled your eyes at the requirement. If it wasn’t for this damn appearance you could be home, probably crying from how good the dick is.

“So, Flo give yo ass some act right before y’all came?” Tina, another friend asked.

“Hell yeah he did! Our good sis, was talking to her kitty kat right before he got in the room.” Arielle interjected.

You gently shoved her, “Oh shut up, heifer! I was just giving her a pep talk and I act right for no one.” The girls all traded looks saying, ‘This bitch lying.’

Stephanie was the one to give you a dose of reality. “Y/N/N, honey, the way you’ve been acting these past couple of months means if Florian hasn’t given you any act right before, he surely is gonna give it to you now.”

The girls were right. Florian has given you some act right before and you straighten the fuck up, but its been so long since you really had some that you almost forgotten what it was like. And guess what you were about to cut the fuck up again.

Just in time Doja Cat’s Rules began playing and you and your girls started dancing. Making eye contact with Florian, you mouthed the lyrics to him.

Said play with my pussy, but don't play with my emotions (Emotions)

If you spend some money then maybe I just might fuck ya (Fuck ya)

When I shake that ass, I'ma do that shit in slow motion (Motion)

You got a whole lotta cash, and nigga, you know I want it (Want it)

Flo was smoking some hookah and the way he blew it out harshly, you knew you were poking the bear, but you couldn’t help yourself. Feeling your phone buzz, in your clutch you pulled it out.

MSG Baby: Y/N, quit fucking playing with me. Last warning.

MSG Y/N: Or what?

Smiling, you typed out your response, put your phone back in your clutch and continued dancing.

You were leaning on the railing to give you some support as you whined your hips when you felt your boyfriend’s hulking presence. He flipped you to face him. “You really keep trying me, huh?”

(And now you playin' with my emotions) Nigga, don't do it, you blew it You tryna cast spells on a bitch with potions Nigga, I need devotion

Instead of answering him you continued rapping the lyrics to him, pointing your fingers in his face.

If you don't dive in that pussy like dolphins If he don't dive in that pussy like oceans Twins look identically like Olsens Nigga, don't hide from the pussy, be open Nigga wan' spy on the pussy like Austin (Do I make you horny, baby?)

“This bitch don’t know when to quit. Let’s start planning her funeral y’all.” Arielle announced to the group, laughing at your antics. Flo heard your friends and he had to keep himself from laughing as well. He wanted to keep his face straight to convey to you he wasn’t playing any games with you.

Catching him slightly smirk at your friends, you started singing the song with more emphasis while twisting his gold chain around your finger.

That's my ego that you stroking Nigga, don't laugh 'cause the pussy ain't joking Nigga, go splash when the pussy be soakin' (Yeah) Where that nigga who don't play mind games at? You got a fake gold chain on, change that Tryna spit game while I'm on my way out, late ass Where that nigga, man? Where he at? Where he at?

Turning back around you began to grind on Flo until the end of the song. His hands gripped your hips tightly and you knew he was barely restraining himself. Looking back up at him through your eyelashes, you devilishly smirked at him.

The grip on your hips became impossibly tighter, giving you another warning. Not taking heed, you began twerking harder when you heard Act Up blast through the speakers.

Real ass bitch, give a fuck 'bout a nigga Big Birkin bag, hold five, six figures Stripes on my ass so he call this pussy Tigger Fuckin' on a scammin' ass, rich ass nigga Same group of bitches, ain't no adding to the picture Drop a couple racks, watch this ass get bigger Drinkin' on liquor, and I'm lookin' at your nigga

That was the end of the rope. Florian wrapped his arm around your chest and straighten you up. “Fuck this two-hour requirement,” he whispered harshly in your ear. He snatched your cup out of your hand and finished your drink for you. So badly you wanted to suck the liquor from his lips, but with how pissed he was, you weren’t even gonna try.

“Behave for once and be still while I say goodbye.” Flo’s tone told you that he was officially done, so you listened. Your friends came by to hug you as Florian left to do what he said. They all offer their condolences to you and your pussy and told you to text them if you somehow miraculously survive.

“Ladies, y’all have a good night.” Florian said to your friends, leading you out the club.

Inside of the car there was dead silence. Florian wouldn’t let you play any music, wouldn’t say one word to you, he wouldn’t even look at you. You guessed tonight would be the night you get some act right.

Tagging: @honeychicana @crushed-pink-petals @titty-teetee @thickemadame @lovelymari4 @pananegra @cocooned-butterfly @twistedcharismaaa @chaneajoyyy @thottyantics @munteanhore @songficsbyrissi @autumnsoidier @dumbchick @lotusss-flowerbomb @blackgirlreadsfanfic @taterfics @momobaby227 @aquarius-smr-writing

#black!reader #florian munteanu rpf #florian munteanu #florian x black!reader #florian x reader #florian munteanu x reader #florian munteanu x black!reader #florian #big nasty x reader #big nasty x black!reader #frizzlewrites #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic #playing games series

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 3 years

Note

“You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Raising his eyebrow, Race grinned. “But you love me.”

“For whatever reason, I do love you.” Spot shook his head, grinning at his boyfriend.

Race looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “So why am I an idiot this time?”

“Let me count the reasons.” Spot chuckled. “Actually, this time is because you think you can get your mom another teapot for Christmas when she already has two.”

Race laughed, holding up his hands in innocence. “You can never have too many teapots. Besides she loves the two that I’ve already given her.”

“You can only use one teapot at a time . . . you gotta get a bit more creative with your present this year, Racetrack.” Spot gave him a look.

Race paused, biting his lip. “What do you suggest, oh smart one, Spottie?”

“She ain’t my mudder, Race. I’ve got to figure out what I’m getting my own mudder for Christmas.” Spot exclaimed.

Nodding his head, Race shrugged. “She’s the hardest person to shop for . . . she’s got everything she’s ever wanted and I don’t know what to give her.”

“How about you get her a photo of you and your siblings?” Spot raised an eyebrow, an idea coming to his mind. “We did that a few years ago - got all my siblings together and surprised my ma with the photo on Christmas morning.”

