#slap on a duck bill
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Lucifer: *sees an otter* Guys, I have an idea.
Lucifer: ALAKAZAM! ✨
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lucifer#Lucifer loves his ducks#slap on a duck bill#call it a day#Lucifer is an artist#give it venom#and a beaver tail for symmetry
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It's a rainy Saturday evening, and Cellbit is alone in his apartment agonizing over his bills yet again (it's hard to pay rent when you're a convicted felon unable to hold a goddamn job.) His dinner is cold and uneaten in front of him, and the news is playing quietly on his phone on the other side of the room: another bank robbery, oh, wow, cool.
Cellbit, as usual, is completely alone. He's an orphan, he has no friends, his neighbors are all either dead or at work. No pets. No one.
He glances up from his bills when there's a light knocking at his door. With one last look at the bullshit in front of him, Cellbit pushes back from the kitchen table with a sigh. He cracks his neck, messes his hair up, grimaces and flattens it again, and then he goes to answer the door.
He opens the door to thin air.
And then he looks down and sees a young boy in an oversized yellow football jersey looking up at him through his hair, a smile on his face.
"Uh," says Cellbit. "Can I help you?"
The boy sticks a chubby hand out, rocking back onto his heels. "Hi, I'm Richarlyson!"
Cellbit only hesitates a little before crouching and sagely accepting the hand and shaking it. (He likes kids, so what?)
"Where are your parents, Richarlyson?" he asks.
Richarlyson's smile only widens in response. "Right here! You're my dad!"
Cellbit laughs, he can't help it. "Yeah, funny."
He stands and puts his hands in his pockets. He looks down the hallway and sees nobody, not even any of the usual rats.
"I'm being serious!" Richarlyson huffs. He stomps his little foot, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. "Here, I'll show you!"
And then he pushes his way into the apartment, ducking past Cellbit and running to hop onto Cellbit's couch. He pulls his backpack off and starts filtering through it without a care.
Oh, God, no.
Cellbit follows Richarlyson in and closes the door behind him, reaching for his phone on the table and closing the news. He can-not have some random runaway kid in his apartment, that's basically a jail sentence already.
"See, once upon a time there were all these fairy tales, right?" Richarlyson asks. He pulls a hoodie- blue, oversized- from his backpack and tosses it aside. "But then they all disappeared!"
"Fairy tales," Cellbit politely says. "Right."
"But I know what happened to them! The Evil King made them all lose their memories, including-"
"Don't you mean the Evil Queen?"
Richarlyson frowns. "Don't be sexist."
Cellbit blinks, mildly taken aback. His finger hovers over the phone app, ready to call the police. When Richarlyson isn't looking at him.
"Anyway," Richarlyson continues, turning back to his backpack, "as I was saying, the Evil King cast a spell and made everybody forget who they were, including you."
...So maybe Cellbit should call an ambulance instead.
But, before Cellbit can try anything, Richarlyson makes a triumphant noise and pulls a big, heavy-looking storybook out of his backpack. He hops off the couch and runs to Cellbit, holding the book out for him to take.
Cellbit looks at the book, and then he looks at the kid, and then he looks at his phone and starts calling the police.
Richarlyson shouts and slaps the phone out of his hand. "No! Listen to me!"
Cellbit scowls and bends down to pick his phone up. "I'm calling your parents."
"Are you deaf?" Richarlyson demands. He smacks Cellbit hard upside the back of his head with his book. "I just said you're my dad!"
Cellbit yelps and clutches the back of his head, still crouched. He glares at the kid.
"I don't even know you," he says.
"Yeah, because the Evil King made you not know me. He made everybody forget, and now everybody is in danger! You need to come help everybody before it's too late!"
"I'm not a hero," Cellbit tells him. He snatches his phone up again, finally. "Which of your parents can I call? It's either them or the police, and I do not want to deal with them tonight."
(Especially not after they caught him trying to feed the stray cats outside of the bus station earlier that evening, ouch, he's going to be sore in the morning...)
Richarlyson's eyes light up. "You're a criminal? Cool!"
"Not cool. Crime is not cool."
(It is.)
"You're supposed to be a hero, though," Richarlyson muses. He frowns again, thoughtful. He drops to the ground, cross-legged, and he opens his book and starts flipping through it. "I remember reading that."
Okay, no phone number from the kid himself. That's fine. Cellbit likes to fancy himself a bit of an amateur detective (he's played enough Ace Attorney for it, anyway.) He can find the number himself.
While Richarlyson reads, Cellbit sneaks around him and tiptoes to the couch. Picking up the kid's abandoned backpack, Cellbit starts silently going through it looking for any kind of identification- a bus pass, a school I.D., anything.
"What's your last name?" he asks.
"Dunno," Richarlyson responds, nose deep in his book. "None of my dads really have one. Unless you do?"
He looks up, wide-eyed and hopeful.
Cellbit carefully hides the backpack from view.
"Legally, no," he answers. "But you should know that if you're really my son."
Richarlyson glowers. "It's not my fault the Evil King sent you all the way over here instead of letting you stay with us!"
'Us', okay, that implies a family. That's a good start.
Cellbit relaxes against the back of the couch. "With you, you and your mom?"
"Nope, me and Pai Forever and Pai Felps and Pais Tazer e Craft and Mãe Bagi."
Cellbit blinks. "So I'm not your father."
"No, you are. Now shush, I'm researching."
Richarlyson puts his finger to his lips; Cellbit acquiesces, miming pulling a zipper across his lips.
Speaking of researching...
Cellbit starts rummaging through the backpack again. Now that he has some names to work with, it'll be easier to find some kind of identification, right?
His hand brushes against a hard piece of plastic tucked into the backpack's front-most pocket. Bingo.
Pulling it out, Cellbit looks it over until he finds a 'Forever' and an address, but no phone number.
Quesadilla City, hmm. That's unfamiliar.
"Found you!" Richarlyson announces.
He runs to Cellbit's side, book clutched to his chest. He hops onto the couch and sits next to him, legs swinging as he places his book in his lap.
Cellbit has always been a painfully curious man, so he can't help but look down and see what fairy tale Richarlyson has decided he is.
His face falls.
Puss-in-Boots.
"Yeah, no," Cellbit scowls. He stands and drops Richarlyson's backpack onto the floor, heading to the kitchen to grab his jacket off of the back of a chair and his keys from off of the counter. "You're going home. Get your stuff."
"So you're gonna help?" Richarlyson asks. He does, at least, start packing his bag up again.
"No, I'm taking you home, and then I'm coming back here to my home so my landlord can kill me when I don't pay my rent this month."
"What, you're broke?"
"I'm not discussing my financial situation with a child."
"Even though I'm your son?"
Richarlyson scurries to the door, waiting for Cellbit to open it before rushing out into the hallway.
"You aren't my son," Cellbit sighs. He shuts and locks the door behind the two of them, already grimacing at how much he'll have to pay for gas trying to get Richarlyson to wherever Quesadilla City is. "I've never even had a partner."
"Not here, you haven't."
Cellbit trips over his own shoelace, bristling at Richarlyson's giggle.
"Come on, let's go! You've got a world to save!"
Cellbit yelps as Richarlyson grabs him by the arm and starts pulling him out of the building and towards the parking lot.
Fairy tales, yeah, right. Cellbit's lived long enough to know better than to believe in happily-ever-afters, let alone evil kings or fantasy curses. Happy endings aren't real. Especially not for him.
-
Or, the Once Upon a Time AU
#lost fairy tale au#guys i came up with this au in the shower earlier and couldn't stop thinking about it#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.
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Hello can you please do a jealous Hobie x reader
Where they were out at a party while at the party reader just happened to see one of her male best friends and they're like in a back room smoking together and Hobbit just happens to walk in to see readers male best friend blowing smoke in her mouth 😊🥰
You don't have to put in the smoking pot if you don't want to 😊😋
Hello hun! Thank you for your request! I changed some things, hope you don't mind!
Some drinking and smoking, a lot of cursing. 1.2k
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You feel lightheaded, the booming music pounds into your skull, coupled with the bright strobe lights, and people screaming over the loud music trying to hear each other, you feel your social battery draining with every clink of glass.
Partying seemed like a good time for the first two hours of being there, but as the night continues on, you just want to go to bed, and wash the smell of cheap beer off of you.
The only good thing about this is spending time with Hobie.
You wince when another screech of a guitar riff booms out of the speakers, you lean towards Hobie's ear, an excuse falling on your lips.
"I'm gonna go to the loo for a bit"
"Sure, love. I'll watch your drink" Hobie moves your pint closer to his while he continues talking to his friend.
You slide off the booth, fixing your shirt. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to avoid crashing into them, the wc sign looks like a beacon, beckoning you for a much needed reprieve.
Suddenly you hear your name getting called, or rather screamed at you. You do a 180 trying to find who called you.
"Here! On your right!"
You're not sure if that was for you, still you looked to your right. Lo and behold you see your old high school mate, peeking behind the doors to the bar's balcony.
"David! Is that you?!" You squint trying to find his distinguishable features.
"Yeah! Get your arse over here!" He opens the door fully for you.
Scrambling towards the door, you try to push past dancers. Finally entering the balcony, your best friend hugs you tightly, slightly lifting you off the floor. You giggle at your reunion.
"Holy shit, duck! Long time no see!" He pulls away, taking a good look at you. "I haven't seen you since graduation! You look fucking fit!"
"Shut it, you arse!" you playfully slap his arm.
"Come, it's quieter over there" he leads you towards the railings, bringing out a fancy case of smokes. "You want a ciggie?" He offers you one. You take it.
You whistle at the fancy engravings on the cigarette case.
"Wow, Daddy dearest is still paying your bills? You daddy's boy" you tease him as he helps you light your cigarette with a matching lighter to the fancy case. "Fucking hell, even the lighter!"
"Shut up! It was a gift!" He teasingly shoves you. "Do you remember when we used to sneak around chain smoking in our attic?"
"Yeah, we almost burned your dad's postcard collection" you laugh at the memory.
"So how're you?"
You two get to talking, exchanging stories, remembering fond memories, until you get to talking about your love life.
"Ooh, little duckie has a man" he jokingly blows smoke on your face.
Meanwhile Hobie leans against the doorway, watching the interaction. He got worried when you didn't come back to the table. Basically searching the entire bar, he finally found you cozying up to an unknown man.
See Hobie isn't usually a jealous person, whenever someone flirts with you, while he's sidled up close to you, egging them on.
"Can I have that drink too?"
"Oh shit, look at that black card, you're loaded bruv"
"She has two left feet, I'm available though"
"Mate, you like the Ramones too? What's your favourite song?"
"Oof, nice shoes bruv"
He does this because he trusts you fully, at the end of the day, he's the one who goes home with you. Of course whenever someone gets a little too touchy, or invades your personal space, he jumps to being protective. If they don't let up, he's more than ready to square up.
When he sees the blond blowing smoke on your face as you giggle, it's the same smile you give him, he sees the man lightly push your shoulder. Something snaps at him, his ears ring, he didn't even catch what the man said.
Hobie stomps towards you, not noticing him, you continue on smiling and talking to your friend.
Feeling a familiar arm snaking around your waist, you look towards Hobie, His eyes glare angrily at your friend, a dark aura emanates from him.
Hobie's knuckles shake as he clenches it tighter, he's ready to strike.
Noticing his emotion, you quickly try to douse his anger, but he opens his mouth before you.
"Who the fuck are you?" He holds on to your waist tighter "and why the fuck are you flirting with her?"
Some nosy people start looking towards your way. You try to speak up, but again David beats you to it.
"I'm guessing this is your man? I'm David a –"
"Fuck off, David" he barks out "stay the fuck away" he angrily points at your friend.
David gestures in surrender "alright, mate, calm down, she's all yours" Hobie already turned his back away. David winks at you, thank god, Hobie didn't catch that.
Hobie guides you by your hand, you try to explain but he couldn't hear you through the blaring music.
He brings you outside, Hobie heads towards an alley, you follow closely behind, trying to get his attention.
"Hobie! Will you stop?"
Hobie kicks an abandoned box, sending it flying across the alley.
"Shit, I'm sorry" he breathes heavily, his left eye twitches. "Fuck, you okay?" Hobie finally turns towards you.
"Yeah, are you okay? I've never seen you so angry" you cross the gap between you, you tentatively try to hold him. "Just breathe" your hands hover over his arms.
He takes a deep breath, slowly calming down. Hobie pinches the space between his eyes.
"Better?" You rub his arms lovingly.
"Yeah" he avoids your eyes, his eyebrows still knit together in anger.
You can finally explain everything "Hey, David's a close friend of mine since highschool, trust me you don't have to worry about him" you hug his torso.
"I'm not jealous"
"Sure, of course not" you cup his jaw, he finally looks you in the eye.
"I'm not bloody jealous" he huffs, looping his fingers through the belt loop of your jeans, bringing you closer to him.
"I know" you placate him "but hypothetically if you were, you don't have to worry, you're it for me, babe"
You move your hands over his neck, guiding him down towards your face. "Whether it's an old friend, or some stranger, know that they'll never replace you in my life, I love you Hobie Brown, never forget that"
Hobie looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of dishonesty, he found none, except for love and affection towards him.
He drops his forehead on yours, savoring all the love that oozes out of you. You close your eyes as you rub circles over his neck, trying to ease the tension folded into his muscles.
"Love you too. let's go home, yeah?" He reluctantly pulls away, holding your gaze.
You nod enthusiastically, "does that love extend to apologizing to David?" You ask, testing the waters.
Hobie tilts his head, with a slight glare, non verbally saying 'why would I do that?'
Understanding what he means, you continue "I invited him to lunch tomorrow" you smile, gauging his reaction.
Hobie drops his head on your shoulder with a slight thump, he groans, realizing he needs to make peace with your friend.
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Hope you liked it angel! Thank you again for requesting, and for being patient ❤️❤️❤️
#request done#ahh my first request fulfilled ❤️#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#spider punk#hobie brown#x reader#atsv fanfiction#spider man across the spider verse#the kr8tor's creations#hobie brown x fem!reader#spider punk x fem!reader#hobie brown x you#spider punk x you#atsv x reader#fanfic
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joel miller eating pussy in the shower. that’s it that’s the whole prompt.
im unwell. also got helllla carried away cause how could i not
warning(s): obviously smut 18+
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joel was feeling giddy and devious before he’d even heard the sound of the spray from the shower head start up. but now that he had, he couldn’t put a stop to any of the ideas swimming through his head.
the smirk he wore was like the grinch on christmas as he tiptoed across the bedroom, puts his ear to the door, listening. hears her rummaging with bottles of soap and humming a song. oblivious to the added torture she was putting him through.
joel doesn’t wait a second longer and begins clawing off his impossible layers, almost tripping as he hopped around stripping off his jeans. hot steam flooded the air when he swung the door open, naked as the day he was born, yanking the shower curtain aside to feast his eyes. naturally, she jumped and gasped before realizing who it was.
with a sadistic grin he’s stepping in to invade, uncaring of the foamy suds still dripping from her scalp. she playfully slaps his bare chest with a hard laugh and calls him an asshole.
“you could’ve warned me before coming in first,” she scolds, still wrapping her hands around his neck for a welcome home kiss. joel gratefully accepted, eager hands wandering up and down her freshly scrubbed skin.
“where’s the fun in that?” he teases while his lips slide down her jaw and in her neck, nipping and smelling. taking all of her in after eight hours without.
her eyes close when he tips her head down to help wash remaining soap from her head. as he gently smoothes his fingers through, not letting a drop go near her eyes, his dick begs to take over the moment as it grazes the inside of her thigh. she looks up at him with doe eyes and acts like she doesn’t notice.
“mmm. so how was work today?”
joel’s patience was worn down by this point of the day, breathing heavy while cupping her ass and giving it a long squeeze. resumed his selfish attack on her neck before he bothers addressing her question. “doesn’t matter. m’home now baby, all yours tonight.”
she scoffs and smiles at that, pressing her palms in his tense shoulders. “were those leftovers still any good for lunch?”
“mmhm. but I’ll tell you what’ll taste even better,” joel murmurs. any tangible thought left in his brain dissipates as he ducks his head lower and lower until he’s down on his knees in the tub. one of his hands hold with a death grip onto her lower back, the other hauling a leg over his shoulder. heaven couldn’t hold a candle to the sight.
she could bait him to fucking do anything if it meant he could spend time in between these legs, sucking and licking and feasting on what’s his.
