#she’d probably still be with you know who and wouldn’t have considered leaving let alone doing it
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The whole discourse about the privacy/secrecy/support thing has been sitting with me for a few days (I mean other than it always does to a certain degree) thanks to all the excellent discussion happening and I know I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said a million times before, but I think what we're seeing and what we're going to learn (e.g. from TTPD) is that it wasn't just the support issue, but how it was shown/handled.
We've all gone out of our way to show that introversion =/= lack of support. Someone can be shy, reserved, etc. and still show up for their partner, whether in public or at home. To chalk any of the differences up to the clash between introversion and extroversion is unfair to folks who count themselves among either tbh.
@thisisctrying said something the other day that hit the nail on the head about how if that support had been offered in private, there very well may not have been a Joever to begin with, or at least not at this point in time. (Sorry for loosely paraphrasing, and for namedropping you! Long time listener, first time poster.)
If this were a case where the "shy" partner said, "I am really uncomfortable with the spotlight personally and do not want to court it, but I will support you in your ambitions and offer you whatever you need to make them happen and make the glare bearable," I suspect that would have gone a long way to making Taylor feel seen and comfortable in pursuing her goals in the way that she now has. Again, that might have been more akin to the balance that seemed to have been struck around 2019 from what we can see, but even speaking in a general sense, there are lots of couples out there, celebrity or not, that have similar approaches where there are highly driven people and busy careers involved.
(A famous example being Dolly Parton's marriage. Tbh I know next to nothing about her and Carl, but she's always heralded as an example in this regard, because her husband is famously uncomfortable with the spotlight and hasn't accompanied her to public events in decades, but she's said that she never minded that because that was always work to her, and what was important was that he supported her in pursuing all her career goals and basically ensured she had a place to call home to return to at the end of the day.)
We're kind of in a brave new world with her current relationship because it felt like, at least at the start, we were maybe watching her figure out her boundaries in real time as to what she was comfortable with or not and adjust accordingly. Like so many have said, I fully believe the extreme privacy thing was initially driven by herself and her experiences in 2016, and she needed that quiet time to recover from all of the things and figure out how to exist in the world again.
Stating the obvious, it seemed like eventually privacy was equated with secrecy, turning the relationship and the celebrity into the elephant in the room and something to never be spoken of to the outside world. People are free to choose whatever works best for themselves and their relationships, and for some the separate public lives might work, but the “kept me like a secret but I kept you like an oath” theme is all over her work and it’s clear that it’s a sore spot for her, because she’s been made to feel shame just for the life she leads so many times in the past.
What I’m trying to say is that it’s pretty obvious something Not Great was happening behind the scenes, which didn’t just amount to “she wanted to be a public celebrity and he wanted to be a private hermit.” (Also, in case anyone forgot, this is a person who also chose a public-facing career who also has to engage in press for it, but I digress.) As her career reached new heights post-folklore, if she had the support at home to do all the things without judgment and with encouragement, and in turn offer the same support to her partner, she may have very well lived just fine with that, not unlike Dolly Parton’s case.
By reading between the lines in all the press since, as well as comments on tour and general ~vibes~ with TTPD teasers, it seems like one of the issues was that that was likely not the case. There was all the stuff that we saw — the reticence to acknowledge each other in the media (particularly on one side), the lack of public support even at events at which they were both in attendance for their respective jobs, the great lengths they went to not to be photographed together at events they attended yet no problem taking pictures with other friends and coworkers, the jobs that separated them, the withdrawing from the public even for work accomplishments, etc. Which could all be manageable if a couple chooses to do so together and are not inherently a sign of trouble in themselves.
But what we’re seeing now I think is a reflection of the things we weren’t seeing then, and it seems to indicate some very deep hurt. (I know, call me Captain Obvious.) And like so many have been saying, it feels likely that that part of that hurt is rooted in that very lack of private support where a person would expect it from their partner. Obviously as a Taylor fan blog I’m going to be more inclined to understand her side of a story, but tbh, it’s also because… this is sooooooo common, and something I’ve experienced in my friend group. (@taylortruther is right when she says most breakups are the same one way or another lol.)
One partner is resentful of the other’s success, or resentful that the other’s priorities begin to evolve as new experiences unlock new goals, or feels the other’s ambitions are not worthy of pursuit, and coupled with perhaps their own struggles in the same domain, it’s easy to see where that can chip away at the other partner’s morale and faith in the relationship. I know I’m just speculating here, but I also don’t think it’s totally unfounded. (Again, because a) I’m picking up what she’s putting down and b) it happens to sooooooo many women even among us dull normals.)
With all the pointed mentions about how much Taylor feels supported in her current relationship and how she in turn loves to offer the same show of support to not only her partner but other loved ones, how she’s stepped out more in the last year to a whole host of events, how she’s mentioned feeling like she locked herself away for years and she’s just proud of her partner and happy she can show up for him even if the chaos around it is unsettling, it paints a picture of what perhaps was happening before last year.
To feel like you’re all alone in carrying the weight of the relationship (or burden of it), of twisting yourself into knots to accommodate the other person’s boundaries (or insecurities) but not feeling reciprocity for your own has to be so painful. (The idea that it may have been even darker and to have a partner not only be unreceptive to your own needs but even perhaps resentful/dismissive/belittling of them is even more painful to think of. I guess we’ll find out when TTPD comes out if that was the case, too.)
At a certain point, that lack of acknowledgement will force your hand to be able to reclaim yourself. And it feels like the further removed Taylor in particular is from it, the more she moves from being sad about the life she felt she gave up by leaving, to angry at the life she felt she was giving up by staying. Especially being in a relationship now where it seems like everything comes much easier, where she can be open about the person she’s with and show up for them, all the stuff that seemed as challenging as climbing Mount Everest in her past is nothing more than a molehill at best in her current life.
TL;DR: I don’t think it’s privacy that inherently spells doom for a celebrity relationship like this; it’s the mutual support and respect that does. If Taylor had felt that in the later years of her previous relationship, I think we could be seeing a different, though not necessarily unfulfilled, person right now in 2024, who’d be happy on tour but whose personal life would look a little different. But it seems like by losing that support she lost parts of herself, and we’ve seen her reclaim that in spades in the last year, and perhaps to degrees she didn’t even realize she could from before all the Bad Stuff started happening in her young adulthood.
I know this was extremely long-winded and unnecessary, especially about total strangers we only know through scraps fed through the media, but I just always bristle at this idea that issues like these boil down to “personality differences,” as though one person wants to live in a city and the other on a remote island, or some shit like that. The whole support (and gender tbh) issue is one that’s just very close to my heart because again, I have seen it play out with so many of my friends in long term relationships and marriages and I just think people in relationships (and women in particular in some circles) deserve better than to feel like they’re being, well, tolerated.
#thisisctrying and taylortruther sorry for tagging you two!#can remove if needed!#but you guys made me think a lot#this was inspired by a conversation i had with a friend the other day#where she relayed an argument she had with her partner#who basically felt slighted that he wasn’t getting acknowledgement for all the housework he does — which is. just. the dishes#and she was like ‘wow congrats you’ve done the dishes — i do every other fucking thing to keep this household afloat in ways you see#and don’t see and i never ask for praise because it’s just stuff that needs to get done because that’s how you support your family’#and it just reminded me that some partners (and a certain kind of man in particular) just… think their struggles take precedence#when their partners drown in them everyday but keep things afloat out of necessity and are never recognized or supported for it#(my friends have shitty husbands/boyfriends can you tell lol)#long post#again the way i just feel like i know the vibes of ttpd in my bones are 😵💫#i feel like i have a lot more thoughts but I’m trying to be more gracious and less parasocial so#also just want to again defend the introverts of the world by reiterating that being introverted does not mean unsupportive#being a shitty partner does though!#writing letters addressed to the fire#it’s also just like… i feel like if Taylor had had even a modicum of the support in private and even public she needed#she’d probably still be with you know who and wouldn’t have considered leaving let alone doing it#because it would have felt like enough and like it was what was needed for both of them#whereas we’re seeing a completely new side of her open up now because this is the first time she’s ever had that support from a partner#in her adult life at least#and it’s like it’s opening up things she didn’t know she needed or wanted
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Drive with you Forever
Chapter Nine: Find me at your doorstep
Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader
Chapter summary: summer break is interrupted, Guenther is exasperated, Seb is a father to four kids who can't communicate, and the reader reveals an interesting piece of information
Warnings: kidnapping, medical abuse, physical abuse, drugging, lack of communication, throwing up, sickness, blood, mild gore, Jos Verstappen and his great parenting skills, mentions of SH
Notes: Listen, Y'all, this is probably one of my favorites so far. It's definitely not as comical as others, but it's dramatic and has some action.
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Masterlist
She probably shouldn't have been alone. She got comfortable in the safety of their apartment. Her newfound willingness to not let her father get to her.
She shouldn't have left that day as she walked down the streets of Monaco. Pascale had invited her over for lunch, and although she could have driven, she wanted the fresh air.
It was stupid to leave the house, she thinks, as her body refuses to work. Her useless visions apparently don't show what happens to her directly, just what happens around her.
Now she's in a strangers car, her phone broken, and the energy that had doubled since her dad stuck her with the needle not working.
Her healing had gotten better, and she'd discovered how to make new things out of old things. Her visions are clearer and more consistent, and the telekinetic abilities made her feel more like a Jedi from Star Wars every day.
Again, it's all useless now.
~
"Has anyone heard from y/n?" Shouts Charles from the living room where he had been lazily lounging on the couch.
"No. Why?" Max pops his head out of the kitchen. It's grown on Charles to see the Dutch being domestic. He's protective of his kitchen and Charles being the number one threat is not allowed anywhere near it when he's cooking.
"She was supposed to be at my mom's house by now, and apparently, she's not there."
"She did walk there, so maybe she just took the scenic route?"
"But an hour late feels like a lot for that." The anxiety in Charles’ voice is evident.
"Let's not worry about it for now. She knows how to take care of herself."
~
Nobody had heard from her that night. Or the next morning.
The boys couldn't sleep. On the phone with anyone who might know where she is.
Nothing. It's like she disappeared off the planet.
"Do you think it's her dad?" Pipes Lando. The Brit had been pacing a hole in the floor, and both Charles and Max had made him slow down to breathe properly multiple times.
None of them wanted to consider the possibility, but it could be a likely option.
"god I hope not."
~
Her room hadn't changed. The small window is still letting in a cold draft at night. The only thing telling her how long she'd been here.
Five days. Five horribly long days.
The ties around her wrists ached. Her body hurt from being repeatedly drugged and tossed around like a sack of potatoes.
There were more people here now. More then she remembers there ever being at least. She knew there were people, men, who would come in and out but she was never allowed to speak with them.
For what it’s worth, whatever they were doing to her was making her stronger. She’d been able to transfer the wounds from one person onto herself. It’s keeping her captor at ease for now but she knows he wants more.
It’s not ideal and it’s painful. It’s like she can’t get past a mental block that will allow to simply heal. She can feel it somewhere deep within. She knows she can.
Bringing someone back from the dead however, that’s not healing.
Maybe if she’s able to bring back the corpse of her mother, they’ll trade places. Her soul finally giving into the peace of permanent unconsciousness. At least then her boys wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without her. Find solace in each other.
Maybe, she thinks.
~
Sebastian is going to lose his mind. His daughter is missing and it feels like the only thing the journalists are writing about is how she probably ran off to be a slut for a different group of guys. He was going to have the heads of whoever wrote that if he ever sees them.
The boys had been staying in Germany with him. It hadn’t taken long for the authorities to determine she’s not in Monaco. They’d come here in hopes of reevaluating. Though they were at each others throats when they got here.
Seb had practically forced them to sit down and communicate. They started working together after that.
Hanna had been forcing them to eat proper meals. Seb made sure at least one of them slept at a time. Lando had recovered from four separate panic attacks over two days. Max is trying to look strong but his puffy red eyes give him away. Then there’s Charles; the monegasque had been blaming himself for not walking with her when he could’ve.
Seb had a feeling they were going to find her. She’s a fighter. The when part is much harder to figure out.
And for all their sakes, he hopes it’s soon.
~
Two weeks.
Two weeks of this nonsense.
She wonders if everyone is racing again. Or at lease getting ready too. This was not how she intended on spending her break.
She was getting closer to giving her father what he wanted. She was pulling herself to the edge of no return every time she worked in that rotting corpse of her mother.
Tonight, though, may be her only chance at escape.
They’d forgotten to drug her before leaving her in her room. The alcohol in their systems already taking effect.
She’d been able to slide off her restraints with ease. Her abilities strength coming in handy at the current moment.
Now she quietly is pulling out her window frame. It have never been sealed but she can’t help but feel satisfied when the screen pops out with a satisfying click.
She could care less how far the drop is. She’s two stories up with grass beneath her. She push herself out the window, her body facing the wall and hand gripping the ledge.
She swings herself outward and hits the ground with a soft thud.
Then she runs.
~
She had a destination in mind. Someone at the gas station she stopped at was nice enough to let her use their gps to see how far away she was under the guise of hers being stolen. Technically, she didn’t lie.
The walk to the Haas headquarters was six hours. But she didn’t stop until she got there.
Now she can’t help but lean herself against the front door, hoping someone notices her.
~
Guenther whistles a tune to himself as he arrives at work for the day. The sun is out and the birds are chirping. The definition of a great morning to him.
The familiar female figure slumped on the ground in front of the front door completely changes his tune. He quick to get her inside and find some fresh Haas shirts lying around for her to change into.
Once she’s awake and refreshed he sits her down in his office.
“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night outside the front door?” He sounds like a stern parent. She curls into herself. It’s reminiscent of how she was when he first got her when she was fifteen. Scared, shaking, and so quiet.
He’d known she went missing a little over two weeks ago. It was the reason the summer break had been extended. The FIA had been trying to get more security measures set in place.
“I need to call Seb, please.”
~
The boys were there the next day.
Guenther had taken her to his house despite her adamant refusal. The girl had been to tired to fight and eventually gave in.
It’s not long before she padding softly down to the dining room, halting in her tracks when she sees everyone. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything. The boys don’t either. They don’t know how to approach her.
He led the four males inside and sat them down at his dining room table. “She’s sleeping right now.” Questions come flying at him from the three younger men. Seb shoots them all a look that says shut up and let him explain. “I’ll warn you that she’s a bit of a mess. Her father did a number this time around.”
after an hour of sitting, the anxious boys see the female peek her head around he corner. none of them know what to do. They don’t want to scare her away after what she’s been through.
Seb goes to her first. He approaches her slowly taking her in his arms. Then everything in her snaps. It’s just like when she had night terrors and was finally able to wake up from it. This time however, it had been real.
~
She spends the night in bed with Max. The house they're staying in lacks a bed big enough for all of them.
They had played a game of rock paper scissors, which Max won. He claimed his spot next to her with his signature winning grin.
Charles and Lando decided not to take a different bedroom and are curled up at the floor at the foot of the bed instead. Their soft snores confirm that they are, in fact, asleep.
Max holds her close. Every second with her precious. She'd been crying since they arrived. No matter what they did, she seemed to have a never ending supply of tears.
He'd been the first to assess the damage done to her body.
Diagnosis: terrible. He had half a mind to get Guenther to show him where the hell her father is staying so he can personally drag him to hell.
The cuts and incisions along her torso and chest are still red and puffy. The bruises that littered her skin are awful shades of blue, black, and yellow. Her eyes are dull with dark circles beneath. Her body seemed just as fragile as the day he first met her.
He felt himself slipping back into memories from years ago. Gentle touches so he didn't scare her, slow movements because she flinched away from anyone who moved fast.
Quiet until someone tried to say something mean to him or Seb.
Now she lays on his chest. Tears still fall onto his lightly colored t-shirt. And he finds himself wishing he'd have found her years before he met her, if only to tell her he'll be there for her. No matter what anyone says, he'll always find her.
~
Seb watches carefully as she picks at her piece of toast. According to Guenther, she hadn't been able to keep much down since he found her.
She protested eating anything, but Seb is a good negotiator. He promised that when she could keep food down that they would go home to Germany. Not back to Monaco yet because people are aching to get pictures of her.
"At this rate, I'll be old and wrinkly by the time you finish."
She shoots him scowl. "Aren't you retiring? Dosen't that mean you're already old?"
"Old is a state of mind."
She takes another bite. The taste could be that of a brick, but she's so hungry it would still taste delicious.
"I can't stop thinking about the car that got me."
"What do you mean?" Seb asks gently. She hadn't talked much about the whole ordeal yet. Little bits of information here and there but nothing to help him get a picture of what went on.
"The man driving the car. I knew him."
"But he wasn't your father? Or the man at your door?"
"No, he was older than my father and larger than the man at the door." She rubs her tembles in a struggle to remember.
"No need to think about it now. They're not going to get you again. Mostly because I think your boys might start a war if they do."
Their soft conversation is interrupted by Max speaking to his phone in angry Dutch. A clear sign of Jos being on the other end.
"je doet raar." (You're being ridiculous)
Her head perks up at the phrase. A familiar one Max uses with Charles when he is oblivious.
Max hangs of the phone in a huff amd site down with them at the table.
"Can you say that again?" She looks at Max. Her request odd to him, but he obliges. "je doet raar."
"He was on the phone speaking Dutch. He used that phrase." Her head gets a shooting pain, and lights dance through her eyes as she finds herself receiving the car ride.
This time watching scenes unfold in that past. This is new. Both with her and in the context of the situation.
She's in the passenger seat, and next to her is none other than Jos Verstappen.
~
Charles has never seen Max so angry. Which is saying something because Max is angry a lot.
The scene him and Lando walked into had been nothing short of catastrophic.
A female body tucked into Seb on the couch, the German attempting to get the attention of a specific Dutch. Max obviously is not listening and is letting the most foul things he's even heard him say about his father ring through all their ears.
It's interesting in a sense. The other three had never hesitated to show their distaste towards Jos, and Seb had managed to call him a poor excuse of a father to his face on more than one occasion.
There had been a time that Max had a tire malfunction and ended his race in the wall. Jos had gotten more aggressive then any of them would have liked and he is very lucky that nobody aside from Seb had been around to see it.
Seb has a sway with words. He knows how to make them stick. So when he saw Jos' hand land on Max's cheek, he didn't hesitate to step in.
The German gently tucked Max out of the way and faced the older Dutch with fire in his eyes.
"Didn't know a tire failure was deserving of a slap."
"This is between me and my son."
"As far as I'm aware, he's dating my daughter, which makes him mine also. Touch him again, and I'll take legal action."
It was one of the only times Seb had to hold Max comfortingly in his chest. Reassuring the boy that he did not deserve any of that even as Max explained why he did.
Lando is the fastest to act. His arms encircled around Max's body. He can visibly see him relax into the Brits hold.
"Jos was the one who took me originally." The female explains. Her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head rests on sebs shoulder. Charles makes note of how she looks more exhausted now the the last time he saw her.
The words didn't register with him. Not entirely anyway. It didn't make sense. How is it even possible that Jos is in kahoots with the devil?
It would seem they are both devils that somehow raised angels. Charles will only thank them for that, and only after he's killed them.
It's terrible really, the way they look at him. She is teary eyed and apologizing while Max looks clueless. And for the first time since Charles started dating him, Max is pleading with his eyes for help. The Dutch is clueless on where to go from here.
"Knowing that, Max, if you want to leave your dad out of this, we can." Mentions Seb. He knows that the way Jos brought up Max left him confused. His dad praised him and rewarded him one second, then hit him the next. It made thinking fuzzy for him, and since his father was never all bad, he told everyone that it was a good thing. He was attached to him regardless of the circumstances.
This was different.
"If he's going to kidnap my lovers, then he needs to be put away."
"That makes this easier. Know that my home is your home as it always has been, in case things get ugly."
Max nods his head at the German. Really, Seb had been his father figure since he was seventeen. Jos didn't have much say in his life anymore
~
After a third attempt at eating toast, she was finally able to keep it down. It was forced, and she had gagged multiple times, but it was still in her stomach after an hour.
They left soon after that, thanking Guenther profusely for , once again, rescuing her at her worst.
The perks of dating a world champion is that he now owns a private jet. They got home sooner than she expected because of it.
Hanna greeted them at the door and gently latched herself to her daughter. The relief coming in the for of salty tears.
She likes being at home in Germany. Seb had made sure to keep her old room clean. He even got a bigger bed once he heard Lando joined them.
The room feels comfortable and familiar. She's even able to fall asleep when she sits on top of the soft covers.
That is how the boys found her. Snoring softly, draped over the bed with her shoes still on. They carefully slip her shoes of and reposition her where she'll be more comfortable.
Then, they leave the room and shut the door behind them. Their conversation nothing but whisper right outside the door.
"Will she be able to drive next week?"
"I hope so. Maybe Charles will have a chance if she can't, though." The Dutch snickers. Charles hits his shoulder playfully. "I'm not sure how to move forward now. It seems like anything we do only prolongs the inevitable."
"We take it on day at a time then."
~
She managed to get herself to the race track. Driving may not be an option yet, but at least she was there. Christian wasn't going to let her drive until he got her physical report back.
Really it was Max telling him the truth about how she still can't keep down a full meal and is now dropping weight because of it.
She did eat some crackers and was fine. She's proud of herself for that one.
Despite Sergio driving the second redbull, she was happy to be back. The paddock felt similar to home in some ways.
The only new thing is that she's never alone. When free practice 1 comes around, Max dutifully places her on the pitwall next to Christian. She dosen't move until somone comes to get Her.
She feels mildly like a nuisance to them since they have to pay extra attention to her now.
She's stays in their hotel room the rest of the weekend until right before the race. Everyone in the garage is shocked to see her walk in alone.
All her boys end up on the podium, and it's the first time she's celebrated since she came back.
~
Three quarters through the season, and she's still not driving. Still training in more ways than one, but not driving.
She doesn't feel like she can. Her body is still physically decimated. She's able to keep down more then just toast now, but that's on a good day.
Her powers are at the strongest they've ever been. She's managed to learn more about self-defense in case someone tries to nab her again. But with that comes sticky note threats in Jos Verstappens' handwriting.
It's starting to look desperate.
Despite the state of her uncooperative body, she still went to every race. Attempting to be as supportive as possible from the sidelines.
It didn't feel as painful as when she felt as though she lost her spot the first time. This time, she still had purpose. She is doing her best to learn how to keep her family safe. That's all she could ask of herself.
All of them were glad she wasn't pushing to get back in the car. They all know about her aptitude for pain. Christian is amazed by how she's coping and fully supports her decision. Seb seems to be cheering her on in the pits even though he's the one driving.
She doesn't even bat an eye when Jos makes a vaugly threatening statement towards her. Because if she wanted, she'd have his head through the wall in a second.
She doesn’t let herself get comfortable this time. The nagging feeling that something worse is coming a constant in the back of her mind.
~
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Sweet As Pie (Beau Arlen)
Pairing: Beau Arlen X F!Reader
Summary: Beau has a crush on you, so with a bit of help from Jenny, he asks you out.
Warnings: Bit of language, this is literally candy cane fluff
WC: 1.9k
A/N: I meant it when I said I was gonna write for beau. He's so sweet, I adore him. Might or might not write some more for him, depends how this does. What can I say, I'm in my jensen era. Enjoy the pure fluff, you usually don't get this from me. I'm gonna proceed to disappear for another 3 months now.
Note if you're seeing this for a second time, yes, I am reposting this. I had some issues with the tags/dash and it wasn't showing up at all. So I'm trying again. Fingers crossed. No changes tho.
Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
“You’re so into her.”
“I am not.” Even he grimaced at that, his eyebrows furrowed and he pulled his lips into a pout of disapproval, who was he kidding, he knew Jenny was right. But it wasn’t like he could say that out loud.
When he pulled his ass halfway across the country after his daughter and ex wife, the last thing he expected was to fall for the owner of the local bakery—you. But who wouldn’t? When he met you he was absolutely speechless. The bright smile on your lips, your welcoming attitude, your pretty eyes and your sweet words, they left him flustered. And then he tasted one of your pies, and he knew he was absolutely entranced by you.
Beau Arlen had a crush on you. Big time.