His eyes lit up, snapping his fingers. “SPOT, you’re brilliant! That’ll be perfect for Medda.”

Pulling his phone out, his fingers flew across the screen quickly. His tongue poked out as Spot heard the familiar swoosh of the text message being sent before Race locked his phone. “We’ve got a date on Saturday in the park with my siblings.”

“What the hell am I getting myself into?” Spot grumbled, giving Race a look. “Who’s going to take the photos?”

Race bit his lip, shaking his head. “Well . . . . I dunno.”

Smirking, Spot shook his head. “Well, do you want a photo of just you and the siblings or do you want everyone in the photo?”

“Uhhhh . . . .” Race, for once, was actually silent at the question. “I don’t know.”

Spot put a hand on his shoulder. “How about you ask Romeo or Specs to take the photo of all of us and I can take the photo of your siblings?”

Race relaxed, pulling his phone out to text someone. “Thanks, Spottie. You’re a savior.”

“Let’s not go that far. Besides, I’ll need your help with my ma.” Spot grinned, listening to Race groan at the thought.

Saturday

In the days leading up to Saturday, there were several questions posed in his siblings’ group chat. Smalls, their younger sister, wanted to know the color scheme. Snipper had a smart aleck remark to something Jack had said. Jack wanted to know where in the park they were going to meet. And Albert wanted to know how long this was going to take, as it’s cold and the dead of winter.

Race had rolled his eyes more times than he could count in those days but he was actually looking forward to getting his siblings together to surprise Medda. Though the woman had everything in the world, an updated photo would be a great addition to the mini shrine she had in the living room for each of her babies.

Race and Spot were the first to arrive at the Bethsheda Terrace. Looking at his phone, Race tapped his toes, while Spot raised an eyebrow. “Will you calm down? They’ll be here, maybe a few minutes late, but they’ll be here.”

Spot kept an eye on Race, not knowing why he was nervous. “Hey, what’s going on? Why are you all fidgety?”

“What if she doesn’t like it?” Race bit his lip, fiddling with his hands.

Spot reached out and laced their fingers together, giving them a squeeze. “She’s going to love it, Race. Simply because you all took time out of your busy schedules to come together to get photos done.”

Race nodded, looking across the park. A smile slid on his face when he saw Jack, Katherine, Albert, and Finch walking towards them. “Yo, Racer could ya have picked a colder day to do this?”

Race laughed, nodding, pulling Jack into a hug with a few hearty slaps on his back. “Of course . . . why would I take weather into consideration when I texted you about this?”

Kat laughed, pulling him into a hug as she greeted him enthusiastically. “I think this is a great idea for Medda. She’s going to love it.”

“Spottie gets all the credit . . . he’s the one that came up with it.” Race said, praising his boyfriend with a grin. “I was just going to give her another teapot.”

Albert and Jack groaned. Albert reaching over to cuff Race on the back of his head. “You idiot, she already had two that you gave her.”

“That’s when Spot suggested we do this.” Race grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Thank goodness Spot Conlon is around to keep Race from getting momma a new teapot!” Came a new voice as everyone grinned seeing Smalls, Itey, Romeo, Specs, and Sniper walking up to the group.

Hugs and greetings were exchanged before everyone turned to Race. “So how is this going to go down?”

“We’re going to do a couple of photos of just the siblings then we’ll do some with the whole group. And if you want to take individual couple photos, we can do that too.” Race said, looking around the group. “Any questions?”

None were asked as the siblings lined up against the wall - Jack, Race, Albert in the back with Smalls and Snipper in front of them. Spot had his digital camera, taking several shots as the partners stood behind him shouting out directions. “Jack, put your arm down.” “Race stand tall, don’t slouch.” “Albert, smooth down your hair. Geez didn’t you run a brush through it this morning?”

Spot chuckled to himself as the requests flew. He snapped about twenty photos before telling them to wait a second while he checked out the photos. He had a few that would work for the photo Race would give Medda. Handing off the camera to Specs, Race beckoned the significant others to join the siblings.

“Now all of you have to smile pretty for the camera.” Romeo yelled, looking the group over. Several photos were taken in quick succession before Specs reviewed them.

“Albert, quit looking at Finch.” “Race, spot sticking your tongue out.” “Why can’t you all be like Jack and Kat and just look at the camera?”

Chuckles rippled through the group as Specs eyed them. “Albert, Race, look at me and smile pretty. Spot do your little smirk. Alright, I’m going to take a couple more. Smalls, Sniper, I know you two know how to smile.”

After several minutes, Specs lowered the camera, motioning that he was all done with the groups. “Any couples want photos taken?”

Several agreed, as Race pulled Spot to his side. “This turned out to be a really good idea.”

“It’s because you’re a genius.” Race leaned over and kissed him. “Thanks for saving my butt.”

Spot chuckled. “Anytime snookums. Besides, your butt is too pretty to be in trouble all the time.”

Race threw his head back and laughed, his laughter echoing off the enclosed space. “That makes little to no sense but whatever floats your boat.”

Spot threw his arm around his waist as they watched Jack and Kat get their photos taken. Race grinned seeing his siblings milling around, all coming together for a good cause.

Christmas Morning

“Momma, here’s your last gift.” Race grinned, handing over a box. Somehow he had convinced his siblings to let him go last.

Race watched Medda’s face as she unwrapped the gift. Setting the top of the box aside, she pushed the tissue paper aside, gasping at what was lying underneath. “Oh Race . . .”

“Hey we had a hand in it.” Jack and Albert complained, looking between their brother and Medda.

Medda looked over at Race with a smile. “Thank you Race. I love it. And thank you all for getting together to get it done.”

“Uh there’s worse ways to spend an afternoon.” Sniper spoke up, a grin on her face.

Small pushed her older sister with a grin. “You had just as much fun as the rest of us. It’s enshrined in that photo that you actually smiled.”

Race grinned at the family that surrounded him, feeling happy that Medda liked her present and everything had fallen into place perfectly.