“oh. so you’re that hungry, huh?” she bit her bottom lip and eyed him mischievously from above. he feels her fingers grab a handful of his hair while he kisses the insides of her creamy thighs.
heaving as he looks up into her wanting eyes, he took the first leap and placed a long kiss to the hood of her clit. felt his pride swell in his chest when she does a full body shudder.
“starved.”
licking up the wetness already threatening to drip down from her sweet lips, so immersed that even an earthquake wouldn’t be capable of disrupting them. dipping his tongue in and out of her entrance with both precision and sloppiness somehow, only to bring the tip up to her needy bud and swirl it around in dangerous circles.
the water bill could get fucked, because he isn’t going anywhere.
“fuck joel,” her voice wavered to a petty whine, feeling him curve that tongue upwards and even mixing his spit with her own juices. he says nothing in return, mouth fat too busy working her up. joel goes to techniques that are tried and true but also isn’t afraid to switch it up and surprise her. every breath and gasp and whine adds more fuel to his tank. when he trusts she’ll keep her leg right over his shoulder, right where it belongs, he snakes the hand that was holding it up to gently rub all over her soaked lips. eventually pushed and wiggled his thick middle finger snug inside, letting his mouth work on her clit some more as opposed to just the tip of his nose.
that always does it. finally having something inside her to really clench down on. he marvels at the feeling of her, so wet it makes noise every single time he goes in and out. joel has to stop himself from either jamming more fingers in or pulling them out to suck them clean. he’s got her where he wants her, while simultaneously she has him right where she needs him. it’s enough for her to get greedy for more, and he feels right when she starts grinding herself down onto his face with lazy rhythm.
“huh-uh,” he chastises, rough vocal cords all strained as he tightens his hold on her ass to keep her nice and still, pliant. “not yet. let me have the fun.”
up above, he sees her briefly roll her eyes and pull on his hair harsher than before. brat.
“you’ll get to baby, just a little more. I’ve got you, that’s it.”
his raspy words solve nothing and only serve to make her hornier, but she doesn’t know the half of it. his cock aches between his legs, precum steadily dripping down from the tip. so he does what he can to alleviate it, pulling his finger out briefly to give himself a nice tug, squeezing the thick base while he flattens his tongue to cover her whole pussy. it turns her on like nothing else has before, watching him get off on putting his mouth to work in his favorite place. her nails claw at his scalp while she tries refraining her hips from moving, even though all she craves doing is sitting and grinding all over his face.
with more lazy drags of his tongue occupying her, joel finds that he doesn’t want to hold her near the edge as cruelly as he has. reluctantly taking his fist from his dick, he purposefully omits any warning when he rams two of his fingers inside, hooking them upwards.
“ohmygod—j-jo-“
“I know I know, shhh,” his eyes are half lidded when he tilts his head up briefly to soothe her, but still doesn’t stop or slow the relentless speed. god, the sounds alone are enough to rile him up some more, but he isn’t interested in making it about him right now.
the squelching sound around his fingers is loud and wet enough to put any skin flick to shame. he buries his face in and makes a long humming sound, adding some more stimulation. with the loudest scream she’s let out in a while, he can’t help but stare in awe and praise her for how fucking phenomenal she is.
“doing so good for me baby girl, I know it’s gettin’ close,” joel swallows, breathy and shakey himself while she nearly wept and convulsed up above.
it was amazing that the water hadn’t turned cold, which honestly would’ve helped wave off his own arousal. the steam had fogged up the mirror and neither had it in them to notice or care how long it’s been.
joel is three fingers deep with her wetness dripping down to his chin and all over his facial hair until he decides he’s had his fill, she can indulge and have her fun now.
“go ahead now, baby. move those hips, take what you need,” his gruff voice encouraged, loosening his grip to allow her to move more freely. and she did not need to be told twice. once granted permission, she grinds up and down harsh onto him, whining and holding tight onto his ears and the back of his head. in tune with each and every twitch, it’s clear as day when she gets ready to cum. the apples of her cheeks are beat red, his name mixed with curse words on repeat. joel drinks up all the honey she gives him, doing anything and everything to help take her there, give her what she needs to achieve it.
she cries out a string of gibberish, tightening and creaming around his digits and joel swears they’re both levitating.
“my good girl, so perfect—“
her hips have drastically slowed down, allowing him a little more oxygen to heave and catch his own quick heartbeat. once he’s sure she’s satisfied, he gently pulls his fingers out of her abused entrance and gives them a good suck.
it never gets old, seeing her so spent just from him, bones like jelly after the over exertion. he’s wobbly himself, still painfully hard between his legs when he stands up on the slippery floor of the tub, unbothered by the wet mess still coated all over the lower half of his face.
“you’re going to kill me from that one of these days,” she whispered, pulling him down to her lips to give him a long kiss. her sneaky fingers drifted down between his thighs to give his length a good stroke.
there aren’t any flirty remarks left in him he could come up with when her thumb rubs his swollen tip, and all he can do is just stand there, leaning on her with his face buried in her shoulder under the warm spray.
“let’s dry off and go to bed so I can return the favor.”
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masterlist
#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#joel tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller x y/n#the last of us smut#the last of us 2#the last of us HBO#tlou show#ask#anon#joel miller tlou
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Firsts
AO3 | Part 1 of 12 (each chapter is a standalone)
>> Firsts: Panic Attack || masterlist
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader
wc: 3.1K
warnings: none, some heavy kissing, drinking, cursing
A/N: Hi! It's me again, back on my bullshit, obsessed and inspired by your lovely messages. This follows the same eddie x henderson!reader from: Don't You (Forget About Me) and Object of My Desire. There are going to be 12 parts -- all detailing first time moments -- but they can all be read as standalones. Some intertwine with a later story idea I have (that I'm waiting for volume 2 to post!) this chapter has no S4 spoilers. Your comments, kudos, and messages give this adhd ridden hyperfixated weirdo life, tysm!
First Kiss
The first time you had kissed him, Eddie was almost sure he’d accidentally smoked a laced joint and had hallucinated the whole thing. Then, you’d snuck your hand into his hair and tugged his neck back. If that hadn’t been enough to turn him on, you had bit down on his neck – worrying the skin between your lips -- and Eddie was halfway in love.
His day had started normally. He’d spent all day in his mind-numbingly boring classes, eating lunch while terrorizing the cafeteria, sold some bud, and planned his next campaign. He didn’t think this was where he’d be by the end of it.
He promised Rick that he’d sell the rest of his stock to make room for some new stuff coming in next week. The best customers were none other than the seniors of Hawkins High. Fortunately for him, it was also the week of Halloween. While he normally wouldn’t be caught dead at any school dance, he knew it was his best bet. He’d hang around for an hour, sell out, and go home a happy guy. Maybe pick up some pizza and a movie for the night.
“Dude, I didn’t know you were here selling,” Jeff, his fellow Hellfire Club member, said just as he’d stepped into the gym.
“What are you dressed as?” Eddie asked, eyeing his outfit.
“Tommy Lee!” Jeff grinned at him, pulling out a pair of drumsticks. Eddie nodded, offering up his fist.
“That’s sick,” he said, glancing around the room. He caught a few odd stares, ignoring them, and a good amount of interested ones.
“Do me a favor dude,” Eddie, grabbed Jeff’s sleeve before his date could steal him away. “Spread the word that I’ve got some stuff to sell.”
Jeff shot the chaperone’s a look before nodding. “I got you man,” he slapped Eddie’s back before going off to the dance floor.
Eddie stationed himself at the edge of the bleachers, mostly hidden by some decorations. He grinned when a basketball player approached him after a few minutes. Typical.
“What are you supposed to be?” Eddie snorted, glancing at the pathetic costume.
“A cowboy,” the guy – Nick? Adam? – sneered. “You got any or what?”
“Or what,” Eddie muttered, handing him a small bag. “Same price.”
The cowboy handed him two pairs of freshly printed, crisp bills. “Pleasure doing business,” Eddie tilted his imaginary hat. Without a word, the cowboy turned on his heel and walked away. Oh the irony of being outcast by the top tier only to have them crawl to him for their needs.
Thirty minutes later, Eddie was all but sold out. He had two joints left but he knew he could smoke through them if he didn’t have any more buyers. Eddie ran a sweaty hand through his hair, why did the gym always feel like it was a thousand degrees, and caught sight of a teacher walking in his direction.
Without preamble, he ducked under the bleachers and waited her out.
“Munson?” A voice called out. Eddie whipped around, startled out of his fucking mind – who hell hides under the bleachers?
“Jesus fucking Christ Harrington, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” Eddie said, clutching at his heart dramatically. If he was going to be over the top, why stop because he was hiding?
Steve laughed, as if that was the most hilarious joke he’d ever heard. “Uh, Harrington?” Eddie called out, taking a few steps towards him. Steve was leaning against the wall, his legs sprawled and expression akin to someone who’d lost their puppy. As Eddie bent down, he wrinkled his nose. “Shit, Harrington, that’s some shitty tequila.”
“You want some?” He said, perking up. Eddie winced as his arm smacked into his side, the bottle sloshing. Eddie picked it out his hand before he could spill anymore. He sniffed it experimentally and shrugged, why not? He took a swig and fought the urge to spit it out. That, is why not, he thought to himself, gagging.
“This tastes like lighter fluid,” Eddie told him, “and I’m not exactly known for having refined taste.”
Steve grinned. “Good shit, right?”
“That was not a compliment,” Eddie told him, standing up. “Why are you piss drunk, dressed like Mario, at a school dance? Isn’t there somewhere, I don’t know, with less supervision that you could be doing this?”
“Nope,” Steve said, popping his lips obnoxiously. “Love sucks, man.”
Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. He’d heard that King Steve had broken up with the perfect Nancy Wheeler. He had a hard time believing that someone like Harrington couldn’t get another date, he drove around a BMW for shit’s sake.
“Hey, do you have any….” Steve trailed off, looking confused.
“Weed?”
Steve brightened, snapping his fingers and missing. “Yeah!”
“It’s your lucky day Harrington, I’ve got two joints left,” Eddie said, tossing one into his hands.
It took him a minute, but Steve handed him a few crumpled bills from the front pocket of his denim overalls. Eddie tried really hard not to contemplate his life.
“Steve Harrington!” A new, distinctly annoyed, voice cried out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I turn around to dance for two seconds and you disappear.”
Eddie watched, a little awed, as you stomped over to them. Without hesitation, a pink heeled foot kicked Steve’s leg. “Get up you moping loser, you promised me dancing,” you said.
“I’m sad,” Steve whined, moving to stand regardless. Even Eddie rolled his eyes at that one. He should’ve known – Harrington seemed super glued to your side this year. Where you went, he usually followed.
“Go be sad on the dance floor!” You urged, hopping in one place, the pink dress around you moving fluidly with you.
Eddie tried his best not to let his eyes settle onto your chest but, he was only a mere mortal, and the more you bounced – the more your assets bounced with you.
A third voice joined the fray and Eddie ducked. You glanced at him, as if surprised he was there, and blinked. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, “Natasha’s not a narc.”
“Damn right I’m not,” the girl dressed like a skeleton said. She wrapped Steve’s arm around her shoulders and winced at his breath. “Jesus Harrington, can’t you hold your liquor?”
“Can you get him something to drink?” You asked her, your face wrinkling in worry. “He needs to sober up a little before we go home.”
“At this rate, Amelia’s the only one who hasn’t touched the stuff,” Natasha snorted, dragging Steve out from under the bleachers.
You turned to him and squinted. Eddie grinned, excited to have your attention. With a flourish, he bowed. “Pleasure to see you tonight, if you’re looking for some weed – you’re in luck. I’ve got one left,” he said.
“What are you dressed as?” You asked, completely ignoring his question. Eddie quirked his brow and realized that your eyes were also a little glazed over.
“As a demon cult leader, what do you think? Did I do okay?” Eddie turned in a circle, putting on his show. He turned back to you, expecting you to look annoyed or put off – like everyone in the popular crowd did when faced with himself. Eddie felt his whole-body freeze when he caught your heated stare. You dragged your gaze up his body and Eddie swore he felt it like a physical touch.
Well, that was new.
“I’d say you look good, but you usually do,” you said, stepping towards him. Eddie, instinctively, took a step back. Scared and turned on were a very weird, although not unheard of, combination for him.
“Back at you princess,” he said, trying not to sound breathless. What the fuck?
At that, you quirked your head. “Princess?”
Eddie smirked, letting his obvious gaze trail down your body. You were clearly dressed as Princess Peach, your yellow wig pulled back into a messy ponytail, although…
“From my recollection, Princess Peach never wore a dress that short,” he said, eyeing your legs. He braced himself for a scathing reply but found you laughing instead. What the hell was it about this holiday that made people go insane?
“Princess Peach never had to attend a dance in an old smelly gym,” you said matter-of-factly. “Short as it is, it still feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here.”
“It’s the testosterone and steroids from the basketball team,” Eddie quipped, raising his brow. “No offense to your boyfriend.”
“Steve Harrington is not my boyfriend,” you said, laughing like that was the funniest joke you’d ever heard. “He’s literally crying over his break up.”
“Weirder things have happened,” he said, leaning against the wall. “I’m pretty sure-”
“So, this might be the tequila,” you interrupted him, loudly, “but I really want to kiss you.”
Eddie would’ve been less surprised if you’d taken out a baseball bat and smacked him with it.
“Uh, how much tequila?” Eddie asked.
You shrugged, stepping closer to him, “enough to make me feel good, not enough to not know what I’m doing.”
“You know,” he said, pensive, “that is really good enough for me.”
“Great!” You said, throwing yourself at him.
Eddie winced as your foot collided with his ankle but quickly forgot about the pain when your lips pressed against his. He dropped his hands to your waist, the rough fabric bunching around his grip.
You tasted like tequila, fruit punch, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. You were soft, so fucking soft, and pliant. Hands frantic, you fisted his collar as if assuring yourself he wasn’t going anywhere. Fucking zombies couldn’t pry him away with their cold dead hands.
Eddie felt you lean back for air, your eyes had a glint in them that he couldn’t describe and soon after, you’d pulled his head back by his hair. With his neck exposed, you latched on and Eddie desperately tried to remember that you’d both get in a lot of trouble if you were caught from the noises that were trying to claw out of him. Satisfied with the bruise you’d left, you beamed up at him and Eddie couldn’t help the fond smile he shot you back.
“Didn’t take you for a biter,” he said, thumb coming to swipe across your lower lip.
“I’m not usually, you’re just enjoyable,” you said nonchalantly and unaffected, like you weren’t just shaking up his entire world. Unable to help himself, he nipped at the crook of your neck and was rewarded with the most delicious sounding moan. He wanted to carve that noise into his memory.
You immediately pushed him back, eyes hooded, and lips swollen. The red bite he’d placed on your neck felt like a neon sign and he couldn’t help but feel turned on by it. Holy shit, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
Then, with a quick motion, you dropped to the floor. Eddie jerked forward, worried you’d tripped or something when he realized you were kneeling. He straightened and shot you a confused look.
“Come on,” you urged, placing a warm hand on his calf.
Come on what? He thought, still wildly confused. He watched your lips part and you looked up at him through your lashes. Eddie shifted, his dick trying to get in on the action as well. He froze. No…you couldn’t… Eddie dropped his gaze to you and you shifted your weight onto your heels, hands reaching for his belt.
“Don’t you want me to?” You asked, smiling sweetly up at him. Holy fucking shit, Eddie thought. Maybe he was hallucinating? There’s no way you – you of all people – were on your knees during a Halloween dance, under the bleachers, with him, dressed like goddamn wet dream, and offering him a blow job. He nodded absently, still dazed and trying to process this moment, and you beamed.
Your impatient hands fumbled with his studded belt and Eddie reached out to help you. He stepped back, needing the space to unbuckle his pants, and watched as you fell forward.
“Shit, are you okay?” Eddie asked, looking for what you tripped over.
“I may be drunker than I realized,” you said, giggling. Eddie felt his blood freeze. Fuck. Slowly, he untangled your hands from his waistband and lowered himself to the floor next to you. “Why’d you stop?”
Eddie sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’m pretty sure, given your squeaky-clean reputation, you’re not the type to lightly offer up what you just did,” he bumped your nose with his and felt his stupid, idiotic, heart flip at the sight of your wide smile. “Definitely not sober at least.”
“I’ve only had one boyfriend before,” you whispered, falling over onto your butt. You blinked, as if shocked, and brought your gaze back to him. “We did stuff, I’m not some stumbling virgin.”