He thought he did a pretty good job at hiding it, but after you stopped by the station to drop off a freshly baked cherry pie for him, Jenny caught on. That and the fact that he would not shut the fuck up about you. That was a pretty big tell too. But he thought he was being pretty casual, or at least you seemed to think so, in your clueless nature since apparently it was pretty obvious the sheriff had a bit of a thing for you.
“Really?” Jenny raised an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, clearly unimpressed. Beau opened his mouth to argue, but quickly realized he had nothing to say, so his lips quickly fell into a line and he shook his head, pretty much running away from Jenny and her persistent stare as he walked into the station.
He had hoped she would leave him alone about it, that some criminal would change her focus, but much to his dismay, she followed him and she had this knowing look that reminded him of when a mother knew her son had a crush on the pretty girl at school. And at his age, he absolutely did not like that idea at all.
“Okay, can you not?” He finally stopped and turned around to look at her, only to find that look intensifying along with a small grin and her hands on her hips.
“What?”
“Can you not look at me like that?”
She had to hold back a laugh, “Like what?”
Beau rolled his eyes, his head falling to the side with annoyance as he let out a sigh, “Like you know some embarrassing secret.”
“Well it’s not a secret, you like her, and everyone has noticed by now.” She pointed out with a shrug like it was a simple fact. Beau once again opened his mouth to argue, but his lips simply parted, no actual rebuttal coming out, which only made Jenny snicker even more. “See, for once in your life you’re actually speechless.”
“Y’know what,” He clicked his tongue, not wanting to be ridiculed further, “I don’t think this is somethin’ we should be discussing at the station. We actually have work to do, y'know, catch criminals and whatnot, so if we could just drop the subject.” He made a gesture with his hand, hoping the shade of pink that he could feel dusting across his freckled face wasn’t noticeable.
“You know, considering how much you love to talk, one would think you would’ve asked her out by now,” She continued, earning her a small glare from Beau, which only made her chuckle. “She’d probably say yes, she’s so into you.”
Beau opened his mouth to disagree, but quickly closed his mouth when the words sunk in. He stood still for a second as he contemplated the idea of you actually liking him, as more than just a friend that was. He thought about the way you would smile at him whenever he talked to you about his daughter, the way you would burst into this cute giggle when he complimented your sweet touch, or how your eyes always seemed to light up when he would walk into your bakery. He thought about it. He smiled at the idea. But then again, you were sweet by nature, so maybe all of those things were just that, your sweet nature and nothing more right? He would just be making a fool of himself by asking you out. Surely, someone as pretty as you was already spoken for. Somehow he hadn't dared to ask.
“She’s not into me. We're just friends. Just like you and me are friends, and just how Cassie and I are friends. There’s nothin’ more to it.” He finally responded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Jenny. But you didn’t need detective skills to know he didn’t believe that, and neither did she.
“You don’t look at Cassie or me the way you look at her, and she sure as hell doesn’t look at other people the way she looks at you. I’m not blind, I’ve been around you two.” She pointed out, now her hands folded over his chest and her head tilted. “Just ask her out. It’s that simple.”
Beau mimicked her stance from a few second ago, his hands on his hips as he leaned down to speak to her level, “That ain’t gonna happen. I’m not asking—” As soon as your name slipped from his tongue, he immediately regretted it because a second or two later, he heard the gentle sound of your voice. He didn’t have to turn around to know you were there, he could just tell it was you, the sound of your voice and your sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent being ingrained in his brain by then.
“You’re not asking me what?” You asked with curiosity and a bit of confusion, having walked into the station a minute prior and having found Jenny and Beau having a conversation, his back to you.
“Jesus,” Beau breathed out, his face now turning a shade of red as he turned around to face you, but even then he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his pink lips at the sight of you, he couldn’t help the way his chest pounded either. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘round here. How’re you doin’ sweetheart?” Despite the fluttering in his stomach, his charm was always ever so present, and especially knowing just how flustered he made you, and this time it was no different.
“I’m good. I just, y’know, I was testing my new chocolate pecan pie recipe and I thought that maybe you would want to try some?” You bit your lip, motioning to the styrofoam box in your hand. He hadn’t even noticed that. His focus was completely taken by the pretty sundress that fell just above your knees and the glow that radiated over your face, your eyes lighting up with that look he absolutely adored. “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve called first, I thought about you.. That you would really like this pie, ‘cause you like pie and all.”
“Oh, wow, well that’s awfully kind of you. Thank you,” He smiled, happily taking the box from you, his fingers grazing yours briefly, but it was enough to make you shudder a bit. “And don’t ever apologize for bringing me food, I’ll always welcome anythin’ you give me.”
A smile replaced the flustered look on your face and you nodded at him, eyes locking with his green ones as you looked up at him. Five, maybe ten seconds went by when you remembered that Jenny was just standing there watching your exchange with Beau. Your eyes landed on her and you laughed awkwardly.
“I’m sorry, hi Jenny. It’s nice to see you.” You said to her with a smile, which she welcomed, but she looked amused, even more so when she exchanged looks with Beau before she looked back at you.
“Hey, it’s nice to see you too. We were actually talking about you just now.”
Your eyebrows shot up, and you tilted your head with curiosity, looking between her and the sheriff, “Oh? Nothing bad I hope.”
“Oh, no, no, of course not. Beau was just telling me that he wanted to ask you something.” Beau turned his head in her direction, eyes wide like they were going to pop out if their sockets and a flutter of pink dusted over his cheeks as his lips opened and closed a few times.
You looked between both of them a bit confused and nervous at the same time, “Oh. Okay, well, what's up?” You asked Beau with a small smile. But the blonde just stared at you, teeth digging into his bottom lip.
“Okay, I have work to do, so find me when you’re done,” Jenny said to Beau with a tiny grin before she looked at you, “It was nice seeing you.” She gave you a small nod before she disappeared down one of the hallways, leaving you and Beau.
He still hadn't said anything, which worried you since he always had something to say. “Beau?”
Beau was mentally cursing at himself, not understanding why he was having such a difficult time saying such simple words. Deep down he knew you liked him too, but he didn’t want to fuck this up too. He liked you too much, and he didn’t think he could handle anothet disappointment. But as his eyes found yours, always so sweet and so patient, not at all bothered by his indecisiveness, but more so curious and endearing, he just couldn’t keep the words in any longer.
“What the hell,” He let out a heavy breath, eyes closing for a second before he found your eyes again, his chest pounding and blood rushing to his ears, “Do you wanna go on a date sometime? With me?”
The words left his mouth so fast you barely understood what he was asking you. It took a good second or two for his words to actually sink in. He was starting to get worried and panic flashed through his eyes. And then you smiled, bigger than he had ever seen you smile.
“Yeah.” Was all you could say in a breath, a smile tugging at your lips.
Beau blew out a breath of relief, a smile of his own forming on his lips, “Yeah?”
You nodded a bit too quickly, “Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you.”
“Okay, great.” He laugh softly, resting a hand over his rapidly beating heart. Now he was matching your slightly overbearing enthusiasm, but fuck, how could he not, you were an absolute dream. “How does tomorrow at eight sound?”
You bit your lip, tugging it under your teeth and you fiddled with the hem of your dress, thinking for a second before nodding eagerly, “Sounds great.”
“Eight it is then.” He chuckled, the smile on his lips so big wrinkles formed on the corner of his eyes, which you personally found absolutely adorable.
You chewed on your bottom lip, not being able to hide the smile on your lips as you took a step towards him, “See you at eight sheriff,” You giggled softly as you stood on the tip of your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, the heat on his skin matching your own.
“See ya at eight darlin’” He called out after you as he watched you leave the station, the biggest smile on his face as he mentally thanked Jenny for embarrassing him, and just how much paperwork he was going to make her do for it.
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Confrontation
Book: Crimes of Passion (pre-canon)
Characters: Emma Rose (F!MC), Michael Masako (M!OC)
Rating: Teen
Word count: ~1200
Summary: Emma is finally ready for therapy. But is she also ready for what it entails?
A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompt: I don't know who I am anymore. @choicesficwriterscreations
Dr. Michael J. Masako came highly recommended. He’s also more or less affordable, which a 20-year-old broke college student needs to take into consideration. Especially if she wants to attend that performance of A Doll's House next week.
Emma fidgets in her seat in the waiting room, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Immediately, she hates herself for it. If there’s one thing she doesn’t do, it’s show her nerves for all to see. Surreptitiously, she looks around. No one is paying her the least attention.
The receptionist looks up from the computer screen. “Emma Rose? Dr. Masako will see you now.”
She walks to his office on shaking legs, wishing she had stopped for coffee on the way, so she’d at least have something to occupy her hands. A good-looking man who appears to be in his fifties opens the door for her.
“Emma, come in.” He shakes her hand, then gestures to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, sit.”
She likes his smile. It’s professional but warm. She still doesn’t know if she can go through with this, but she’s put a little more at ease.
“What brings you here, Emma?”
“Er… that is…” She clears her throat. “I’m not sure.”
That’s a lie, of course. Emma wouldn’t even have considered therapy unless she was sure. But how do you tell a stranger I don’t think I know how to feel anymore?
“All right. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, then?”
“I’m a pre-law student at NYU.”
“That’s a very good school.”
“I guess.”
“Do you know what kind of law you want to practice?”
“Oh, I don’t want to go into law. I’m going to be a cop.”
If Dr. Masako is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He clicks his pen and taps it on his palm. “I see. What made you choose pre-law, then?”
“I figured it made sense. You know, can’t defend the law unless you know the law, that sort of thing.”
“Sound logic. Your parents must be very proud.”
“Oh. Um…”
He waits her out, and damn it, she needs to learn interrogation techniques from this guy. “My father is dead,” she says at last.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs.
“And your mother?”
“I doubt she’d care. She walked out on us when I was six. I haven’t seen her since.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
“Thirteen.” She takes a deep breath and decides the hell with it. “He was murdered. Right in front of me. He died holding my hand.”
She didn’t mean to say this last part aloud. But every time she thinks about that day, it’s in snippets. The stale air in the tunnel. The stickiness of her thighs after sitting under the sweltering sun. The taste of a corn dog still coating her throat. The clammy feel of her dad’s hand in hers.
She lowers a mental shutter against the thought. Block it. Kill it.
Something she learned early on is to block out the images, to push them aside as soon as they begin to creep out. At the end of the day, if she wants to make it through the day with her sanity intact, it’s important. Necessary.
Impossible.
“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone a thirteen-year-old.”
“Yeah, well. I survived.” Unspoken is he didn’t.
“That doesn’t mean it hasn’t left a wound.”
She gives him an unimpressed look. “A wound? Slicing your finger when you’re chopping onions leaves a wound.”
“A wound can be deep and life-changing, Emma. I’m not diminishing the gravity of what you've experienced.” He clicks his pen again in what she’s coming to realize is a signature move. “What scars would you say your father’s murder has left in you?”
“Other than the obvious?” She probably should have held the sarcasm at bay, but what kind of question is that?
Dr. Masako isn’t the least bit ruffled. “What’s obvious to you may not be so to others, but yes. Other than the obvious.”
She takes a deep breath. This is why she’s here, isn’t it? To learn how to cope with the scars from her father’s death. She just didn’t expect to be thrown in at the deep end so fast, is all. “I…” Her throat closes up.
“We can talk about something else,” he says, matter-of-factly. “If you’re not ready to talk about this, we can shelve it for now.” He smiles. “Most people stand to benefit from therapy in more than one area of their lives. I’m sure you aren’t an exception.”
She smiles, grateful. “No, I can do it. It’s just…”
“Take your time.”
“My dad didn’t want to go, you know. To that baseball game. He’d had a tough week at work, and he just wanted to watch a football game at home and drink a beer. But I wanted to go.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that he wouldn’t even have been there if it wasn’t for me. I… I haven’t been able to stomach watching a game since he died.”
“That’s understandable.”
“It feels wrong, though. Baseball was something my dad and I had in common. I don’t think he’d be happy with me that I just stopped watching it.”
“Do you think about that a lot? What would make your father happy?”
She fidgets. “Kind of. Sometimes. Yes.”
“You seem uncomfortable. Do you think you shouldn’t?”
“I think… I think I no longer know whether I do what I do because I want to or because of him. I don’t know who I am anymore.” She stops herself. “God, that’s such a cliché. What does that even mean? Of course I know who I am. A girl with one too many flower names who spends more of her paycheck than she should on theater tickets and shoes.”
“That’s a good start. But you still said that you don’t know who you are. Part of you means that.” He clicks his pen again, and God, she’s starting to hate the sound. “It seems to me, Emma, that you spend a lot of time on what you should be feeling and very little on what you actually feel.”
“What, you’re telling me to go around whining?”
“I’m telling you to let yourself feel what you feel. If you don’t give yourself the space to do so, all the emotions you’ve been burying are going to come up eventually. Most likely at an inconvenient time.”
She tastes the sticky aftertaste of fear on her tongue. “I can’t.”
“You survived a deeply traumatic event when you were just a child, but you’ve never really let yourself cope with it. In order to move on, you must do so.”
“I don’t know how to cope with it. That’s why I’m here.”
“Then you’ll learn.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
He clicks the pen. She’s tempted to snap it in half. “The first step, Emma? Stop running away.”
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When You’re Sick {Stardew Valley Bachelors}
Elliott:
“Oh, my love… You’re looking pale! Please, sit down…”
Oh he is so worried :((
And he notices it like… so fast. You don’t even really have a chance of hiding it. He’s always admiring every detail about you, so even a minor change will have his attention.
If you’re insisting about work, he won’t care. You will be forced to lay down and rest. And he will not hear a no.
He will rush to go get medication for you, or food. Or really anything you need or want. He’ll go get it in a heartbeat.
And he’ll pretty much always be by your side. He’ll probably get sick too.
“Here my darling… I’ve brought you some soup. I also picked up some medication for you. Here… Try to take a bite for me, okay?”
Shane:
“Hey… You should sit down… What do you mean why? You’re clearly sick.”
He is also someone who could tell pretty quickly. But not as quickly as Elliot… And here’s why I think so:
He’s gotten sick a lot, mostly after drinking too much alcohol. After he quit though, his health has gotten a lot better. He didn’t really consider being sick, almost as if he had forgotten other people can get sick too.
But he does get the signs quickly. He just… studies you for a minute. Then its like a lightbulb went off in his head when he realizes what’s wrong. Then he says something about it.
But he’s actually very insistent on you resting! He’s more than happy to take care of you. Especially since you had taken care of him so many times.
He’s not really good at farming, but he will take care of the livestock while you’re sick. He’s better with the chickens but he still treats every animal well!
He’s also taken care of Jas when she was sick. And sure, it may be different, but it still helps just a little. He has some clarification on what to do.
“Don’t worry, the animals are all taken care of… Just rest. I’ll try to cook up something.”
Sebastian:
“Woah! Hey… Darling, are you okay?”
He didn’t really notice until you almost fell over. It’s not that he wouldn’t see it if he wasn’t distracted… He was just working on breakfast as a little surprise. Luckily, he caught you just before you hand landed onto the ground.
He felt your head, and sure enough, you were burning up. He gently carried you off to bed.
He gave you the breakfast he prepared but he wasn’t sure if you’d keep it down. He’d be thankful if it did, but if it didn’t, thats fine, there’s no need to worry. He does end up calling his mom at one point for the pumpkin soup recipe.
He’ll also take care of the farm. He might not be the best at it but he’s trying his best
And actually worries about you a lot, maybe more than you know. He’ll try to hide just how worried he is but you could probably tell.
He’ll trying to get tips from his mom along with that pumpkin soup recipe. He just wants to make sure you will be okay.
“What? No, don’t worry… I took care of the farm, and I fully intend on taking care of you, okay?”
Sam:
“Mornin’ babe! I just finished some breakfast-…! Wait… You aren’t lookin’ too good… Here, lets get you to bed.”
He didn’t really put it together for a second. But, like Shane, he also has a younger family member who had gotten sick quite a few times. And for Vincent, he probably got sick more often than Jas. Sam had watched his mom take care of his brother, and he also helped out when he could. So after a second, it registered, and he sent you back to bed.
Sam still called his mom though. She gave him some recipes and some medicine recommendations for the way you were feeling. She’d probably end up dropping the medicine off since Sam didn’t want to leave your side.
Speaking of not leaving your side, Sam is literally not going anywhere. He’d probably end up getting sick too.
The farm is left alone for the day, and while Sam would love to help, he has literally no idea what to do.
He seems calm, but you know he’s worried, probably based on how clingy he was. But he’s a little less worried then everyone else. He tries to joke around with you or to cheer you up. You being cheered up really eased his worries.
He may play calming music if your head isn’t aching.
“I just want you to get better… It sucks to see you like this babe.”
Harvey:
“Dear, I wouldn’t suggest moving… It’s pretty obvious you’re sick…”
He’s a doctor, so he notices like five times faster than Elliott.
He pretty much saw it the moment you woke up, whether that be the facial expressions you make realizing you’re in pain or maybe he noticed how your forehead was hot or how you were sweating to a concerning amount.
Like everyone else, he forces you to bed. He may be a soft sweetheart, but he will be oddly more determined and insistent on this matter.
He’s so sweet though… And he doesn’t do anything wrong.
He gives you medication that makes you feel better more quickly, he gives you ice packs or heating pads, whatever you need.
He will make you food and will make sure it won’t make you sick in any kind of way.
I’m sure he forgets about the farm. He doesn’t purposely ignore it! It’s just he’s so focused on you it’s like everything else disappeared.
He’d probably ask Mary to be in charge of the clinic. Obviously she isn’t certified in any way, but he gets her to promise to give him a call if anyone comes in. But it shouldn’t be a problem, he usually isn’t busy.
100/10, probably the best bachelor to take care of you.
“Here, this should do the trick… It’s medicine to help with your headache! Say ‘Ah’ for me, okay?”
Alex:
“Hey, I noticed you aren’t getting out of bed like you usually do… What’s wrong, baby?”
He didn’t think you were sick honestly, he probably just thought you had a nightmare or you just didn’t feel like getting up. Or maybe you were just feeling sad that day.
He never really gets sick. It kinda slipped his mind people could get sick, kinda like Shane. But when you explain what’s wrong, he is quick to get on his feet.
While you’re resting, he’ll call Evelyn for some advice. He’ll also call Haley! It might seem like a bad choice but Haley has a sister, and they’re friends! She’d know more than he would honestly.
He’ll cook you a nice breakfast, and while you eat, he waters the crops for you! He waters them very quickly though… Like you just finish breakfast and he’s already done!
He’s worried, and over a call with Evelyn, expresses his worries. She, being the innocent, purest soul of the valley, eases him though. You will be perfectly fine, and you just need rest! That calms him down, and makes him a bit chipper too! If Evelyn says you will be fine, you are going to be fine. He trusts her word.
It’s a small detail, but he like… carries you everywhere. You aren’t walking. You want a shower? Here, he’ll bring you there… Want some fresh air? Only for a second! And you’re going to be stuck in his arms.
“Don’t worry angel, grandma said you’re going to be perfectly fine! Now wait here, I’ll go run you a bath.”
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Truce time!
Hi @noxposting :v you got me as your secret gift giver. You get fic this year, because art and I look at one another with wary stares until the other backs down. Hopefully you enjoy it? I tried to add bits of multiple prompts but :v crypid danny going to a coffee shop won out. mostly.
heh.
On Ao3
Barista. Not exactly the pinnacle of anyone’s career, heck, many would call it a low point. Not Valerie though. She knew the real pits of food based service, thanks. It didn’t even involve food! That hideous mascot outfit reeked worse than a dumpster on a warm summer evening on a GOOD day; and anyone that saw you managed to treat you WORSE than that! Which was probably the whole point, when you got ‘promoted’ to cash or the grill you’d actually feel grateful. Seeing your face sure didn’t stop everyone from being the worst human they can be, but enough were too cowardly to be as rotten when the threat of spitting in their food was right there.
It didn’t help with the looks about someone ‘young’ working at a burger place so ‘soon’, and the next time someone asked if she should be in school on a Saturday was getting a special side seasoning of knuckles. If she didn’t need the money, she wouldn’t be working!
So yeah, in short? Getting hired at a coffee shop was a major step up from the Nasty Burger. Like, who calls a place Nasty Burger? She might not be the biggest fan of coffee either, but at least she wasn’t reeking of grease and having weird sauce explosion nightmares anymore. (The training videos about the Nasty sauce were ridiculous, there was no way you could legally keep something that explosive and give it to people to eat, why so graphic?)
Sure, fewer people from school dropped by here, but that was sort of a plus too. Even if it wasn’t as embarrassing to be seen working once free of mascot duty, it still didn’t feel great to watch how everyone else in class got to have fun while she worked for peanuts. Having some easy ways to slack off and chat a bit on slower days was nice though. Usually only bored old ladies wanted to chat here, and not about anything remotely interesting.
Sam Manson was the only person she’d recognized today, but she didn’t really count. Valerie didn’t know what the goth girl’s deal was, but she always acted like she was trying to ‘steal’ her friend. Which yeah okay, she did date Danny for a bit, but it’s not like Sam even tried to date him first! Having more friends or romantic interests wasn’t going to kill the guy, seriously. In her opinion, Sam was way more likely to hurt Danny than she was. Maybe Sam should look at herself instead of getting all weirdo over-protective. Whatever. At least she didn’t make the same old person joke every single customer thought she never heard before. Paid, got enough sugar for her drink to reasonably be considered a soft drink, and left her alone. Easy.
Valerie got back to cleaning up her work area, there wasn’t more for her to accomplish just staring at the sitting area. The bell at the door would let her know if she had to turn around.
Which it did, twenty minutes later. It wasn’t Sam leaving, but some new guy wanting an order. Normal. Except Sam wasn’t sitting alone anymore. When had Danny got here? It wasn’t with Sam- she saw her come in alone. At the same time as new customer guy? Only if he could teleport. Pretty sure the Fentons didn’t have a magic teleporter invented yet, or there’d be way more weird ghost hunter home invasions.
She wasn’t staring. She wasn’t. Took an order, made it, put the cash in the register all without staring at the weirdness of a suddenly appearing ex. Totally.
Danny didn’t even do coffee! Why would he be here? You’d think someone so constantly tired would at least try coffee for the caffeine kick- but he acted like she suggested he stick his tongue in a blender when she asked if that’s what he kept in his thermos one day. Kind of a weird overreaction, but that was just Danny. It was kind of cute in a way, like he needed big reactions to get noticed at all. Considering his family though… she could get it.
If there weren’t more customers coming she might have gone over and asked if he wanted anything. Even if Manson would have been catty about it. She wasn’t scary, just loud.
Mostly people going to join the first guy who ordered. Friends meeting up, probably. Did it matter? No, but thinking about it gave her something to do as her feet got sore and staring while cleaning got boring.
Nosy friends. Sam wasn’t happy, judging by the death glares. Like she wasn’t ever loud with Danny or Tucker. Sheesh.
“Hey Val, can I get a water?”
She blinked once, twice. Danny had not gotten to the counter that fast. Without even making a sound against the slick tile floor. Yet there he was, shy half grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck like he was asking for a big favour.
“Sure, but it’s gotta be in the dinky little cup. That alright?” It was a dumb policy, but that was jobs for you. What was he going to do with a coffee cup full of cold water, make ‘illegal tea’? Who cares?
“Totally. Thanks.” Danny’s grin grew, almost a bit too much for a guy getting a baby cup of tap water.
It was weird. The hairs on the back of her neck shouldn’t be acting up from Danny just being a bit of a goof over water. She forced the stupid feeling down as she handed over the drink and shook her brain back to reality. “No problem. Nasty Burger closed or something?”
“Nah. Tuck’s just grounded and Sam wanted to go somewhere that didn’t reek of cooking animals,” he said, adding playful air quotes to reek before taking the cup. “Those guys don’t seem like they’re locals, what do you think?”
“Listen, after like two hours you all look the same.” Valerie answered with an eye roll, earning another laugh from the boy. “I don’t think I’ve seen them here before though, no.”
“Elmerton, maybe?”
“Maybe? I don’t get paid enough to pay that much attention to them.” Valerie rubbed her forehead before looking at Danny again. Somehow he’d gotten even worse at making conversation! Who cares about some slightly noisy table group?