Thanks @wide-eyed--wonderer for sending this in!!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #wide eyed wonderer #drabble prompt #drabble prompts #spot conlon #racetrack higgins

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

Text

It’s Not in the Contract: Seven

Bucky poked his head into the room you had claimed as your own. He didn’t expect to see you sprawled across the bead in a pair of sweats and a tanktop. Snuggled into the thick, starched hotel bedding. Sprawled on your belly. The way he used to find you after a night out with his boys.

Complete with drool.

He’d never seen anyone drool and look as cute as you could. Fast asleep, butt sticking up and limbs thrown about. The palm of his hand itched. He wanted to smack that ass.

It was a crime for any woman to have an ass that sublime and it go unsmacked. But. It wasn’t in the contract. He didn’t have ass smacking rights. Even if he wanted to. Not even to make it look good. Which Bucky had agreed to. Because he figured if he started he wasn’t gonna stop at just a quick slap. So, he shut the door and exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t sure how, but already there were flowers on the table. Somehow in the last hour you had managed to bully someone into arranging the room to your liking and gotten hotel staff to help you unpack. He wondered how you’d gotten so good. But then. You had gotten used to traveling with a child. A rather high maintenance child if he understood correctly.

When his phone rang he cursed softly.

“Yeah, Ma,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Is that... woman here?”

“You mean Y/N?” Bucky said. He knew he was being antagonistic. That her calling you a ‘woman’ and not a whore, a trollop, or a hussy was a step in the right direction.

“Yes,” she said after a moment of hesitation.

“She’s here. Her flight just got in an hour ago.”

“Well,” she tutted, “Tell her to get presentable. Becca wants to see you both.”

“Ma, she’s been awake all night,” Bucky protested. He knew you hadn’t been asleep long. You weren’t snoring. And your blankets weren’t all on the floor. And both tits were still, evidently in your tank top.

“Well that isn’t my problem,” she said uncharitably, “It’s Becca’s week. She’s going to get whatever she wants, Bucky. You don’t want her to be unhappy on her wedding week, do you?”

“Ma, after the little stunt she pulled at my investor's meeting last month she’s lucky I’m here at all,” he said sternly.

“Your father-”

“Pops let her get away with actin’ like a brat. She had no good goddamn reason to go bustin’ into my meeting and demand Y/N make her a dress. For free. With no notice.”

“She was excited-”

“She was rude. And disrespectful. Y/N is a businesswoman. She’s not Becky’s Saturday sitter any more.”

“Well, it’s nice to see who comes first,” his mother sniffed.

“Damn straight,” Bucky said sternly, hanging up the phone. He stood in the middle of the floor pinching the bridge of his nose. His mother was going to be the death of him. She was too mean to go before him. And not for the first time he wondered what his pops had seen in her.

A familiar yawn made him turn and he smiled sheepishly, “Babe? Did I wake you?”

“No,” you tell him rubbing your eyes, “Irina texted. Nicco had a rough day at school.”

Bucky winced sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and fold your arms around yourself, feeling exposed. Not awake enough to redirect him away from you. “I- visionaries always have to struggle,” you sigh. “No one seems to know what to do with an 8 year old who dresses better than most adults.”

“Bullied?”

“A little,” you sigh, “I try to temper his... flamboyance, where I can but, honestly people just need to teach their kids to not be dicks.”

“Martial arts?” he suggested, “It was good for you. Remember when you bounced Reba Harlow’s head off a locker?”

You snort in spite of yourself, “Do I. Miss Simmons gave me a kit kat for it.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Do you need to call him?”

You shake your head, “We’ve been texting a bit. It’s the lazy mom’s way to make him read, since I know he won’t get his minutes in otherwise.”

He snorted, “Modern problems.”

“Exactly.”

You looked at the phone still cradled in his hand and sighed, “Let me guess,”

“Unfortunately. We gotta go pay tribute.”

“Do I have time for a drink?”

“Bourbon?”

“Neat,” you say nodding. “The last think I need is anything to dilute the alcohol.”

Bucky snorted, “Yes, ma’am. Anything you say.” He turned to go to the bar and took a deep breath and the doors to your bedroom closed. This was going to be harder than he thought.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #mob!bucky #Mob!AU #fluff #angst #winnifred barnes #Rebecca Barnes #fake dating

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the-darklings · 4 years

Note

Kat im begging u 🅱️lease feed us that good vap! Hector food 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 i will give u anything ( sorry if this sent like 10 times the ask button wasnt working)

𝙑𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀!𝘼𝙐:【01】| 【02】| 【2.5】|【03】|

The girl giggles.

Stupid, reckless female.

She’ll be dead within an hour.

She no doubt believes that a night of passionate sex and pleasure is worth the price of her blood. It might be. If the one with his arm around her wasn’t the one they call the Devil.

You’ve heard stories about him only—the brutality, the debauchery, the recalcitrant loyalty towards Camorra, towards the vampire king.

The man known to you only as Hector is a legend in his own right but for all the wrong reasons.

Running into him, here in this city, had been an accident. You’ve been tracking another target. A violent necromancer who was getting a bit too pompous for his own good and reckless when practising the Unholy Arts. The order from the High Priest had been clear: removal.

You were on track before the heat in your blood had flares at the shabby bar where humans mixed with the supernatural—often with deadly, bloody results. Still, humans who wandered into these gatherings knew full well what they were doing, and you felt little pity for those idiotic enough to accept food and drinks from fae and goblins. For those who thought that bargains could be struck to their advantage. Who sold their blood to vampires for a pretty jewel or pleasure. Some humans had gotten lucky, of course.

There’s been plenty of stories about higher vampyr taking brides and grooms, bestowing immortality upon them. Sharing with them the sin of bloodshed.

The golden vampire prince and his silky voice offering you the world tickles the shell of your ear and your glower, shaking the silky, seductive memory away.

The Devil of Camorra with his large frame sticks out even in the shadows. He has the presence of a hulking monster but it’s not fat his bones carry. There is deadly sort of grace about his muscular build and those broad shoulders.