“I’m sure you’re an absolute minx,” Eddie said, biting back laughter at your serious nod.
“He said I was good,” you frowned, looking pensive. “Although, he was also a virgin when we met so maybe I wasn’t?”
Nothing like tequila to bring around an existential crisis and brutal honesty. He was sure this wasn’t something you’d be telling him if you were sober. Still, Eddie couldn’t handle your sad little frown. He placed a hand on your bare knee, flinching at how hot your skin was. Although he was the one who’d touched you, it felt like you had branded him.
In fact, he was pretty sure he’d be unable to forget about this interaction for a while. Now that you’d caught his attention, you weren’t likely to go anywhere. “I’m pretty sure you rocked his world and have no doubt you could rock mine too. Especially considering that that’s how you kiss when you’re drunk. Not sure if I can handle a sober one.”
You grinned, lighting up the entirety of this dirty dark corner – even a little piece of him. Fuck, how had he never noticed how pretty you were? He thought back on all the times he’d seen you around the school.
“Come on, let’s get you back to your friends,” Eddie said, lifting you up. You laughed, your breath fanning over the darkening hickey on his neck.
He knew you floated from group to group, notorious for having friends in every clique, club, and class. Shit, even Billy Hargrove seemed to have an eye on you – not that you’d accepted any of his advances. Jeff had almost peed himself laughing when you’d kneed him in the balls for trying to cage you in by your locker before homeroom.
Anyone with eyes knew how hot you were, Gareth had even mentioned it a few times – especially in Physics, the only class you shared with them. You seemed to always have a sarcastic quip or friendly jab at the ready. Good grades, popular, sarcastic, and ready to throw a punch was exactly what he liked about you and exactly what put you so far out his league it was painful.
He emerged from the bleachers with a glance around the gym and tried to find your friends from earlier. One of your fingers trailed down his abdomen, your lips pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck, and he groaned. Out of his league or not, you had been the one to come onto him. Because she’s drunk, Eddie’s stupidly moral mind reminded him. But what if she is interested? You obviously weren't wound as tight as Wheeler but was clearly not someone who offered without thought. Tequila did have a way of changing people though…
As he dropped you off next to a slumped Harrington, he caught the eye of the skeleton girl from earlier. She shot Eddie a thumbs up and started to make her way to the table.
“Hey,” he squatted down next to you.
“Hey handsome,” you said, giggling again.
Eddie really needed to get a fucking grip. He’d barely spared you much thought before tonight and in fifteen minutes you’d all but carved your name into his skin. What’s worse? He didn’t mind a bit. Shit, he really was a loser.
“I’m gonna go,” he said, “you gotta keep an eye on Harrington, okay? Your friend is on her way over to make sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t want to dance with me?” You asked, wide, beautiful eyes stabbing at his conscience.
“You’re a little too drunk for that right now, okay?” Eddie tugged a lock of your synthetic hair. “I’ll save you a dance at the next party.”
You nodded, trusting him entirely, and wobbled in your seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You squinted.
Eddie huffed a laugh. “Tomorrow is Saturday princess. I’ll see you Monday,” he added quickly when you frowned sadly.
“Don’t forget about me,” you stumbled, hand still clenched around his, “promise?”
“Sweetheart, I’m absolutely positive that this night is branded into my memory for life,” he said, standing and pressing a kiss to your temple. Last one.
“Bye cult leader,” you whispered, laughing at your own joke. Skeleton girl dropped into the seat between them and exhaled.
“Thanks Munson, I owe you one,” she said.
Eddie waved away her gratitude and took one last look at his Princess Peach.
“See ya,” he said, forcing himself to walk away. He’d barely made it to the doors when Jeff all but jumped him.
“Dude, what the hell were you doing with Henderson?” Jeff asked.
Henderson? Aw shit, that was Dustin’s older sister. Eddie groaned; he’d completely forgotten. In his defense, most of his blood was firmly south of the border.
Jeff blinked at him, waiting for an answer and Eddie…hesitated. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to keep tonight to himself. “Harrington was buying and Henderson followed. They’re drunk and I was just helping her back to her table.”
“Which is why you kissed her?”
“What?” Eddie froze.
Jeff eyed him. “I saw you; you kissed her forehead. I’m amazed she didn’t threaten to cut off your dick. Henderson’s cool but I wouldn’t fuck with her.”
Eddie exhaled, relieved. “Right. Uh, I don’t know. You know me man, I’m crazy.”
“Shit, I didn’t think you were that crazy,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “Respect man.”
“I’ll see you Monday,” Eddie said, “I’m out of here.”
“Later dude!”
Eddie took one last look at your table, where you were being force fed some food before disappearing out the doors. He brought his fingers up to his neck like he could still feel the ghost of your lips as you nipped him. Eddie hopped into his car and finally relaxed into his seat.
What a fucking night.
>> Firsts: Panic Attack, Part 2
A/N: guys, I also am very aware that I messed up the timeline for S3, S4 and when Don't You (Forget About Me) happens so we're just gonna smile and wave like that little mistake isn't there lol in my defense, I didn't think I was going to build a whole series around that one shot! muaha, I fixed it!
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Feathered Dragon Partner
Nonbinary feathered dragon X gn reader, 11382 words
So I finished this and I did not proofread it and now I’m posting it so. I hope it scans. Let me know what you guys think. Might be kind of quiet on here for a while bc I’m trying to actually write my own novel, so. We’ll see how that goes. Anyway, enjoy.
A chance encounter at the market, a free sample, and an unfortunate injury. What do they all have in common? Why, a certain feathery, scaly friend who is quite interested in you!
Content warning for minor injury and mention of medical malpractice causing physical harm.
The Avieras Festival was in full swing, and you were ducking, dodging, and weaving your way through the patrons that packed the street so thickly it was near-impossible to find space. Most of them were in elaborate costumes, which only made navigating tricker. Some wouldn’t care if you trod on a hem or feather as you hurried by, but others would care. And they usually cared enough to spend ten minutes lecturing you on exactly how expensive the fabric you’d just ruined with your bootprint was. And sometimes they even cared enough to stick you with a dry cleaning bill, which was really the last thing you needed. So, you avoided stepping on people in general.
Festival days were good business days, generally, but you needed to find the right location to set up. Too much in the thick of it and you’d risk your wares getting knocked over by overeager or drunk patrons. Too far out and no one would be interested.
You located, after a few minutes of searching, an alcove that offered enough shade to be comfortable, and enough light to draw in patrons. As soon as you reached the spot, you snapped open your charmed bag and pulled out a sturdy roll of carpet, which you set on the ground in front of you, and your wares.
A table would have been better to show them off, since putting them so close to the ground risked them getting dirty, but even a collapsed folding table would have been hard to fit through the opening of your bag, so you let it be. The carpet sufficed, and you had two thin racks to display your best work upon. They would be sufficient to draw customer attention.
This part was the worst part. You enjoyed the crafting and the creating and not so much the selling. But, well. It was part of the job. So, you slapped the best smile you could on your face and started waving enthusiastically to the crowd. Every now and then, you’d see someone pause as their eyes snag on one of your creations and you called out to them. “Hello, ma’am! Yes, this mask will go wonderfully with your costume, see the lovely yellow, and the purple accents will bring out the richness of the color! Oh, and I have a hairpiece that goes perfectly if you’d like to bundle them together-”
You’re not bad at selling, but it does feel a lot like you’re putting up an act. It’s not like you’re not proud of your work- you wouldn’t sell your festival masks and accessories if you weren’t pleased with how they came out. But the energy required to act cheery and polite and overly-enthusiastic was ridiculously draining. By a couple of hours in, your stock was over half-gone, and you were utterly grateful. Perhaps you would sell out early and you could grab some delicious fried food and scuttle away to your home before the night got too wild.
“Well, aren’t these just delightful,” someone mused from entirely too close to you, and it took all your customer service skills to smile cheerfully instead of screaming and leaping out of your skin.
The prospective customer was leaning over your stand, gazing at your wares with clear interest. You recognized them, if only dimly. They worked as a butcher, and you’d seen them several times when you picked up food from the store. However, they’d always had their hair up and their feathers tucked away when they worked. Now, they were letting their hair hang free down their back, almost to their waist. Their skin was oddly colored, almost milky, with scales along the backs of their limbs. Plumes of feathers decorated their ears and their scaled tail. AS they shifted their weight, one of their hands resting on their generous hips, their skin caught the light and glowed in opalescence. The scales on their forehead had been picked out with some silvery makeup, making them stand out even more.
You picked your jaw off the floor and slapped your customer service hat back on. “Ah, thank you very much! You already seem fairly well-feathered, but perhaps I could offer you a small hairpin? I have some that aren’t quite so ornate if you’re looking for something lower key.”
As they leaned forward to examine your wares, you swept a critical eye over them. It was sort of a fun guessing game you tried to play with yourself, to figure out exactly what species each customer was. Most of the time, you didn’t get an answer, since it was pretty rude to ask someone casually what they were, but it was still fun. The oddest one had been a combination between a merfolk and a dragon, which had resulted in something like a human upper half, albeit completely covered in scales, and a sea-serpent tail. They’d also been a remarkably good customer, though they’d tried haggling for a better price.
This person… well, the scales suggested a dragon, but feathered dragons were rare, and even more rarely did they assume a humanoid form. Not to mention they had wings. Perhaps some sort of hybrid, then? Or maybe a harpy and dragon hybrid? You’d never seen one, though it did seem like this one should be more feathered if it really was a combination.
They cleared their throat and you hurried to focus your mind on their purchase. You could speculate after they were done. “See anything you like?”
“I believe so,” they said, their eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But I…” They hesitate, their tail curling. The feathered tufts of their ears twitch. “I…”
“Can’t decide?” you asked. It was always sort of flattering when customers felt that way- nice to know you’d been able to catch their eye with multiple pieces. Perhaps a better salesperson would have convinced them to buy both, but you figured if they wanted both, they would have bought them in the first place. You were happy to sell even one piece. “I can help you decide. Which ones do you like?”
The customer hesitated, then selected two ornamented hair clips- a pale pink and a deep sea-green. Both of them matched shades that appeared in their feathers and along their glimmering scales. Either would have been a good choice. You picked them up and held them out consideringly.
“Here, let’s see…” You held both clips up, one on either side of their face, and directed them to look into the mirror. “The pink one is a bit simpler than the green one- less feathers and jewels, see? You’ve got feathers on you already, so I don’t think you need the excess feathers, unless you’re going for an over-the-top look.” You glance over them with a critical eye. “However, the pink also blends in with your outfit a little more, so if you want it to stand out, the green might work better. Are you thinking of wearing this for daily use or just when you’re getting dressed up for a festival or party?”
“I suppose daily,” they said, tilting their head from side to side. Their eyes, bright yellow as topaz, glitter in the sunlight.
“Then the pink might be a little more lowkey,” you declared. “But it’s all up to you, of course.”
They hesitated for a moment longer, considering. “The pink, then,” they said.
“Wonderful,” you said, placing the green clip down on the table. “Would you like me to wrap this or would you like to wear it right away?”
“Right away,” they said.
“Sure! Makes sense that you’d want to wear it for the festival,” you said. “Now, your total is fifteen shen.”
They reached into their pocket to pull out their wallet and passed you a few coins. You tucked them smoothly away. “I can put it in your hair for you, if you’d like,” you added. They stared at you, yellow eyes going wide. “Only if you’d like! Some people just have a difficult time getting the clip into their hair on their own- but you can also just borrow a mirror if you would like.”
“No, I would appreciate the help,” they said. You gestured for them to turn and they did so, crouching down to allow you to reach. They were tall, so that was another suggestion they were related to a dragon. Then again, you had some gnomish blood, so most everyone was taller than you.
You gathered the silky strands of their hair into your hand and settled the clip in place. They twitched a little under your touch and their tail shuddered when you took an extra moment to stroke a few strands of hair back into place.
“There. Does it look all right to you?” you asked, offering them a mirror that was angled so they could see the back of their head. They nodded and brushed off their front as they stood.
“Thank you for the help,” they said. “And your work is quite lovely. I hope you’re finding success here.”
“That’s very kind of you,” you said. “Ah, here, take this as well!” You reached down and grabbed a small, though still pretty, tail cuff. It was designed to clip into place, with an adjustable band to keep it from slipping down the tail. You pressed it into their hands.
The feathers on their tail and ears fluffed up in surprise. “Oh- but I didn’t pay for-”
“The Avieras Festival is for celebrating feathered creatures,” you said, pressing the tail cuff on them more insistently. “Think of it as a party favor. And you’ve been quite sweet, I think you deserve it.”
Their eyes went wide and they took the tail cuff like it was a holy artifact. “Thank you,” they said. They smiled, showing off their pearly white canines. “You really are a sweet thing, aren’t you?”
With that, they reached out, affectionately patted my cheek, then headed off into the crowd. You blinked after them. You had been pretty sure you were flustering them for a moment there, so it was a bit strange to have the entire thing turned around on you. Fortunately, another customer arrived in a moment and you could launch straight back into your customer service mode.
The pace of sales picked up throughout the night. You sold out quicker than you’d anticipated, with plenty of time to enjoy the festival. You packed away your belongings in your bag and headed out to explore.
It was late evening as you headed out into the main section of the festival. The town center was full of people dressed in feathered outfits. The Avieras Festival was a celebration of avians- typically, that meant people with some kind of bird relation, like harpies, but it technically included all kinds of feathered creatures. That meant that everyone was dressed in feathers. Some people had more elaborate outfits than others, with multicolored feathers and even bird masks, but most people were just wearing feather accessories. Harpies and other flying creatures soared through the sky in an impressive array of aerial dancing. Music floated through the air with them, bright and lively.
Exploring the festival involved you getting as much unique food as you could and shoving it all in your mouth while you examined the items for sale. There were several games set up along the streets. One of them was a modified version of flight chicken, where two contestants were suspended by magic and then dropped toward the (magically cushioned) ground. The goal was to pin your opponent underneath you before you hit the ground. While most people participating seemed pretty poor at it, the matches that involved experienced partners were fascinating. There were a couple other games that were usually played in the air that had been modified so everyone could enjoy them, plus some other games that could by played just as easily by people on the ground. You tried a couple of rounds of a game like ring toss, which involved getting a wooden circle to land around a peg from several feet up, and won a tiny, simple wooden bird. You probably could have bought it for less than you’d paid to play the game, but willing it made the experience better.
After playing a few more games, you wandered over to the art installation that covered the far side of the festival. It was meant to cover the multiple traditional forms of art from different harpy flocks, from fashion to paintings, and there were even a few sphinx artifacts. A large platform toward the middle of the installation held a rotating cast of musicians and dancers. You paused to watch a group of harpies weave in and around each other, smoothly moving from dancing on the ground to in the air. A sphinx passed by, flexing her wings in time to the music. You even caught sight of what was probably an aasimar, gold-skinned and faintly glowing, examining a flight cape.
By the time you finished the art exhibit, it was getting late. Several of the games and activities made for children had packed up, and the party had shifted to more of a late-night-club vibe. Pulsing lights lined the buildings, casting a multicolored glow across the scene. It was pretty, and you did consider staying for a bit longer, but you were already exhausted from selling and walking around. As a large portion of the townspeople headed out to continue the party, you headed back to your home.
The streets got clearer the further you headed away from the festivities, though there were still pockets of people. Some of them were rather drunk. Just as you turned a corner, a group of stumbling drunks bowled into you, practically trampling you as you fell to the ground.
“Hey!” you protested, but your voice wasn’t that loud thanks to your surprise. Two of them, the taller two of the bunch, barely seemed to notice you. The third one turned and gave you an apologetic wave before being dragged off.
You cursed to yourself as you got up. Parties always brought out the asshole drunks- admittedly, you were on the small side (curse that gnomish blood) and the lighting wasn’t good here, so it was possible that they hadn’t seen you. But they still could have at least paused when they hit you!
“Oh dear,” someone murmured, and you heard rapidly approaching footsteps. Someone crouched and a slender, pale hand entered your field of vision. “Are you all right? Can you get up?”
“I’m fine,” you groused, taking their hand so they could tug you up. “Not hurt or anything- ow.” You put weight on your left leg and it throbbed. Probably not broken or even sprained, but there was going to be a very nasty bruise in the morning.
“I beg to differ,” your helper said, and you finally looked at them properly. To your surprise, you knew who they were. Their hair clip and tail clip were still secured neatly in place, right where they’d been place when they’d bought them. “You’re bleeding.”