“We’d find out pretty quick if there was a ghost attack.”
Danny was joking, obviously, but it didn’t keep her from leaning over to hiss “Don’t you dare speak bad luck into my day, Fenton” under her breath.
“Okay, okay! I’m totally not doing that,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, but the easy smile stayed in place.
Sometimes she really wanted to strangle the stick of a boy. Ghosts weren’t funny! He knew that! Some were pathetic, but still not funny. “Good.”
Danny gave a little wave, nearly spilling the thimbleful of water that could fit in the sad little cup as he headed back to the looming thunderstorm that was Sam.
Maybe she was glaring as much as the goth was, she kept feeling the need to blink or rub at her eyes, but they didn’t feel dry. Weird. Her suit would warn her of any real danger from spectral pests, but she could do without randomly feeling really off for no reason.
Oh! She was just feeling weird because it wasn’t so loud anymore. That was all. The uncomfortable chill and too long shadows were just in her head. The noisy group kept looking around and fidgeting in their seats instead of just loudly saying everything and everything.
Sam was comfortable enough, even if it looked like the light on her side of the room had died, leaving her and Danny lurking in shadows that kept creeping closer and closer to the other group- not literally.
She shook her head. She needed a break. Pushing back into the employee’s only section would give her a moment to drink some water and wake up before she started seeing things.
–
“Pushing it a bit? She totally almost caught you.”
“But she didn’t.” Danny pushed Sam’s comment away as he slid out of his seat. “Besides, I thought you wanted me to get ‘em to shut up a bit.”
“I did. You’re just being extra,” Sam rolled her eyes, watching the now quite cowed group of out-of-towners.
Danny gave a loose shrug, shoulders weirdly out of tune with the movement that should be all about them. “I’m hungry! No one local ever gets scared of easy stuff anymore,” his arm twitched as he spoke, a faint green twisting and twining through his skin. It seemed to thread through skin and muscle, pulsing and pulling bits from beneath before sliding back into smooth skin again, a secret no one was meant to really see.
Sam pointedly avoided looking at that arm. She didn’t try to tell him to be more careful again either.
Danny’s grin slid a bit too far to be comfortable on a human face before he moved closer to the group that kept looking for the door. “Hey. Did any of you guys see the light switch? It’s kind of dark here.”
It was dark in here. On a bright sunny day, with all the windows open. It shouldn’t be- but ghosts hardly cared about what ‘shouldn’t’ be. He wanted it to be dark- and his powers obliged. Eagerly, even. Happy, delighting that instead of squabbling and fighting with another ghost he was going to do what they were meant to do. Scare the daylights out of the living. Grab the feeling and emotion and life his own chest forgot how to feel some days. More and more often, lately.
“No? I-I didn’t really see anything.” The first person tried to answer back, failing to match Danny’s easy smile, leaning further back in his chair as Danny leaned forward, a tilt to his head.
“Really? Darn. Maybe one of you can help me out?”
It was funny. He was totally still ‘Danny Fenton’ right now, asking a very casual question in an easy way but everyone lurched back as if he asked to rip out their teeth. “I totally get it if you can’t though. I just have bad luck with switches.”
He reached out, arm twitching again in an awful, too loose way. Like he’d popped it out of his arm socket but it kept slowly reaching towards his target as it twisted and seemed to burn. Neon green scarring burst out from his fingertips and spread as he got closer and closer and flared into a painful glow as they screamed and tried to back away from him.
His friends didn’t do much better, scrambling away and abandoning their friend to the ‘terrifying thing’ casually just walking after him.
“What are you! Get back!”
Danny ignored the panicked pleading, only grinning as the others found the door to be locked. “Huh? I’m just a guy asking you for help?”
“No you aren’t! You-you-you’re some monster!”
His eyes flashed green as he put his twisted, burning, scarring arm to his chest. “A monster? Really?” The green scarring spread like the electricity that first caused it- the damage throwing his whole body into a sickly painful looking glow. “Is that what you see?”
His target tripped as he tried to escape, tangled in his own legs and shaking too much to really gain any ground even as Danny didn’t move above walking speed.
“If I’m such a monster, how about you tell me how it feels?”
The shriek was enough to hurt his ears for a second as he reached forward and grabbed the unfortunate human, the rolling green transferred over for only seconds before it leapt back to Danny, slowly fading back under his skin and taking all the horrific damage with it.
The doors had unlocked, letting all the others escape as he rocked on his heels, waiting for the one who’d passed out from sheer terror to get back up. It wasn’t as if he ACTUALLY felt how awful that day was. It was a fraction, a hint of his own memory. Not fatal. Just absolutely terrifying.
“And Sam calls me dramatic.” Danny muttered, nudging them again with his foot before joining Sam back at the table. He could just say the others pranked him and left him if Valerie was annoyed at the unconscious person on the floor.
After all, it wasn’t as if any ghost was here. She’d know about an ‘attack’.
He’d just gotten his own kind of snack.
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How about some angst. After seeing how skilled Agent 4 is in defeating him, DJ Octavio has Maya kidnapped and uses his hypnoshades(he makes them harder to take/shoot off) to turn her into his perfect soldier. How would the squidbeak splatoon react.
Very funny fact I actually had a plot line like this in a splatoon fic I had YEARRSS ago like in my wattpad days😭 (it’s deleted on there now tho lol). I’ve also kinda made art for this idea with that one bad end agents piece I did ages ago but I never put more thought into it aside from drawing it.
Obviously this would be pre splat3 considering Octavio wouldn’t do this splat3 - post splat 3 cus busy in the desert and then redemption arc, so tldr this won’t include neo 3 or deep cut.
Most prominently Marie would fucking FREAK out. Since you word it as it’s after he sees how skilled she is at defeating him and we can see he’s obviously capable of getting out again, this would probably not be long after the end of splat2’s storymode and Marie who is still coping with losing Callie and just now getting her back would NOT handle this well, like even just realizing Maya is missing and Octavio’s out would completely set her off. Callie would be panicking almost as much as she’s also very much still recovering and now has to deal with facing Octavio all over again because there’s no way she’d let Marie get her back alone. Add Craig Eight and Three into the mix with them coming back from octo expansion; Ashley is essentially just like “oh wow cool new agent- anddd already a new member of the brainwashed club got it.” Lucky I think would choose not to get involved and leave it to the others and Craig is essentially just “WTF happened while I was gone.”
Going into a scenario where it’s farther in the future though so everyone’s already built connections: Ashley is PISSED more than anything because of her already strained and broken relationship with Octavio and this would make it a million times worse, along with being angry that their girlfriend has to go through another thing in her life. Seeing her actually brainwashed and being that perfect soldier would be what gets that anger to turn into just fear, because it’s a similar reflection of herself under Tartar’s control.
Lucky knows Maya can handle herself, but she’s more scared for her than she’s willing to admit, considering she has no memories of her former leader and only has the stories everyone else has shared of what he’s done, and she’s never gone out of her way to interact with him. Similar to Ashley, seeing her brainwashed from the glasses just reminds her of her fight with three in the elevator, but similar to then she’s more willing than the others to fight her to try and yank those glasses off her face.
I don’t think Marie would be able to even properly fight her. I think she’d still feel guilty about shooting Callie in the face even though it needed to be done, so having to actually go outright fight her daughter would be way too much to the point that I don’t think she could even bring herself to do it. Her focus would be more on trying to snipe down Octavio in the background of the fight if he’s there, and if not, letting the others handle Maya so she can go hunt him down while his “perfect soldier” is distracted, mostly because she can’t even stand to stay there and see her like that and she’d want to still be useful. Callie I think would be in a similar situation with Marie, but staying behind anyways. She knows how disorienting it is to come down from being brainwashed and I think she’d focus on that and staying behind at the fight to be there for Maya when they get the glasses off to keep herself distracted from how horrible she feels about this even happening to her.
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Putain de Moose || Regan & Kaden
TIMING: Current
LOCATION: The Pines on Wild Chase Moose Tours
PARTIES: Kaden and Regan
SUMMARY: Kaden promises Regan free bones if she'll go on a Wild Moose Chase Tour with him. They have an encounter with a few surprise creatures -- a real bargain for the ticket price.
“His throat may be sore because he is not used to speaking,” Regan added, catching Jane’s curious attention, “he is an experienced mime.”
Kaden was pretty sure it was still fifty-fifty if Regan would actually show up to the moose tour at the promise of free bones. He wasn’t entirely sure if her love of bones would win out over her distaste for anything remotely fun or around people. Hell, half the time, he wasn’t even sure if she tolerated him, let alone liked him. He had to believe that she at least didn’t hate him or she wouldn’t have even considered joining him on the dumb moose tour.
He knew he didn’t have to go on a whole tour to call her on her bluff about loving moose and knowing everything about them but honestly, she should get out of the house more. Or the morgue more likely. Maybe she’d get lucky and see a dead moose. He hoped so. It would probably make up for all the questions he planned to ask her about the “screaming moose.” A lie if he ever heard one. He just couldn’t figure out what she was covering up. Yet.
“You showed up,” he said, giving her a small wave. “I nearly thought I was going to get stood up.” They were both there early, sure, but he figured if he wasn’t there before her, she would bolt before he even got a chance to say hello.
------
Regan thought only – and very strongly – of moose bones as she reluctantly marched toward the tour bus. At least the purple dusk sweeping over the sky made for an attractive backdrop. She didn’t even care about the live moose. Certainly did not care about Kaden. It would be easy to leave him behind. Her agreeing had nothing to do with him.
“Hello.” She met his very strange look with a measured one. Others piled up behind them, chittering amongst themselves about the moose and excitement over the tour and blah blah where were the bones? She gave Kaden a deep frown. She could sense no death on him at all. “You didn’t bring them with you, the bones. You said you would give me bones after the tour, but they aren’t here.” Was his intent that they would need to see each other again? She didn’t like it. But, she supposed, if he had brought them, she would have found a way to wheedle them out of him early. She had looked up the length of the tour. 90 minutes. And then adding to that the time it would take for the bones to be presented? The thought curdled inside of her.
The bus started with a metallic hiss of the engine and two individuals – also having not a lick of death about them – climbed out. One of them was in a moose mascot costume. The other was only slightly more normal, and wore a pair of plastic moose antlers on top of her head. Regan looked at Kaden, wondering if he knew this was the flavor of the tour?
“Hi all you ladies and moose!” She chirped obnoxiously loud, speaking into a clip-on mic. Also, was she saying men were moose? “Welcome to Wild Moose Chase Tours! I’m Jane, and this is my co-moose, Swamp Donkey. Are you all ready to see some moose? Come aboard! And grab your antlers on the way.” Swamp Donkey held a box of the same plastic antlers adorned to Jane’s head, and passengers slowly filed onto the bus after picking up a pair. Regan gave Kaden a seething look. “You owe me real antlers for this. Understood? And you’re taking mine. You can be a… rare, four-antlered moose, since you know so much about them.” Regan turned to Jane next, who was really trying to push antlers into her hands. She busied her hands instead by gesturing to Kaden. If he were close enough she would have jabbed him with an elbow. “He’s a moose expert, by the way. Animal Control. In case you need audience participation.”
------
Kaden sighed. He should have known the first thing she would ask about (and probably the only thing she cared about) was the bones. He wagged a finger at her and said, “You get those after the tour.” He knew better than to have them now. If he handed them over before the tour started, she never would have gotten on the bus. And if she was going to insist she was a massive moose fan, he was going to make her sit through the whole damn tour. Maybe it would be enough to break her will to fess up at least one of her secrets, maybe give him some insight on these ‘screaming moose.’ “Wait, how did you know I didn’t have the bones with me?”
They were being led to the bus before he could get an answer. It was nearly impossible to bite back the smile and snickering when he saw the plastic antlers. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to those. And he was absolutely going to find a way to get her to wear them. “You know, I don’t know if I can give you all the bones if you don’t participate in the tour,” he said, holding the second pair towards her on the way to their seats. “Don’t let her fool you, “ he said, nodding towards Jane. “She’s a huge fan of moose. Practically an expert. We should really all be asking her questions and having her lead the tour.” The poor employee looked confused and flustered, this was all probably above her pay grade. He tried to flash her a look that told her not to worry about all this. He wasn’t sure if she was able to interpret it.
The whole setup was ridiculous and cheesy and if he were by himself, he’d hate every second of it. But since he dragged Regan here against her will? It was perfect. Maybe she’d feel a fraction of the frustration he felt anytime he tried to get one measly answer out of her. So he put on the stupid antlers and reached over to put the second pair on her head. “Come on. Can’t see the moose without them. You might scare them off otherwise.”
------
As everyone had antlers foisted into their hands and were shepherded onto the bus, Regan took an uneasy seat next to Kaden, leaving a generous amount of space between the two of them. Jane’s eyes were alight when he’d mentioned her expertise, and now Regan was expecting both she and Kaden would be picked on to answer any of her stupid moose trivia questions she had up her sleeves. Or would Swamp Donkey be asking the questions? No, Swamp Donkey was a moose. They wouldn’t have him speak.
The bus departed from the moose center and Kaden was nudging a pair of antlers toward her head. Regan hissed and tried to swat them away. “They should be frightened. Alive, they mean nothing to me.” Someone sitting behind the two of them whispered to their companion, hushed tone uneasy. And Kaden was so festeringly persistent she was forced to snatch the band out of his hands and stuff it into the pouch on the back of the seats in front of them. There. Gone. Out of sight, at least. “Is this it?” She asked him, eyes narrowed into slits. “Is this what you wanted? Are you filled with joy, or whatever it is that marks an occasion as pleasurable and exciting for you? I would do a lot for bones, but this is pushing it.” And it was also entirely too late to leave. The bus was already headed toward the highway – moose country.
As Jane flitted down the aisle to check on everyone, she stopped in front of the two of them. “Oh, did you not get your antlers?” Jane asked, voice full of confusion and what struck Regan as fake concern. She reached atop her own head, pulled hers off, and flicked a switch on the band. Before Regan could even process the blinking lights covering the antlers, they were slapped onto her skull. “Here! Take mine! They light up.” She turned to Kaden next, which Regan could at least be thankful for; he would not escape humiliation of his own. Right? Jane pushed a recording device into his hands. “As our Animal Control expert, would you mind making a recording of your best moose call? Maybe we can draw in some big ones! Channel the musk into your voice!”
------
Kaden bit down on his lip to try and keep from laughing as the antlers blinked on top of Regan’s head, but he couldn’t hold it back entirely, a few snickers escaped. This was even better than he could have imagined. “Fashionable. You should keep them. Wear them to work. Make the dead bodies a little cheerier.”
Before she had time to chastise him for suggesting such a thing, there was a recording device in his face. “Uh…” His eyes went wide and confusion swept over his face. Alright, this was only fun when he was the one picking on Regan, not when he was the one in the hot seat. Putain de merde, they wanted a moose call? His eyes darted to Regan who seemed just as amused as he had been a second ago. Looking back at this Jane person, he decided to cough and clear his throat. “Sorry,” he said, trying to make his voice as dry and damaged as possible. “I can’t. Little hoarse today. You can ask our other expert.” He nudged Regan and tried to hand the device off to her. He didn’t need to see her to know that the answer from her was going to be a resounding “no.”
“Didn’t I hear you talking earlier?” Jane asked, almost looking hurt that no one was joining in on the experience to the fullest.
“What?” Kaden replied at full volume, forgetting his ruse. Merde. He tried to cough again and play it up. “Comes in waves.” That seemed to be enough for her and the bus was moving now. Finally, they were on their way. Jane didn’t miss a beat and started on her script, explaining all about the majestic moose of Maine. Now that the recording device was gone, Kaden’s hand shot up. The tour guide did her best to ignore him but he was persistent. With a sigh, she paused and nodded, allowing him to ask his question. “What do you know about these screaming moose? I keep hearing about them. This is new to me. Are they a local variant to Wicked’s Rest?”
------
Kaden had tried to push the recording device toward her, and for a second, Regan was tempted to grab it, screech, and make the blasted thing expire in front of them. Jane’s insistence spared the bus that experience and Regan was left with a burning shame that she’d had such a rash impulse to begin with. It was uncharacteristic, a symptom of her present discomfort, and she needed to be better. “His throat may be sore because he is not used to speaking,” Regan added, catching Jane’s curious attention, “he is an experienced mime.”
As Kaden asked his question (with a remarkably clear voice, as Jane probably noticed), Regan felt as though the bus lurched forward, leaving her stomach behind. It was inevitable the topic of screaming moose would come up. Part of her knew that. But that did not prepare her. “Ignore him,” Regan piped up, sliding forward in her seat in an effort to obstruct Jane’s view of Kaden. “He knows everything there is to know about the subject, and is only testing your knowledge. I don’t think you should waste your time humoring him.” She gave him a dark glare, which helped distract from the painful cramping inside her gut. “That’s perfectly alright!” Jane chirped in her irritating manner, “We love our screaming moose here at Wild Moose Chase, and can never talk too much about ‘em!” She gestured over to Swamp Donkey, and the costumed man (or, more likely, underpaid college student) approached the mic. “The screaming moose are a rare, local subspecies.” Jane’s voice lowered, her hands and fingers splayed out, wiggling, emphasizing the mystery of it all. “Swamp Donkey here will give a demonstration of what they sound like.” The moose’s giant head bobbed, felt-constructed dewlap swaying.
And through the thick layers of fabric, the costumed moose man screamed into the mic. It was a harsh, unimpressive sound, and the driver did not even pause.
The bus filled with clapping hands, and a couple of children bounced around in their seats, unable to contain their awe. Regan sprung out of her seat, too. But her eyes narrowed in barely contained fury. “How dare you –” She nearly lost her balance as the bus turned, and gripped hard on the edge of the seat in front of her, knuckles tense and white. Righteousness filled her, and her tirade may as well have been voiced by her grandmother, not her; her thoughts were pumped into her from another time, another world. “Know your place,” she hissed, “an bhfuil muid ceaptha a bheith tógtha leis an gcogar truamhéileach sin?” Regan caught her breath. The stirrings of a frustrated scream pushed against her lungs but she swallowed it. And… a bus full of eyes were on her, she was starting to realize. “You call this an educational experience…” She muttered.
Jane blinked. Swamp Donkey backed away and slunk toward the rear of the bus. Regan lost her grip on the seat and staggered, the weight of her outburst pulling her back down. She could not look at Kaden.
“Right-o,” Jane said, seemingly stunned. “The existence of the screaming moose may be controversial to some. I guess.” The driver saved the moment, craning his neck toward Jane in some kind of a signal. “We have our first moose!” She announced.
------
Kaden had to bite back the smirk threatening to break out on his face. The doctor seemed very eager to shut down any talk about the supposed screaming moose. Almost like she knew more than she was letting on. There was no denying that the medical examiner was full of secrets, ones she wasn’t keen on sharing with Kaden no matter how hard he’d tried. But maybe, just maybe, today he could pry one more little nugget of truth out of her. If she was a warden, well, he wanted to know that for plenty of reasons. If she was something else, alright he probably didn’t need to know. It wasn’t like they were friends. Unless they were? He couldn’t tell. Curiosity beckoned him either way. He was going to figure this shit out. If nothing else so he knew what the fuck a screaming moose really was.
“Actually, I don’t think I do know everything. I’m not local, you know. I grew up in France. It’s very far away. As far as I know, we don’t have screaming moose there so I was hoping to get a good local perspective,” he told Jane, who was all too happy to elaborate, getting the mascot man in on the whole thing. Kaden wished he had been more prepared for the screech that was unleashed into the microphone. It wasn’t quite as loud as whatever local “moose” was screaming in the woods or around town, but it was bad enough that he winced at the sound that stunned his ears.
He shot the mascot a dirty look, about to tell him to back away from the mic next time when Regan had already launched into her own grievance. Wait, she had a grievance? His brow furrowed, trying to figure out why the display had angered her so much. If he had to guess, it was almost as if she was taking the imitation personally. His eyes drifted from the moose mascot to the medical examiner, hoping to glean some sort of insight by staring at her. How dare you. Know your place. That was definitely what she said, he hadn’t misheard her. Putain, what the hell had she meant by that?
“Didn’t realize you were so passionate about screaming moose,” he said at a volume meant only for her to hear. The rest of the bus was up and scooting and standing to get a glimpse of the announced moose. “Sort of sounded like you were defending them or something. Maybe I’m off base, though.” Kaden shrugged and glanced out the window next to him, looking for the moose in question.
“Oh, wow this is a treat!” Jane said just as Kaden was starting to process what it was he was looking at. “This is a very rare moose variant that’s native to these parts. It’s not a screaming moose, unfortunately, but it is certainly unique!”
She was right about that in some ways. It certainly wasn’t a treat, though. The ranger shifted in his seat, craning his head to get a better look at the creature which was definitely not a moose. That was a bies if he ever saw one. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled. He had opened his mouth to say something to Regan when the microphone was shoved in front of his face.
“Please, tell us more!” Jane chirped, thrilled for such an exciting event. Kaden was less thrilled, pushing it away.
“The only thing I’m telling you is that we should drive far away. Now.” Funny, would be a great time for a fucking screaming moose to make an appearance.
------
She did not appreciate Kaden’s pointed whispering. She appreciated even less that she had just sounded exactly like her grandmother, and she burned with shame at the realization, melting back into her seat. She could feel Kaden staring at her. He should mind his own business. Yet she couldn’t resist answering him along the same vein; it was automatic, a reflex. “They’re magnificent creatures,” Regan muttered, “so no, I won’t tolerate this mockery.” Fortunately (or unfortunately) Jane had the bus practically screech to a stop as everyone coalesced on one side of the bus to get a good look at the moose. The bus wouldn’t tip over, would it? She didn’t really want to deal with picking bodies out of wreckage today. Though considering the lack of a scream, she supposed they’d at least be alive.
The bus was full of ooing and awing and excited murmuring that people got their money’s worth. Nothing like that from Kaden, though. Shouldn’t he be more excited than anyone to see a moose, given his job? Or did that make it blasé? You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all? “What, you don’t like a unique moose?” She raised a brow, studying him. He’d given her that look enough times; now it was her turn. Regan peered over him and caught a glimpse of the animal out the window – difficult to see through the throngs of people, but it looked large. Very large. And the moose seemed… really chunky, actually. Regan had seen a lot of moose and none had a habitus quite like this. Drive away? He really didn’t like this moose. She thought back to what he’d told her in the woods, about the creatures, the giant lizard, the things he hunted, and a connection sparked… and then she let it sizzle out, because she didn’t like it.
The bus’s door hissed open and Jane bounced over to it, waving people over as she zoomed down the aisle. “Come on, come on, you won’t want to miss this one! He’s a beauty. Get your cameras ready!” Regan’s eyes widened in alarm and she looked at Kaden. Okay, it re-sparked. Concern did it. What if Jane was leading everyone out to something dangerous? Actually, an angry moose was dangerous to begin with. Did this have something to do with the safety waivers they all signed? A shared moment of panic gave way to what Regan thought might have been a shared sense of responsibility. “I can’t just let – I mean, what if – I might be the only doctor here. And moose are, you know, the – I’ve seen them gore people before, and this seems like a bad idea, doesn’t it? Big animal. Camera flashes. The morgue is nearly full right now. It can’t fit everyone here.” Okay, so they agreed on one thing. Out the window, as everyone filed out, Regan caught a glimpse of the moose again, its eyes glowing in the darkness. Why was there a third – never mind. With a chuff of hot air streaming from its nostrils, it lowered its body, its head bowed as if showing off its enormous antlers. Or as if it were about to–
------
The lines in Kaden’s face crinkled as he fit some of the pieces of the puzzle together. “You’re taking this sort of personally,” he said to her, looking over to try and gauge her reaction. It was likely to be subtle unless he really ruffled her feathers, he’d learned that much. “Almost like you have some sort of deep connection to these screaming moose.” Like maybe she was one of the screaming moose. Did that mean she was a were-moose? Did she shapeshift into a moose to scream in the woods?