The girl laughs again at whatever the vampire says and you wonder what Camorra’s most loyal vampire—the vampire they say answers to Giovanni only—is really doing here in this shithole of an alleyway. Aside from seducing young virgins desperate for affection and a promise of immortality.

Hector pushes the female against the wall and she laughs again, her fingers snaking up his chest and the vampire whispered something in her ear that makes her stifle a moan. Your fingertips brush against the serrated edge of your holy blade as you stalk through the shadows, silent.

“You can come out, you know,” a rough, cold voice slices through the dark alleyway but you linger in the shadows. “While I don’t mind an audience usually, in this case, the more the merrier.”

There is a smugness attached to that harsh voice as Hector’s head slants and his mercury eyes glow in the dark as they look towards you. The colour is so piercing that for a moment they remind you of the silver your blades have been forged from.

You step into the dim light and his nostrils flare, his body swinging towards you. Such destructive, terrifying intensity in his gaze. He’s handsome in a brutal way. In an awful way that you imagine scares away most. He’s acid to D’Antonio’s honey—

“Well, well,” he voices with a taunting twist of his full lips. The female moves but Hector’s arm snaps out, his long inked fingers wrapping around her throat and the girl yelps in fear. Your grip on the blades constricts before loosening. Hector’s lips twitch again, knowing, curious. “With that overbearing fucking scent, you must be the one they call the Vipress. The Holy Hunter. Aren’t I lucky boy? Princeling’s newest obsession in the flesh, huh?”

You’re not sure what to make of the fact that he knows you because—

Because what? D’Antonio told him about you?

The Devil’s eyes drag over your figure purposely and his lips quirk. “I think I can see the appeal.”

“Let the girl go.”

He chuckles; a rumbling, deep sound. The type that chills one’s blood. He’s the type of creature you would pray to the gods above you won’t meet without a crucifix or holy water on hand.

“Or I tear her pretty throat out and we bathe in her blood,” he suggests lightly and his grip on the girl tightens. She’s not giggling anymore. You can barely see her against the shadows of the wall but the wet, spluttering sounds of her fear fills the humid night air. “Virgin blood. Impeccable. You, however,” he pauses, his nostrils flaring again and he hums, his eyes narrowing. “Smell fucking divine.”

“You do that and I kill you,” you inform him calmly, raising one of your blades and rotating the glinting, familiar metal between your fingers in a warning. “Maybe I’ll send your head back to Giovanni D’Antonio as a calling card.”

He exposes his teeth and you watch those fangs intently. The motion is purely predatory but your expression remains impassive. “Do you really think—”

Your blade slices through the air with blinding speed, silencing him.

The Devil of Camorra catches it before it manages to sink into his chest but the runes scorch through his skin and he drops it with a hiss, his grip on the girl faltering as he snarls in your direction.

He manages to catch your other arm, his grip bruising and surprise reflects in those quicksilver eyes. No doubt at the speed with which you cut the distance between you. You jerk backwards on your heels, another blade slipping free and feel something cold and unmoving wrap around your throat as your arm snaps out.

Your dark shadow, your Jardani, is stronger.

But you are faster.

The girl scrambles away with a sob as you stand at a standstill with the vampire before you. His fingers tight around your throat and your holy blade burning against the ink of his powerful neck. He reeks of potent sort of strength and although no pure blood runs through his veins, his power is unquestionable. The Holy Text on your back seems to blister anew. These damn fucking vampires. First the handsome prince and now this asshole.

The tall vampire in front of you seems amused at your predicament��at the stalemate. “I’m going to eat you up,” he tells you, almost cordial, and you push the blade deeper against his skin. The skin sizzles but the vampire only grins wider, his fangs gleaming. His thumb scrapes against your pulse, his cold Camorra rings caressing your skin.

The audacity of him.

“You haven’t lived long enough to stomach me,” you hiss under your breath, and swiftly bend your fingers till the blade in your other hand touches his skin. “Lux sancta.”

The Holy Text carved into your back flares with pain as does the light through your blades, burning away everything in your path as it explodes outwards.

The vampire growls loudly, tearing himself away from you. The flash of light is brief but the Camorra’s Devil doesn’t manage to mask his pain completely as he stares at his charred hand. It will heal due to his power but it will be slow. Holy Light does not leave injuries lightly.

The look on his face is as murderous as it is ravenous. “If it weren’t for my orders—”

He swallows and flexes his burned fingers, working his jaw at the agony he no doubt must be feeling. His eyes are no longer that pale, icy blue. They burn with that familiar rusted red and he grins; cold and harsh.

“I’ll see you very soon, sweetheart.”

A damning, pitiless promise.

Shadows engulf him. You stagger ahead and promptly collapse face-first onto the ground, your knees caving in.

Sweat drips down your brow, your back in agony and you recall the High Priest’s warning that you are not ready. That you need another Remaking before you are ever allowed to consider evoking the Holy Text.

Too weak.

But not in that dream, you recall through your feverish delirium. Not with the green-eyed prince.

Darkness swallows you whole, and then there is nothing.

#oc writing #oc x reader #john wick oc #vampire au #supernatural au #original writing #c: hector #BACK TO THE SQUAD NEXT PART!!! this was more of a set up for a few ideas about V herself and her power....really #me trying to make an actual plot out of this incoherent mess?? mayhaps because i'm incapable of writing something without a novel of lore #s: my lady

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easyobsession · 4 years

Text

Somewhere Only We Know

“You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

A Spinning Out fic.

A/N: A few things to get straight: what little knowledge I have about the Olympics, the Village, and ice skating in general is very limited and based solely on what I can find online. Please go easy on me; I’m new to this world. Most of my research for Beijing’s Games is speculation based on past Winter Olympics combined with me also making some of it up.

Also, as we know, we only got one season of this amazing show. While I have done my fair share of research (aka watched every Katstin scene an embarrassing amount of times), if you don’t remember some of the smaller details I mention it’s quite possibly because I made them up. Bare with me and go with it. I’m doing my best.