“What?” You lifted one of your hands to brush the dirt off your shirt and paused when you saw the oozing scratches along your palms. There were little bits of grit in the cuts. You winced. “Ow. Damn.”
“You should get those cleaned out,” they said. “Here, there’s a water pump nearby.” They took you gently by your wrist and led you a few feet away to a public water pump. They withdrew a pack of tissues from their side pouch and wet them before turning back to you. “Let me see your hands.”
You extended your hands out, palms up. They gave you a grateful smile and started swiping the wet tissues over the cuts.
It stung, of course, and you sucked in a sharp breath. They crooned in their throat, a gentle shushing noise. “I know it hurts, I just need to get all that gunk out.” Their thumb traced your wrist, stroking over the pulse point. You swallowed.
They took a few moments to clean it out, then paused, tilting your hand back and forth to make sure the dirt is gone. “There we are,” they murmured. “I don’t have any bandages on me, I’m afraid.”
“It’s really not necessary,” you said. “They’re just small scratches. See, they’re hardly even bleeding anymore.” You held your hand out- the cuts were still red, but no longer bleeding. They looked them over carefully, their tail swaying slightly as they focused.
“And nothing else hurts?” they asked. “You’re feeling okay otherwise?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fine. It’s not a problem.”
They nodded, then looked around you to glare in the direction the tramplers had gone. “Hmph. Shame that festivals can bring out the worst in people. They didn’t even bother to stop.”
“No, but I’m fine, really,” you said.
They flicked their tail with a ruffle of feathers. “Yes, but you if you haven’t been…” They shook their head. “Ah, well. I suppose we should just be grateful it wasn’t worse.” They slipped their hand under your chin with a feather-light touch and tilted your head back and forth. “And at least there’s no damage to your cute face, hm?”
A warm flush rolled over your entire body. Their tone was lightly teasing, but still quite sweet, and it wasn’t like you were used to receiving flirtation like that. You stepped back, pulling your chin from their grasp in embarrassment. “I- uh. Th- thank you.”
They hummed pleasantly. “Of course. No problem.” They gave you another look over, their brows furrowing. “Ah… would you mind if I walked you home? I don’t mean to be pushy, but I do want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” you said, taking a step forward. One of your ankles throbbed, but it held your weight.
They looked unconvinced. “You’re favoring your left ankle. Are you certain you’re all right?”
“Probably,” you said. “It hurts, but my home’s only a couple of blocks from here. I can manage.”
They frowned. Their tail swayed back and forth. “At least let me walk with you? I just don’t want you collapsing as soon as you’re out of sight. It will give me some comfort.”
“If you insist,” you said, offering them a weak smile. They seemed genuinely worried about you, and in all honestly, you weren’t totally sure how well you could walk anyway.
They stayed by your side as you headed toward your house. A couple of times, they needed to reach out and steady you when you forgot your ankle was bad and put your weight on it. The insistent throbbing pain got worse every few steps, and by the time you were within a few feet of your home, you were practically dragging your leg behind you. Your eyes watered with the pain.
Your companion put a hand to your shoulder, encouraging you to lean against them. “Are you certain you shouldn’t see a healer?” they asked. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”
“If it still feels bad tomorrow, I’ll see a healer. Right now, I just need to put it on ice and elevate it,” you said.
“If you’re sure,” they said. They paused, still looking at you with obvious worry, then their expression brightened. “Ah, let me give you this.” They rummaged in their pocket for a moment, then pulled out a small, shimmering disc. They took one of your hands in their own, turning it so your palm was facing upright, then pressed the small disc into your palm. Their hands completely covered yours. You could feel the disc against your palm, thin but surprisingly sturdy.
“What is it?” you asked as they withdraw their hands. You lifted the disc closer to your face to examine it. It was thin, strong, and pale colored. When you turned it in your hands, a pale stream of light illuminated it, turning it opalescent. Exactly like-
“It’s one of my scales,” they say. “If your ankle is worse tomorrow, you can just say my name to it and I’ll come to help you out.”
You blinked. “Really? But- are you sure?” Scales were strange things to give away. For the magically inclined, scales could be made to always be connected to their body, even when physically separated. If you said your name to the scale, they would know you were calling for them, no matter how far away you were.
They winked, golden eyes gleaming. “Say Tazriel, and I’ll come. I like making sure good people are well taken care of.” With no further explanation, they strolled off into the night. Their pale scales made them stand out against the gloom for a while before they finally faded into shadows.
You tucked the scale close to your chest as you hobbled the rest of the way home. It wasn’t far, and after resting for a few moments, you felt better. Though when you had to rummage through your freezer get the ice out, then stack your pillows to elevate your leg, then get comfortably settled in you seat only to realize you had to pee- well, maybe it would have been better to have a little help.
You fell asleep after some time of fitfully turning and shifting in your position. It was hard to find a comfortable sleeping spot with your ankle elevated. And apparently your sleeping body had no consideration for your health, because when you woke up, your ankle was no longer elevated, but twisted haphazardly under you. When you flexed it to get an idea of how fucked you were, pain rolled up your ankle and punched you in the gut. Okay. Pretty fucked.
It took a few tries to actually stand and hobble your way into the bathroom to really assess things. Your ankle was swollen and bruised and it hurt to put weight on it. Bad. You couldn’t assess whether or not it was broken, but it was sprained at a minimum. God dammit. You’d really wanted to avoid seeing a doctor. Maybe you could just give it time? If it healed on its own, everything would be fine, right? And if it didn’t get any better, then you could see a doctor. There was no reason to go to all the trouble when you hadn’t even given it a chance to heal. Right?
Part of you was aware that you were in denial and grasping at straws. A larger part of you was willing to accept anything that meant no doctor’s visit. So you hobbled your way back to bed, with a pit stop in the kitchen to stock up on food, and flopped back down, fully intending to stay in that spot all day.
As you did so, you saw something gleaming on the covers next to you. You scooped it up and- oh, right. The scale.
You rolled the little thing over in your fingers, enjoying how the light played off of its surface. It would be gorgeous to use on one of your projects- though they’d also probably be hard to get. Most people didn’t make a habit of handing out their scales, and even if you managed to find a seller, the quantity would be pretty small. Couldn’t be yanking out every one of your scales to sell, of course.
You rotated it in your hands, recalling their words from the night before. Say Tazriel and I’ll come. Interesting. That was a little unusual. People, as you’d already said, didn’t tend to go handing out their scales. On the other hand, they had seemed genuinely kindhearted and concerned, and you’d never heard a bad word about them. Though, to be fair, most of the words you heard about them tended to focus on how pretty they were. But still, people in this town were gossips, so if anyone had a problem with them, you were sure you’d have heard of it. But you’d also never heard of them handing out their scales like candy to anybody else. Bit of a mystery there.
After a few more moments of looking at the scale and considering, you turned and set it carefully on the table next to your bed. The offer was kind, but you were reluctant to drag anyone else into your mess. Maybe if it wasn’t feeling any better the next day, you would call them and ask for their help to get to the doctor.
You spent another boring day in bed, reading a couple of books and flipping through random videos on the scrynet. It was mind-numbing, and your hands were twitching by the end of it, but you didn’t really want to get out of bed. Eventually, you fell into a fitful, unrestful sleep.
When you woke, the pain in your ankle seemed to have dulled. Cocksure and overconfident, you swung out of bed, placed your feet on the floor, and collapsed when your bad ankle rolled under you and sent waves of pain up your leg.
Well. Crap. Had it somehow gotten worse overnight? How was that even possible? You blinked back the sting of tears from your eyes and twisted to look at it. Bruises still mottled the skin around the ankle, and it was definitely still swollen, though it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the day before. You probed the skin with the tips of your fingers and hissed. Pain. Bad enough to make your stomach tighten. Once you were actually braced for the pain, you could put some weight on it, though it wasn’t fun.
Son of a bitch. You’d really been hoping it would get better. You considered your options as you limped to the kitchen to get something to eat. It wasn’t so bad to put weight on, you reasoned. It was painful, sure, but a little pain wasn’t so bad. You could handle it.
You sat down and examined your ankle once more. Like, okay. It was probably bad, and you should probably go to a doctor. But it wasn’t like you couldn’t walk at all. That would be the point where it got bad, right? If you couldn’t walk at all. You could still keep off it for a while, for the most part, and then it would heal up. Why go to the doctor if they were just going to tell you to rest your ankle, which is what you were already doing?
(Again, there was that part of you that recognized you were just making excuses and that you really should just go to a doctor. But the bigger part of you still wanted to avoid going, and that bigger part was winning out.)
You ate and dragged yourself back to your room, collapsing onto your bed. Okay. Another day in bed. That wasn’t so bad. And you could probably try to work at least a little. You sat down for most of it. That wouldn’t bother your ankle too much, right?
Just as you were making the firm decision that you were probably fine to work, a gleam of light on your night table caught your eye.
You shuffled a little closer and reached out. As your fingertips met the light, you felt something small and disc-like. The scale. You curled your fingers around it and brought it up to your face.
It was definitely glowing. The entire thing shone like it was reflecting a strong beam of sunlight. You squinted at it, rotating it back and forth. Weird. Did scales do that often? Did it mean something? You’d barely gotten any instructions on how it worked. Maybe you could do some scrying later, see if you could find anything on scales. Though you still weren’t completely sure of their species, which might make it harder. They were probably a feathered dragon, right? Harpies didn’t really have scales like this.
The scale gleamed, sending a beam of light directly into your eyes. You winced. Was it getting brighter? How were you supposed to make it stop? You ran your thumb over it a few times, hoping to maybe trigger something, but nothing happened. You grimaced. Whatever. You could figure it out later.
As you grabbed a couple books to stash the scale under, so that maybe it wouldn’t burn your eyes out while you were trying to sleep, your mind wandered back to what they’d said. Call their name… “Tazriel,” you muttered absently as you placed the books on top of the scale. That was how they’d said it, right? It was a pretty name. You still felt a little awkward about calling them, but maybe you could stop by once your ankle was feeling better and let them know you appreciated the gesture. Yeah, that seemed the best way to handle things.
The decision firm in your mind, you settled back into bed and tried to ignore your ankle so you could fall back asleep.
You were just about to fall back asleep when the sound of someone knocking on your front door made you open your eyes. It was a polite knock, not like someone was banging down your door for an emergency. Maybe it was a delivery driver. They’d leave the package eventually.
You closed your eyes again. Only to open them again when the knock sounded once more. It was a little more urgent this time, though still not what you would consider an emergency knock. You considered getting up, but if it was a visitor, they would eventually figure out you weren’t home or something. It was fine.
The silence lasted a little longer this time, so you were settled back comfortably by the time the knock sounded again. This time, it was distinctly louder and rushed. You gritted your teeth. Okay. This person was not taking a hint, which either meant they were really obtuse or they had something important for you. But getting to the door meant getting out of bed and you were awfully reluctant to do that. The silence stretched on as you debated the finer points of getting out of bed versus staying nice and comfy.
After a couple minutes of silence, you realized the person at your door hadn’t knocked again. They’d wandered off, presumably. That was good. You could just lie back and relax and they would come back later if they needed anything else.
And then you heard the click and creak of the doorknob turning and your door- your FRONT DOOR- opening.
The indignation was enough to get you out of bed. Common sense stopped you from getting further than the hallway. You had a busted ankle- what were you going to do against a (possibly armed) thief? At best, maybe you could look so pathetic, they’d feel bad and leave.
Then your name, called in a semi-frantic voice, floated down the hall. That was surprising. Why would someone who broke into your house be calling for you? You hobbled a few steps out into the main entranceway of your house and stopped in surprise.
You knew both of the people standing in front of your open door, one more familiar than the other. The more familiar figure was your neighbor, a twitchy, if also kindly, water elemental. The less familiar figure was your savior from the other night, Tazriel. Their face lit up at the sight of you. “You’re all right?”
You shifted your weight onto your good leg and positioned your bad ankle so the swelling was not as noticeable. “I’m fine. What are you doing in my house?”
Tazriel blanched. It was hard for scaled creatures to blush, but they seemed to be trying their level best. “You called me.”
You blinked. “I did?” Almost as soon as the words had left your mouth, you remembered sliding the scale away and mumbling ‘Tazriel’ a moment before your fingers actually broke contact. Oops. “Oh. I did.”
Tazriel seemed to be regaining their confidence. “I was worried, of course, so I came by, but you didn’t answer your door. Fortunately, your neighbor did, and she said she had a key, so…” They trailed off, looking toward your neighbor. You stare at her too. She awkwardly rubs one of her arms.
“They seemed really worried, and you did tell me to use your key in emergencies,” she mumbled. She cast a shy glance sideways at Tazriel and you did not roll your eyes, but it was a near thing. Okay, they were pretty good looking, but you weren’t pleased that your neighbor was such a sucker for a pretty face that she would let them into your house.
“They’re quite kind,” Tazriel said, smiling at your neighbor, and she practically turned into steam. “They were worried about you too, once I told them what was going on.”
“Right,” you said. “So what’s going on?”
Tazriel blinked at you like it should be obvious. “You called for me and then didn’t answer the door. I thought you were really hurt.”
Oh. Actually, that wasn’t a strange conclusion to come to. “W-well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m, uh. Actually doing fine. It was sort of an accident that I called you. I’m sorry for disturbing you. But you don’t need to stay.”
They gave you a critical look, gaze roving over your body and fixing on your ankle. You shuffled it further behind your good leg to avoid their look, but this seemed to backfire. Their gaze grew more concerned. “You’re not putting any weight on your ankle.”
“I am,” you said, and gingerly placed your bad ankle on the ground. You leaned on it until your eyes were watering with pain and hoped they weren’t paying too much attention. “I’m fine. You can go back to your life.”
They narrowed their eyes, but didn’t say anything. For a moment, you were certain they were actually going to take your advice and leave, but then your neighbor piped in with, “You’ve been holding yourself all stiff since we got here. You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”
You shot her a glare as Tazriel gave you a new, more appraising look. “You are tense.” Their expression grew alarmed. “You shouldn’t be standing, should you?”
“I really have to assure you that I’m fine,” you said, but Tazriel and your neighbor were already dismissing your protests out of hand.
“Last time you told me you were fine, you had such bad food poisoning you could barely keep anything down,” your neighbor said. Tazriel brushed past the both of you and into the kitchen to fetch a chair. “I didn’t find out until two days later when I ran into you at the store looking like death warmed over.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” you muttered. “And what were you going to do about it? It was food poisoning. You just have to wait it out.”
“You could have asked me to check on you. I would have done it. Or you could have asked me to take you to a doctor.”
You grimaced. Tazriel set a chair down next to you and gestured for you to sit in it. Once you were down, they crouched and peered at your ankle. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” they asked. “This looks bad.”
“It looks worse than it is,” you said hurriedly. “I really don’t need all this fuss. I’m just going to stay home until it feels better.”
Tazriel looked up. “You’re not going to see a doctor?”
“I don’t need one,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.
“You do,” Tazriel insisted. They probed at your ankle with their fingertips and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “You can’t walk on this. And it must hurt a lot.” They looked up at you and you were surprised by exactly how much concern was evident in their eyes. Their feathered ears twitched. It was ridiculous how cute it was.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, but their gaze was really hard to resist. “I just… I don’t want to go to the doctor.” Before they could comment on that, you braced a hand against the nearby wall and used the leverage to haul yourself to your feet. Well. To one of your feet. The other was still being held by Tazriel. “And they’ll just tell me to ice and rest it, which is what I’m already doing! Thank you all very much for your concern, but I think I’ll be heading back to doing that, so unless there’s anything else I can help you with…” You gave a pointed look to Tazriel. They were still holding your foot. They did not let go.
“You need a doctor,” they said, enunciating every word carefully, like you were a child or hard of hearing. “Your ankle could be broken.”
Your shoulders drooped a bit. “You don’t think it’s that bad, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Tazriel said. “I can’t say. Because I’m not a doctor. Which is why you need one.” They folded their feathered ears back against their head and fixed you with their brilliantly golden eyes. It wasn’t quite a puppy-dog look, though it was pleading. Come now, their expression seemed to say. I want you to be all right. Won’t you let me help you? Their thumb was also tracing circles on your calf, which was making it surprisingly hard to focus.
“It’s… I just…” Your protests died on your tongue. They were just looking at you, but it was making your head feel sort of funny. Were they using their prettiness to hypnotize you? Was that what this was? Weaponized prettiness?