Putain de merde, that was the dumbest thought to ever cross his mind. She obviously wasn’t a shapeshifter, of all the fucking people on this bus, he’d know before most. Unless it was a curse and didn’t work the way normal shifters did and therefore threw off his hunter senses. He’d never heard about were-moose before but he’d also never heard of goo swallowing people whole before. Anything was possible. Except she’d mentioned fae in some capacity before.
Right, this was idiotic. And didn’t fucking matter when there was a bies right outside the bus. “I like a unique moose just fine. But some are aggressive. Like that vulture I helped you with.” He hoped she understood what he was implying from the context of it all. There was a spark of recognition in her eyes and Kaden felt a fleeting sense of hope.
Then the doors opened. And the tour guide was leading everyone out of the bus. “Hey, no, stop,” he said, trying to wave his arms and encourage the innocent idiots to turn back. “We should really leave nature be, right? View from a distance. A safe one. As a moose expert, I really recommend that you stay inside of the–”
No one was listening to him. Or to Regan. They were all too concerned with the “moose.” Kaden looked over to the window and saw it prepare to charge straight into the gaggle of moose enthusiasts outside the bus. Putain de fucking merde. Kaden couldn’t get out of the bus fast enough, he knew that much, but he had to act. Now. But how?
He reached over and yanked down the window and screamed out at the monster as loud as he could manage. The beast twitched its ears in discomfort but it was barely a disruption. It wasn’t going to change course. Shit. “Don’t look at the eye!” he shouted with his now strained voice across the way to the people oohing and awing, most of them with their phones out snapping pictures like it was all part of the plan. If only he had his gun on him but some stupid part of him thought it wouldn’t be necessary on a goddamn moose tour.
The monster was about to take off running when a loud noise split through the forest, sending Kaden’s hands to his ears to try and block out the pain piercing into his eardrum. When he looked up, he saw a rustle in the trees behind the spooked monster. Something else was there and he could only hope the antlers peaking through weren’t from another bies.
------
No one was listening to either of them, and because of the way Kaden was reacting, Regan’s belly swam with dread, the instinct that something was about to go very wrong. But she would know, wouldn’t she? If someone were about to die, at least… and her lungs were compliant for now, and not so close to bursting. She stayed close to Kaden, watching him slam the window down with some confusion. “I don’t think you can fit through–” Oh, his plan was warning them with a poor excuse for a scream. How sad that his voice seemed to ache from such a small effort. “I’ve heard better,” she said flatly at him, crossing her arms, as if that were the most important commentary she could offer. Right. Probably not. “Listen to the officer!” Regan shouted, carefully – but maybe not perfectly – towing the line between regular (pitiful) human shout and her superior cords. That at least made a couple of people glance over at the bus, but she could still see flashes from a few phone cameras.
“They don’t like eye contact? And did I see a third– actually, forget it.” Regan asked him under her breath. Another flash in the darkness. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw the great creature’s head lower even more as it kicked up at the ground. This was extremely bad. Preemptively call the EMTs bad.
With the crowd mostly off the bus, Regan had enough room to squeeze down the aisle and out the door, Kaden not far behind. Before they even stumbled outside, a harsh scream split the night in half. No human could have made a noise like that. Perhaps even nothing but a banshee. Regan froze in place and locked eyes with Kaden, who looked far more pained and shaken by such an impressive aria. “Like that. That was better,” Regan told him. Was Siobhan out in the woods, somehow? Maybe she had been looking for carcasses and happened to be in the area. Her eyes were full of awe and instead of the dread that gripped her heart earlier, it now felt full.
Regan jumped off the bus just in time to see the huge moose-like beast rear up on its hind legs, screaming like a wounded animal instead of banshee. Kaden just barely managed to pull a woman out of the way before the creature slammed back down with tremendous force. And there, behind it, was a second one. Or, no, those were actual moose antlers. The moose emerged from the brush and, side-by-side with the first animal, it became immediately obvious how much larger and bulkier Kaden’s creature was. The tourists went wild. More flashes. More cheering. And the larger creature was quickly recovering from whatever had screamed near it. Could it have been… Regan eyed the moose suspiciously. No. There was no way.
But when it opened its great mouth and bellowed another scream, Regan was the only one left without hands pressed to their ears. Sure, it didn’t have the force of a banshee scream, but it nearly had the volume, and the first almost-moose was not happy about it. It bucked wildly, knocking a couple people over – Regan tried to push near them – it was finally left reeling and others were dangerously close. The moose had fully emerged now, and looking straight at the bigger creature, it opened its mouth again as if threatening it with more.
A screaming moose. Bás síoraí, an actual screaming moose.
------
Kaden didn’t have time for Kavanagh’s criticisms of his scream. Nor did he have time to think about why the hell she was criticizing it at all. He had to find a way to keep the crowd safe from the bies across the way since it was damn clear they weren’t going to help themselves and the tour guides weren’t any better.
When he looked back up to see whatever the hell was headed their way now, Kaden was almost sure he was hallucinating. Was that actually a moose? It couldn’t be the source of that sound. There was no way. That wasn’t the sound moose made.
The ranger rubbed his eyes and blinked, expecting to see something different when he looked back but it only got stranger. There was definitely a moose and it was definitely screaming.
Putain de merde.
Worse yet, the tourists ate up the whole show. They were cheering, thrilled and delighted. He would have stood there slack-jawed if the bies hadn’t started to buck and flail. Kaden grabbed whoever he could out of the way and tried to use himself as a shield. The next scream from the goddamn screaming moose made him wince in pain once more and the monster used the opportunity to swing its head towards Kaden, trying to skewer him with its antlers.
His hands had been rising to cover his ears again, but he pivoted and managed to grip onto the antlers before they could impale him or anyone else. He braced against the beast, using every bit of strength he had to try and push the creature back into the forest where it came from. He had a feeling stabbing the bies wasn’t going to be a great choice in front of an audience but he had to do something. “In. Side,” he said through grit teeth. He didn’t know who he was speaking to but he hoped Kavanagh could hear him and could follow his lead. “Get them. Inside. Now.”
The monster threw its head back and Kaden flipped back with it. He held tight onto the antlers as his feet left the ground and his body flew through the air. It took a second to get his bearings, but with the next bout of wild thrashing, he leaned into the direction the bies was sending him, using all his weight to pull the creature off balance. Kaden dragged the bies onto the ground, wrestling to keep its head pinned down. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on long.
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Regan would never forget the way Kaden launched himself at the creature. It was protective and automatic; he wedged himself between the beast and the deeply stupid humans like his life was worth nothing compared to theirs. Even the moose’s next scream barely fazed him (though his ears disagreed) and he kept trying to get the others away. Was– was the thing about to gore him? His hands wrapped around the antler’s prongs and, for a second, the two of them were locked eye to eye. That must have required tremendous strength. Regan thought of Jade tumbling with the spawn and coming out on top. This thing was far larger, and it easily catapulted Kaden over its head.
She still did not believe half the things he said. But between his actions right now and Regan being pressed for what to do, she decided to lower herself to listening to him. She pulled in a deep breath and faced the crowd. Fine. “Come on, back on the bus! There’s an… official screaming moose viewing seat. You do not want to be the last one there. The best views go to those who get there first.” Never mind that the best views were out here; she was as qualified as anyone to make it official, so her stomach allowed it to pass as the truth. A few people murmured amongst themselves and excitement fomented. In the background, Kaden was nearly trampled. Come on, humans. Come on. It was working. In just a few moments, everyone was clamoring to get back on the bus – to relative safety. Jane looked more than a little peeved at being usurped, but then something changed in her face. Her gaze fell toward the bus. Envy streaked through her eyes. She needed to see the official seat for herself. How could she not have known this about her own bus?
In, they were all going in. The bus was packed right. And right now, Kaden was her primary concern. Somehow he’d managed to push the creature back, but that wouldn’t last for long, and his muscles had to be splitting right now as he became one giant contusion. “Can you move?” Regan called out, eyes darting between the waiting bus and the beast that would not be preoccupied for much longer. Another scream from the moose bought a little time.
She needed to get in front of Kaden and get him as far back as possible. No, you just need to be better. It was difficult to pry her way between them, but Kaden was losing steam quickly and wasn’t fast enough to stop her. Regan’s throat was clenched as tightly as her fists as she tried to funnel her own screech toward the creature, but directing the sound was a skill she hadn’t perfected, and she was already wincing thinking about what Kaden’s ears must be going through. That was a problem for later.
The huge animal wobbled, three eyes blinking dazedly, and then bolted back into the woods with all of the grace of slipping on ice. The moose – the actual moose – only stood stoic, watching all of this with an almost bored expression on its long face. If one could read a moose’s face. Maybe they all just looked a little bored? And then its head turned, and Regan froze as the animal seemed to stare straight into her. Was it going to charge them? No, it… with a subtle nod of its head that made its dewlap bob, the moose simply turned and wandered back into the woods. If she were willing to suspend her disbelief about a moose expressing something on its face a little more, she suspected it would have been something like approval.
She bent down to tend to Kaden, but her eyes were fixed on the spot where the moose once was. “What an amazing creature,” Regan said, stunned and meaning every word. “The moose, I mean. I think I get it now, you know. The tour.” Right. Doctor. Patient. Hero. “Do you need, uh, some help? Can you even hear me?” Perhaps she should have acted like her hearing was addled, too. At this point it was probably easier to make something up, however much it twisted in her gut. Regan offered an arm rather than her hand, in case Kaden needed to brace himself.
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If he had time to feel relieved, Kaden would have felt it wash over him as he saw the tourists start to shuffle back onto the bus. He didn’t know how she had convinced them to do so, especially considering Kavanagh made a terrible saleswoman, but he was glad she managed.
He was less thrilled to see her headed towards him and the bies and the moose. He’d lost his grip on the antlers but the hunter managed to duck away as they threatened to gore him. Kaden didn’t know how long he could keep going, but he threw his body into the creature’s side anyway, pushing it back and sending it stumbling off balance.
Kavanagh was still headed his way. And telling him to move? A hoof slammed into his knee and Kaden found himself on the ground, Regan standing between him and the bies. No. This wasn’t going to– He had to stand up and drag her away. But he was barely on his knees when a scream shot through him like a bullet to his eardrums. He doubled over and tried his best to block the sound with his hands over his ears. It didn’t seem to do much to help and he was sure he was screaming, too, but he couldn’t have heard that even if he wanted to. And the thought of any more sound layered on top of whatever that was only seemed like asking for pain.
When he was able to peel himself off the ground and look up, the bies had turned and darted back towards the forest. The moose, however, was still there, stoic as ever. Did it…? No, there was no way that moose nodded at Kavanagh. He must have been seeing things. The ringing in his ears must have spread to his vision somehow.
All he could hear were muffled words from the doctor as she faced him. Kaden did his best to understand but it wasn’t happening. The arm held out, that he could understand. He reached out and braced himself as he stood, shakier than he thought he was. He made a meager attempt to wipe off some of the dirt and leaves covering his clothes but he knew it wasn’t worth trying too hard at this point. “What the hell just happened?” He realized the error of asking that right now as soon as he spoke. “Actually, tell me later. When my ears aren’t fucking bleeding.” He wasn’t entirely sure if they were or not, hadn’t checked, but it sure felt like they were. “You know I really thought the screaming moose were bullshit you made up,” he told her as they made their way back onto the bus.
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Oh, yes, Kaden was going to be purple. At the mention of bleeding ears, Regan craned her neck to check if he really did have blood dripping down the sides of his face. Nothing. Dramatic. She plucked a leaf from his hair while she was at it (though it did kind of match with the lovely roadkill sheen he was sporting). “So… so did I.” Regan wiped the stunned expression from her face – it was something her grandmother would have berated her for, and it was better to keep up the ruse anyway. “I think you might be able to explain more than I can,” she said, perfectly aware, and grateful, that he might not hear. “You’ll be fine. Stay away from loud noises for a while. No using a firearm. Oh, I should write this down for you…”
Back on the bus, everyone pushed past Regan (how dare they lay a finger–) and immediately swarmed Kaden. “Tell us about the screaming moose! And the thick moose!” They dangled from his shoulders, pulled at his jacket, and Regan did all she could to avoid blowing the windows out of the bus (which, mostly, was biting her tongue and processing the fact the screaming moose really existed). But right now, Kaden was her patient – again – and all of this jostling would only prolong recovery. When Regan was sure she wasn’t about to scream, she barked out a warning. “You’re not going to hear anything from him unless you stop shouting and sit down. Your shouting is nothing to be proud of, anyway.” Jane had been caught up in the feeding frenzy but must have realized Regan had a point (even if not delivered to her liking), because she asked everyone to be seated in a much more genial manner.
She herself was immune from the instructions, though. As everyone bounced in their seats ready to hear more about the showstopping moose they just saw – best tour ever, they murmured – Jane (flanked by Swamp Donkey) rushed up with something shining in her hands. A pit formed in Regan’s stomach. But then Jane reached past her, to Kaden.
“You get to wear the golden antlers!” She crooned.
Regan needed to figure out how to leave a 10 star review on her Blackberry.
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Coffee’s Coming Attractions, #1
KISS ME, CAPTAIN [Preview #1]
Part 1: The Challenge
They're at it again. The same two young men who have been coming here for the past three rotations, and all because they want nothing more than a moment alone with your baby sister, if not she also with one of them. That's the vibe you get as you slip past their still-developing bodies, through the long corridor, and up the somewhat longer staircase leading to the upper floor of your home for some much-needed privacy. Thankfully, they've decided to ignore your presence so far, because otherwise, you would be stuck down there having to deal with their whining and their begging about Briana.
Not that they're really all that interested in "Brainy Bri" in the first place, but of course, that's the last thing on your mind now. You've got bigger plans to deal with, or so you keep telling yourself before you get spotted by someone else within. In fact, at twenty years of age, you thought you might have finally found your way off of a planet that holds no more warmth for you.
Your mother had finally left this world after three months in an end-of-life facility, but only close behind five years of dealing with the deadly ailments that came with creating and testing ion cannons, as well as wasting away before your eyes. Sometimes you can still see her face in your memory from time to time, provided you close your eyes and concentrate first. Sometimes you also fear becoming just like her if you end up staying on this planet rather than leaving. In any case, though, if you were to suddenly disappear, she wouldn't be around to try and convince you to return.
Your father, subsequently, had ceased to be able to look you in the face, no doubt because you reminded him of the woman he had so recently lost, as well as the responsibilities that came with being a widower. The least of which, seemingly, had been paying off a few key debts in order to guarantee none of you would have to beg for your next meal...or so he told you. He would probably not pay your disappearance much attention, either, all thanks to his current...'projects'.
And as for your younger sister, she certainly could have cared less about you even if a Sarlacc swallowed you tomorrow. Thanks to the usual tenets of your shared Chalindran culture, Briana's upbringing and quiet demeanor has all but handed her a gleaming marriage proposal on a silver serving tray. Your mother's funeral was the very first place you had spotted her future suitors, the first being the only son of an Admiral; the second, the firstborn son of a Senator from the Mid Rim. Either one would have been more than acceptable in the girl's eyes as well as Father's, for not only had she grown past the minimum age of fifteen cycles, she was also just so eager to please whatever young fellow crossed her path.
(How disgusting.)
She was quite the opposite of you, perhaps, considering you had begun turning away from your lone surviving parent and eligible bachelors in general at almost the exact same time, as well as letting them know exactly what was on your mind the moment they began pushing for a 'meeting'. Maybe even a little too strongly at times, like...the time a few of your old crystal figurines had just happened to be let loose against your bedroom wall after that young doctor from Coruscant tried to offer you a drink at lunch.
(At least one Chandrilan doctor had thought themselves smart enough to eradicate your mother's cancer. Turns out, the cancer begged to differ.)
The second time, the silk collector from Naboo had found himself introduced to your carved wooden bench the moment he had offered to buy your late mother's gowns at half the price she had originally paid for them. Needless to say, he ended up with nothing in either sense.
(Probably a good thing, considering she HAD promised some of them to you before she'd gone.)
The third time, however, had been the one that got every Chandrilan within hearing range looking at you sideways from that rotation forward, if not also leaving you a wide berth whenever you left the safety of your house and surrounding green.
[Preliminary tags go out to:
@angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main @afuckinnerfpuncher @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes ]
#the bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#captain howzer#captain howzer x female reader#chandrilan!reader#and now for something completely different#tbb: kiss me captain#18+ readers only#because i don't want minors or ageless blogs
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What Comes Next
Call this a... personalized expansion of the conversation after Kurt’s romance scene. Bc I love it as is in the game so I’m not fixing it or anything, but I got a plot worm off the kiss prompt list and it wouldn’t go away. :D
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Were it not for the dark grey gambeson, Coin Guard heraldry clearly visible as it hung off a chair dappled with early morning sun, Vesper might have worried last night was just an exceptionally good dream.
But any such fear would have lasted mere moments, as the comfortable weight of Kurt’s arm draped over her registered. It was followed shortly by the warmth of him at her back and she smiled, muffling a giddy laugh in her hand. Her chest felt too full with the abundance of joy it contained. Not a dream.
Kurt shifted and mumbled even as she covered his hand with hers, his breath raising goosebumps across her shoulder blades. Vesper’s smile widened and and she bit her lip when he stilled.
“Good morning, Kurt,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze before ghosting her fingers over his knuckles, up the back of his hand to his wrist.
His breath caught, but rather than pull away as she’d half-feared, he kissed that curve where shoulder met neck, the one that made her hum. “Morning, Green Blood,” he said softly. There was a moment of silence, a hesitation before he asked, “What happens now?” His tone clearly dreaded the answer even as his fingers traced gentle lines on her stomach.
“Well,” Vesper twisted around to face him, unable to keep the mischief out of her voice or her fingers from tracing his truly magnificent jawline as she spoke, “I figured you would be wanting to get up and... do things, early riser that you are. I should probably do likewise, with our list of tasks, but was planning to enjoy the comforts of my bed just a little longer.” Her fingers slipped higher, tracing over his brow and then the shell of his ear. “You’re welcome to do so with me. If you’re willing to break your routine just this once.”
Rather than laugh or shake his head at her teasing, the same strange vulnerability as last night--when he confirmed she wanted this, wanted him--filled his eyes. “So you... still want to be with me?”
“Yes,” she replied, firmly and without hesitation, her heart twisting at the disbelief in his voice. She silently cursed everyone who ever made him doubt his worth as she cupped his jaw and held his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Kurt arched a brow, fingers rubbing absent, hesitant circles against her back. “Surely, Your Excellency, you have better options than a mere mercenary.”
Vesper almost snorted; he’d been with her every day since they landed, he would know if there were any she considered other options, let alone better ones. Even leaving that aside... “You mean better than my faithful and trustworthy bodyguard?” She kissed the scar that cut into his eyebrow. “Who’s kept me safe for years?” Kissed the lower part of the scar, where it hooked across his cheek to the bridge of his nose. “Who cares a great deal about me and others, whatever he might protest to the contrary?” She arched a playful brow and brushed a kiss over the scar on his chin.
”Green Blood-”
“I’m almost done,” she promised, lightly resting a finger to his lips. “Who’s trained me to fight, to protect myself, and still watches my back with peerless skill?” She moved her finger and kissed the scar scoring his lips. “Who knows me better than just about anyone in the world?” She kissed him again, gently but fierce. “No, I don’t think I have any options better than that.”
“You make me sound like some kind of saint,” Kurt grumbled against her mouth, but it was half-hearted at best and there was a twinkle in his eye.
“Maybe you are,” Vesper teased. “Between putting up with Constantin and watching out for me so tirelessly and so long with nary a complaint.”
“There hasn’t been anything to complain about. You are...” He laughed softly, his hand sweeping up her spine. The contrast of gentle touch and calloused fingers raised gooseflesh in its wake. “You are everything I want, and everything that I love.” He ran his fingers through her hair, studying her with unmistakable fondness and no small amount of wonder. “How did I get so lucky?”
“You were due,” she murmured, fingers caressing a lash-scar that curled up over his shoulder. “More than, in my opinion.” She trailed her fingers up his neck, across his cheek, traced his lower lip with her thumb. “I cannot imagine my life without you in it, Kurt. It doesn’t work, and I don’t want it to.” The joyful contentment burst out as another, even wider, grin. “I love you, too.”
Kurt pulled her in for a kiss, his fingers digging deeper into her hair.
Vesper laughed into it as she kissed him back, her hand sliding to the back of his neck. “So, my beloved Captain,” she murmured with an unabated grin when they parted, “will you be staying with me?”
“My sweet Excellency,” he kissed the corner of her jaw and held her close, eyes twinkling, “I do believe I will. It is a very comfortable bed.”
She was still grinning, unsure she’d ever stop. “Isn’t it?”
Another laugh, another kiss, and the sun had risen much higher by the time they finally made it out of bed.
#queens fic#greedfall#vesper de sardet#kurt#greedfall kurt#ves/kurt#oh my sweet lord they killed me again#they set FOOT downstairs and siora and vasco are IMMEDIATELY onto them#not that they were hiding it or anything lol
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the puppeteer ✿ the pull - chapter 3 ✿
pairing: steve harrington x original female character (can be read as x reader)
warning(s): strong language, descriptions of violence, mature themes
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previous chapter ━ ✿ ━ next chapter
masterlist
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Every day, the urge to go back to Hawkins grew. Something was happening there, something truly terrible. Bambi knew that George could sense how restless she was, how bad the nightmares had gotten. For the first time since he'd taken her in two years ago, he sat her down to have a 'heart-to-heart'. It was just after closing time when the customers had cleared out, and the rest of the staff had gone home, leaving just the two of them.
He didn't say much, but it gave Bambi a chance to talk things through. She was vague on the details; George didn't need to know that she grew up in a lab and had superpowers.
"My sister, I think she's still there with our dad... I think she's in trouble, and I don't know what to do." Bambi admitted, picking at the skin around her thumbs nervously.
"I'll write a note to the school to tell them you're taking time off for a family emergency. You're going to go back there and settle things. You're going to stay safe and not do anything stupid. You're going to get your little sister out of there and get an apartment out here together." George listed things off as though he'd rehearsed them a million times. Bambi's eyes widened.
"You... You would be okay with me doing that?" She couldn't pinpoint how she felt about it all. On the one hand, George was giving her another opportunity to make things better. On the other hand, she was terrified that if she went back, she'd be captured again, and she'd almost definitely be killed.
"Well, obviously, I'm not fucking thrilled that you're going, but you gotta do what you gotta do." He said it so nonchalantly like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to go back and rescue her 'sister'. She almost believed it was as easy as that.
"It might... No, it WILL take a while for me to get her out of there. Took me fourteen fucking years to get out myself. He's probably tightened security." She sighed, recalling the measures the lab had while she was there. Chances are that after yet another breakout, they had upped the security level even further. She didn't even want to imagine to what extent it would be at once she got to Hawkins.
"What you're going to do is you're going to write me a letter; you'll put all of the details I need to know about who this asshole is and where he lives. You're going to seal it up real tight, and then when you go, you're going to call me every three days to let me know how you're doing. If a week goes by without you calling me, I'm opening that letter and me and my gun will pay a little visit to that piece of shit dad of yours." Bambi considered all of what George was saying and nodded in agreement.
That night, she put everything into writing, all about how she grew up in the lab because she was 'special', about how she had these powers. She made sure she emphasised that she never once used them on him, no matter how stubborn he was being. Bambi wrote about how she knows how ridiculous it must sound, how he probably won't believe a single word she's written. Still, she told him that under no circumstances should he come after her, that it was far too dangerous. The diner needed him because it wasn't like Bobbie could take over; he's not got the guts to stick up for himself, let alone the whole diner.
Finally, holding back tears as she wrote, she told him how much she appreciated everything he'd done for her and that she loved him and no matter what happened, he'd always be her Pop.
Bambi packed up all she could into a few duffel bags that she could cram in the back of her car and bid farewell to the small room she'd called home. Letter in hand, she made her way downstairs. It was a Sunday; they usually opened late on a Sunday, so Bambi knew she'd get the chance to say goodbye to George alone and wouldn't have to put up with teary-eyed waitress Sally wishing her an overdramatic goodbye, or Josh the cook insisting on a hug that was a bit too handsy, or Bobbie being... Bobbie.