She’s been staring at the ceiling for nearly two hours. She knows this because in those two hours, Kat Baker has looked at the clock more times than she can count. But she’s done her best to stay still and focus on sleep, because if ever a good reason to need a solid night’s rest, this is it. Plus, she isn’t alone.

But it’s been nearly two hours. And after feeling her bedmate shift for the third time in less than ten minutes, she can’t help herself.

“Are you awake?” she speaks softly in case she’s wrong.

“Yes.” Justin’s voice comes so instantaneously it’s obvious he has been for a while. He rolls over onto his side to face her, clearly fed up with the charade. “I know we’re supposed to be too excited to sleep or whatever, but I figured jet lag and exhaustion would kick in eventually.”

Kat sighs. “I don’t think I can lay here anymore.”

“Screw it. Let’s go walk around or something. Get some food. I don’t know,” He shrugs, “Everything is open 24/7 here. Might as well take advantage of it.”

Kat bites at her lip. They have practice tomorrow at 9am sharp and Dasha will kill them if they’re stumbling around exhausted, but she’s so stir crazy right now she can’t bring herself to care.

“Alright, let’s go.”

They both dress quickly and head for the door, remembering to grab their ID badges from the nightstand and doing their best to remain silent as they slip through the common room. Their hands find each other in the elevator as they depart from the ninth floor, and they both give a courteous nod to security as they exit the dorm.

February in Beijing is beautiful, and despite being nothing more than a glorified college campus, the Olympic Village somehow still manages to blow both Kat and Justin’s minds. With a large handful of sky-high dormitories divided up by country, the Village is filled with basic amenities like a post office, bank, laundry facility, a convenience store, several gyms, and a huge cafeteria containing cuisine from around the world at every hour of the day.

Kat and Justin have been here for eight days so far. The first two days were spent getting settled with the other Team USA skaters and personnel, the third day they participated in the Opening Ceremony, and the remaining time has been spent using their allotted practice sessions, hitting the gym for light workouts, and enjoying the experience. They’ve also seen a few events, which is a highlight, and done a couple interviews (Dasha promises there are more to come- super) and some press work.

Mostly though, they’ve been staying close and trying to remain in a good headspace. Their competition begins in three days and their families arrive tomorrow, so for the most part they’re taking Dasha’s advice and focusing on each other.

“This is yours to lose,” she’d said. “Don’t over-think anything. Just stick together and enjoy it.”

This probably isn’t what she meant, but whatever.

After leaving the dorms behind, the duo makes the short walk into the heart of the Village, the nightlife scene far more alive than some might expect. The Village is open 24 hours a day for a reason. Some athletes prefer to train in the later hours, jetlag affecting a large amount, and some seem to need an escape to rid themselves of the jitters. One thing is clear though: everyone is tense. It’s like a university during finals- the pressure is on and everyone is feeling it.

“We should probably skip the caffeine, but how ‘bout hot chocolate?” Justin proposes, their linked hands swaying between them as they approach the commissary.

Kat nods. As much as a huge cup of coffee sounds appealing right now, he’s right. With any luck they’ll hopefully be able to manage at least a few hours of shuteye after this little excursion and a latte screams bad call.

After getting two steaming cups of cocoa (caramel in hers- she’d agreed to forgo the caffeine, not the sugar) they find an empty bench just far enough off the main pathway for a bit of privacy. So far it’s been a blast meeting and getting to know the other athletes from around the world, including several of Kat and Justin’s personal idols, but two AM just isn’t the hour preferred for socializing.

For a while they sit in silence, enjoying the peace and tranquility and the rare chance to people-watch the night owls between sips from their respective biodegradable cups.

“Feeling any sleepier?” Justin questions finally, causing the brunette under his arm to sigh.

“Will you judge me if I say that I’m even more awake than before?”

Justin lets out a curse. “I was hoping it was just me.”

“Gotta love Olympic life,” she ruses, “Well, I’m not going to the gym.”

“Fuck that,” he agrees. They’ve been practicing nonstop as it is. Neither of them is in the mood to ruin what little free time they do have, especially since Dasha never shuts up about the importance of not overdoing it.

“I don’t know. Nothing sounds appealing.” Kat continues, “But I don’t want to just sit here all night.”

For a moment silence falls again until Justin begins to fidget, shifting in his seat and catching her attention.

“What?” she demands, the look in his eye giving him away just like always.

“Nothing.” He quickly dismisses, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forget it.”

Kat rolls her eyes. “I know you’re an idiot,” she teases, “You’re my idiot though, which means I’m privy to all of your idiocy.”

“Seriously Kat, drop it. It was a dumbass thought. Let it go.”

“Hey,” the change of tone in his voice causes her to pull back, finding his eyes. Clearly he’s getting upset about something. “Talk to me.”

Justin stares at her for a minute. “You’re gonna get pissed.” He warns.

“Seriously, Justin, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” He pauses again, this time so long Kat is about to lose it, when he finally blurts, “We could get married.”

Silence.

“What?” It takes all of Kat’s strength not to screech the word. “Are you- what?”

“I said it was dumb!”

“It’s the middle of the night.” she sputters. “Our families aren’t here. We’ve only been together-”

“What feels like forever sometimes,”

Kat gives him a dirty look. “Really? You’re choosing now to fuck around?”

He raises his hands in defense.

“Look, it was just something that popped in my head.”

“Of all the possibilities, this was the random thought you had?”

Justin glances toward the ground, causing her eyes to go wide.

“This isn’t the first time?” Kat pauses, her voice finally falling back down to its regular decibel. “You’ve thought about this before?”

“Have I thought about marrying you?” Justin snorts, giving up on his hesitance as the insanity of the situation triggers brutal honesty. “I’m 25, Kat, and I’ve been in love with you longer than the two years we’ve been together. Yes, I’ve thought about it.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says quickly. “I don’t have a binder filled with details or anything. It’s just something I’ve thought about, that’s all.”

This seems to catch her attention.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You probably don’t want something too big or flashy. Which is awesome, because while my dad will lose his shit and it’ll drive Mandy nuts, I’m actually on board with small and simple. And I know you’ll kill me if I spend too much on the ring, which is the one thing I already have covered-”

“You have it covered?” she interrupts. “Like what, you’ve already bought it?”