“If you’re nervous about going to the doctor, I could go with you,” Tazriel suggested. Their feathered ears perked up and you cursed internally. Somehow, that made them even cuter. “I know a doctor, actually. I could take you to her, if you’d like.”
They were giving you a look. An eager look, like they were already proud of themselves for having solved the problem. But you also got the impression they were not leaving here taking ‘no’ for an answer. They were going to be leaving here with you on a trip to the doctor’s or you were going to have a new roommate.
“Eh… uh…” You tried to think of a way out of this. They’re pretty, your brain supplied unhelpfully. It’d be nice to spend more time with them. Your own mind was even turning against you. “I guess that’d be… okay.”
They beamed. The fact that they looked even prettier when they did that was like adding insult to injury. “Wonderful! I’ll need to call ahead to let her know we’re coming, but she owes me a favor, I’m sure she’ll set some time aside for you.” They scrambled to their feet and practically skipped outside. You and your neighbor watched them go.
“Lucky,” she said in an undertone.
“Lucky?” you muttered back. “For breaking my ankle?”
She rolled her eyes. “For having someone so worried about you. Do you realize how frantic they were when they were banging on my door? It was kind of sweet.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Tazriel stepped back into the room at that moment, sparing you the indignity. “She says we can come in whenever we want,” they said. “But we’ll have a better chance of getting in right away if we go as soon as possible.”
“Just give me a couple minutes,” you said. “I just… need to brush my teeth.” Ever since hurting your ankle, your self-care activities, otherwise known as basic hygiene, had kind of gone down the drain. No one had commented on it so far, but the longer you were in the presence of a water elemental and the perfectly polished Tazriel, the worse you felt about it.
You hobbled to the bathroom and did as quick of a spot clean as you could. Once you’d determined that it was as good as it was going to get in the time frame allowed, you pulled on some slightly-nicer clothes and headed back out to Tazriel.
Your neighbor was gone by that point, and Tazriel was waiting for you in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?” they asked, fixing you with a cheerful smile. You nodded.
“Yeah, yeah.” There was a part of your mind insisting that, despite the indignity of it, you could probably get away with slamming the door in their face and burying yourself under the blankets until everyone forgot about this doctor thing. But that would be hideously embarrassing and you weren’t sure it would stop Tazriel anyway. They seemed rather determined. “Let’s get this over with.”
Tazriel nodded cheerily, then took a step forward, holding their arms out awkwardly. You took a fumbling step back, hands up. “Hey, woah, what are you doing?”
They paused. “You can hardly walk,” they said, as though that were completely obvious. “But I can.”
You did not lower your arms from their defensive position. “You’re going to carry me?”
They looked like at you like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Yes, of course. I can handle it.”
“Uh,” you said, looking them up and down uncertainly. “You’re sure?”
“Of course,” they said. To their credit, they sounded extremely confident. “You’re rather small, aren’t you? I can carry you.”
You felt weirdly embarrassed about being referred to as ‘small.’ “Uh. Well.” Why wasn’t your brain working? You couldn’t string together any thoughts! “I guess, if you’re okay with it…”
They grinned and scooped you up like you were a couple of grapes. You looped your arms around their neck. It was impressive how effortless the lift seemed to them. “Comfortable?” they asked. You made a nondescript sound that roughly meant, ‘as comfortable as it is possible to be right now.’ Apparently, they could interpret that, because they took off at a slow jog.
You’d been expecting they would take one of the trains, but they ended up heading in a completely different direction than the local station. It was slightly unnerving, but they seemed to know what they were doing. You did your best to relax back into their arms. While you usually felt rather uncomfortable about having someone carry you, this felt somehow reassuring. Maybe because they were strong enough that there was no wavering of their grip or unsteadiness.
They jogged for a little while, turning down some of the main roads. People looked at the sight with some interest, though few people actively stared, which you appreciated. After turning around a few corners, they slowed down and approached a decently large building painted in white and pink. They shifted you in their arms a bit before pulling open the glass door.
It definitely smelled like a doctor’s clinic when you stepped inside, with that stinging scent of antiseptic. A few other people were milling around the room. You couldn’t get a good look at most of them, but there was someone standing in a pile of feathers in the corner. You resisted the urge to snicker. There was always someone who took a feather-enhancing potion during the Avieras Festival and then had to deal with the consequences a few days later.
Tazriel ignored the front desk and headed toward the exam area. They nudged the door open with their tail and glanced around as they stepped inside. “Doctor Gella?”
There was a moment of silence, then a middle-aged woman wearing thick spectacles poked her head out of a room a few doors down. She had an enormous set of ram’s horns sprouting from her temples and a thin tail tipped with a trident. Oh, and bright yellow skin.
“Tazriel,” she said, nodding at them. “I assume this is the patient.” She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you step into an exam room and put them down?”
The exam room was pretty standard doctor fare- a sink and a few cabinets, a machine for checking blood pressure, a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs up against the far wall, and a bulky exam table covered in paper taking up a majority of the space. Tazriel set you down upon it and took up one of the seats. Dr. Gella gave them a pointed look. “It was kind of them to bring you here, Tazriel, but I’m afraid I can’t let you stay in the exam room while they’re being examined. Unless you would feel more comfortable if Taz stayed?” She directed the last question toward you.
“I think I can handle it on my own,” you said. Ever since you’d started smelling the antiseptic, your heart rate had picked up, and sitting on the crinkly exam table wasn’t doing it any favors. Why did doctor’s offices all have to look the same? But you’d been through this before. You didn’t need anyone to hold your hand. Tazriel nodded amiably and headed for the door.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” they said. They gave you an amiable wink, then the door closed behind them.
The room felt a lot more confining all of a sudden.
Dr. Gella rolled a wheeled chair up to the edge of the exam table. “They’re quite sweet, but they forget the most obvious things sometimes. One of the reasons they could never work here.”
“Did they want to?”
“They were interested in one point. That’s how we got to know each other- they volunteered here when they were younger. But, as I’ve said, they’re a bit too distracted to be an attentive healer. Their knowledge of anatomy is impeccable, though. Hence why they ended up being a butcher.” Dr. Gella looked at your legs. “Ah. I see that’s the bum ankle they mentioned?”
You shifted, embarrassed. “Yeah. They told me I needed to come here, but…” You trailed off. Dr. Gella gave a half-smile.
“Not a fan of the doctor’s?” she asked. You shook your head. “That’s all right. Plenty of people aren’t. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”
She shifted your leg up onto the exam table and slipped off your shoe and sock. The shoe was easy, since your ankle was swollen enough that it didn’t go on all the way. The sock was a little harder, and no matter how gentle she tried to be, it still hurt. You gritted your teeth and struggled as hard as you could not to kick her.
“There we go,” she said, setting your sock next to you. “Hm.” She grimaced. “I can see why they wanted you to come in.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you said, a little sheepish. Dr. Gella hummed disapprovingly.
“It’s definitely a bad sprain, at minimum. How long ago did you injure it?”
“Couple of days?” you said, shrinking back a little more sheepishly when Dr. Gella frowned.
“It might not have been that bad at first, but it’s certainly become worse thanks to not treating it right. I’m going to have to get a brace for it, and you’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks at least.” Her eyes glowed, suggesting she was using some kind of seeing-through spell. “Yes, it doesn’t look like there’s anything broken, but it’s certainly bruised and damaged and walking on it will make it worse.”
“Do I have to wear a cast?” you asked, hesitant.
“It’ll be a soft cast,” Dr. Gella said. You grimaced. “That bothers you?”
“I just… don’t like it.” You shifted in place, wincing when that shifted your ankle. “It bothers me.”
Dr. Gella smiled sympathetically. “If you don’t want to wear the cast, I’m certainly not going to make you do so. But it is my medical recommendation that you do so, as it will make sure that things heal better.”
You didn’t say anything. Yes, you needed to wear the cast. Yes, the idea of doing so made you feel sick to your stomach. You weren’t sure how to reconcile those emotions. Dr. Gella watched your expression, taking in your uncertainty, then forced a small smile.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I have another patient that shouldn’t take too long. You can take some time to think it over. If you’re too uncomfortable for it, then I can just give you some instructions for taking care of it, and if you feel better about the cast, we can put it on after I’m done with that patient. Sound good?”
You let out a relieved breath. At the very least, it got you out of the exam room so you could take a breather. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Certainly. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Dr. Gella helped you out of the room and offered you a set of crutches. Together, you hobbled back to the waiting room.
Tazriel was waiting in a seat close to the door when you stepped out. You nodded to Dr. Gella and went to sit next to them as she called in her next patient. Tazriel tilted their head, taking in your crutches and swollen ankle. “Are you done?”
“I’m not,” you said. “It’s… I’m…” You fumbled over your next words. Tazriel waited patiently. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Dr. Gella was right, I don’t have to know. It’s your health,” Tazriel said. “I can leave now, if you want me too, and as long as you have a way home-”
“You don’t have to leave,” you said. Talking to them was at least a distraction from both the throbbing pain in your ankle and the swirling anxiety in your chest. “I don’t like doctor’s offices.”
Tazriel nodded. “I sort of guessed. From the way you were acting about having to go.” They hesitated. “I know I probably overstepped, bringing you here, but you really did need someone to see to that ankle.”
“Yeah, you were right. I actually do need a cast on this thing.” You shifted your ankle and immediately winced. Bad idea. “But I can’t… bring myself to get one.”
Tazriel was silent for a moment, until it was clear you weren’t going to say more. “What bothers you about it?”
You hesitated. “When I was a kid, I screwed up my arm. It was a pretty bad break, from what I remember. And they put a cast on it. I complained about the cast a lot. It was tight and itchy and I didn’t like wearing it at all.”
Tazriel nodded. “Most people don’t.”
“And then, like a week and a half into wearing the cast, it started to hurt. Really badly. I complained about it, but I’d already been complaining about it so much, everyone thought I was just continuing with that. It kept getting worse, but it took another week before anyone believed me enough to take my back to the doctor. And then the doctor was really dismissive when we did go in, so it was a few more days before my parents finally got anyone to pay attention to what was actually happening.” You took a deep breath. “The cast was too tight. And there was some damage to my hand by the time they figured it out and took it off.”
Tazriel blinked, recoiling a little. You saw them sneak a glance at your hand, subtly trying to see what was wrong without being too obvious about it. “The damage wasn’t permanent, thankfully,” you said, stretching out your arm to show them. “There’s a little scar here, but after physical therapy, I can move my hand pretty much the same as anyone else. There’s a little residual pain, on occasion, but it healed well.”
“That’s why you were so fussy about going to the doctor,” Tazriel said. “You didn’t want another cast.” They curled their tail across their lap. “I… I’m sorry for dragging you here.”
“Ah, it’s not your fault,” you said. “You were right. I did need to go. And I wasn’t going to do it unless someone kicked my ass.” You glanced at the door to the exam rooms. “The doctor said I could go without a cast, if I was really uncomfortable having one on, but I really do need one. I don’t want to screw up my ankle any worse than it already is.”
Tazriel sat for a moment, their tail settled across their lap. They were plucking at their feathers. A little further up their tail was the tail band you’d given to them. It had clearly been taking off and cleaned at one point, maybe even polished because it was even shinier than when you’d had it. “You’re still wearing that,” you said. Tazriel glanced toward the band and gave a faint smile.
“Oh, yes. It’s quite beautiful. I appreciate it.” They ran their finger over it, relishing the little textural differences. “I truly wasn’t expecting a gift.”
You laughed, a little embarrassed by how warm their voice had become. “I’m sure people trip all over themselves to give you free samples. You must be swimming in them by now.”
“Sometimes,” they admitted with a sheepish grin. “I try not to accept them too often. I don’t like to take things without paying for them. It feels unfair.”
You nudged their side playfully. “Except when you’re taking from me, huh? Trying to drive me out of business?”
Their face scrunched up in a strange way. “Eh… well…” They ran their hands up and down their tail. “I had… I had a bit of an idea about that. I was hoping perhaps I could offer to pay you back… by taking you out to dinner.”
You thought for a moment. “You wanted to ask me out to dinner?” They nodded. “Why dinner?”
They blinked, like they hadn’t thought that question would be the next one. “It wouldn’t have to be dinner, I suppose. That’s just traditional. But if you didn’t want dinner, I suppose coffee would work as well? Or if there’s something else you’d like to do?”
Your brain chugged for a moment before everything clicked together. They were asking you on a date. Right? Or maybe you were reading them wrong? You’d never been good with those sort of subtleties- maybe they meant something else? Like a friendly dinner? But if you interpreted it as a friendly dinner and they didn’t, then they would be hurt if you treated it like a friendly date, right? But if you tried to clarify and they weren’t asking you on a date, that would be so embarrassing, and maybe they’d be mad at you for being presumptuous about them asking you out…
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you were staring at them until Tazriel cleared their throat. “Er. I- You don’t have to say yes. I thought it might be charming, I suppose? But I suppose it is a little too pushy, so don’t feel obligated to-”
“No, no! I want to!” you said hurriedly. You couldn’t just sit there and let them feel bad! Although, now you were going to have to find a way to determine if this was a date or not without letting them know that you weren’t sure what you’d signed up for.
It seemed like answering in the affirmative was the correct choice, because their entire face brightened. “Really? Ah, that’s a relief. I’m afraid I’m not all that good with these sort of things- people assume I am, I think, but I’m really not used to it at all.” They gave you a particularly rough pat on the shoulder, which jostled you enough to make your ankle ache. You grimaced and they pulled their hands back, tucking them against their body. “Sorry. We can, uh. Hold off on the dinner until you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah,” you muttered. “I… suppose I should get the cast. To make sure that everything heals all right.”
They looked uncertain. “Are you going to be okay with that?”
“It’ll be scary, but I’m a grown-up. I can handle it.” Despite your words, your stomach churned. It wasn’t even going to be a hard cast, like the one you’d had as a kid, but the idea of something pressing in tight, restricting you like that… how were you going to sit through the procedure and just deal with it?
An impulse darted from your brain to the tip of your tongue before you could think better of it. “Will you sit with me when I get the cast on?”
Tazriel’s ears fluffed up and their eyes went wide. It was hard to tell if they were surprised or pleased to be asked. Or both. “You want me to go in with you?” Their tail gave one large wag before they settled it back into their lap. “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”
“If I say you can be in there, then you can be in there,” you said. “I’d just like someone else in there with me in case I, like. Freak out or something.”
They looked at you for a long moment and you were just about to rescind the offer out of embarrassment when they nodded. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”
Their agreement couldn’t have come at a better time, because the exam room door swung open again and Dr. Gella stepped out. “There you are,” she said, nodding in your direction. “Have you made up your mind?”
You nodded. “I’d like Tazriel to come back with me. Just as, uh. Moral support. If that’s all right.”
Dr. Gella looked between the two of you with slightly raised eyebrows, but all she said was, “There’s some paperwork you’ll have to sign, but I don’ t think there will be any problem with it.”
Tazriel gave a single squeeze to your shoulder and followed you and Dr. Gella back to the proper exam room. You hopped back up on the table and signed a few forms Dr. Gella provided for you while Tazriel hovered a bit awkwardly nearby. “Now, I’m going to set your leg in place with magic and form the cast around it,” Dr. Gella said as soon as the paperwork was safely stored away. “That will make the most comfortable and best-fitting cast. But you’re going to have to try and not move.”
“I can try,” you said. The phantom sensation of being held in a vice grip, unable to pull your leg away even as it was clamped down on tighter and tighter and tighter hit you and you took an unsteady, gulping breath.
Tazriel moved closer so their shoulder was brushing against yours. Even with the high examination table, they had to bend over a bit. “Where were you thinking of going for dinner?”
“F-for dinner?” you said, distracted. Dr. Gella carefully worked a disinfectant and cleaning spell over your ankle, causing a race of cold tingles over your skin. The magic sparked and seemed to solidify as she shifted the magic to start holding your leg still.
“Hey.” Tazriel’s voice dropped a little, adopting a soothing register. “Don’t focus on that, okay? Look at me.”
You turned your head to catch Tazriel’s golden eyes. They beamed. “There you go! Now, I asked you about dinner, remember?” Their face took on a thoughtful expression. “Oh, but you weren’t sure about dinner, were you? I’m happy to go with whatever you’d like.”
“U-um.” The grip around your ankle was tightening, enough to put pressure on the swelling. It ached awfully. “I- I guess… lunch would be fine?” Dinner was too fancy, right? Getting lunch seemed much more low-key. Though, if they were asking you on a proper date, dinner would be more traditional, right?