"Give me the keys to your car," George instructed her as soon as he saw her. Bambi furrowed her brows in confusion and reached into her pocket to pull the keys out.
"Did you change your mind?" She asked wearily, handing them over along with her letter, which was very tightly sealed. George shook his head and reached into his own pocket for the keys to his van.
"I ain't paying for you to stay in a fancy-ass hotel for god knows how long, and I know you said you'd sleep in your car, but you never know what pervs will see you through sleeping through the windows on a dark road. There aren't any windows in the back of the van." Bambi took the keys from his hand with a grin.
"You're giving me the van?" She asked, almost in disbelief. He loved that damn van, even if he'd nearly crashed it twelve times in the past two months.
"No, I'm lending you the van. I know all the bumps and scratches on that thing like the back of my hand, so I'll be billing you for any new ones." Though there was no humour in his tone, Bambie knew George well enough to know he was joking. He pointed to a beaten-up old rucksack on the counter. "Now, in that bag, there's a handgun, a shit ton of bullets, and as much money as the bank would let me take out at once-"
"George!" Bambi gasped, shaking her head. "I can't take that!"
"Don't cut me off when I'm still talking, young lady." He scolded. "Look, if you commit any crimes with the gun, I'll just claim you stole it if that's what you're worried about."
"Not the gun, though that is very appreciated even if I hope to not use it. I meant the money." Bambi sighed, moving over to open the bag, her mouth gaping open as she saw it. "How much fucking money did the bank let you take out at once?"
"They said if I take out $10,000 at once they'd have to report it, so I took out $9,999." He brushed it off as though it was nothing, Bambi's eyes still wide.
"I can't take all this!" Again, she shook her head in disbelief at the sheer quantity of bills stuffed into the bag.
"Don't be such a drama queen; you're as bad as Sally sometimes." George rolled his eyes. "You don't have to spend it; it's just there in case of an emergency." Bambi closed the bag up and swung it onto her back to join her other bags. They were heavy, but she hoped that meant she wasn't forgetting anything. Though with that much money, she could probably buy anything she needed.
"You're crazy." She laughed, swinging her free arm around him in a hug. "I love you, and I appreciate everything you've done and continue to do for me."
"Okay, okay, you don't have to say it like you're dying." George's regular complaining tone sounded slightly off like he was holding back tears. Bambi couldn't blame him; she was too. "Just come back in one piece." He hugged her back only briefly, but it was more than enough for Bambi.
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"Tell her about it! Tell her everything you feel! Give her every reason to accept that you're for reeeeeaaalll!" Bambi sang along as loud as she could to Billy Joel, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat, doing her best to drown out the anxiety that coursed through her veins once she'd seen the sign welcoming her to Hawkins.
The likelihood of being recognised by some of the people who worked at the lab was slim; chances are the guards had been killed off by now; they always were after a few years. Yet, she still found her mind reeling at the possibility that someone would recognise her.
The closer she got to the lab, the more she felt the pull. The pull on the very essence of her powers, the one that had dragged her back to Hawkins in the first place. She wasn't sure if it was Eleven or if she was just caught up in the byproducts of the lab's tests.
Eventually, she managed to build up enough courage to stop driving around, hoping she'd spot Eleven by chance and be able to rescue her. She parked off down the side of a small road just by the railroad tracks that would work as a border between her and the lab; she didn't want to get too close to it just in case.
The pull was coming from the direction of the lab; she hoped it wasn't in the lab as she had no idea how she'd get in and out without being detected. She hadn't fully used her powers in a while; there was no way she could take on their security by herself.
The sun had set, and it was getting darker and darker. She toyed with the idea of just sleeping for the night and starting tomorrow but decided that exploring in the dark would be the safest option to avoid being spotted. Bambi psyched herself up before hopping in the back of the van and grabbing the beaten up rucksack. She shoved the money into her duffle bag to keep it safe and grabbed the flashlight George always kept in the van; she hadn't thought to pack her own, so she was grateful. Bambi swapped out the batteries for some new ones she'd brought with her and stuffed a couple of extras in the rucksack just in case. She also threw in a couple of granola bars she'd picked up at a gas station and a water bottle. Preparation was incredibly important to her; she didn't want to get stuck hiding in a tree from the lab with no supplies. She'd seen too many horror movies where the victims get trapped and go crazy from dehydration or hunger.
Double-checking the flashlight worked and that the gun was loaded and the safety was on, she shoved that in her back pocket and locked up the van. She only hoped she could remember where she'd parked it. She looked around at her surroundings to try and find a landmark. There was a sign that pointed in the direction of the quarry, so she hopped back in the front of the van and opened the glove compartment. Her map had come in handy while getting to Hawkins, but she was glad she picked another map up at the store on her way into Hawkins that had a more detailed and updated town layout. She marked the rough area she assumed she was on her map and shoved that in her bag as she finally gathered the courage to start walking in the direction of the lab.
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The pull was getting so strong that it was almost unbearable, her veins ached the closer she got to whatever was causing the sensation, but she trudged on.
If there were a chance that it was Eleven and she needed help, Bambi would take that chance.
The pull wasn't coming from the lab; she'd deduced that when she had to turn to walk parallel to it. There was no noise in the forest, not that she expected there to be at what was now 7pm, but it didn't make it feel any less eerie. It was almost like whatever animals resided in the forest were scared of something; they didn't want to make a noise to alert it of their presence.
Bambi took a page from their book as she walked; she'd stopped humming Billy Joel to comfort herself and did her best to avoid stepping on any sticks. She wasn't exactly the most careful person, quite the opposite really; she was probably clumsier than most. Having been locked away for so long, she'd never had a chance to improve her motor skills; that was evident in physical education classes when they played baseball, and she'd managed to hit the ball twice in the three months they'd dedicated to it... and both of those times were somehow into her own face.
George had taken her out a few times to practice shooting, said it was an important skill to learn, but her aim was awful. In hindsight, she wasn't sure why he'd given her a gun when sucked at using it. He probably just intended for her to use it as a threat rather than a weapon, but she hoped that she wouldn't get into a situation where she'd have to use it at all.
Bambi stopped dead in her tracks and looked down at the base of a tree. The pull had gotten so strong she felt sick, and now she could see why.
There was some sort of hole in it, it was slimy and grotesque, and a horrid guttural groaning was coming from it. There was no way anything from their world was making that noise.
Against her better judgement, which admittedly wasn't great to begin with, she stuck a hand in the hole.
Then her whole arm.
Then her head.
Then her torso.
Before she knew it, she was crawling through the disgusting tunnel, slime coating her hair and clothes.
Bambi wasn't sure why, but she just couldn't stop herself from moving forward.
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no thoughts, only billy joel
likes are very much appreciated and I will give each and every one of you little kisses on the forehead for each comment you write :)
#steveharrington#steve harrington#steve harrington x oc#steve harrington x original character#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#strangerthings#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic
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do it right (monday) by piceuscelus
Chapters: 1/1 (7,726 words)
Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Dara
Characters: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Dara (The Witcher), Minor Original Characters - Character
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Age Difference, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Magic, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, POV Multiple, Knotting, elves have different anatomy, Kissing, Hen Llinge | Elder Speech (The Witcher), Discussion of Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortion
Series: Part 1 of ciri week 2022
Summary:
“Now, are you still willing?”
He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.
Sweet fucking Melitele.
“Yes,” he answers.
An elvish ritual has an unintended effect on Ciri, and it falls to Dara to help her.
full fic also below the cut! (the italics didn’t copy over, though, as usual, so it’ll probably read a bit more smoothly on ao3)
Ciri is…a little uncomfortable amongst the elves.
Of course, she’s grateful that they’re letting her stay – sheltering her alongside Dara, keeping her hidden from the Nilfgaardian forces combing the countryside. After everything with the doppler, it’s a relief to know that at the very least they’ll have some warning from the camp scouts before any further chaos.
She knows that at least part of the discomfort is just the background human-elf tension, that no matter how long they stay most of the group will always keep her at arm’s length and out of circles. And that – it’s fine, really. Mostly, at least. It leaves her feeling unmoored and unsteady, if she thinks too hard on it, but it’s not…it really can’t be fixed, least of all by her alone. Add in that the elves know who she is – because she and Dara had been found bickering while burying the body of a doppler, and the camp had, rightfully, had some fucking questions – and she knows that the basic level of civility she’s treated with is more than a gift.
Still, though, it’s…awkward, is probably the best way to describe it. And it’s particularly noticeable on nights like this, when she’s left alone in the tent she and Dara share with a few other strays this camp has taken in. She’s the only human in the camp – or at least, the only full human in the camp, and tonight the elves are out in the woods doing…something. A ritual, is all Dara had said, and it had been clear that the vagueness was on purpose, so she hadn’t pressed.
And it’s not really that she feels left out so much as she’s not really sure what to do with herself. Earlier in the day, while most of the camp was still preparing, she’d kept to herself and done laundry, and then helped gather water with some of the other refugees. But by now, dark has fallen, and unlike during the day, the loneliness feels…more real, now.
There’s an irrational part of her that thinks they might have abandoned her, but she knows full well it’s irrational; if they were going to abandon her they’d send her out to forage and be gone when she got back, or they never would have let her stay. They wouldn’t plan for a ritual, let Dara tell her that it was happening, and let her help gather water for it. It’s just not practical.
All the same, she feels unsettled in her skin, and the longer she stares out into the darkness of the empty camp, the worse it gets. Finally, she can’t stand the feeling anymore and stands, intending to…well, she doesn’t know – she’s intending to do something about it, but standing outside the tent and listening to the moths buzz around the last sputtering candle lanterns isn’t terribly inspiring.
And then she hears singing.
It’s faint, at first, and then louder, and she realizes that it must be coming from the elves, deeper in the woods – wherever they’ve gone to do their ritual, whatever it is. For a split second she considers going back into the tent and maybe trying to sleep, but that thought it gone nearly the moment it comes, and she realizes that she’s…moving toward it. The sound, the elves.
She shouldn’t, she knows. She should stay at the camp, should leave them to whatever they’re doing, because if they wanted to include her, Dara would have told her that. She’d be there, if she was welcome – but she’s not, so she isn’t.
All the same, her feet keep moving without her permission, and soon enough she’s seeing the light in between the trees, soft and golden and flickering but bright, and large – a bonfire, maybe, she isn’t certain. All she can see right now is the light, and the trees, and when she steps a little further, the silhouettes of the elves.
Finally, she’s able to force herself to stop moving, to not go any further and actually interrupt, crash their – whatever this is. Party feels…disrespectful.
This – it’s magic. She can feel it in the air, the faint buzz and crackle; Mousesack’s magic was different, but similar enough. The longer they all sing, the louder they get, and the stronger the charge in the air. She knows some of the words, but she can’t piece them together, and as she watches the light gets somehow brighter, and her head starts to spin.
She squeezes her eyes shut against the glow, but finds she can’t escape it; the brightness glares through her eyelids, and bringing her hands to her face barely helps, either. She stumbles back, then, turning until she can face away, but it’s like the light follows her, and the singing is even louder now, as if the elves are shouting. She scrapes her hand on bark as she stumbles again, but she doesn’t stop moving, just keeps trying to stumble away, the light and the noise following along, as if it’s chasing her.
Soon enough it’s not just the light and sound, either, it’s heat, and she collapses to her knees, moss and rotting leaves under her hands. She can just see the outline of her fingers, splayed on the ground, but barely, and soon enough she’s squeezing her eyes shut again as if it could help her escape the burn.
It’s like a fever and a sunburn and standing too close to a hearth all at once, sharp, prickling heat with no sweat to cool her and no cover to protect, and soon she’s shuddering, even the veined red shadow of her eyelids starting to spot and swim.
She faints.
– – – – –
Dara can’t say what leads him away from the ritual, why when the priestess stops their singing he turns and stumbles into the woods, but he knows it’s important. It’s like there’s a hook in his gut, and the line attached has started to pull, and then, when he’s far enough he can only barely hear the priestess speaking, it yanks.
Of all the things he expects to find in the woods, Ciri is not one of them.
At first, he’s angry – it had been clearly implied, he thought, that she was not to follow them, that she was not welcome. That this was theirs. That he and his people have already given her so much, she ought to let them have at least something to themselves.
But then he actually sees her – how she’s collapsed into the undergrowth, fingers pressed into furrows they must have dug there, cheeks scarlet while the rest of her skin is near translucently pale, and his anger is immediately dashed away by fear, bloodcurdling and cold.
“Ciri,” he calls, but she doesn’t so much as twitch. Her chest is barely moving. His heart skips. “Ciri.”
Still nothing, and when he goes to his knees beside her prone form, he can feel the heat pouring off of her, hotter even than the fire the priestess had been feeding. Touching her almost hurts, but he has no choice; she’s as limp as a corpse as he gets his arms around her shoulders and under her legs and lifts.
It’s not the first time he’s carried her, but it is the first he’s realized just how small she really is. His heart skips painfully again, and he turns back toward the faint light of where his fellows are finishing up the ceremony.
They’ve broken apart and are gathering things, when he stumbles back into their midst, and he feels how the air seems to freeze along with them.
“I found her,” he says, and doesn’t bother trying to explain how or why, “something’s wrong.”
“She’s just dh’oine,” someone scoffs, and Dara’s panicked enough he can’t even pin their voice, “she’s probably fallen ill. Take her back to camp.”
“This isn’t sickness,” he insists. “I’ve seen her and other humans sick – this is different.”
He pushes through their loose gathering to reach the priestess. Farryn, is her name, and he already knows that she’s the sole reason he and Ciri had been allowed to stay with the camp; he’d have been allowed, possibly, but without her say, Ciri would have been shunned. He doesn’t know what reasons she had for convincing the others to let Ciri stay, but he hopes that whatever they were, she’ll help her now, too.
Farryn’s eyes sharpen when he’s near enough that she can see Ciri properly. “Where?” she asks, and then steps back, gesturing to the stone dais they had used for their offerings. It’s still wet with wine, but he doesn’t hesitate to place her on it, cradling her head against the rough surface.
“Between here and the camp,” he answers, finally, tearing his eyes away from Ciri’s deathly pale face to look at Farryn. “I just – I left, something called me, and I found her lying there. Is this a fever?”
Farryn steps closer and passes her hand over Ciri’s face, then down her throat and to her sternum. She’s frowning in concentration, and Dara holds his breath as if he might shatter her focus. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the others forming a bubble around the dais, slowly inching forward to stare.
“It is,” Farryn says, softly. “But not one I’ve ever seen myself.”
“Can we help her?” Already, Dara is wondering how close Nilfgaard is, or if maybe they’ve moved on from the area by now – he knows there are healers in nearby towns, and if he has to carry Ciri to each one individually, so be it.
As far as anyone gathered here is concerned, he and Ciri are the same age; his years count barely thirty, and while hers are less than half that, his kind live for so much longer. When they met, he hadn’t stopped to consider that she may consider it differently, and now that he thinks about it, he’s not even certain she knows. If he covers his ears, he looks very much like a human teenager.
But he’s not that, and as he cradles Ciri’s head and feels the heat rolling off of her, heart rabbiting, he feels…responsible. Whatever has happened to her, whatever this fever is – the others have no obligation to help her, but he does. He brought her here, and as much as he’s always considered himself at her same level, he’s lived many more years, and more of them in the shadows and mud; between them, he’s the one with any kind of experience.
Farryn hasn’t answered his question, though.
“Can we help her?” he asks again, and Farryn looks up at him. Her expression is sad, and her eyes are a little haunted.
“We can,” she says. “If there is anyone willing.”
Dara frowns. “Me,” he says, because he’d thought that would be obvious. “Of course, me.”
Farryn’s frown deepens. “We’ll see,” she says, softly, and then she’s turning away and barking orders at the others. They all startle and scramble, some heading back to camp, some deeper into the woods, and others begin unpacking the things they’d begun packing up.
Dara can barely make himself listen or watch, he’s so focused on Ciri. Her breathing is still quick and shallow, her chest barely rising, and it feels like the fever is worsening, though he’s not certain if it actually is or it’s just the contrast of the cold stone against them.
Farryn returns to them after a moment, carrying a curved blade. “Het ichaer,” she’s muttering, “I never should have done it with her here.”
“What?” Dara asks. “What about blood?”
Farryn barely glances at him as she sets a bowl next to Ciri’s limp arm. “Hers,” she answers, as if that explains anything at all. He watches with his heart in his throat as she picks up Ciri’s hand and uses the blade to draw blood from a fingertip.
“Her blood?” he asks, once he snaps his attention from watching the bright red drip into the bowl. “Never should have done this? Farryn, what’s going on?”
“She’s – different,” Farryn murmurs, and turns to grab something that one of the others has brought from the woods. It goes into the bowl with Ciri’s blood. “I’m not certain what it is. Or, well, I have a hunch, but it’s so far-fetched I won’t say it to you.”
“Would you speak plainly, please?”
Farryn finishes doing – something, Dara doesn’t know what, with the mixture she’s got in the bowl, and then she looks up at him. “The ritual,” she says. “The blessing. It was just meant to be a call for fertility, to help us when we struggle so much to conceive.”
“I know that.”
Farryn shakes her head. “You think you do,” she mutters, but before he can ask about that, she’s continuing. “She’s…something else, though, and I think it’s had the same kind of reaction a curse might.”
“Something else? A curse – what kind of curse?!” Dara tries not to panic audibly, but all the same his voice raises and cracks, just slightly, on the inflection.
“She’s human,” Farryn says, “at least mostly. It’s her blood that’s different, her lineage. As far as the curse, well – you’ve heard of the foilé minne geas haven’t you?”
Dara blinks, and if he weren’t so highly strung and shocked all at once he’s certain he’d be flushing with embarrassment. “It’s – a…sex curse.”
“Except that a curse implies intention, and there was no intent behind this, yes.”
“...except there was!” He doesn’t really mean to shout, but he can’t help it. “Tonight, the ceremony, the offerings – the intent was fertility, conception. So you – ”
“Do you think I would have actually done it if I knew she would end up like this?” Farryn asks, cold, and Dara’s teeth click painfully as his mouth snaps shut. “I thought it might have an effect on her, too, like it hopefully will the rest of us. I thought it might even be a little stronger. But if I had thought, even for a moment, that she would end up dying from foilé minne, I wouldn’t have done it. Not without sending the two of you away first. Humans have nothing but my contempt, but she’s barely more than a child, Dara.”
Dara swallows the lump in his throat and nods. Ferryn nods back, a sharp, decisive thing.
“Now, are you still willing?”
He gapes for a moment. “Willing?” he asks, and then he catches up. Can we help her? We can, if there is anyone willing.
Sweet fucking Melitele.
“Yes,” he answers, as steady as he can get it, because what else can he say?
This was never Farryn’s fault. It’s because of him that Ciri is here.
“Good. Now, sit her up. She’ll only be lucid for a few minutes – you’re going to have to explain quickly.”
“Why not – ”
As if reading his mind, Farryn cuts him off with a, “Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.”
Sweet fucking Melitele.
– – – – –
The first thing Ciri registers is that something thick and gritty is sliding down her throat, and that her mouth is filled with the taste of blood and crushed herbs. She chokes, coughing, but there’s a hand on her mouth as soon as she does.
“Swallow, girl, you need it,” a voice says, and she pries her eyes open to find her vision swimming. Slowly, it stills out into still-blurry focus, though, and she recognizes –
“Farryn?” The name is muffled beneath the priestess’ hand, but when it doesn’t move, she swallows pointedly. The elf squints at her for a moment, then removes her hand. “Wha’s….”
She’s suddenly shifting, and she lets out a yelp.
“Sorry,” Dara says, suddenly in front of her. It’s him holding her up, she realizes, though she can’t really parse how. She just recognizes the feeling of his hands on her. He looks…scared.
“Dara?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, softly.
Ciri frowns, because what could he be sorry for? She…doesn’t know where she is, or what’s happening, but she remembers following the sound of singing and then heat, and…. Dara wasn’t there. Not with her, at least. She…must have fainted. Yes, she fainted, she sort of remembers her vision swimming, but….
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Dara repeats, but she doesn’t think it’s because he thinks she didn’t hear. “Look, I don’t – there’s not a gentle way to tell you this. The ritual we were holding, the ceremony – it was a fertility blessing, and it…. Something happened to you. Is happening.”
Ciri frowns harder. “What?” she repeats. Her skin is starting to crawl with heat again, but at least this time there’s sweat, too, though the adding tingling in…uh. That’s…unexpected and a little uncomfortable.
“It’s a sex curse,” he finally says, sounding a little pained. “At least, more or less. You – we. We have to have sex.”
“...what.”
Dara’s laugh is even more pained. “You’re dying,” he says. “The ritual, it – something reacted, in you, your blood.”
Suddenly, violently, Ciri is thrown back to an open field and mangled bodies – the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown.
A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame.
“Dying?” Ciri whispers, vision swimming again.
“I won’t let you,” Dara says, sharp and firm. “I won’t, Ciri, I just – I have to, we have to – to save you.”
He’s asking, she realizes, in a sort of distant way as heat and tingling continue to crawl up her spine, through her body, til her head is spinning again. He’s asking, and she thinks if she says no, he’ll…let her.
Let her die.
Her breathing is labored, and she finds the only thing she can really focus on is Dara’s hands; they’re cold against her overheated skin, and his palms are smooth but his fingertips are callused. Like a string player. For a split second she’s distracted, wondering if he plays an instrument, but his voice calls her back.
“Ciri, please.”
She trusts him. Despite all of their bickering, the horrible things he said about her and her grandmother, she trusts him, because – because he’s earned it. He came back, after the doppler, and saved her where she was helpless and tied up. He helped her kill that monster masquerading as Mousesack. He helped her chip into the frozen ground deep enough to bury the corpse, even as he spewed vitriol the whole time.
He said he wouldn’t leave even if the elf camp turned her out. That he’d stay with her, like he did when she left Brokilon.
“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” And then he’s – kissing her.
It feels – incredible. And it’s not just pleasure, the illicit thrill of it, though it’s that, too, it’s…she’s so hot, skin crawling with the fever, and his hands on her back and her face and his mouth on hers is like being dunked in cold water. Like the time in Skellige that she jumped into the sea along with the rest of the clan, sharp-stinging cold that jolted her into a new kind of awareness.
There’s no jolt into awareness, here, but she feels like she might be swimming toward it, finally.
She’s clumsy, as she tries to kiss Dara back, but he doesn’t seem concerned. She vaguely notes that he seems – confident. Smooth, like he knows what he’s doing, and for the first time she wonders how old is he really? but then Dara drags his mouth from hers and to her ear and she’s distracted from considering it.
“I think – I think I can feel it, too,” he murmurs. “It’s – not the same, not what happened to you, but….”
If he has anything more to say, he doesn’t continue with it; instead, he drags his mouth down her throat. She gasps at the zing of pleasure that strikes her core, and he seems to notice, kissing back up the stretch of her neck and then back down, letting his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin.
Now she’s whining. It’s an embarrassing sound, but she can’t stop; she barely has any control of herself, really only enough to cling to the stone she’s sitting on and Dara’s thigh. She can’t seem to figure out what they’re sitting on, or how he’s positioned in relation to her, but he distracts her once again by dropping kisses further down, along her collarbone and even further.
She remembers, suddenly, that she’s only in her nightclothes. She wonders, distantly and vaguely, why that hadn’t occurred to her when she left the camp, that she was hardly dressed, but it doesn’t matter now.
Mostly, it’s lucky, because it means Dara only has to shift a little and tug at the large, scooped neck to bare her breasts, and his mouth is following along quickly.
The pleasure of all of it has been shocking, really – his mouth and his hands and how well her body responds to him, how slick she is between her thighs – but this is something else entirely. The noise she makes is broken, caught in her throat as she tries to writhe, nails scraping rough and painful against the stone.
Dara shifts again, and this time when her nightgown moves it’s because he’s pulling it up, uncovering her thighs and belly and then her breasts again. She struggles to help, letting go of his leg when he tugs at the sleeve on that arm, and then lifting the hand she has braced on the stone to let him pull the whole thing off, finally. Her hair is in her face, but that hardly matters when he kisses her again, still moving but in a way she still can’t seem to figure out.