He pauses for a minute, staring at her before letting out a sigh.

“I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Justin, seriously, I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Just give me ten minutes. Stay here.”

“Stay here? Where are you going?” she wants to hit him when he rises from the bench. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Stay here!” He repeats.

“Fuck off!” she cries, yet for some reason her ass remains glued to her seat.

The following ten minutes pass in a slow blur, because what the actual fuck? Ironically it isn’t their relationship, but the fact that they’re skating for Olympic medals in three days that assures her he wouldn’t just leave her sitting in the middle of the Village like a moron, when Justin returns with his hands in his pockets, looking even more nervous than when he left. (Which is understandable, because there’s at least a 50% chance this could lead to his death.)

He lets out a breath as he sits back down next to her, finally revealing his hands and holding up a respectably sized (but not too gaudy) ruby in a band of gold. He places the ring in the palm of her hand, giving a small shrug.

“It was my mom’s.” he explains quietly. “I’ve had it since she died. Dad said she planned on giving it to me eventually.”

“Justin-”

“Look, it was a dumb idea. And I didn’t mean to freak you out, especially when literally the biggest event of our lives is in three days, but… I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “I just started talking and you didn’t stop me. So here we are.”

“So what, you just carry this with you everywhere you go?”

“Fuck you. It’s called being prepared, Baker.”

Kat goes quiet for a minute, her eyes falling from his understandably stressed face to the ring still perched in her palm. This is quite literally the last thing she ever would’ve expected, and yet for some reason the idea of turning him down isn’t her gut reaction. It’s crazy, yeah, but she does love him and they’ve been together for a while. Hell, practically everyone and their brother has brought it up, so it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it, and at the end of the day she could think of a lot worse ways to live her life than spending it with Justin.

“Your mom must’ve had small hands too. Although… I guess we won’t really know if it fits unless you put it on me.” She murmurs finally, causing his head to snap up.

“What?”

“I mean, I won’t be able to wear it on the ice, obviously,” she continues, “And we should probably wait until after the Games to tell anyone, because it’ll only be more pressure if we’re labeled the American Newlywed team. Plus, our families are no question going to kill us- Dasha at the front of the line. We’ll probably have to have some sort of party to make it up to them. Especially Mandy.”

“Are you saying yes?” he asks breathlessly, still unsure if he’s in a daze or acquired brain damage from the cold.

A small grin breaks out on Kat’s face. “I must be crazier than we thought.”

“You’re saying yes!” he surges forward to kiss her, hoping all of his joy can be transmitted through the pressure of his lips. “Holy shit.”

“Does it count if you never put the ring on me?” she questions through a giggle, causing him to let out a laugh of his own as he takes the ring and slides it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“Perfect fit.” He observes, part of him not even surprised because fate is just on their side tonight apparently, before leaning in to kiss her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She grins. “Mr. Baker,”

Justin laughs. “You joke, but I really could not care less.” He pauses for a second. “Hey, look, I’m sorry this isn’t something better. I mean, I wasn’t planning on renting out the Eiffel Tower or anything, but I wanted to at least make a speech or something. Most of all I know it’s something I planned to talk to you about beforehand.”

Kat shrugs. “Might as well have this be just as weird and dysfunctional as everything else about our lives, right?” She says with a dry laugh. “Besides, you can save the speech for your vows.”

Justin stares at her for a second. “You seriously want to get married at 3AM in a foreign country, in secret, three days before the biggest competition of our careers?”

“Are you getting cold feet already?”

He laughs. “I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming.” He says honestly.

“Oh, you’re awake. And it’s too late to back out now, Davis.” She holds up her left hand where the ring sparkles, looking, Justin can’t help but notice, like it’s always belonged there. “I’ve already got the hardware.”

Justin grins. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh.” He stands up from the bench and offers her his hand. “Then let’s go get married.”

Part 2 Coming Soon. ;)

#spinning out #kat baker #justin davis #katstin #kat x justin #sowk fic

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janeyseymour · 4 years

Text

Wine and Beer Night

Jane and Jenna have a girls’ night. Antics ensue.

Jenna and Jane had become fast friends; that was something no one could argue about. The Pomatter-Hunterson clan could and would often be found at the queens’ house on many weekends. At least once a month though, the third queen and the baker would have “girls’ night” with just the two of them. The other queens were more than happy to watch over Lulu while Jim spent the night watching various sports and/or playing games and having a beer.

This particular weekend, the pair had already gone through a bottle of wine together, delightfully tipsy. Whatever movie playing on the television had been long forgotten, the two chatting and giggling together instead.

“Wine’s gone!” the blonde giggled. “What are we going to do! We can’t go get more!”

“Oh no! What ever are we going to do?” the baker feigned panic. “What are we going to do in New York City at,” she paused to check the time. “7:30 on a Friday night?”

“I have no idea!” Jane stated with a serious tone in her voice. “I’m pretty tipsy though.”

“Well, you are over twenty-one you know. You can go out in public slightly tipsy.” The brunette tapped a finger to her chin. “Or I have more wine downstairs, or we could have a couple of Jim’s beers. I’m sure he wouldn’t care.”

“We could be like the guys!” the queen shouted excitedly. “Let’s have beer!”

And so, the two began to drink beer. They went the whole nine yards too: they turned off the sappy rom-com they were watching in exchange for sports. They changed from their blouses and jeans into tee-shirts and sweatpants. The hair went from cascading down their shoulders in nice curls to the messiest of buns. Instead of sitting properly, they opted to sit like men: legs spread apart, slouching, and one arm resting over the back of the couch.

“Can we send a photo to Jim like this? I’ll tell him we’re just a couple of the ‘the guys’! He’ll think it’s funny!” Jenna asked once she got a look at how Jane was presenting herself.

“Oh my gosh! That would be so funny!” A sober Jane would never sit like this or willingly take a picture like this. An intoxicated queen thought it was just hysterical.