“Lunch works,” Tazriel said amiably. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?”
“I’m not sure.” You hazarded a glance at your ankle, but before you could get a proper look at it, Tazriel was calling your attention back.
“There’s a cute little bistro near my workplace. If you have no objections, we could go there. Have you ever been? I don’t remember the name, but it’s a pale green building with ivy crawling up the side.”
“I think I’ve seen that,” you said. The grip around your ankle had stopped tightening, but the pressure was still there. You couldn’t flex it at all. Your head thundered erratically. “It looks nice. I’ve never been there.”
“I’ve only been there once, for breakfast, but they had quite a good egg sandwich.” Your gaze started to wander back toward your leg and Tazriel squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to them. “But they’ve got a lot of variety, so I’m sure you can find something you’ll like there.”
“Uh huh,” you murmured, still distracted. The magic was solidifying into a soft cast, molding itself to the shape of your leg. There wasn’t much pain, but the feeling was still unsettling.
Tazriel licked their lips, their tail flicking rapidly. “Ah, um… Maybe you could talk about how you made this?” They swung their tail around to show off the clip still set against their scales. “It’s lovely. I was very surprised you were willing to give it to me.”
“Well, it is good business practice to make sure customers come back,” you said. “And you were a nice customer.” And maybe the fact that they were cute hadn’t hurt either. Had you actually been flirting with them without realizing it? Well, you weren’t that good at flirting when you were trying at it. Maybe flirting while you weren’t trying made you better at it. It had gotten you a maybe-date, hadn’t it?
“There we are.” Dr. Gella stepped back to examine her handiwork. “Well done. It’s all set.”
You looked down at your leg. It was booted up in a deep blue material, making one of your legs significantly heavier and more awkward than the other. You could move your leg with a decent amount of effort, but you couldn’t really flex your ankle. Gingerly, you slid off the table. Tazriel caught your arm immediately, letting you lean against their body.
“Careful,” Dr. Gella said. You couldn’t tell whether she was talking to you or Tazriel. “Your ankle’s still going to be fragile, so I’d suggest using crutches and keeping as much weight off of it as possible. I’ll write you a script for some pain medication. Take it easy for at least two weeks, then come back in and we can reassess.
“I will,” you said. “Thank you for all your help.”
She waved it off. “Of course. I’m always ready to help Tazriel’s friends.”
“Let me walk you back to your house,” Tazriel said. “Just to make sure you get back okay and have everything you need.” Their tail swayed back and forth eagerly. “And you still have my scale, right? You can call me if it gets worse or you need anything.”
Dr. Gella made a noise of surprise. “A scale, Tazriel? Really?” They paused, looking at her like they’d forgotten she was in the room. “I thought those were important to feathered dragons.”
That answered one of your questions. “I’ve never met a feathered dragon before,” you said, giving Tazriel a surprised look. They rubbed the back of their neck.
“I’m only three quarters- My grandma married a harpy. I’ve got a few more feathers than most feathered dragons.” They swayed their plumed tail back and forth, displaying the pretty feathers there. “And most modern dragons don’t hold to that old notion of scales being given to- you know. It’s convenient.”
“A seerstone is more convenient,” Dr. Gella said. You looked between them, feeling like you’d missed something important.
“What old notion?” you asked. Tazriel shook their head at Dr. Gella, who continued speaking as if she hadn’t seen them at all.
“It was an old tradition for dragons to give out scales to people they were interested in establishing a courtship with,” she said. Tazriel dropped their face into their hands. Their tail drooped to hit the ground with a dull thump. “Admittedly, courtship has fallen out of fashion, so it’s not quite as common anymore, but plenty of dragons still hold to the-”
“Okay, I think maybe you need to go home and rest,” Tazriel said, popping up from their hands and speaking much louder than was necessary for such a small room. They scooped you up over their shoulder with one arm and grabbed the crutches Dr. Gella had for you with the other.
“Be careful,” Dr. Gella said. “You don’t want to jostle their-”
“I’m always very careful,” Tazriel said in their too-loud voice. “I’ll see you another time, thank you.”
You awkwardly propped your head up from where it was hanging down Tazriel’s back. “Thank you, Dr. Gella.”
“Of course. If you need anything else, please give me a call. Just ask Tazriel for my contact information,” she said. Then Tazriel left the room and the door swung shut behind you.
You let yourself lay limply over their shoulder, ignoring the bewildered stares as you walked through the waiting room. Once you were outside and Tazriel’s embarrassed walk had slowed, you picked your head up again. “Perhaps you could give me an opportunity to walk on my own?”
Tazriel stuttered to a stop. “Oh. Yes.” They moved to the shadow of a building and carefully put you down so you could lean against the wall while they put the crutches down. “I shouldn’t have picked you up like that, I was just…” They trailed off.
“It’s fine,” you said, deciding to be polite and not call attention back to their embarrassment. Then you had a question and decided to do it anyway. “Um. So, the thing with the scale…” Tazriel immediately looked like they were considering making a run for it. “It would have been more convenient to use a seerstone, wouldn’t it? Why did you pick the scale?”
Tazriel really looked like they were hoping the ground would swallow them up, but, to their credit, they stood there and answered. “It.... isn’t used as a way to start courting anymore, but… there are certain connotations to it and there are a lot of old legends and…” They cleared their throat and stared firmly at the ground. “I was planning on asking you out. I just hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet. The scale was more spur of the moment than anything. I didn’t want to ask you out in that moment, not when you were hurt, so I picked something that was similar, but not something you would recognize. I hoped it would maybe help me feel braver next time I saw you. And I suppose I thought maybe the scale would make it more likely for you to call me than just connecting with a seerstone.”
Well. That answered your other question. It was a date. A pleasant prickling sensation rolled through your chest. “I- I thought it was sweet,” you said, partially because it was true and partially so Tazriel didn’t look so painfully shy anymore. They smiled at that.
“Let’s get you home. And connect seerstones so we can actually plan everything out for our lunch.” Tazriel helped you get set up with the crutches and you began your slow journey back to your house.
It took a while to get back to your home, but Tazriel was a pleasant conversationalist. In fact, you were almost disappointed when they stopped at your front door.
“I’ll see you again,” they said. “Get some rest. If you need anything else, I’m available. By scale or seerstone.”
“I’ll call. I promise,” you said. “Thank you for everything.” You carefully balanced yourself on your crutches and reached one of your arms up toward them. They obligingly leaned closer. You took their face in your palm and tugged them in close for just long enough to press a kiss to their cheek.
They didn’t make a sound, but their tail and ear feathers fluffed up. “I’ll call you,” you said. They nodded rapidly. Grinning, you stepped back into your house. You needed to rest up your leg. Once you were healed, you had a date to go on.
#exophilia#monster partner#monster lover#dragon#feathered dragon#dragon lover#monster romance#monster love
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Leggyman
WC: 625 | Rated: T | on Ao3
~
Mickey was on his hands and knees under the sink between the open cupboard doors, only his bottom half visible.
Fiona had called them that morning and enlisted the help of a handyman. Her kitchen sink was leaking. And, since Mickey was an honorary Gallagher now, he had to fix it for free. He fit the bill perfectly with his dirty wife-beater, tool belt, and brown steel-toed boots.
There was just one problem.
“Uh… Mick,” Ian said, rubbing his forehead.
Mickey’s right hand briefly appeared and wiggled impatiently in Ian’s direction. “What? Hand me the fuckin’ pipe wrench.”
Ian grabbed the wrench, leaning down to drop it into Mickey’s waiting palm. “I think we gotta go shopping for some shorts.”
“The hell are you talkin’ about?” Mickey grumbled.
There was some wrenching, then some clanking, some banging, and a few curses. Ian watched Mickey’s ass jiggle with his boisterous movements before he decided to reply.
“How do I put this delicately? I can see—”
A sharp, catcalling whistle cut Ian off as Fiona breezed into the kitchen.
Mickey jolted, bumping his head on the underside of the sink. “Fuck!”
“Nice buns,” she commented, grinning as she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted open the cap.
Ian crossed his arms and tried to keep a straight face as Mickey scrambled out and stood up. He was unsuccessful. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to rub Mickey’s head.
Mickey was having none of it, though, ducking away from Ian’s hand with a scowl and his eyebrows so high they looked like two boomerangs.
Fiona gave him a teasing once over. “Did you cut your jeans into jorts?”
Mickey had, in fact, used Ian’s gardening shears to cut a very tattered pair of jeans so he could still wear them, and he had gone too far. Way, way too far.
“Fuck you both,” he said, neck and ears turning red as he flipped them off. “See if I finish fixin’ this now.”
Fiona laughed. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I do want the sink fixed. But please change first so this doesn’t turn into a porno.” She gave Ian a knowing look. “No fuckin’ in my kitchen, got it?”
Then she was off, and it was just the two of them again. Mickey was so red at this point his head looked like a tomato.
Ian took pity on his husband and didn’t laugh, grabbing his gym bag that was on the stool and pulling out his basketball shorts. “Here,” he offered.
Mickey snatched them from him without a word and went to the bathroom, slamming the door.
Ian approached it, leaning against the doorframe as he listened to Mickey change. “For the record, I think you looked great in your jorts. You know I love those legs.” He smirked. He was teasing Mickey now, but he also wasn’t lying. “You don’t have to throw them away. Can wear them just for me…”
“You’re a dead man, you know that?” Mickey threatened, but when he opened the door, he didn’t look mad anymore. He also looked ridiculously adorable in Ian’s shorts. Now, with the opposite problem, they were way too long, hitting just below his kneecaps.
Ian tugged him forward by the white drawstring, and Mickey let him, gaze gentling the way it always did when Ian pulled him close. Ian leaned down, framing his face with big hands, and Mickey rose slightly onto the balls of his feet to accept the kiss.
After they separated simultaneously, Mickey slapped the jorts against Ian’s chest, and Ian’s fingers wrapped around rough denim. He gave Ian a flirty little eyebrow wiggle and a grin that showed off his bunny teeth, then quickly ducked back under the sink.
#mickey milkovich#ian gallagher#ficlet#fic#gallavich#sillyposting#shameless#ian x mickey#mickey x ian#this is bum#i mean dumb#the only plumber's crack i wanna see#short shorts#mickey's legs#🦵️
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“People don’t change people, time does”
-whumptober, prompt no. 20
(sam & the core four relearning each other after 5)
——————————————————————————
Step nine. Making direct amends to people whenever possible, except when doing so would injure them or others.
That step always cut Sam down by the knees. She could always get so far, get so many days clean, but the minute she had to confront her past self, all bets were off. Besides, she knows her past self. Those eyes follow her every time she looks in a mirror; those scarred hands shine in the sunlight. Everything about her current body is from the past, except for her brain, which is newly focused on the future.
The future. Her life now, after Woodsboro. After the blood, gore, death. Now, in a new state across the country. She was in a brand new world.
She couldn’t fuck up it anymore. She has Tara back and the twins, too, and she knows in order to keep them all, she has to stay present. It was time to confront the ninth step and overcome all of her wrongdoings and all of her past failures.
Yet there wasn’t a right way to do it, especially now. She was working night and day, therapy and AA meetings sprinkled in, all things to keep her on track. Because of that, she wasn’t present for much in their new apartment- the decorating, the furniture building, the cleaning. To be fair, she had to pay her and Tara’s bills and make on-time payments for Tara’s upcoming semester at Blackmore University. She was booked.
Luckily for her, Chad gave her an open invitation to reconcile with the kids at one of their mandatory weekly dinners.
Mindy had cooked some beef and broccoli dish, the smell dragging Sam into the apartment after a long day in the kitchen. She barely sat down and dug in before the room around her was alive with conversation.
Admittedly, Sam had tuned out for most of the conversation until Mindy asked a question.
“Sam? You there?” the girl called, waving her fork in front of Sam’s face.
Blinking, Sam swallowed, acutely aware of everyone's attention on her. “Uh, what?”
Tara and Mindy rolled their eyes playfully, Chad just snorting silently. Mindy tossed a piece of broccoli at Sam’s face, freezing when it bounced off her nose—as if Sam would reach over and slap her for the action.
Sam cocked her head at the girl’s reaction but gently picked the piece of food out of her hair and popped it in her mouth. “All good. What’s your question?” she soothed, smiling easily at Mindy.
Mindy smiled, her features relaxing. “I was asking what you thought about the new decorations all over,” she gleefully said, gesturing to the walls.
Looking around, Sam took in the new decorations. LED lights lit up the hallway with posters of random bands that Sam couldn’t recognize. She didn’t even know who liked which band, her heart twisting at her lack of knowledge of the kids she raised. On the wall to her right was a drawing, a bunch of lilies. Tara’s drawing.
Clearing her throat, Sam put on a big smile, knowing that the girls were waiting with bated breath for Sam’s approval. “I mean, I love the way you decorated the place. It looks way nicer than the last time I saw it. Nice touch on the posters and Lillies.”
Tara blushes, ducking her head down. “Thanks, Sam”
Mindy leans forward, grinning wide. “I know. I wasn’t sure about the whole poster situation, but for now, we’re thinking about adding fairy lights and maybe a crystal ball-”
“So what’s different this time?” Chad interrupts, dropping his fork onto his plate.
The noise makes all three jump in their seats as Chad straightens up, a scowl on his face. Sam takes in everybody’s faces, her eyes narrowing on their expressions. Tara’s eyes dart around nervously, her eyes surveying the incoming fight between her best friend and her big sister. Mindy looks uncomfortable with Chad’s sudden rashness, but refuses to make eye contact with Sam. The boy who started this conversation of hostility stares directly at Sam, his features calm but his eyes stormy.
Sam reaches for her glass of sparkling cider and takes a long sip. She’s not stupid— she knows Chad is gearing up for a fight. And in a way, it’s warranted, as Sam had used all three kids as toys, picking them up and playing with them and discarding them when she was bored. She knows that she had taken her time using and forgetting them, all to come back around to promise that she was doing better. That the medication, rehab, and NA sessions were working. She knows they are right to assume that perhaps this won’t last.
But before she can answer, perhaps defend herself, Tara beats her to the punch.
Softly, Tara speaks, her voice wobbling. “Chad?”
The boy sits back in his seat, his eyes flickering between the sisters. “Come on, Tara. You know the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over, and expecting-”
Nodding, Sam interrupted his speech. “-Expecting different results. Right. I get it, Chad. I do.”
She sighs, wiping her hands on her napkin and breathing out slowly. “I know it looks like the same thing over and over. But consistency and repetition aren’t insanity. Being smacked out of my mind or scrounging around in the streets? That’s insanity.”
Chad looked down at his plate, sucking his teeth. “Yeah, of course.”
Sam looks around the table, noticing how Mindy stares at her plate, her fork hovering over her salad, and Tara, her eyes on Sam, unwavering. She knows Chad is staring hard at his plate, his fists clenched around the table's edge; because she was doing the same. It was uncomfortable for all, confronting the past. It would be easier to sweep it under the rug and walk around the lump for the rest of their lives.
But Sam was three years sober today. She wouldn’t pretend anymore that her actions didn’t leave scars, especially not on the people she loved most.
“That’s what recovering is, you know. It’s pretty much the definition of insanity. You do everything repeatedly, despite the result, the plateau, or a full fucking relapse,” she forces out, her mouth feeling slightly funny.
She licked her lips, forcing herself to make the amends that were years in the making. “I mean, it doesn't mean you stop even if it gets a little repetitive.”
“One day at a time. One morning after another. One more evening, again and again. When we- addicts - decide to clean, it isn’t because it’s fucking exciting or a fucking party,”
She licks her lips, her fingers tightening around the table's edge. All eyes were on her, and she could only bare her soul. “We do it because there’s something more. Something better out there. Something that no drug or drink can ever replicate. Something like you guys,” she softly tails off.
Tara’s eyes flicker up to meet Sam’s, glassy with tears. There’s hope, shining past the tears, the doubt, the pain. Hope that Sam means it, hope that Sam will stay.
A part of Sam wants to reach out and tug Tara into a hug. She wants to hold her little sister close to her heart, not let go, and remind her that she is here now.
But they weren’t there yet. They weren’t ready. They haven’t even finished their first month in New York. It was much too early to initiate their old routine or rekindle their old way of living and loving.
Instead, Sam gently grasps Tara's hand and squeezes it tightly, an action not lost on the twins either. Her sister allowed Sam’s contact, hesitating a few seconds before squeezing back.