Until, of course, she’s suddenly being lifted. She yells, heart jumping to her throat, but Dara’s grip is sure and he’s murmuring soothingly as they move. Her vision is still too blurry to make anything out, never mind the fact that it’s dark and she doesn’t know where she is, but she thinks he turns them. She can tell he only takes about a dozen steps before he’s lowering her again.
It’s…a fur, she realizes. A smaller one, as her legs rest on moss and undergrowth, but a fur all the same, soft even where it sticks to her tacky skin. As soon as she’s laid out on it, Dara is laying over her, his hips pressed between her thighs and his elbows on either side of her face.
She…expects to feel his cock, expects him to tip her hips up and just – get on with it, really, but that doesn’t happen. His cock does press against her hip, blood-hot and hard and…a little oddly shaped for what she expects, actually, but she can’t really focus on that when he’s kissing down her throat and murmuring.
“So beautiful,” he breathes, “wish it wasn’t like this, that I could do it right.”
“Right?” she asks, feeling marginally clearer with so much of his skin pressed to hers. He responds to the way she rolls her body up against him by dropping a little more of his weight onto her, pressing her further into the fur and the soft ground beneath.
He chuckles against her throat, but it’s strained. “I – you’re a princess, Ciri,” he says, and she…kind of gets what he’s saying, there, but also….
“Not anymore,” she reminds him, pretending it doesn’t make her chest go tight, and he shakes his head, though he doesn’t actually disagree.
“Even so,” is all he says, and then, after a momentary detour to mouth at her shoulder, “This is – something like this is…a gift, at the least. Sacred, at best. Having to do it like this…you deserve better.”
And she’s still hazy, still sort of trailing behind him, but that – it hits her and she snorts.
Dara leans up to give her an incredulous look.
“It’s a chore,” she counters, echoes of a dozen maids in her childhood echoing in her head. “Not – not always, but….”
He just sort of blinks at her, and then shakes his head. “Not for us,” he says, finally, and then he’s ducking back down to kiss her again, and this one feels…different. Softer, hotter. She whines into his mouth, and he sucks gently at her swelling bottom lip before he pulls back and puts his mouth back on her chest. She almost doesn’t catch how he murmurs, “Not to me.”
Something about that is….
Too much, she decides, unsure what to do with the myriad of emotions swirling in her gut and her chest, on top of the way her body is screaming a new, unfamiliar need at her.
“Please,” she murmurs, entirely unsure what she’s even asking for. She knows the fundamentals of bodies and the basic mechanics of sex – her grandmother was protective, but not shy – but that’s all, really. It seems clear to her that Dara at least knows those and a bit more, so she ignores the way her stomach is twisting with uncertainty and gods know what else and just…trusts him.
He nuzzles against her breast and hums, the same sort of soothing as when he lifted her, and then he’s shifting his weight to balance on one arm instead of two. It pulls his weight off of her, mostly, and she whines, but he just kisses at her sternum and hums again. His freed hand trails down, over her shoulder and across one breast, pausing for just a moment to circle a fingertip around her nipple as she shudders helplessly, and then over her ribs and to her hip. Once there, he circles the touch in with gentle strokes, until he’s resting his palm over her mound, fingers held lightly against her folds.
Just as helplessly as the shudder, her hips buck, and that movement seems to be what he was waiting for. His mouth finds her nipple, and then his fingers are spreading her gently before just sort of stroking over the slick flesh there.
The sound she makes is close to a wail, loud and sudden and then choked, when he just sucks at her nipple and that stroking touch turns into his fingertips gently circling her entrance. Her hips buck again, and his fingers move back up, until that gentle circling is at her clit.
Her skin feels electrified, and the heat is worsening but it’s good, now, it feels right. Dara’s mouth moves to her other breast, and he presses his fingers just a little harder against her, sending a shock of pleasure through her so intense that she jerks, the leg she has bent around Dara’s tensing and forcing him a little closer.
With the way he shifted to touch her, his cock is pressed between his belly and her thigh, and he grunts when her leg forces him tighter to her, his own hips rolling and grinding his erection against her. This time, she can sort of pin what seemed odd about it – it’s more tapered at the top than she’d expected, and she can’t really tell if it’s just that feeling is different than seeing, or if his cock is actually oddly tapered.
…or maybe that elves have slightly different anatomy than humans, because now that she’s thinking about it, she’s fairly certain none of the scholarly writings and sketches she’d seen ever talked about elves at all.
The movement of his hips doesn’t stop, either, and she can tell there’s – texture, almost, though that’s…not quite right. His skin feels just like any human’s, but it’s underneath the smoothness of skin. Soon enough, though, he’s shifting his fingers and thoroughly distracting her by holding her spread open with two while a third strokes directly over her swollen clit.
She loses her breath, and then her vision goes, too, everything spinning and black-white-starry. She’s trembling, but Dara isn’t stopping, isn’t moving away; instead, he’s just firming the touch against her clit, moving faster, starting to bite messily at her breasts in between panted encouragements.
“Like this, just one, I promise I’ll give you what you need, but this first – ” he rasps, still grinding his cock against her thigh, the movement growing slicker with sweat or maybe precum, she doesn’t know which. He keeps murmuring, some of it choked, but she loses track quickly, the trembling turning into quivering into shaking, until the jittery tension finally snaps and she’s coming.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small part of it that isn’t drowning in heat and pleasure and somehow worsened need, she realizes oh, so this really is why people do this so much.
There’s knowing, objectively, that orgasms are enjoyable and that people like them, and then there’s feeling it – the spiraling heat and seeping tension, how her heart hammers and then settles alongside a sudden lassitude in her limbs. She lets out a sigh she’s almost embarrassed of, it’s so – wanton.
“Gorgeous,” Dara is whispering, forehead pressed to her collar as he rocks his hips against her. “Gods above, look at you, want to do this again, later, when I can take my time and give you everything – “
Her stomach twists again, much more pleasantly this time, but already the heat is coming back with a vengeance to steal the afterglow, her hips cramping as they jerk up against his stilled hand.
“Please,” she breathes, and her voice is startlingly raspy – she wonders if she was screaming, and pretends that the heat flooding her face is just more of the effect the ceremony had on her and not a blush. “I think it’s – I need….”
She knows what she needs, now; she needs him to fuck her, properly, but the words stick in her throat. She swallows against them, opens her mouth to try again, but still nothing comes out.
Dara says something she doesn’t catch, Elder Speech, she thinks, but his hand is moving then. “Okay,” he says. “Just, first – ”
His fingertips circle her entrance again, but this time instead of just being an electrifying tease, one of them is sinking slowly inside her. She makes another incredibly wanton noise, but can’t even bring herself to care about it, angling her hips up as if she could force that single digit any deeper.
“Please,” she gasps again.
“I know,” he murmurs back, kissing from her sternum to her mouth. “I know, I have you, just – let me, just for a second.”
She makes a vaguely assenting noise against his mouth, clenching down on the finger he’s rocking in and out of her. He grunts, and then there’s a second finger singing into her, and it’s – a stretch, one she can feel, like when she reaches above her head too far, but there’s no pain. She moans.
“Fuck.” Dara sounds almost pained, but he kisses her again before she can try to ask, and his fingers are moving faster now, pulling almost all the way out before he sinks them back in, and it’s – good, it’s so fucking good, better than she ever though possible, but it’s not enough.
“Dara,” she pleads, voice pitchy, “Dara, please.”
He curses again, in Elder this time. His fingers slip out of her with an obscenely wet noise, and she whines in loss even as she realizes he’s moving to give her what she needs. It takes more effort than it rightly should, but she manages to lever herself somewhat up on her elbows as he settles on his knees between her thighs, wanting to actually see him now, at least as much as she can in the blurry dark as clouds pass over the moon.
She loses the thread of her thoughts, though, when she does look. He’s – handsome, even pretty, she knows that. She’s known that since the first time she saw him anything resembling cleaned up, the first time they had to bathe together in a freezing river after the Cintran refugee camp had been attacked. But she realizes now that it had been purely objective, then, seeing his chest and the cut of his hips and his fine bone structure and knowing that he was conventionally attractive.
What she’s experiencing now, watching him breathing hard where he’s poised between her legs, his cock in his hand, is anything but objective. Especially once her eyes land on his cock.
With everything so shadowed, only the occasional beam of moonlight to highlight edges and base colors, it’s hard to really see, but she can get an idea – and she was right, earlier, with the assumption that maybe elves’ anatomy is different than humans.
It’s not unrecognizably different, the same basic shaft and head shape, but his cock is much thinner at the top than the sketches she’s seen of human men, and the whole shape is more tapered. Also, along the sides and bottom, thrown into more relief as he strokes himself and his fingers shift, are some sort of – ridges. The texture she’d felt, earlier.
She swallows, and even if she feels a little unsure, the longer they sit in this sort of tableau the harder it gets to breathe and think so – she shoves it aside.
“Dara,” she says, again, less of a plea but still very much a request.
His eyes drift up from where he’d been staring between them, and at least he looks as off-kilter as she feels.
“Yeah,” he says, as if his name had been a proper question, and then he’s shuffling closer and leaning over her again, their hips still separated but only just. Ciri gasps at the feeling of his cock twitching against her belly and lets him steal the breath right out of her with a kiss, the most desperate of them so far.
“Please.”
– – – – –
He really doesn’t know what to do with how hearing Ciri plead makes him feel, so he shoves it pointedly aside and instead focuses on the here and now, the fact that no matter what trepidation he feels he cannot back out and risk her life.
Especially since he’d really rather like to give this a shot when it’s not life-or-death, if she’ll have him.
It’s easy, really, to slot their hips together, feeling the heat radiating from her cunt. She pants into his mouth when he kisses her again, and then whimpers when he shifts and drags the head of his cock over her folds. She’s so slick he has to keep a grip on himself to control the movement, and his heart hammers in his chest, wondering how much of that is the ritual, the effect on her, and how much of it is just her natural response.
“Please,” she whispers again, lips still against his, and he kisses her again, shuddering at the sensation as he rubs his cock over her hole.
“I have you,” he murmurs back, when he has to pull back to breathe.
She just whines and hooks her legs around his waist properly, knees at his sides and feet crossed against his lower back. The movement rocks him forward, pushes just the tip of his cock inside her cunt, and they both freeze for the space of one rapid heartbeat.
“Dara,” she moans, outright moans, like the neediest whore, and any real control he was trying to exert is gone.
“Ciri,” he murmurs back, biting at her jaw as he sinks inside her with one smooth thrust. The searing heat and pleasure must scramble his brain, too, because the next thing he whispers is, “En'ca minne, yeá elaine.”
He has no idea if she even knows enough Hen Llinge to understand that, and he also doesn’t know if yes or no is the worse answer, so he bites his tongue and focuses on moving. Slowly, at first, at least as slowly as he can manage with his instincts beating at his chest to just take, to move faster and rougher.
Needing to do something with that urge, he leans his weight to one side and drags his opposite hand between them, plucking at her nipples for a moment before he moves down, until he can get his fingers on her clit. She jolts and clenches so tight around him he’s afraid for a split second that he’s going to flare at just that, but the moment passes and he’s able to concentrate on moving his fingers and his hips in tandem.
Beneath him, Ciri falls apart beautifully, seeming to melt everywhere except where she’s gripping onto him, hips tilting so he can shove just a little deeper. He hisses and bites at her throat, knows he’s leaving livid purple marks on the fair skin, and resists the urge to bite harder.
Encouraged by the way she’s rocking her hips in tandem with his rhythm, how she’s gasping his name and please and arching into him, he moves faster. When she just whimpers and asks for more, he finally lets go, stops worrying so much about the pace and instead fixates on making her come on his cock.
She’s so responsive it’s almost easy, and each new pleasure seems to overwhelm her in the best way, so he sets to it; rubbing consistent, tight circles on her clit, tilting his hips so his cock grinds against the sensitive front wall of her cunt, and when he can get his back bent the right way, sucking at her nipples until she wails. It only takes a few minutes of that dedicated attention for her to shatter, her wails turning into breathless screeching as she clenches down so hard he’s forced to stop thrusting.
Instead, he just grinds against her, struggling to breathe as his knot starts to swell – not to the point of a flare, not yet, but so close, and he doesn’t want it to happen yet, wants to make her come again first, really let her wring all of the pleasure out of this possible.
It takes several minutes of deep breathing as she comes down to get a grip on himself, but he manages, and soon she’s rolling her hips against his in a wordless demand. It makes him laugh, as strained as it is, but he moves.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmurs, and Ciri makes a noise in response, but he couldn’t say what it means. He doesn’t worry about it, instead just rolling his hips a little faster again, until he’s fucking her properly once more.
He knows that even if he wants to he won’t be able to control himself this time; he’s going to come right with her. He shifts carefully, until their hips are more properly aligned and he can get his arm under her shoulders; she helps, unintentionally or not, by throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself up to cling.
“One more like this,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her ear since she’s buried her face in his throat. He can feel more than hear the way she’s still whining, clearly overstimulated but still needing. “One more for me, en'ca minne, just like this.”
“Dara,” she mewls, and just like that she’s coming again, barely anything more needed than the steady roll of his hips and a little gentle pressure against her clit. He bites down on her shoulder to keep in a vicious noise, sliding his hand up her belly and then to the side, til he can curl his fingers around the space between her waist and her hip and steady her frantic movement as she trembles through it.
“Fuck, Ciri,” he practically growls it against her throat as his knot finally flares, and he grinds as deep into her cunt as he can get, entire body jolting and head starting to spin when he feels how she squeezes around the intrusion.
Human women don’t lock properly, not like elves, but it’s as if their bodies know to try anyhow. All the same, bodily instinct or not, the sensation is clearly enough of a shock that Ciri’s mind objects.
Luckily, the grip he has on her is enough to keep her from jerking away and hurting either of them.
“Shh,” he soothes, “it’s okay, minne, it’s alright, shhh.”
“What is – fuck,” Ciri whines, voice cracking, and seemingly without her input her hips are rolling against his, cunt clenching even tighter around his knot. The sensation of her squeezing like that, and the way she’s trembling as she grinds his cock deeper inside herself, has him shivering and whining himself, fingertips pressing little point bruises into her soft skin.
“Knot,” he says, shorter and sharper than intended as she squeezes again. “Just – don’t try to pull away.”
“I – fuck, yeah, okay,” she mutters, clearly distracted. He can sympathize.
It takes a bit of effort, but he’s able to sort of scoot his knee higher on the little fur Farryn had laid out for them and then twist, lifting Ciri off of it so he can continue to turn and drop back on it. Unfortunately, the movement means that his knot just presses deeper, almost to the point that he knows he would be locked because of the shape of her pelvis.
She gasps and then mewls, and with a mind-bending little movement of her hips, comes on his knot.
He loses his breath, hips jerking as if he could ever get any deeper than this, with all of her weight pulling her to the very base of his cock. She just makes a cut off little noise, almost a sob, and sort of collapses down onto his chest, still shaking through the aftershocks.
It takes a long moment for him to regain any of his thoughts, but when he does, he notices that she’s cooled off considerably – in fact, she’s shivering now, the sweat they’re both covered in probably chilling her something fierce. He tugs her down, grunting at the shift, and wraps his arms around her. He can’t do much else, pseudo-locked and out in the woods. He’s sure Farryn probably left more than just a single fur for them before she started herding the others back to camp, but he would have to look for that, and that just circles right back to the fact that Ciri is still caught on his knot.
At least the fever is gone, and as her breathing settles, he can practically feel her overactive thinking returning.
“Shh,” he hushes, preemptively, but she isn’t deterred.
“Dara,” she says, softly, and her voice is serious enough that he surrenders and lets her sit up a little. He hisses at the movement, cock twitching inside her, but they both ignore that.
“Mm?”
“...you said fertility ritual. Before.”
“Mm.”
“Dara, I – I have a cycle. I can – this is….”
His stomach drops out. Because if the both of you make it out of this, it’s not me who is going to have a half-elf bastard out of it.
He had known, of course, that it was the risk he was taking in saving Ciri’s life. But she hadn’t, not really.
“Elvish fertility isn’t great,” he offers, and it must sound as weak as it feels, because Ciri whacks his chest.
“With other elves,” she says, and she’s unfortunately right. Human-elf pairings are so much more likely to create offspring, and everyone knows it.
“It’s still possible you won’t take,” he says, and catches her hand before she can hit him again. He can’t resist the urge to kiss her fingertips, though, and he watches as her frown softens.
“But if I do?”
He swallows. “If you don’t want to carry my child,” he says, carefully, refusing to acknowledge the emotional reaction to that that rises in his chest, “then we’ll go to the temple, or one of the healers in the cities. As long as we go early, they can get rid of it.”
Her eyes go wide, at that.
“You would – ” she starts, and then cuts off, looking away. “I know half-elves are frowned upon, but – ”
“Children are…revered,” he interrupts. “And mothers the same. I told you, this, this act itself – it’s a gift, a sacred one, and….”
“...and?”
“And I wouldn’t make you carry a child you didn’t want.”
No matter how desperately I want it, how much my people need children and hope.
She pulls her hand from his, just to turn it and cup his face. Her palm is small and smooth, her skin the kind of soft that tells of her origin. Her thumb strokes over his cheek while she looks at him. After a moment, he can’t take the intensity of the stare, and she doesn’t say anything when he closes his eyes and turns his face into her hand.
Finally, though, she moves, and first he feels her lips at his temple, and then on the bridge of his nose, before her mouth finds his. The kiss is chaste and soft and sweet and his chest aches over it.
“Look at me,” she whispers, against his lips, and he goes cross eyed at first when he obeys, but she just leans a little back and smiles.
“What?” he asks, after another moment of silence where she just smiles softly at him.
“No temple or healers,” she murmurs. “...at least, not for several months.”
Her meaning takes a long moment to sink in, and then he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum.
“You – Cirilla.”
“That’s my name, yes.”
He laughs, then, even as tears gather in his eyes. “Ciri,” he breathes, and tugs her back down into another sweet kiss. “Really? Even if it means that a half-elf has a right to the throne of Xin’trea?”
Her smile widens into a grin. “Better than Nilfgaard, isn't it?”
The tears are spilling over, then, as well as the laughter again, and she shakes a little as she starts to giggle, and he can’t possibly do anything except roll them back over, her back in the undergrowth, and kiss her until the sun comes up.
#celus writes#dead dove#dead dove: do not eat#ciriweek#celus wrecking ciri#celus age difference CW#celus sex pollen CW#celus overstimulation CW#celus pregnancy kink CW#celus breeding kink CW
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03:00.txt
Notes: Starkiller drowns her sorrows. Only content warning here is sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Usual Neo Necropolis stuff.
Pings:
It’s 3:00 in the morning. That’s what the display on Starkiller’s visor says anyway, when she lets her gaze drift to the left to acknowledge the readout. She’s been here for 5 hours, give or take.
Usually she’d be rocking out with Star Eater, her bestie and absolute favouritest boy in the entire universe, or throwing back colourful drinks with a stranger, but tonight she’s sitting on a stool overlooking the Neo Necropolis skyline and feeling sorry for herself.
She slipped away from the group about an hour ago. She can see in her mind’s eye how it went down after she left: Saint and Daiquiri probably wanted to go after her for more hot gossip but Seven told them to leave her alone, give her space.
Or maybe they thought her hot gossip was too sad to be interesting. If that’s the case she’s even more glad they’re not here. She definitely couldn’t handle Daiquiri’s well meaning pity or Saint’s straight up rudeness right now.
Anyway, the point is that she’s been using that space to wallow in her own misery and make her way down a big ‘ol bottle of coconut vodka.
A few people have come by to try to chat her up but all quickly lost interest. It’s no surprise that there’s someone else who hovers over her shoulder. She just waits for whatever corny or gross thing they’re going to slur out.
“I thought that was you,” says a voice that genuinely surprises her, “You got a seat going?”
✩
It’s Kingslayer who sits down next to her.
His iridescent bracers shimmer as he does so, the neon of his digitised palm tree tattoos flickering.
“Hey,” he says, “Real nice night out, right?”
She looks him up and down, ignoring the readouts from her visor since she’s not here to size him up. She’s just curious; he’s not here to party, that’s for sure.
He’s still wearing his usual high collared jacket and the guns (plural) on his belt are prominent.
“Yeah,” she says, without much inflection.
She tries to rouse herself, there’s no need to worry him, everything’s fine! But that’s harder than it looks to pull off. It’s a painful thing to try to remove the permanent scowl of sadness that’s now basically just what her face looks like.
“You here with Gat?” she asks, hoping to distract him from the pretty depressing state of the table they’re, littered with shot glasses and salted peanuts as it is.
Speaking of peanuts, she grabs a handful and shoves it into her mouth.
“Mhm,” he confirms, with a quirk of his lips, “He’s downstairs, wanted me to leave him for a bit. Guess I’m cramping his style.”
“I guess having the big scary bodyguard looming over you does hurt the prospects of getting dicked the fuck down,” she says, with a snort.
Kingslayer makes a face at that, shaking his head as he wrinkles his face as if he’s sucked on a lemon. He punctates that by slamming his hands down palm open on the table.
“God, do not say that ever again! I’ll pay you for your silence,” he groans, still shaking his head before he tilts it to the side and through his sour expression, adds, “He doesn’t do any of that whilst we’re on the clock.”
He points at the shot glasses, some of them full, and she nods. He grabs the closest one and drinks.
Woof, it’s strong. Good stuff, though. Makes sense, considering she doesn’t have to pay to drink here.
“Nah, just a surprisingly squeaky clean and flighty contact,” he explains.
At that her visor scrolls an incredulous ‘ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ’.
“In BLISS?” she asks, with a snort, “A squeaky clean dude who wants to buy guns, in the biggest club in the city?”
“I know, I know,” Kingslayer laughs, bumping her knee with his, “Insane, I know. But he was looking at me like he thought I’d kill him for looking at me funny!”
“You?” she says, grabbing another shot and throwing it back, pausing to choke on it before she adds, “You wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
He puts his hands on the bar stool to turn it in her direction.
“Oh, I mean, elite ex-exaltee force soldier who’s now a merc working for an arms company?” he chuckles, not unkindly, “I’m like the epitome of a dude doing the worst possible thing with his skillset. Can’t blame anyone for being skittish.”
“Well I still think you’re a pacifist on the inside,” Starkiller says, smacking her lips as the alcohol burns its way through her.
“It’s Neo Necropolis, no one is a pacifist,” he counters, amused by the very thought.
She just shrugs, so the two of them sit in amicable silence, listening to the ambience of the very drunk patrons around them and the clink of glasses.
✩
The amicable silence slowly turns tense, though.
“So,” he ventures, drawing the word out, “Elephant in the room.”
“Nope,” she says immediately, filling up another shot and throwing it back with gusto, “No elephants here, buddy.”
Her shoulders are tensed as she taps her foot against the bar stool, now staring dead ahead at the skyline instead of in his direction.
“Sorry SK,” he replies apologetically, “I gotta ask why you’re not cutting some absolutely insane shapes on the dancefloor like I hear you enjoy doing.”
She shakes her head without replying, pouring the entire line of shots once again with a surprisingly steady hand.
“I gotta know why you’re in, uh-”
He gestures at her entire deal, from the way she’s surrounded by the wreckage of a bender and crushed peanuts, to the shocking neon of her outfit seeming drab and sad.
“In this whole sitch,” he says, with a frown.
She groans, looking up at the sky despairingly. Maybe she’s hoping the Stormcatcher will strike her with a bolt before Kingslayer can continue his line of questioning.
“Look,” she says, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m really happy to see you, but don’t push it, okay?”
He lets out a quiet sigh as she takes another shot. She sure can hold her liquor, he notes, considering she’s still understandable despite most of her blood being straight up lighter fluid at this point, he assumes.
“No can do cap’n,” he presses on with a solemn nod, “What’s up?”
“It’s nothing,” she protests, her tone annoyed, “Drop it already, King.”
For a moment he does, and the two of them sit in further awkward silence.
✩
Until it’s too much, anyway.
“I’m not gunna drop it-”
“For fuck’s sake!” she yells.
It gets the attention of the people around them as she pants angrily. Kingslayer holds up his hands and waves for everyone to carry on, which they do.