The two posed for a few pictures before sending them to Jim.

“Wait, send me those! I’m going to post one on my Instagram!” the blonde was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out.

“Are you sure? Your instagram is pretty... queenly.” The baker wasn’t nearly as intoxicated as her friend.

“Yeah! Everyone’s always telling me I need to get the stick out of my ass! This’ll show ‘em ol’ Janey knows how to let loose!”

“Only if you promise that when you wake up tomorrow you’re not going to regret posting it,” Jenna reasoned.

“Anne’s posted worse pictures and videos of me on Instagram and uh,” Jane fell silent, a look of confusion on her face. “Tic Tac! She’s posted videos of me on her Tic Tac!”

The brunette fell into a fit of laughter. “Oh my,” she wheezed. “Oh my god! It’s TikTok!”

JaneySeymour: just guys bein dudes @JHunterson

JPoms: Is this what happens when girls drink beer?

JaneySeymour: @JPoms excuse me we are LADIES

AnnieBoleyn: Is that my Janey IN SWEATPANTS?! #sorrynotsorry but @JHunterson we can no longer be friends

JHunterson: @AnnieBoleyn ...? I like being friends though?

AnnieBoleyn: @JHunterson I’ve been trying to get her to let loose like this for SO long, and you can just... get her to do it like that?!?! #sorryntosorry but @JaneySeymour I’m mad at you

Catherine_Aragon: @AnnieBoleyn nto @JHunterson Don’t worry- she tells me we’re not friends in like 90% of the conversations we have. She doesn’t mean it.

JHunterson: @AnnieBoleyn ...what if I made you some pie as an apology?

AnnieBoleyn: @JHunterson ...Apology accepted.

A few hours later both women were still sipping beers, but the sports game playing on the television was long forgotten.

“Did I ever tell you how I met Jim?” Jenna looked at the blonde who shook her head no. “I was married to another guy before I married Jim.”

“What the-”

“Earl Hunterson. The only reason I kept his last name is so Lulu at least has some part of her father. He was a real piece of shit.” And so, Jenna began to explain her journey. Jane hung onto every word.

“Damn,” Jane muttered when the brunette finished her story. “He kind of sounds like Henry.”

“Kind of.”

“No! Like for real! Henry was abusive! I mean, he cut off Annie and Kat’s heads! And he was emotionally abusive too! And all he wanted was a son! That’s nuts!”

“Funny how our stories are very similar and from completely different time periods,” Jenna laughed awkwardly.

“Uh... my father told me I was going to be a disappointment and failure to the family if I didn’t move our family up in class? He ate my shit because I became queen!” Jane offered back.

“Oh dear God,” Jenna looked horrified. “Why don’t we move to other things to talk about?”

“Oh! I got one! But you have to promise not to tell any of the other queens!” The blonde held out her pinky finger and looked at her friend expectantly. Jenna laughed at her drunken friend’s antics but linked their pinkies.

“Okay, I won’t tell any of them. Pinky promise,” the baker affirmed.

“I have a tattoo!”

“You what?!” Jenna exclaimed.

“Yeah!” The blonde lifted her shirt to show the small tattoo on her ribcage. “It’s just a simple one, but it means a lot.” She pointed to it- a small “VI” in black ink.

“SiX?” Jenna’s face softened. Jane would get something meaningful like that.

“Yeah! Because, like Cathy said in the show, ‘All I need is SiX.’ Don’t tell the girls though.”

“Why not?”

“Because if they find out ‘Mom’ has a tattoo, that means they’ll all want to get tattoos. Besides, I have my ‘Mom’ reputation to uphold. Tattoos are a bit chaotic.”

“I mean, I have a tattoo too.” Jenna took off her shirt so that she was sitting in her sports bra. “See?” She pointed to the daffodil on her right shoulder.

“That’s so pretty! Does it have any meaning to you at all?”

“Daffodils typically mean rebirth and new beginnings. Got it after I had Lu and left Earl.”

“I love that!”

The two fell asleep that night on the baker’s couches, a rude hangover awaiting the two of them in the morning.

“I’m never drinking again if this is what a hangover feels like,” Jane groaned.

“Not until next month when we inevitably drink again on girls’ night.”

#six the musical #six musical #waitress the musical #waitress musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #six musical fanfic #waitress the musical fanfiction #waitress the musical fanfic #jenna hunterson #six broadway #jane seymour

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

"you can be anything you wanna be, don't ever forget it?" for reddie 🥺

thank you so much ashbot! this fic literally only features a reddie mention, but I will continue it if you guys want more! It’s also set from Adrian’s point of view so have that! Also I have basically switched the losers an Adrian/Don’s ages around don’t @ me.

* * * * *

Adrian walked into the local diner, texting his boyfriend, Don as he moved. There was a table right in the corner that Adrian always sat in. It was close enough to the door, and right next to a window meaning that if he was to enter an asthma attack, there was a quick escape. As it was a Thursday, there weren’t many people around, which was just how Adiran liked it, and he glanced at the clock. Don would be here any minute and until then, Adrian decided that a little people watching wouldn’t do much harm.

His eyes started by the entrance, scanning over the elderly couple sipping on their tea and nibbling into the scones. Adrian couldn’t help but smile to himself at the simplicity of it all, that after all the years they had probably been together, they still managed to find the time and energy to go out for a treat together. Leaving the couple to it, Adrian’s eyes moved further into the diner, landing on a man in a suit, tapping away on his laptop and talking quietly into a headpiece. He didn’t blame the man, as Thursday was a quiet day.

Finally, Adrian’s eyes drifted to the only other people in the diner at that time. At the table down from him, sat a slightly overweight woman and her young son, probably no older than four. His legs were swinging back and forth as he stared at the carrot sticks in front of him, before his head moved back to the large cabinet full of cakes and sweets. Since they were only a few tables away, Adrian could make out their conversation and he had to hold back a wince. Just from the small bit he could catch, it was clear that this mother was, what he would describe as, an entitled parent.