Looking over at the twins, she nods at Mindy, who nods back, wiping away a tear from her eye. Chad unclenches his jaw and relaxes slowly. Everybody slowly backs down, and the conversation slowly picks up again, forks squeaking against plates, laughs, and smiles bubbling.
And there in that dingy dining room, previously burned bridges crumbled, ashes spread across their feet. But from ashes, life could grow. People could get better. Things could change.
At least, Sam hopes.
#scream#sam carpenter#tara carpenter#carpenter sisters#ao3 author#scream vi#AU: there’s blood on my hands#whumptober2023#found family#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#the core four!
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long time gone [hangman pt. 1/8]
PART OF MY "WHATEVER THIS IS" SERIES WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE
PAIRING: JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN x Bartender!Reader
NICKNAME: Sunshine
It goes without saying but I do not give permission for anyone to use my work or copy it somewhere else.
PLOT: Penny Benjamin's niece works at The Hard Deck, saving the money she earns to get out of the west coast and put herself through Graduate School. What happens when a pretty boy pilot ends up as her fake boyfriend?
PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE
FIRST WEEK OF TRAINING FOR THE URANIUM PLANT SPECIAL DETACHMENT
The soft ocean breeze came through the patio windows of the Hard Deck as the golden sun began to sink below the skyline. Veterans and new recruits alike filled the busy bar, sliding up to the scuffed-up oak of the bar counter to get their cold beers after a long day.
Hands moved quickly behind the bar as you began to fill pints and pop caps off the sweaty bottles to handle to the Navy’s finest, wiping your palms on the small towel tucked into the waistband of your tight jeans. Your feet moved you quickly between the growing number of customers until you noticed a few new faces rolling in, dressed up in their khaki work uniforms and smirks painted across their sun kissed skin.
“Hey Pen?” your voice trailed across the way to your wonderful aunt who had been ducked down to restock the liquor supply. She turned around with raised brows, a welcoming glow on her face.
“What’s up darlin?”
“We don’t have any reunions on the books, do we?” you asked lightly as two towering men skimmed their way through the crowd to approach your position. Penny shook her head, opening her mouth to answer but was halted by the man, a pretty boy, stepping up to wave while he leaned casually along the bar length.
“Howdy gorgeous,” his voice was raspy, green eyes enticing as he flashed you an award-winning smile. Pearly whites nearly blinding you as you blinked.
“What can I get you?” you asked, pulling your damp rag out to wipe the bar around him. You avoided his gaze, his friend huffing a bit back laugh. The man’s gaze burned into your warm cheek, sending a tight feeling through your chest and tummy.
“We’ll take two lagers if you will sweet cheeks,” he replied, slapping a twenty-dollar bill down between you making you look up. His smile still illuminating the room, eyes never leaving you. “And you can keep the change in exchange for your name.”
Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you ducked to grab two bottles from the cooler – opening them as you came up and sliding them into front of you. You grabbed the cash without a word and moved to cash him out, the cocky tone of the man still bouncing around in your ears. In any other location, you were nearly invisible to men that looked like this. Toned, strong and pretty – men like this typically used their bright smiles and enticing words to get what they wanted. You shook your head as the drawer popped open, pulling out his change and moving back to him.
“Have a good night,” you dropped every coin and bill in front of him before moving to the opposite end of the bar. You stretched your neck for a moment, stopping in front of a familiar face. “Pete?” you asked, Penny as your feet as the name rolled off your lips.
Too distracted by the ghost of your aunt’s past, you didn’t notice the amused laughter of the pretty boy’s friend as he collected his beer on his way to the pool tables in the back. The blond man staying put and staring at the curves of your waist in confusion before following his friend.
“Y/N?” Pete breathed, glancing up from his phone and placing it in front of him as he took in your appearance. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I didn’t know you were back in North Island,” you replied, pulling a pint from below you as you opened the tap – offering him the beer on the house. “Are you here to see-,” Penny rose from her seat on the ground, the look on Pete’s face a complete delight as he drooled a bit. You watched him stumble over his words as you gave the two space, moving a few feet away to refill drinks and pour drinks.
You watched a group of women and men join the pool tables, conversing as they seemingly caught up. The women smiled graciously at you as they approached, sitting on a few bar stools. “Hi ladies, what can I get you?” you asked, throwing napkins down in front of them.
“Can I get a vodka lemonade please?” the one on the far left asked, pulling her card out of her pocket just as the bell rang behind you. You grinned as you glanced back at Pete’s confused expression before turning back to the women.
“Sure thing, what about you ladies? It’s on that guy now,” you nodded his way as you collected the others’ orders. Nodding as you began to grab your shaker, pouring out the shots they’d ordered and sliding them over.
You watched them all cheers and throw back Patron, placing a dish of limes for them to grab as the pretty boy from before made his way back in front of you. “How bout that name now darlin?” he asked from behind the women who groaned and shifted away from him.
“Leave the woman alone Bagman,” the one in the middle grumbled, leaning over to grab the cocktail you made. She slid a twenty dollar bill your way, a forgiving smile on her face. “Thank you for the drinks, don’t let this one bother you,” she nodded to the supposed Bagman who scrunched his nose and scoffed as he took their seat.
“Hangman,” he called, spinning to face you, “It’s Hangman,” he repeated, tapping his large digits on the surface. “Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin actually,” he smiled again, eyes sparkling as he watched your relaxed face.
You waited for a moment, watching him expectedly as you slid the twenty in your back pocket. He leaned forward. “This is where you tell me your name,” he finally breathed, eyes scanning your face for any reaction.
“What can I get you, Bagman?” you finally replied as the more patrons started crowding the bar. Bagman sighed, deflating as he looked back at his friends. “Four beers please,” he mumbled, totally disengaging from the conversation as you bent down to grab them. There was a silence that fell over you as you again uncapped them and slid them along the barrier into his waiting hands.
His skin was warm and soft as you brushed against each other, a split second interrupted by the loud ringing of the bell. Your attention turned to Pete, looking gobsmacked and Penny holding her hands up in a shrug. You turned back to Bagman only to realize he was gone, moving with two men to throw Pete out of the bar.
Realizing how crowded the bar would become from the free round, you moved beside Penny and wrapped your arm behind her back. You giggled at her face, still looking to the now shut from door as she looked down at you. “You enjoyed that a bit too much,” you stated. Penny patted your back lovingly as she moved to start taking orders.
“Just a bit.”
“You totally still have the hots for him though,” you snickered as you poured another beer from the tap for a nearby customer. She gasped, turning to smack your ass with her rag – laughter tumbling out between the two of you as you faded to separate sides of the bar, humming along to the man singing Great Balls of Fire over at the piano.
The night was long, your feet throbbing as you finished ringing out the final groups of customers at the end of the night. You were handing a recruit his bill, watching as he struggled to stand up straight to sign his bill when someone cleared their throat from behind you. All night, he had kept his eyes on you. All night, he also was very clearly flirting with slim and perky young women near the jukebox.
“Bagman,” you sighed and turned his way to see him already holding his card out. You snatched it from his hand to slid through the register, avoiding his gaze as the receipt printed. You pulled a pen from your pocket and placed it in front of him, lightly mumbling goodnight.
“You’re really not going to give me your name?” his voice gruff as he quickly scratched his signature on the paper and carelessly threw it down. His hands were strong as he held his weight up, gaze hard.
“Goodnight, Bagman,” you replied and pulled the paper away from him. Bagman scoffed and pushed himself off from the wood.
“Night Sunshine,” the nickname rolling off his tongue as he disappeared and headed to the exit. You quipped an eyebrow at his retreating frame and shook it off, moving to help Penny take inventory and close up the bar.
#top gun fandom#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun#jake seresin smut#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#hangman imagine#hangman#whatever this is series
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Tsuna Sawada will always be a loser and even towards the end of the manga he still is one and I will always love him for not changing. Face it all those reunion fics I used to read back in the day really be enjoying giving every person who bullied or were mean to him give everyone face slaps as if i'm reading a chinese revenge dogblood danmei novel lol. This is pre-2017 I belive when I binged a lot of fics in the previous years of that particular KHR era lol. So take it in mind my knowledge was from back then.
Hell this shit is even applied to his parents especially Nana like maybe I can go more indepth if I have time in another post but like this women certainly loves her child. I know the infamous chapter really got me heated not gonna lie I don't think the way she treats her kid is fine but damn sometimes I feel she be villainzed too much. From the way I see their relationship it's one of love but I don't think Tsuna could rely on his mom when it comes to emotions and feelings hell he avoid it together it's kinda why he was a little shit if I remember correctly in the beginning of the manga but what 13 year old isn't. Like their relationship is more she wants her child to be like his manly father and hopes he can grow out of his ugly ducking dame tsuna phase but he can't because it's more than that the dude whole school normalizes calling him dame tsuna instead of his actual birth name and the way the faculty treat him and his peers who go back and forth in their treatment of him if he surpasss their expectations they acknowledge him if he doesn't he goes back to being just lame old tsuna. So tsuna gives right up at the start then even try because he's afraid at the attempt he'll just fail. Iemitsu I get 100% because he prioritzes work over family and expects his son to be like his mother and be fine he shows up out of nowhere. I'd be pissed too. Ironic he's the 1 shounen protagnsit with 2 parents that just aren't that great as role models or when it comes to teaching him but they do love him certainly. It's why when it comes to the basis of how their characters are written yes there are defintlly problametic things going on because of how dysfuncitional they are as a family but they do love each other so I really dislike it a lot back in the past since a lot of the times writers really try to up and take it to a 100 to make both of them more hurtful or cruel in fics than they are in canon just to really give them faceslaps X double. And the result is Tsuna being a depressed sucidal kid to really get it and the fic writer just blackening the parents even more lol. Like please a little nuance would be appreatied in their family dynamic would be nice.
Tsuna no matter what anyone says is a strong kid. He really doesn't get bothered like I don't recall him talking shit about the students in his school who bully him like yamamato and him are straight parells in their treatment because I'm damn sure yamamato has to be aware of others treatment of Tsuna because it's a refelection of how he could end up if he becomes a failure too. One tries their hardest to be the best and tries to jump because he can't handle it no more. But Tsuna the other isn't even bother by his mistreatment wtf he's just Tsuna he's normalized it but he isn't a sucidal depressed mess he's just accepts he can't do it and says welp whatever and he's fine. My boi is strong.
I know some can't accept how the ending is. But, You're reading KHR so many weird things are in the manga that make 0 logical sense and I just go through with the motions accepting it. A baby for a tutor, oh Mukuro went through literal hell, oh what do you mean fucking time travel is involved. You really expect me to care that much how the ending went lol. KHR is a legit a parody telling of a shonen manga, which evolved into a real shonen later on.
I get the appeal but Tsuna is Tsuna. I think he's a normal boy who doesn't fit the shounen mold and himnot fiting the package kinda fit the bill because he doesn't suit the audience fantasy on how they want their MC's to be. They want him to be a Naruto how everyone who hurt him apologize or acknwledge his awesomeness but nah Akira Amano really just sticked to this dude core character from start to finish. Tsuna grew when it comes to areas he lacked but he never changed about his personhood because that sorta what makes him define the story. Tsuna being himself got him allies and people who rely and look towards him and what made Reborn impressed with his student. He defines the genre he's like is a Deku from BNHA reversed when it comes to their development.
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I was digging through my Amara tag and found an old ask @cwritesfiction sent that included a reference to an old scene between Amara and a priest. I decided to find it, and I did!
~
Amara hit the ground running, and didn’t look back. She bolted down the street, sprinting through the crowd of people before her. She dove between them, squirming through the crowd despite the cries of dismay. Or maybe it was annoyance. She couldn’t tell, and she didn’t have time to care. She darted into a shop at random. Her breaths came in fierce pants as she moved deeper in the store. Several glances over her shoulder showed no one had followed her. She ducked behind a shelf of books, and only then realized the poor shopkeeper was staring at her.
“Don’t worry. I’m just...” She gave an uncomfortable smile, trying and failing to even out her breaths. “In a hurry. I really, really need...” After a cursory glance, she grabbed a book at random. “I needed this.”
The shopkeeper looked down at the book. Amara followed his gaze, and winced. A Christian Woman’s Guide To Dating all but screamed at her in great big gold lettering.
She slapped down a few bills when the shopkeeper stuttered out a price. “Keep the change. I’m going to go read.” She scooped up the book, and sat down in the back of the shop. From this angle she could see out the door, and with her back pressed against the wall, no one could sneak up behind her. She flipped the book open, just to keep up appearances.
She waited about an hour, eyeing each and every customer that wandered in with suspicion. The shopkeeper in turn never stopped watching her. She wasn’t sure if it was suspicion on his part, or anxiety. Either way, it was getting on her nerves. Her sigh made the man jump. She stood, muttered a half hearted thanks to him, and ducked out again. She made it halfway down the block when a nearby payphone started ringing. She almost kept walking, but could have sworn it got louder when she passed it. She turned back, frowning. No one else seemed bothered by it. She prowled closer, and carefully picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Amara.”
Of course. She grimaced. “I already know how much trouble I'm in, so a rant is pointless.”
“Where are you?”
“Relax. I’m by some little bookshop downtown. I got a little turned around, and I’m not sure how to get back yet.”
“Again?” She could hear the sigh through the phone. “Do I need to come get you? You should have been back hours ago.”
“Well, I ran into some... ah, trouble.”
“Demons?”
“Mmmhmm.” Amara slid a glance to her surroundings. “It wasn’t me, I swear. They just showed up.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll find a church, and then I’ll be home.”
“You’re going to come back a mess, and I’m going-”
“Good bye, Caelan.” She hung up, taking a great amount of pleasure at the thought of him spluttering at his end. She almost started jogging away, when something occurred to her. She retraced her steps back to the shop again. The shopkeeper didn’t look happy to see her, if his little jerk was anything to judge by. She waved her book at him. “Ah, bag? Please.”
Book carefully out of sight now, she hurried down the street, not bothering to get directions. As long as she wasn’t being followed she didn't care. Caelan could wait. He’d spent this long waiting. Wouldn’t hurt him to wait longer.
She felt it before she even heard it. The sense of unease that washed over her was familiar, but annoying. Something was wrong, but that was the story of her life, and it hardly did anything for her. She tucked her hands in her jacket pocket, feeling the familiar weight of the flask in each one. Hopefully she’d be able to remember which one was the holy water, and which one she wasn't supposed to have at all.
She picked up her pace, going as fast as she could without actually breaking into a trot. The unease didn’t fade, instead shifting to coil in the bottom of her stomach. It wasn’t clear where the danger was, but she knew without question someone was following her, and whoever they were, they didn't wish her well.
That sense had saved her skin more than once over the years. It was vague, and irritating, but it was still useful. At least she knew something was wrong.
She shifted the bag on her shoulder as she risked a glance around. Her gaze was drawn to one man in particular. The glint of turquoise eyes, too bright to be human, was all she needed to see. She snapped back around, seeking out a chapel with renewed interest. About five blocks down, she could see her destination. Weighing her options informed her that sprinting was a bad idea.
She broke into a run anyway, darting among the people. Thankfully the crowd was thinning, but that meant if the demon bolted as well he’d have less to slow him down too. She was gasping by the time she darted up the stairs and into the chapel’s doors. She paused to look back. Nothing. She didn’t see anything. The man was gone, and she was getting strange looks.
Ignoring those looks, she edged inside. The sanctuary was empty, for now. Or maybe she hadn’t been loud enough to bring anyone running. Pity. No, not pity, she reminded herself as she prowled down the aisle. She didn’t have time to deal with anyone.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get much choice in the matter. As she meandered down the aisle, a door opened deeper in the building. Not long after, she found herself blinking at a stout man in pressed khakis, who in turn eyed her with no small amount of suspicion.
“Hi,” she greeted lamely.
He considered her for a beat longer than was comfortable, before asking, “What are you doing in here?”
She scrambled for an answer, and ended up blurting out, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and made a clumsy crossing motion.
That didn’t seem to be the right answer, because his forehead creased in a frown. “This is a Baptist church.”
Oh. She offered him a small smile. “Well, I still sinned.”
“I see.” His expression worried her, but he merely waved a hand at a pew. “Would you like to talk about it? A Baptist preacher is as much a holy man as a Catholic priest, and I might be able to help.”
It wasn’t like she had any other choice, so she edged past him to settle on the pew. It took all of her self control to not scoot away when he sat beside her. She fiddled with the frayed edge of her shirt, unsure of what to say.
“What has been concerning you?” the preacher pressed gently.