“Okay, okay, fine, fine fine fine! It’s about Star Eater, okay?!” she hisses, leaning up into his personal space with the energy of a feral cat.
She grabs another shot and downs it, savouring the burn as more of her inhibitions flit away, the misery still there but fought by the simmer in her stomach.
“Uh huh,” Kingslayer says slowly, nodding as he does and she sits back down where she was, “Yeah, okay, cool.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, knowing damn well he’s just pouring salt into this very obvious wound.
“What about him?” he asks tentatively.
Her chest heaves in a mighty sigh as the alcohol swirls around her brain, both making things better and a lot worse.
“You know,” she slurs out, after a couple of moments of trying to fight the words in her brain into making sense.
Kingslayer rests his chin on his fist, clucking his tongue.
“Mm, guessing game, okay,” he says, “I know that you guys are super tight, like twisted up in a pretzel tight.”
She hums in agreement. Her visor scrolls a ‘o(>ω<)o’ in addition, as if he needed further clarification.
So they didn’t have a fight. Which is good!
“I saw he was with Zion,” he adds, thoughtfully, “They’re getting close, I guess?”
He couldn’t see much, except that Star Eater and Zion were in a booth together seemingly having a very private conversation.
She fills up another shot glass without looking at him.
“Uh huh,” he notes, brow furrowing, “Okay, then…”
He trails off, squinting at her face- what of it is exposed, anyway- as her expression twists and her visor reads a ‘(⇀‸↼‶)’.
What else could it be? She’s not an argumentative person, and Zion is a dick but he didn’t seem to be acting cruelly to Star Eater in the moment-
“Oh,” he says, “Wait. You.”
Oh dear.
✩
He rubs the back of his neck, the unfortunate reality of the situation now settling in his mind.
“You have feelings for him,” he says slowly, at which she viciously knocks back her next shot.
They’re tight as they come, soul mates for sure, perfect for each other. There’s just one problem.
Star Eater is about as gay as they come.
Oh, and since they’re inseparable, Starkiller will never have the space to get over her feelings.
“How long?” he asks, watching as the lights reflect off the shot glasses.
“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, though her teeth catch her bottom lip.
“I mean, I feel like it does,” he begins, but her head snaps up as she shoots him a nasty glare from behind the visor. He can feel it, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
She throws her hands up in the air in frustration, coming dangerously close to slamming her visor into the table before she leans almost all the way back on the bar stool.
“What do you want me to say?” she yells before her shoulders slump in defeat, hand snaking out to grab another glass and throw the rest of it back.
She lets out a deep, deep sigh that seems to come from the seat of his soul.
“What, hey, I know it’s not my fuckin’ biz but when I see you with other guys I feel like I want to eat glass,” she rants, visor glowing as she does, “And now you’re going through so much because of Zion and it makes me feel like my heart’s being turned inside out?”
She licks her lips, eyeballing the empty shot glass and dragging the next one closer as Kingslayer shifts his weight from left to right, his lips a thin, concerned line.
“That I don’t know if there’s a combination of drugs that’ll numb the way I feel anymore?” she continues, her anger and sadness simmering in her voice, “That if he asked me for the moon because it’d make a sick disco ball I’d grab handholds of stars to get the damn thing myself?”
Kingslayer hums softly, leaning his elbows on the table.
“I don’t know,” he says, lightly, “I feel like that kind of spontaneous declaration of love would get you a penthouse invite straight to my heart.”
He pauses for a moment, turning it around in his head.
“If I was Star Eater,” he clarifies, “And you weren’t my sister.”
Her visor scrolls ‘(μ_μ)’, which he acknowledges with a snort. His attempts at humour haven’t hit home just yet, it seems, but he’ll keep trying.
✩
They sit in silence as Starkiller dejectedly runs a finger along the rim of her shot glass.
“Did… this help?” Kingslayer ventures quietly, “You look like you feel worse.”
She shrugs at that, entire body limp and radiating fatalistic self loathing so strong it’s coming off her in waves.
“I don’t know,” she says, simply.
Kingslayer cringes at that, pouring himself a small shot and throwing it back. It burns in the back of his throat pleasantly, unlike the measure of guilt he feels about poking this topic.
“Sorry,” he says lamely.
“Nah,” she slurs, before throwing back the shot and shaking her head as she does so. If it’s because she’s trying to make him feel better or because the alcohol is catching up to her, he can’t say.
She sways slightly on the bar stool, the neon lights of the signs plastered on the buildings nearby reflecting in her visor.
Maybe it is catching up to her.
“It was nice to talk to you about it,” she says, rolling her head to the side to look at him with a placid if sad look, “We should talk more.”
He smiles, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.
“Agreed,” he says, before lifting both hands in an open shrug, “I guess we’re both still realising that’s an option, eh?”
She snorts in amusement, continuing to sway in a rhythm of her own choosing.
“Right?” she chuckles, lips curling into a smile, “Prank of the century to pull that shit on your own kids.”
Kingslayer pounds a closed fist to his chest and juts his chin up, taking a deep breath.
“Oh, if only I could go back in time to those bullies who beat me up for being an only child,” he proclaims, “I could show them- nay nay, school-hood cretins, I have a kickass older sister who I didn’t even know existed!”
He looks at her with a sharp grin, mods in his eyes shining in the moonlight.
“And then you’d come in and they’d all go ‘ooooo’, and you’d kick their asses, or something,” he says, his tail flicking.
“Sick,” she says with a faux-sage nod, “I genuinely can’t tell if you’re joking about the bullies, though.”
His grin widens and widens.
“I’ll never tell,” he says, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “I’ll take it to my grave, in fact. Then you’ll have to come dig me up and jack into my corpse to read my mind in cyberspace, and you’ll be like, son of a bitch, he was telling the truth!”
He pours himself another shot and takes it quickly.
“Or, you’ll be like, awh hell no, he was lying, I dug up his rotting corpse for a stupid joke and now I’m booboo the fool.”
She smiles at that. They smile at each other.
He’s glad that his stupid jokes can at least make her smile. They’re certainly not as close as either of them would like to be, but they’re getting there.
✩
After a while she looks past him and nods forward, towards the bar.
“Your boss is here,” she says, giving him a slight kick in the shin.
Kingslayer looks over his shoulder to see Gat at the bar.
He doesn’t actually stick out, because he’s wearing the clothes Coyote gave him, but the way he stands with such delicate professionalism still gives him away even at a distance.
Hopefully it only gives him away to Kingslayer, though. Would really suck if anyone else clocked who he is.
“Ah,” he says, “Guess I better go do my job so I don’t get fired. Or get Gat killed.”
“Yeah,” she mumbles, taking the bottle and pouring herself another round of shots.
He doesn’t love that, but he’s in no position to chasiste or stop her. He’s pretty damn sure he’d do the same thing in her shoes.
Hopefully he did some good, at least.
“Take care, sis,” he says, holding out a fist prime for bumping.
She stares at him for a moment before she raises her own and they share an excellent sibling fist bump.
He turns around to leave but pauses as she brings the shot glass to her lips and downs it.
“Just so you know,” he says, as casually as he can, “You’ll find someone who’ll pull down the moon for you too. You’re just way too cool not to.”
She turns her head in acknowledgement. He can see the ghost of a sad smile on her lips.
“Thanks,” she says, quietly. It’s almost lost in the noise of the crowd that’s forming.
✩
She watches him make his way through the noisy mess of inebriated patrons back to his employer, who greets him with a smile and a pleasant nod.
Alone with her thoughts yet again, she regards the horizon through the blurred lens of Stormcatcher knows just how many shots.
It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? Nothing but buildings for miles, dreamy neon and plumes of pollution floating into the night sky.
Right now she wishes she could turn her body into neon and float across the city, leave behind all these stupid pointless feelings that have refused to leave her no matter how obvious it’s become that they are, in fact, stupid and pointless.
But she can’t do that. She downs all the shots in order to grab the bottle and fill up another row. Enough of them and either she’ll do something to distract herself, or she’ll pass out and both are functionally the same thing. No more thinking.
No more thinking.
#flight rising#flight rising lore#fr lore#clan lore#my lore#neo necropolis#lucky star#starkiller#kingslayer
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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.
The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.
I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.
Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.
10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.
The Parents
From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.
Or while it was still bleeding.
If she was into that.
Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.
Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.
And he always gets his due.
He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.
Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~
Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.
Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.
This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.
Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?
Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.
Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.
What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.
Mortesha would know.
The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.
Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.
The Children
Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.
Anyway.
Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!
Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.
Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.
I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.
Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.
She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.
Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.
Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.
That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.
Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.
#long post#the addams family#Character Design#au#design challenge#i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person#oh god i forgot the cut lol
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hiii i love your fics so much omg! anyway, i have a request that i've been daydreaming about that haha: nat and r get into a really big fight about smth (anything but cheating pls my heart won't be able to take that) and r kind of shuts down, and wanda & carol become super protective of her and follow her everywhere making sure she's ok. (and they're also glaring at nat any chance they get) but then nat comes into r's room one night and apologizes and they make up and snuggle and its soft hours
thank you so much! and of course lovely! here you go<33
Priorities
Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: Natasha has been missing date nights, leaving Y/N embarrassed for the final time. When confronted, an argument unfolds, but can they come back from it?
Word Count: 4.6k
Warnings: some swearing, some self-neglect
Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! <3
“Another drink, miss?” The waiter in a smart, black tux asked you for the second time this evening, a part of you felt that it was out of pity as you sat alone at a table for two, and had been for the last two hours.
You were supposed to be meeting your girlfriend tonight for date night, you got all dressed up, makeup applied and hair styled perfectly, which had taken forever, only to be stood up. You wouldn’t have overly minded if this was a first occurrence, you would’ve brushed it off and rescheduled for another night. Which is what you had done, two missed date nights ago.
This was your third night of sitting alone in a crowded, candlelit restaurant as couples around you glanced over with a sympathetic gaze, which had only made you feel worse. Your girlfriend should be here. ‘Natasha should be here’, you thought. You looked up at the kind waiter, giving him a gentle smile before shaking your head.
“No, thank you. I think I'm calling it a night.” You spoke as you hurried to gather your things and get out of there as soon as possible, trying to hold back tears that you refused to let fall, not in front of all of these strangers. You hated this. You hated feeling so exposed. So vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel anger bubble inside of you, thoughts of Natasha being the only thing currently plaguing your mind, most along the lines of; ‘What was her excuse this time?’ ‘Who is she with instead?’, but, there was one in particular that you couldn’t help but focus on.
‘She promised.’
You hadn’t realised you were crying until you were in the taxi, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror when the driver had adjusted it slightly to see the cars behind you, in the process, you’d also caught her eyebrows raise in concern and it wasn’t long before she started conversation.
“You okay back there?”
You laughed somewhat bitterly, but it wasn’t towards her. “Nothing I can't handle.”
Your response didn’t seem to settle her worry as she turned quickly and shot you a sad smile before returning her eyes to the road.
“Boy troubles?”
“Girl.” You rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of any tear stains that may be lingering and messing up your once really pretty makeup. Not that it really mattered at this point.
“Ah, been there.” She held up her left hand, showing you the shimmering diamond on her finger. “The wife and I have had our fair share of arguments and fallouts, some of them included a situation like this one.”
“Crying in the backseat of a taxi?”
“Crying in the backseat of a taxi.” She laughed lightly, making you smile for the first time tonight.
“It had always worked out though, we’ve never been stronger.”
“Congratulations.” You looked towards the woman “I hope I could be so lucky.” You mumbled, though still loud enough for her to hear. You were mad at Natasha, more disappointed really, but you still loved her, dangerously so. She could stand you up for another 50 dates, and you’d still be head over heels. Angry, but your love would never falter.
“I’m sure you will be. If there’s one thing I've learned over the years, it’s that things have a way of falling into place eventually.”
Pondering her words, you looked out of the car window and noticed that you were pulling up to Stark Tower. It wasn’t long before the car came to a complete stop, the woman turning round to you and beginning to speak again.
“You’ll be okay. It’s obvious you love her, okay? Speak to her. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” She looked at you with nothing but kindness in her eyes, which you did your best to return with a smile. You reached into your purse, handing her the money owed, plus a tip.
“Thank you for the help.”
“Don’t worry about it, go get her.” She winked as you got out of the car and watched her drive away, quickly taking yourself inside to avoid freezing to death as the cold wind blew harshly. Kicking your heels off, you set off with one task at hand. Talk to Nat.
__________________________
“Hey, have any of you guys seen Nat?” You addressed some members of the team who were hanging out in the Kitchen, fixing themselves a snack or just conversing with one another. The second they looked up and took in their appearance, you could’ve sworn their faces paled and saddened slightly as if they knew what had happened.
“I think I saw her head off to train a while ago, but I'm not sure if she’s still there.” Carol replied, her face morphing into one of seriousness. She knew about the missed dates, having found you one night looking completely defeated in one of your nicest dresses and heels. She, alongside Wanda, who had found you both later that night, had spent their night comforting you and reassuring you that she probably hadn’t meant it. They didn’t know what to do, they’d never seen you look so sad before, no matter how much you told them it was okay, the pang in their chest for their best friend hadn’t ceased.
You nodded, quietly thanking Carol and wandered off in search for your girlfriend.
It didn’t take long, she was still training when you’d walked into the gym, sweat practically pouring off of her. Your heart softened briefly when you saw her, her fiery red hair tied back into a ponytail with loose strands all over the place, wearing a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants and a deadpan face as she attacked the dusty punching bag with such force that you’re surprised it hasn’t flown off of the chains yet.
She hadn’t noticed you had walked in, still giving all of her focus to her punches. Maybe she just hadn’t heard you?
“Hi Nat.”
Nothing.
“Nat”
All you could hear was the furious rattling of chains, still not getting a response from the redhead. With a sigh, you decided to try another approach. You stepped closer to her, still keeping a little distance, and leaned forward to tap her shoulder, instantly grabbing her attention. She flung herself around, arm still in midair, her closed fist almost coming into contact with your face.
You don’t know what you expected when she turned around and finally acknowledged your presence, but you definitely didn’t expect to be met with a scowl.
“Seriously? in the middle of training? I could’ve hit you.” She huffed as she turned back to her previous position.
“Sorry. I just wanted to come in and talk to you.”
“About?”
You paused, expecting her to look at you again, but she didn’t.
With a small sigh, you continued. “you missed date night again. I waited for you, but you were a no show.”
“Right, yeah, date night” she muttered, seeming to be unfocused as her eyebrows furrowed and her head kept darting around the room, looking anywhere but at you. “I’ll make the next one.”
“This is the third one you’ve missed this month.” You said firmly, wanting her to understand that this can’t keep happening, of course cancellations or rearrangements were bound to happen sometimes, but she’s just not showing up and then leaving you in the dark as to knowing why.
“I told you, i’ll make the next one.” She walked over to the bench, picking up her water bottle and taking a swig of water, looking directly at you, you look back at her and she just looks so, unbothered.
“I don’t believe you, Nat. You say you’ll make it up to me and then I sit there again, hoping that you’ll be there this time, but you don’t turn up. And now I come back and you’re just training. Could it not have waited? Was that seriously more important?” You raised your voice now, all the anger and frustration you’d felt earlier coming back up to the surface.
You just wanted an explanation, or something to justify how she was acting, but she gave you nothing, not even an attempt, only adding fuel to the fire.
“Why are you getting so annoyed? You should know better than anyone that this is my job.”
“I just explained that to you! Which is more than what you’re giving me right now.”
“Okay, fine, forgive me for not making everything about you for a minute.” She spat bitterly towards you, her temper starting to go as the discussion became more heated.
“Seriously? That’s how you’re seeing this?” If you weren’t so unbelievably irritated, you would’ve laughed at her response.
“You’re being selfish. So I missed a date or two, you’re blowing this out of proportion once again, it’s infuriating.” Selfish?
You raised both your hands, as if in surrender. It was one thing to ditch you, it was another thing to then insult you for speaking up about it. With a tight lipped smile, oozing with sarcasm, you decided that you’d had enough.
“I don’t need to listen to this.”
She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the gloves she’d just put on. “Then don’t, i’m busy anyways.”. This time, you did laugh.
“What a fucking surprise.”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked out, hearing the echo of punches fill the room once again, every one feeling like a punch to the stomach.
Maybe these are things falling into place, just not the place you’d hoped.
________________________
You were still in bed at noon the next day, unable to bring yourself to get up and face the world. You didn’t need to worry about anything in the confinement of your bed, even more so considering it wasn’t the bed you shared with Natasha.
After speaking, well, arguing with her last night, you went straight to your shared bedroom, gathered some clothes and your essentials, and slept in your old room that you used to stay in before the two of you started dating. It felt wrong. You always spent your nights with a warm feeling of love washing over you as your girlfriend pressed kisses all over your face, tangling your limbs together in the process.
It wasn’t the same. You felt cold, a type of cold that no heating or blankets could solve. You lacked a weight on your waist, fingertips stroking the skin that was exposed due to your top riding up slightly. Instead, the only comfort you had was the small bear you’ve kept for the las year. It was one that Natasha had given you after she won it at the funfair on your third date, and you could never bring yourself to part with it, remembering how happy she looked when she handed it to you, and the butterflies you felt just from seeing her look so pleased.
The bear was a little worn and torn now, it had been ripped in a couple of places, now replaced with a little sewn on patch of material that didn’t exactly match the shade of brown, and one of the eyes had started to fall off, but you liked that it was different. The assassin had tried to offer to replace it and buy you a new one, but you’d always refuse, insistent that you would keep that bear with you for the rest of time. Even now, when the two of you weren’t speaking, you still held onto it with a death-tight grip.
A knock on the door snapped you out of your daydream.
“Y/N, open up, It’s me.” A familiar voice shouted through. Carol.
“And me!” Wanda.
You heard some muttering outside of the door, something along the lines of Carol suggesting they break the door down, immediately being told that it was unnecessary by the Sokovian. Feeling pretty against the idea of having a doorway with no door, you called out for them.
“Guys, it’s unlocked.” You were quiet, but it was clear that they had heard you as the faint talking stopped altogether and you heard them walk in and shut the door behind them with a ‘click’.
Wanda was the first to approach you, kneeling down beside the bed so that she was at eye level with you, pulling the bed covers down a little to uncover more than your forehead. Once she could see your eyes and nose, she sent you a warm smile.
“Hi sleepy. It’s noon.”
“I know.” She frowned when she heard you speak, your voice raspy from your crying through the night. She hated seeing you like this, she loved both you and Natasha, and it hurt to see you so sad because of the woman you adored.
“We should go and eat something, it’ll help.”
“‘M not hungry.” You pressed your head further into the pillow, the last thing you wanted to do was eat, your stomach already feeling like it was twisting with every minute that passed.
“C’mon, i’ll make you your favourite.” the blonde winked, leaning against your wardrobe.
“Your special pancakes?”
“With extra whipped cream.” She sang, playfully trying to encourage you to leave the bed. You had to hand it to her, she knew you too well.
WIth a brief look between the two, you rubbed your eyes and threw the covers off dramatically, sighing and ensuring that they knew you didn’t approve of this. They knew you were joking, even if you weren’t, all they cared about was making sure you were okay, knowing that when you felt like this, being left alone allows you to neglect yourself and get really low. They don’t mind if you dislike them for a little while, as long as you are looked after.
“There we go! Well done.” Wanda stroked your back and led you towards the door where Carol held it open for you.
“No breaking it down behind my back.” You shot towards her, slightly amused at the guilty look on her face as she realised you’d heard her quarrel beforehand. Shaking her head, she nudged you out of the door, and the three of you made your way into the kitchen.
_______________________
Carol had stuck to her promise of preparing a sweet treat for you, a stack of fluffy pancakes sat in front of you, topped with whipped cream and two cherries on top. You ate slow, still a little cautious of how stable your stomach felt. You could see your two friends talk with one another, not wanting to stare and make you uncomfortable, but occasionally looking over silently to check in on you.
You were feeling pretty content as you sat at the counter, munching away with the two avengers for company. It was only when you heard a voice that you could recognise anywhere.
“Hi guys.”
Not daring to look up, you ket your eyes focused on the food in front of you, hoping that if you just stay quiet, you’ll be invisible to the human eye.
“Hey Nat.”
“Hi.”
Wanda and Carol replied, wary of any interaction between the pair of you that could unfold into something neither of you wanted or that would lead to any regrets.
You lifted your head slightly, able to see the daggers Carol was throwing at Nat, not impressed with her being in the room. You both had always been quite close, often talking about life before becoming superheroes that protect the planet, in her case, planets. In the process, she’d found herself having a soft spot for you, wanting to protect you from anything that could bring you harm. Which you were grateful for, but her glaring was terrifying sometimes, you were more grateful for the fact that her powers weren’t in her eyes, otherwise you would’ve definitely become single five minutes ago.
You could see Natasha out of the corner of your eye, she was filling up the bottle she used for when she was training, her eyes weren’t on what she was doing, instead, she was trying to subtly look up at you through the hood of her eyes. You subconsciously took the opportunity to really take in her appearance.
Her hair hadn’t been tended to since you last saw her, half of it was hanging out of her ponytail, most of it falling in front of her face. Her eyes looked glassy and bloodshot, like she had been crying recently and you could’ve sworn that was your t-shirt she was wearing. The sight sent a wave of sadness over you, wanting nothing more than to leap over the counter and pull her into your arms and tell her things were fine, that the two of you were fine. But you stayed seated, too nervous to make a move.
You didn’t know it, but she regretted speaking to you last night, instantly realising what she’d done after she came back to her room to find it empty and half of your stuff gone. She knew immediately where you’d gone and would’ve gone through to talk it through with you, but she didn’t think it would help. She wanted you to have your time and space before approaching the situation.
With that, she tightened the lid on her bottle, sent you an apologetic smile and walked out of the room, leaving behind an awkward atmosphere in her absence.
“You alright?” Wanda asked
“Yeah, yeah no I'm okay. I’m feeling a little tired though, I'll catch you guys in a bit, okay?” You stood from your seat, not giving either of the two a chance to stop you as you walked out and back to bed. What a day.
_______________________
Hours had gone by now and you were back wrapped up under your bed covers, still clinging onto your bear. You hadn’t bothered to change, you went straight to bed after walking in the door. You’d managed to get some sleep earlier, not a lot, but it was something.
You tossed and turned, trying to find any way of being comfortable so your body could rest and your mind could shut off, but it was deemed to be impossible. All you could think about was your argument with Nat, and how she looked so upset earlier. The thought alone triggered the waterworks again, this time, you didn’t even attempt to stop them.
Only a couple of minutes had passed before there was yet again, another knock on your door. You rolled your eyes, really not wanting any more visitors, you were grateful for the help, but you really wanted to be alone.
“Guys, I’m fine! It’s late, get some sleep.” You called out, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but they never came. Huh. That’s weird? You brushed it off quickly, assuming that it must’ve just been too quiet to hear, which you wouldn’t put past you due to all the sniffling you’ve been doing in an attempt to silence your crying.
You were wrong. The person at your door hadn’t walked away. They also weren’t Wanda or Carol. Instead, it was who you least expected to be in your room at god knows what time at night after the events that had unfolded recently.
“Hi.” The redhead whispered, worrying that if she spoke any louder, you’d be able to hear her voice shake with nerves, or the huge lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.
You froze on the spot when you realised who it was, not entirely sure how you were gonna play this. Realistically, you might as well just see what it is she wants, it couldn’t hurt, could it?
“Hey.”
Her footsteps were practically silent but still felt deafening as she stepped closer to you, cringing slightly at how tense and forced all of this felt. It was her fault, she knew that, she hoped you did too. She didn’t want you blaming yourself for her actions, although she couldn’t say anything if you did, she was the one who had insulted you and planted the thought in your head, and she felt every fibre in her body beg for you to forgive her.
Approaching with caution, she walked up to the top of the bed, kneeling where Wanda had been earlier, but unlike Wanda, she didn’t reach out for you. She didn’t feel she had the right. Not now. She quickly took note of your eyes and how they were drooping and red, just like how hers had been earlier, which is how she could know in an instant that you had just been crying. She felt like a knife had gone through her chest at the sight, knowing that she had done that to you. She’d let you down so much that it had brought you to laying in bed alone and crying.