“Mommy, please can I have a little bit of cake?” The boy asked, his fingers twitching on the table and Adrian felt sorry for the poor kid. His mother gasped, loud enough to turn some heads and she shook her own head violently.

“Eddie bear! How could you even suggest such a thing? You know that you’re allergic to sugar! Do you want your mommy to have to rush you to the hospital and be faced with a huge bill just because you wanted a little piece of cake? I don’t think you do. You don’t want to hurt mommy do you?” Her voice was sickly sweet and condescending, which made Adrian develop the inkling that the kid didn’t actually have a sugar allergy.

Just then, the door to the diner opened, and Don walked in, waving in Adrian’s direction as he made his way over, taking a seat in the booth opposite him, “Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting, traffic was horrendous,” he rolled his eyes and leaned across the table, pecking Adrian on the lips, making him smile.

They were frequent customers at the diner, and all of the staff knew them by name, which was why they didn’t feel the need to hide their affection when they ate there. Of course, there was still the occasional roll of the eyes from the odd customer, but most of them were regulars too, and were used to it by now. So when the deep sigh and loud ‘ahem’ came from behind them, it took both Adrian and Don by surprise.

Adrian looked up first and he inwardly groaned when he came face to face with the entitled mother of the little boy. Upon closer inspection, he realised that he knew this woman, and his annoyance only intensified. Her name was Sonia Kaspbrak and she was a member of his Aunt’s book club, for years in fact. That was his aunt’s reasoning for not kicking her out, as she couldn’t deal with all the backlash that would come with it. She was religious, overbearing and...entitled. Which meant the little boy with her was Eddie Kaspbrak, her poor unfortunate son.

“Yes?” Adrian spoke up, raising an eyebrow. Just out of spite, he reached over and laced his fingers with Don’s. This woman had no control over him and was in no way about to dictate how he acted with his boyfriend. His glare met hers and he just knew he had started a war.

Sonia Kaspbrak glared down at him, her face going a dark red colour, “You shouldn’t be flaunting this around town where little kids can see it. You’re going to turn them into one of you and I will not have you infect my child with your...your illness.” She spat and Don winced across from him.

“We aren’t bothering anyone,” Adrian replied calmly. “It was you who chose to come over here and ruin our lunch. Now if you don’t mind could you leave us alone? We are trying to have a nice lunch.”

Turns out, that was not the right thing to say, and Sonia slammed her hand down on the table, making the two of them jump. “You’re not welcome in this town. You- you homo’s need to leave and get some serious help. You are all sick in the head. God never intended for this, not a chance. You are going to hell.”

Adrian blinked and was about to respond when a small voice came from behind the angry woman, and Eddie Kaspbrak’s head peeked out from behind her legs, eyes wide and curious. “Mommy...what’s a homo?” He asked, looking up at her. “Why are you yelling?”

The gasp that left Sonia’s mouth was one Adrian would never forget and she whipped her head back around, pointing a finger at him. “You- you have corrupted my son! Look what you’ve done!”

“Oh my god lady, this is ridiculous. It’s the 21st Century not the Stone Age,” Adrian rolled his eyes, and knowing that there was no turning back, he turned to face and address Eddie. “Homosexuals, it’s a word for when a man loves another man and wants to be with him. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Suddenly, Sonia screeched and covered Eddie’s ears, “Don’t you dare speak to my son! Don’t you even look at him! You have infected his mind with your words and I deserve some sort of compensation for this! I will be reporting you to the mayor and he will not be happy to know you are corrupting his town!”

“Mommy, does that mean that Richie and I can get married when we’re older?” Eddie asked, pulling away from her and looking back at Adrian. “Richie is my bestest best friend in the whole world. I want to spend time with him all the time and I love him, just like you said! Does that mean I’m a homo- that word you said?” He didn’t manage to get an answer as Sonia wrapped a rough hand around his too small wrist and started to drag him away.

“Edward, you will go sit in the car right now. Do not disobey me and you are never to mention that word ever again!” Sonia screeched and even though she had moved away from the table, Adrian was involved and so he followed her. “As for Richie Tozier, he is a dirty boy, just like those boys and you aren’t to be friends with him anymore.”

Tears filled Eddie’s eyes and Adrian felt his heart break at the sight. He marched forward and stood in Sonia’s line of vision. “Hey lady, you can’t go around calling little kids words like that. You say we’re the ones corrupting society, it’s actually you with your small minded views. You’re the one who needs some serious help.” He turned back around to Eddie and knelt down, ignoring Sonia’s insults. “Hey kid. You can be whatever you wanna be and don’t you forget it. Okay?” He asked, lifting his pinky.

Eddie sniffed and linked their pinkies together, nodding his head with a smile. “I won’t mister! Thank you!” He grinned, only for that smile to vanish as his mother shoved Adrian away and pulled Eddie out of the diner, to the car. It was a few moments until she drove away, leaving dust in her wake. The diner fell silent and the waitress walked over and smiled at him.

“That was a really nice thing you did,” she spoke. “Eddie comes in here with Sonia all the time and he always looks so sad as she won’t let him have any sweets.” She moved over to the table and started cleaning up.

Adrian followed to help and Don joined them shortly after, giving Adrian’s wrist a squeeze. “I heard her say that Eddie was allergic to sugar,” he muttered after a while and the waitress frowned, looking at him. “What?”

She shook her head, “That’s not possible. Before his father died, he would come in here and they would share a banana split. When he comes in with his mother, she always makes him drink black tea, so I sneak a sugar cube in there for taste. He’s definitely not allergic to sugar.”

At the news, Adrian felt his blood boil and he reached into his pocket for his inhaler, taking a few gulps. This woman was lying to her son, making him believe he was sick when he wasn’t. His eyes met Don’s and he could tell that his boyfriend knew exactly what he was thinking.

No matter what, Adrian was going to help Eddie Kaspbrak.

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madi-main @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stebbins @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @ultrapaninibred @vanity190 @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead

#adrian mellon #eddie kaspbrak #sonia k #don hagarty #reddie #baby eddie #protective adrian #age change #writing tag

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