You mumbled something incoherent, completely muffled by the covers that were blocking your mouth.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you through the cover, could you tell me that again?”
You looked down a little, debating on doing it or just asking her to leave this conversation for another day. ‘But, she was already here, so you may as well get on with it.’ you thought, and with that, you tugged the covers down a little, letting Natasha see your full face now, unable to stop a tiny hint of a smile creeping up on her face. Your nose was runny, your eyes were puffy, and your face was flushed, but that didn’t change the fact that she still believed you to be the most beautiful woman she’d seen.
“Has something h-happened?” You hiccuped, noticing the frown take over her features as she maintained her eye contact with you.
“Yeah. i was a complete idiot.”
“Nat-”
“No, no, please. I want to explain. I need to explain. Please?” She pleaded, not caring how desperate she might’ve looked.
You paused for a minute before sighing gently, nodding at her and giving her a non-verbal go ahead to continue. She took a deep breath, looking away for a second then looking back at you before you could even blink. You could see her hands tremble a little, and while you were upset with her, you couldn’t leave it alone. You reached your hand out from under the cover and held it out to her, offering it for her to hold. She grabbed it without hesitation, squeezing it gently as a single tear fell, gathering the courage to say her next words.
“I have no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I could say that would make my actions plausible or acceptable, I shouldn’t have treated you like that or said what I did, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, or don’t want to. But I needed-, no, I need you to know, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve better.”
More tears had fallen down her face at this point, her thumb not ceasing in their circular movements on the back of your hand. She didn’t know if this was going to be the last time she felt your hand in hers, so with every circle, she was savouring the moment, no matter how badly she wished it was under different circumstances.
You shuffled a little so you were in a more upright position, hoping that it would make speaking easier. You’d taken in every word, and while you were hurt, extremely hurt, you saw how remorseful she was. Her face showed no sign of humour or like she was lying. You could always tell when she was lying, her eyebrow always twitched a little, which you would always be in stitches about when she tried to say she didn’t eat your last cookie and her eyebrows would be moving like mad. They were as still as stone when she was speaking this time.
“You really hurt me, Nat. I didn’t think I was asking for much, just some time with you, that was all. And you left me every time, for work and with no notice. It was embarrassing.” She nodded in acknowledgement as she listened. “A-and then to come back and witness you being so, so, hostile, with me, I didn’t understand what I'd done.”
She gulped audibly before speaking again. “You hadn’t done a thing. Not a thing. I-I threw myself into work, into training. The last mission, I was sloppy, I wasn’t on my A game, it almost ended up with other people seriously hurt. So I thought-” She took a shaky breath in. “I thought, if I trained harder, It would mean I would be better for the next mission. But I disregarded everything else on the radar, including you, and then I got so mad at myself for it that I ended up taking it out on you instead. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and it was out of order for me to ever say so. It was wrong, and I don’t think I can apologise enough.`` She gave you an apologetic smile, tears streaming down her face steadily now.
“You know, when I came home from the restaurant, I had this driver.” You smiled. “Nice woman, she’s got a wife. She was telling me that it wasn’t easy for them. They had their ups and downs, their fights and bitterness. But they always found their way back to each other.” You whispered so softly that if there was any other noise in the room, Natasha wouldn’t have heard a word.
“And, when we argued, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to come back from that. I thought that maybe our time had expired.” You sniffled, your own tears trailing their way down your cheeks. Without thinking, she wiped them away, her palm pressing onto your warm cheek as you nuzzled into it, still finding comfort in her touch.
“I don’t want us to expire, Nat.”
There it was. There was the sentence that turned silent tears into fully body wracking sobs, your hands instinctively going to pull away and cover your face, instead, Natasha brought herself up to sit on the side of your bed, hastily bringing you into her chest and her free hand combing its way through your hair.
She rocked you back and forth, letting you get everything out of your system, no matter how much it hurt to hear.
“Shh, I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, moya lyubov.”
Your sobs soon died down with Nat’s help, sobs turning into faint pants with how tired you were and how much energy it had taken out of you. You looked up at her softly, as she smiled down at you.
“I love you, Natty.” You murmured, the words making the assassin’s heart grow fonder for you, if that was ever possible.
“I love you more.”
“Can you stay with me tonight? I can’t sleep without you.”
“Of course. Anything for you.” She leaned over you, bringing the blankets back up and over you, catching a glimpse of some brown fur among the darkness. She knew exactly what it was. She picked up up with the blankets and handed it to you, happiness overtaking her as she saw your eyes light up at the teddy she won for you.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Detka.” She pressed a kiss to your temple before settling down, holding you tight in her grasp, refusing to let you go for anything or anyone, not that you were complaining, you’d missed this.
Nothing had to be decided tonight, there was no rush for discussion. Sure, there were still things to talk through and work out, but that can wait. All that mattered right now, was that Natasha was there. She was holding you in her arms and you felt every ounce of love and apology she could give you. And that was enough for now.
taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova @wvnda-maximoff
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff oneshot#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff smut#marvel#marvel fanfiction#mcu#mcu fandom#natasha romanoff fluffy
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Imagine being Lin Beifong’s daughter and Korra having a crush on you
You entered President Raiko’s party late and hurried inside hoping to avoid your mother’s wrath by appearing as soon as possible. Being Lin Beifong’s daughter and employee meant she was twice as hard on you as anyone on the force, so she would not take your tardiness well. You were waved into the building by guards who recognised you on sight and rushed into the ballroom. You saw the party was already in full swing and braced yourself for all the fake smiling you’d have to endure when a young woman appeared across from you. “Avatar Korra” you nodded in recognition of the girl who grinned at you. “Miss Beifong” she smiled in greeting “you look as beautiful as ever...you legs alone seem to go on for years in those trousers” she commented glancing at them and you blushed. “Funny I just had a similar thought about your biceps”. Korra beamed “ow you can’t really see them in this thing but I’d be happy to give you a closer look”.
You couldn’t resist a smile and your blush grew to have such a beautiful woman flirt so blatantly with you. Korra was always like this around you and you enjoyed it greatly even if it wasn’t professional. Korra was a breath of fresh air in Republic City and you enjoyed her confidence and humour. You liked the avatar a lot but you had no intentions of pursuing anything beyond flirting with her. For one thing she was young, cocky, beautiful and THE avatar. You supposed she had hundreds of boys and girls queueing up for her and didn’t want to just be another name on her list. You’d heard about how the previous water tribe avatar had been a hit with women and apparently that was a trait Korra shared. She was the avatar, who wouldn’t be weak to her charm? Still you tried to behave so aimed to change the topic of conversation.
“I think we should join the party seeing as we’re both very late” you smiled slyly and Korra smirked “I didn’t think Beifongs were ever late. Are you really trying to tell me you’re not perfect?”. The girl was insatiable. “We all have our secrets” you replied and Korra’s grin only grew. “Mysterious, intelligent and beautiful...you have to let me lead you into the party. As the Avatar it’s my duty to serve the people”. “Well who I am to get in the way of that” you smirked rolling your eyes as you took her outstretched arm. Korra led you into the party proudly and you enjoyed being on her arm. Still you were in work mode, so you only stayed by Korra’s side for an appropriate amount of time before excusing yourself so nobody would get the wrong idea. Korra never failed to make you smile or blush but you wouldn’t let it progress no matter how much fun it would be. So you allowed the flirting and lingering glances but stopped it from going any further.
You saw Korra pretty regularly as she was always in trouble with the law in some way or another and not a month after the party President Raiko banned her from Republic City. It was something he’d likely take back pretty soon but still she had to leave so you and your mother went to help her however you could. The avatar didn’t seem too bothered by the President’s command and still had that cocky smile on her face. She let you into Tenzin’s home and explained how she was leaving tomorrow to go look for air benders anyway. She read out the names of some known airbenders in the earth kingdom and you paused as one was familiar. “Wait did you say Opal? Is she from Zafou by any chance?” you asked and Korra nodded “yeah why?”. Your mother tried to silence you but you didn’t notice, too excited. “She’s my cousin!” you burst “This is so great, i’m so proud of her”. “Wait so Suyin is your sister?” Korra asked Lin and your mother nodded “yes. Which is something I wished to remain a secret but clearly that is not an option anymore” she said shooting you a look. “Well this is great news” Korra smiled “you have to come with me!”. “What!” your mother cried and Korra sighed “if she’s your niece then you can help us recruit her! We need all the help we can get”. “No way!” Lin cried “I am not seeing my sister ever again if I can help it, y/n can go if you want a Beifong so badly”. Korra looked at you and smiled “that does sound appealing, what do you say y/n? Want to come on a field trip with me?”. Korra held out her hand to you and you blushed, hoping your mother didn’t notice. You knew you probably shouldn’t go. Being in close quarters with Korra would certainly challenge your restraint but you hadn’t seen your extended family in so long and this was the perfect opportunity to go visit. Plus Korra looked so good when she smiled at you like that. “Sure” you said taking her hand “someone has to keep you out of trouble”.
You met Korra and her friends at Future Industries the next day and were soon flying to Zafou. Korra came to stand beside you on the deck and leant forwards flexing her arms right in front of you. “I’m glad you agreed to come” Korra smiled and you nodded “me too, it’s been forever since I’ve got out of Republic City”. Korra’s eye glinted “does this mean I’m going to witness holiday y/n? It’d be fun to see you let your hair down and go wild”. “If you’re lucky maybe you will” you smirked and Korra nodded “i’m looking forward to it” and winked before leaving you alone once more. You stared after her as she walked away and Korra must’ve felt your eye on her because before she disappeared back into the ship she turned and caught you red-handed watching her. She smiled widely a chuckle slipping from her lips and you turned around sharply, blushing vividly. Agreeing to this trip may not have been a smart decision at all.
When you touched down in Zafou Korra had you right beside her in pride of place. You recognised your aunt immediately and she addressed Korra first before she spotted you beside her and she did a double-take. “Y/n?” she asked and you grinned “Aunt Suyin!” and rushed forwards to hug her. Your aunt wrapped you in a hug and then quickly tugged you to go find your cousins, momentarily forgetting the avatar was here. She summoned all your cousins and they rushed to greet you...well some did. Bataar junior didn’t look impressed and Huan just glanced at you not particularly bothered but the twins and Opal were very welcoming. “It’s so good to see you again!” Opal cried and you nodded taking her hand “it is! It’s been far too long and I can’t believe you’re an airbender now!”. Opal nodded “trust me it was a shock to us all but i’m so excited to learn airbending”. “Well Korra can definitely help you with that” you said gesturing to the avatar who nodded confidently “of course, anything for y/n’s cousin” and you blushed slightly but managed to hide it.
You enjoyed your time with your family greatly and got along well with all your cousins. You participated in Wei and Wing’s power disk game and being a good metal bender yourself almost won the match. You noticed Korra watching you and briefly tried showing off before getting wiped out. The twins noticed Korra watching and invited her to join but she declined explaining she couldn’t metal bend. Your cousins rushed to assure her she could learn and volunteered to teach her. Korra seemed very excited at the idea and agreed before she turned to you “wait a minute y/n why did you never offer to teach me?”. You could tell she was only feigning annoyance so you shrugged “what can you blame me for wanting something over the almighty avatar?”. That stroked Korra’s ego and she smiled lazily “no but I’ll certainly get my own back in some way”. “Ow really? How”? you challenged her and the girl just shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but be on your best behaviour Beifong” she smirked before rushing away.
Korra went off to train with your cousins and you were relieved hoping this would be a time for you to cool down and recover but no. Opal caught you and invited you to catch up with her in the gardens. You of course obliged your cousin but found yourself seated directly in view of Korra’s training with your cousins. You tried focusing on Opal but your eyes kept getting pulled to the avatar as she picked up metal bending remarkedly quickly. You noticed Korra had spotted you and she appeared to be putting on a show, trying valiantly to challenge your cousin entirely for your benefit. It was a clever strategy and soon Opal trailed off just letting you admire Korra. Your cousins were experiencing first-hand just how skilled the avatar could be and you saw them breaking out in a sweat with how hard Korra was pushing them.
After a while they began trying to score past one another and Korra got an idea. She *accidentally* bent a disk near you and your cousin Wei teased her for being sloppy. She just shot them a lopsided grin and jogged over to you. “Ladies” she smiled looking straight at you “i’m sorry I didn’t see you there”. “Ow really?” you asked and Korra grinned “yeah I had no idea you were here whatsoever...which is odd considering how every eye is drawn to you whenever you’re nearby”. You blushed going red and Korra’s smile grew “I’ll leave you to your chat. Opal, Y/n” she nodded at you both in turn but winked when she met your gaze. You watched her run back to your cousins and found Opal staring at you. She immediately pushed you squealing “you didn’t tell me you were dating the avatar!”. “I’m not and keep your voice down please” you begged seeing the smug look on Korra’s face which told you she’d noticed Opal’s reaction. “But she was very openly flirting with you” Opal retorted and you nodded “I know we do that a lot but it’s just our friendship. I’d never let it go further because she’s the avatar! She’s not after a relationship she just wants a fun fling and I can’t give her that. Trust me the avatar will get bored of me and move on soon enough”. “Ow yeah?” Opal asked looking to where Korra was still putting on a show for you. Korra scored a point and shot you a smile. You blushed vividly and Opal laughed “I don’t think she’s not going cold on you any time soon”.
At the end of the week your Aunt Suyin threw a party to celebrate Opal’s progress and avatar’s arrival. It was magnificent and you hadn’t seen this much earth kingdom food in...well forever! You made sure Korra and the others were all okay and socialised with your cousins greatly enjoying being with your family. Bataar jnr told you about his machines, his girlfriend Kuvira traded military expertise with you, Wei and Wing quizzed you about all the pro-bending in Republic City, you teased Opal about her crush on Bolin and even Huan showed you some of his paintings. You were absolutely thrilled your family still felt like a family after all this time and hadn’t been this happy in a long time. However all that excitement can be draining. Towards the end of the night you began to grow tired so went outside for some fresh air and quiet. You were relaxing in the picturesque moonlight when you were disturbed. “Well your aunt certainly knows how to put on a spread” someone called and you jumped to find Avatar Korra making her way over to you on the abandoned balcony. She was wearing a beautiful blue dress and her eyes shone in the dark light. “She does” you smiled “never let it be said Beifong’s don’t know how to put on an event”. “That’s for sure” Korra agreed coming to sit right beside you. “The city is so beautiful” she commented before she turned “as are you”. “Thanks” you blushed “you look very beautiful too”. “There’s no way I can compete with you in that outfit” Korra smiled “Beifong’s apparently always look stunning as well as being great hostesses”. “Have you been checking out my aunt then?” you replied and Korra laughed “of course not, I only have eyes for you”. “Sureeee” you laughed but Korra nodded “I do I promise! You’re all I think about and why wouldn’t I? You’re the most interesting girl I’ve ever met. I’m crazy about you”. You blushed under Korra’s intense gaze but didn’t look away. “I....I don’t know what to say” you finally spoke up and Korra shrugged “well then how about we don’t bother talking anymore?”. Time seemed to freeze and you viewed the present in slow motion as Korra cupped your cheek gently and leant forwards. You liked the way her hands felt on you and instinctively leant into her before your brain caught up with the situation. “Wait! Korra I can’t” you said your heart hammering in your chest and the avatar frowned inches away from you. “You can’t? why? Do you not find me attractive?” Korra asked. “No of course I find you very attractive, i’ve never seen a human being I find more attractive than you” you admitted very flustered. “Then what’s the problem?” Korra asked and you sighed “the problem is I don’t just want to hook up with you a few times and be done with it. I know some people like that kind of thing and i’m sure as the avatar it is the perfect option but I’m not like that. Casual one night stands just aren’t my thing so I’m sorry I have to decline. Please don’t ask me again” and you rushed away. Korra called after you but you clearly wanted to be left alone so she didn’t follow you. She hung her head in her hands at how messed up things had gotten.
When Korra had allowed herself to wallow for a bit she came back inside to find the party over. She made her way to her shared room and found Asami waiting. “Korra where have you been we were all worried sick and...” Asami started when she caught sight of Korra’s expression and stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?” Asami asked and Korra sighed “you gave me terrible advice that’s what!”. Korra explained the situation more and Asami felt awful. Being more experienced with relationships Korra had come to Asami for advice on how to approach her feelings for you and it hadn’t worked well. Given Korra’s past approach of blurting out her love for people without a second thought, Asami advised Korra to try a different approach with you but she hadn’t meant it so literally. Instead of being serious or passionate Korra had been entirely flirty and forward with you. No substance just fun. So you’d wrongly gotten the idea all Korra wanted was a fun fling when she actually was madly infatuated with you and wanted far more long term things with you. Asami wasn’t sure what she could do but seeing Korra so distraught she knew she had to try and help her friend.
So Asami made her way to your room hoping you wouldn’t mind such a late-night visit. Asami knocked on your door and heard movement inside. There was a pause before she heard you call “who is it?” nervously. “It’s Asami” she called back “I need to speak to you”. The door opened slowly and Asami saw you looked upset. “Did Korra send you”? you asked quietly “because she didn’t do anything wrong I just need some space”. “No she didn’t send me but I am here because of her, I need to confess something”. Your eyes widened in confusion but you nodded and let Asami into your room. The minute you turned to face her Asami burst “It’s my fault! Korra came to me when she realised she liked you and asked me for advice. She was terrified of messing this up and doing what she did with Mako...with him she’d blurted out a lot of intense things right away and so I told her to do the opposite. I suggested she just toned down the seriousness and had fun with you. Flirt a little and try and gauge how you were feeling before she confessed her whole heart to you. But it seems she took my advice too much and now you don’t think her intentions are good at all which is not the case! Korra very much likes you for more than just your appearance and she has for a while”. You stared at Asami at an apparent loss for words “so Korra was...what acting?”. Asami shrugged “kind of, she was putting on this cocky flirty front when she’s actually a lot more emotional and sweet...she didn’t mean to come across so forward she was just following my advice which backfired horribly. I’m so sorry it upset you I promise that was not her intention at all. If you want to blame anyone blame me”. You assured Asami you weren’t upset with her and spent the next half hour understanding how the situation had gone so wrong. You were very excited by the end of it and couldn’t wait till morning to speak with Korra. Asami told you she was in their room and wouldn’t mind you disturbing her so late.
So you rushed to Korra’s shared room and knocked on the door lightly. Your stomach was bubbling with butterflies and you weren’t sure what you were going to say when you saw her. The door didn’t open so you knocked louder hoping Korra wasn’t asleep. Still there was no sound from inside so you frowned and decided she must be asleep. You didn’t want to wake her so started to retreat from the room when you heard a loud thud from inside. “Korra?” you called through the door “are you okay?”. You got no reply and were growing more and more concerned when you heard something smash inside followed by a grunt of pain. “Korra?” you yelled through the door and began bending the metal of the lock. The door swung open and you saw the room was an utter mess. Naga was unconscious on the floor and by the window...four people had a struggling Korra in their arms. She looked very weak and wasn’t putting up much of a fight so you figured she must’ve been drugged. “Korra!” you cried rushing into the room. You had no idea who these people were but you weren’t letting them take Korra. You launched into a flurry of attacks and managed to land a few hits on the earth and water bender. The air bender sent a gust which knocked you back but you were quick on your feet and pursued them leaping out of the window. You yelled as you chased them quickly attracting the attention of the guards who sounded the alarm. Suyin appeared as did her guard Kuvira and they helped cut the quartet off. “You have nowhere left to go, let her go” you glared and the leader just smiled “never”. You looked at Korra lying limp at their feet and felt rage take you. “Then i’ll drag her from you myself” and ran at him.
3 hours later
You were sat in the infirmary beside an unconscious Korra waiting for the effect of the drug to wear off. Everyone else had gradually retreated to bed but you couldn’t sleep. The adrenaline from the fight was still pulsing through your veins and was only overshadowed by your worry for Korra. You’d won the fight with the help of Suyin, her guards and Korra’s friends but still the drug they’d used hadn’t worn off. Your eyes fell to her for what felt like the hundredth time and you sighed “please wake up”. Finally Korra listened. With a loud gasp Korra jolted awake and you scrambled to your feet. “Korra breath! You’re okay, you’re safe just breathe!” you commanded and Korra slowly began to calm down. “Y/n? What happened?”. “The White Lotus, I didn’t realise it was them at first but i’ve been briefed on them. They tried to kidnap you when you were a kid and they tried again tonight”. You saw Korra shiver at that and frowned. “But never mind them” you sighed wrapping an extra blanket around her shoulders “how are you feeling?”. Korra frowned “okay...a bit groggy like i’ve come out of a really heavy sleep but it’s not too bad. It’s getting better. How are you?” she asked and you froze “me?”. “Yeah” Korra said offering you a small smile “you don’t look like you’ve slept a wink”. You chuckled softly “I haven’t. I wanted to see you wake up first and make sure you were okay. I haven’t been able to rest since it happened...I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them with you I was so angry but you’re okay now and that’s all that matters". Korra smiled at you "yeah I'm okay now...thanks to you". It wasn’t the usual cocky smirks she sent you. Instead it was a sweet tired smile but it made your heart hammer in your chest just as much. "Do you remember much?" you asked and she shook her head. "No I remember something hitting Naga. I went to look at it when one hit me too. I backed away from the window as the world began to spin and then everything went blurry...the next thing I remember was seeing you in my doorway. You attacked whoever had me and I fell. I remember being unable to move and seeing you send rocks flying through the air. You were terrifying" she laughed "a woman possessed". "Of course I was they were going to take you! I know I might have sent mixed messages last night but I like you Korra. I was coming to tell you that. Asami explained to me what happened and why you behave as you do around me". Korra blushed at that "what were you coming to say to me?". "Well I was coming to ask if it was true, did you really put on a mask around me, acting all confident and promiscuous?". Korra nodded "yeah...I meant everything I said to you I wasn’t lying about my attraction but I was doing the opposite of what I'd usually do because my last relationship didn’t work out well. I came on too intense too quick so I tried to take a more fun carefree approach but that didn’t work. I'm sorry I offended you or made you think I was only interested in you for one thing. I do think you’re gorgeous but that's just one of many things I like about you and by no means the most important". Korra blushed looking down and you found her adorable. How had she hidden this side of her so well? "So is this, you know, the real you?" you asked double-checking. Korra nodded "yep, this is me. I'm emotional, reckless and I always say the wrong thing. I have no tact and just say what I'm thinking. Now you can probably see why I was trying to act so put together and impressive before. They're much more attractive qualities". "Maybe" you shrugged "but I think this side of you is just as attractive, more so actually because it's real and it's beautiful. You're wonderful Korra exactly as you are". Korra stared at you in shock and you just smiled at her. "I...I..." she babbled and you smirked "how about I kiss you to save you having to speak?". "Yes please" the avatar breathed and you gently placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her. The kiss was sweet and Korra seemed uncharacteristically shy. She pulled back blushing vividly and you smiled at her reaction "how was it?". "Good...amazing" she replied and you smiled "great". Korra looked up at you but blushed as soon as she met your eye and you smiled taking her hand softly "I like you Korra and that kiss was good for me too, if you’d like to make it a more frequent thing we could go out on a date sometime?". "I'd love that!" Korra agreed before wincing "too eager?". "No it was adorable like you" you smiled kissing her forehead "now it really is late. You should try and get some rest, something tells me the next few days are going to be very long and strenuous". Korra nodded "I agree, goodnight y/n". "Goodnight Korra" you smiled and closed her door softly. The avatar wasn’t a womaniser but a shy bashful passionate woman. You were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to see all the different layers of her left to discover.
____
Korra is 100% one of those people that’s all talk but is actually a huge softie romantically. Asami is one lucky lady (althought she’s also amazing so Korra is lucky too).
Also why is there so little Korra content out there? Her and Huan Beifong are very under-represented in the fanfiction game and I am personally offended by that 😂
#Korra#korra imagine#korra x reader#legend of korra#avatar#avatar the legend of korra#Avatar imagine#avatar the legend of korra imagine#avatar korra#Lok imagine#lin beifong#zafou#beifong#asami#suyin beifong#opal beifong#wei beifong#wing beifong#huan beifong#bataar junior#the white locus#republic city
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