The problem was that Amara had no idea what of her problems she could tell him. She flattened her hands against her legs, and then said, “I steal.” Not untrue. “I pickpocket.” It wasn’t like the angels gave her an allowance. She shot a glance at him, but he had that same expression as before. Where was the anger? All she could see was concern and disapproval. “I drink.” She tugged out one of the flasks, prayed it was the right one, and waggled it under his nose. “You want a sip?”
“You sound more proud of what you’ve done than repentant.”
“I’m not,” she admitted. “Repentant, that is. But I’d like to be. I figured the Church was as good a place to start as any.”
“I see.” He waited a beat too long for her to be comfortable. “Well, if you’re looking for ... a place to find a higher power to hold you accountable, we have a youth group that meets every Sunday and Wednesday.”
“That might help,” she said agreeably. He wasn’t convinced, but he still nodded.
“Perhaps agreeing to leave the alcohol with me might be a step in the right direction as well?”
Shit. Maybe bringing it up hadn’t been a good idea. She shook her head, even when he held a hand out at her. He was persistent, though, and didn’t move until she handed it over. She watched where he tucked it away, and then looked down, pressing her lips together.
“Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?” He offered. When she shook her head, he stood.
“I think I'm going to stay here. Think. It's peaceful here. Quiet. I'm not used to... quiet.” She jerked her head up to meet his gaze. Again, she found herself unable to read his expression.
“I'll be in my office,” he told her. Pity. It couldn't be pity, could it? He gestured back, the way he came. Towards his office, she assumed. His mouth tipped up on one side. “The sermons don't write themselves, you know.”
She laughed a beat too late, and felt heat rise in her cheeks. She wasn't sure if she liked this preacher. Something about him left her a little unnerved. She watched him go, ducking her head in faux piety when he glanced back at her.
Not a minute later, the man was back. She lifted her head warily, but he merely held out a pink book. She had to choke back a laugh when she realized it was a bible. Not just any bible. A youth bible. She dragged her gaze up to his, and took it. “Thank you.” What else could she say? He nodded once, and turned to leave. “Wait.” She grabbed his sleeve. “I meant that. Thank you. I didn’t expect you to...”
“Care?”
“Something like that.” She smiled wryly, and let her hand drop slowly. He didn’t seem to know what to say, because he gave a small dip of his head and turned to go. She let him this time without complaint. Once he was out of sight she lifted the flask she’d stolen back, before shoving it in her boot.
She only moved again when she was sure he was gone for good this time. Any moment now, Caelan would be retrieving her, and she still had to brace for that. He grated on her nerves, which was no doubt why the angels had made him her handler. The air behind the pulpit split in half as she approached it, and a familiar shape shimmered into existence.
“Caelan,” she greeted sourly.
The angel, his mouth pressed into a line so thin she was surprised it hadn’t vanished, merely ordered, “Come.”
“Yessir,” she said sweetly, putting her hand in his.
His sharp gaze had no give in it. He glanced around, as if demons could crawl through the walls, before he tugged her through the split that waited for them.
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Well, I have a song suggestion, Long Shot by Transviolet. It’s kind of a break up song (they’re in love, but one of them needs to figure themselves out by themselves), so maybe that can serve as angsty inspiration?
Bodyguard Enid right here, just from vibes alone
--
Enid doesn't drink. She remembers the last time she did and the memory clenches at her heart in a grip that has her throat choking.
Enid doesn't drink but it doesn't stop the people around her from doing so.
Yoko was looking quite drunk actually, her head thrown back with a laugh and leaning on the crook of Enid's neck. The vampire's breath is warm against the werewolf's skin and enid sighs, her arm around her best friend's shoulder.
She's tiny, the blond realizes.
Would wednes-
"yoko, I think we should go home soon," she murmurs, ducking her head.
"nawh!" yoko replies, turning her body to nuzzle deeper and did she just need to sniff that obviously!?
Enid sighs, tempted to rub at her face and groan. She does just that before slapping a few bills at the table and hoisting the lanky vampire into a hold.
She nods at the bartender before walking right out.
Yoko whines from her spot, reaching out to her forgotten drink.
"enid- I paid for that!"
Enid quite frankly, didn't care but she doesn't want a sobbing friend so she pats at the smaller woman's back.
"yes yes, whatever you say dear."
Yoko stills her wriggling at that before her head presses deep into Enid's collar. "that's unfair," she mumbles.
Enid giggles a little at that, damn the vampire was sober enough to give some charm huh?
She presses a kiss towards the crown of black hair and for a tiny moment, a part of her thinks of someone else.
Then she blinks and she speaks.
"hate the game not the player, Yoko."
#Jdwicked#Writing#Bodyguard Enid au#Yoko and Enid!??#No#Just wanted to showcase how Wednesday is still in Enid's head
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Little Quidditch Series (1/?)
content warnings: fall from a great height (non-descriptive and inconsequential). swearing.
"So, what do you think?" Charlie leans over his shoulder, and Percy finally drags his eyes away from the Little Quidditch Summer Camp brochure his brothers had just shoved under his nose.
"I-… Yeah, it's good." He starts over, trying to force a livelier tone, irredeemably marred by hesitation despite his efforts. It's all Percy can do not to gape at the price; black print over the garish yellow rendition of a snitch. He eyes his brothers instead. "Do... Mum and Dad know about this?"
Bill laughs out loud, and slaps a hand down on his back with enough strength that Percy actually sways on his feet. "Of course not! They'd never let us do it."
"They'd never let her do it." Charlie grumbles, to his left.
Bill gestures vaguely (Percy can't pinpoint whether it is dismissal or agreement) before carrying on, in a mischievous tone that reminds him eerily of the twins: "Which is why we intend to send them on a little vacation."
Percy's eyebrows disappear into his curls. "You can afford that?"
His brothers exchange looks, suddenly engaged in a silent conversation Percy, childishly, fails to not feel left out of.
"It's their wedding anniversary, so we have a good excuse to spend money on them." Bill shrugs, as if that answers anything. Percy doesn't quite resist the urge to roll his eyes. Bill has... Never been very good at speaking to him. He used to make an effort, when they were little; and Percy used to enjoy spending time with his Eldest Brother Bill.
But then Bill left for Egypt, and Percy eventually realised he'd only ever made an effort because Percy was little -- a whole six years younger, actually --, not because he enjoyed his company or they genuinely got along. It was, in the end, just another of those instances where Percy got the hint embarrassingly late.
(He tells himself it doesn't sting.)
It's Charlie, as usual, who steps in. He certainly doesn't like the tension, but, perhaps more important, Charlie's always been the one to talk Percy into agreeing to questionable shit.
"I'm stationed at the Welsh Green Reserve up north 'til the end of summer." Charlie makes eye contact and grabs a hold of his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We wouldn't leave you all alone with the kids."
Percy has to press his lips together to keep quiet: as the only one who can cook, it will be as though he's all alone with the kids. Charlie, for his many good qualities, is just another mouth to feed, and his presence instigates the other four into vying for The Cool Brother's undivided attention.
Percy refuses to dwell on his jealousy, so he looks away.
He finds that he can see all of his younger siblings at once: the twins are up in the air, yelling instructions to Ron (who's doing a piss poor job of defending three floating hoops from the makeshift Quaffle -- Percy reckons he'd be doing better without their help, which is probably their strategy), but Ginny is much closer, taking her frustrations out on the world by angrily tossing rocks into the duck pond.
All of them know she's far too young for an average-sized broom, of course, but the fiasco of Percy's fifth birthday had Mum banning any kid under seven from so much as catching a ride with an older sibling.
(Percy, in a real feat of panic and the kind of stupidity afforded only by childhood, had flung himself off. The only thing that'd stopped him hitting the ground was a bout of accidental magic -- whether his, Bill or Charlie's is anyone's guess.)
He sighs, defeated. It is better for Ginny to learn from professionals than risk getting into a freak accident -- he gives it less than a year before she figures out how to break into the broom shed --, and it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission where his parents are concerned, despite the way going behind their backs on something so important makes his skin crawl.
(He frowns. Surely, no one's running a Quidditch Camp where they'll accept any family member as the guardian? Percy skims the small letters a few more times, but finds nothing. There must be a permission slip, though -- an address to owl, at the very least. He assigns himself the task of looking into it properly, the way it's clear neither Bill nor Charlie bothered to do.)
It's not a good omen for the rest of his Summer, if he agrees to this, but... Well, Charlie brings in money. He pays rent, he buys food -- he won't just be mooching off Percy's cooking.
(He tries not to anticipate a more expensive gift for his birthday, free from the outrageous fees of international owl post, and fails.)
It also means there'll be at least one person with an Apparition licence, in the case of an emergency -- two after the 22nd, when Percy intends to celebrate his birthday by taking the Knight Bus up to London and testing at the Ministry.
(He is absolutely not still salty about being the youngest in his year.)
Mum shouts them inside for supper. Ron descends with the sock-Quaffle, running on scrawny legs to put his broom away, as Fred and George elect instead to tease Ginny by flying circles around her head. Percy steels himself for a packed August, locked under two expectant gazes.
"Are the two of you sure you can afford this?"
Charlie ruffles his hair, Bill snorts derisively, and Percy tries not to glare at either of them too harshly.
"Stop worrying, Perce. We got it."
alternatively, the kidfic:
Ginny is 5-going-on-6 and desperately wants to fly alongside her brothers, so Bill and Charlie hatch a plan to get her away from Molly's Mother Bear claws. Percy, a month away from 17 and suffering from Eldest Daughter Syndrome, predictably ends up in charge of everything.
An extension of a roleplay scene; might make this a proper fanfiction one day. For now, I'll post snippets as they come to me.
did not proofread.
#percy weasley#charlie weasley#bill weasley#weasley family#percy x oliver#perciver#(eventually)#w: the kidfic
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“On the loose!” Chapter 6: Fighting together
Mario sprung to his feet, pulling Luigi up and squeezing his hand so tightly that Luigi couldn’t squeeze back. Mario and Luigi ran to follow Toad through the castle, he led them to the castle roof were some Lakitu’s were dropping Spiny’s towards Toad Town, above them, Bullet Bill’s were being shot out of cannons from a giant, wooden, sailed, battle airship, Bowser’s face slapped on the front of it cased in gold. Bowser was standing over the edge of the ship with Kamek flying around on his broomstick, shooting fire and electric spells from his wand next to him. “Do you have a spare Tanooki Leaf?!” Mario yelled to Toad as they climbed the peak of the castle roof “Got nothing! I’m all out. Just some red mushrooms and some rare Gold Speed Boost ones!” Toad yelled back as he tried searching his bag while running. “How many Red mushroom’s you got?!” Mario called back as he threw the falling Spiny shells off the roof “3!” Toad called back “then we’ll have to do this the long way!” Mario cried, Mario grabbed one of the fallen Spiny shells and hurled it at one of the Lakitus, knocking him off of his cloud, Toad chucking him and Luigi the Red mushrooms, Luigi held one while Mario held the other two, eating one then hiding the other under his hat while jumping on to the Lakitu cloud, Luigi following in suit. Luigi ate his Power-up then leaped onto the cloud with his bro, Toad digging a rope out of his bag and using it as a lasso, catching it on one of the protruding cannons. Getting a running start, Toad flung himself up towards the ship, dodging Bowser’s fire breath as best as he could while the bros flew over head, ducking and weaving through Kamek’s magic. The cloud started to flutter, started to fade, without thinking, Mario grabbed then swung Luigi up onto the deck, Luigi heard a distant scream and ran to the edge expecting to see Mario falling to his death, he quickly heaved sigh of relief when he found Mario holding onto the Bowser heads spike collar, Luigi smiled and leaned his hand down. Mario climbed passed Bowser’s wide open jaw and then grabbed one of his horns, he grabbed Luigi’s hand tightly and Luigi used both his hands to haul him up. Mario led down in relief and panted, feeling the adrenaline leaving him, Luigi just above him, lying down and laughing breathlessly from relief. “Awww how touching..” Said a deep, gravelly voice “Luigi finally decides to be brave and ‘help’ his brother.. but he’s just wasting his time..” Mario felt his body freeze in place, the voice in his head returning. ‘You could fail him, he could die up here. You got lucky last time.. you saved him, but not because you were strong, because your clumsiness caused and ended your adventure.. you were lucky. What if you failed him now? What if you failed him then? Could you live with yourself? No..’ Bowser was now hovering over them, when he suddenly felt a sharp kick to his chin “high heels..” he wheezed “Peach?!” Mario cried snapping out of it, pulling himself and Luigi up, she was dressed in a darker brown Tanooki Suit, holding her tail in front of them defensively “Wooooooo!” Toad cried as Kamek chased and struggled to keep up with him as he used one of the Gold Speed Boost Mushrooms, Bowser was distracted enough by this for the bros to through a punch at his jaw with Peach kicking his legs. “Kamek!” He shouted as he heard Toad behind him starting to pant from exhaustion, his new, extra shiny boots flickered until they returned to their normal brown colour. Kamek hopped off his broomstick and ran to his masters aid, Bowser swung his tail to throw Peach off balance, she flew high up to regain it as Luigi ran around his back and tried to grab his tail. Bowser noticed that Mario still seemed to be frozen with fear, he gave a cruel, wicked grin “Hey Kamek!” He shouted, flicking Luigi off his tail then standing aside so that Kamek had a good view of Mario “remember THAT spell you wanted to try out?” He asked with an evil chuckle, Kamek smiled before aiming his wand at Mario “let’s see.. how much do you love your brother, Mario?” -To be continued.
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Day 9: "The Morning After" || 485 Words || (Pre)-Fleurmione
@sapphicmicrofics
Apolline Delacour always said that the morning after one’s wedding night would put a lot into perspective.
But what about the morning after one’s fake wedding, hours after a Death Eater attack interrupted the reception that killed at least a half a dozen of her guests? Then yes, Fleur really did get quite the perspective of what she was dealing with in this war.
But that’s why she stayed — so she could fight, even if it meant that she and Bill had to put up a farce to keep her in the country.
At least they still maintained separate rooms. They were currently in her flat since Shell Cottage’s wards weren’t quite ready yet. Fleur could hear the soft snores of her fake-husband as he crashed on her couch in the living room. It wasn’t long before they would relocate, but for now, Fleur continued to enjoy the first space she had crafted as her own since she had graduated Beauxbatons.
Like the heavily warded, yet very open window.
The heavily warded, open window that had a veritable hodge podge of birds that silently lined the outside ledge as they stared at her.
Fleur blinked in bafflement. Not that this was her first time being greeted by a conjured feathered friend as she woke, but never to this degree. The cacophony of clashing colors, shapes, and sizes threatened to hurt her eyes. The part-Veela had an idea of who was responsible for the semi-regular show she was gifted on some mornings, but she had never brought it up.
And after the events of last night, Fleur quietly lamented her cowardice.
Before the blonde could get lost in her own head, the slap dash flock outside her window decided to begin. It soon became clear why there was a need for such a wide variety of birds as they tweeted, chirped, and warbled in harmony with each other to deliver one song. And singing the melody? A Baltimore Oriole. That same black and yellow bird that she saw all those years ago.
Fleur had never heard the song before, but there was a steadiness to it. It wasn’t overly bright or dripping with saccharine happiness. Instead it felt grounded, like the person knew that Fleur was stuck in a somber realization of the dark days to come.
And at the same time, it was encouraging, especially as the birds got more lively with the increase of force and emotion in the notes.
Eventually, the song came to an end as each of the birds faded into motes of sparkling dust with their final notes. Until even the little black and yellow soloist sung its last iteration of the ever present melody.
It was simple, but it gave her hope.
It was months later, when Fleur had ducked into a muggle record shop to dodge one of her pursuers, that she had learned who The Beatles were.
#sapphic microfics#Prompt: Morning After#fleurmione#hermione granger#fleur delacour#hermione x fleur#fleur x hermione#microfic challenge#hp wlw#please help#why can I not be concise#also please guess that song#i know what it is#but do you?#PART 2 OF 3
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" Oh baby... you need a pacifier for that big mouth of yours? here let mama shut you up.. ahahahah"
BAD GIRLS CLUB: DEL SOL CASTING CALL!!
Name: Carlee Daniels aka Ceys (pronounced like keys)
"Because I got every key to shut your BS up, real quick."
Lives: Windenburg
The Fighter & The Real Girl
Self-assured, High-maintance, evil, Active, Hot-Headed(brawler)Age: 28 years old
Taurus, Scorpio, and Gemini.
"Nothing goes unnoticed under my eyes."
Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship status: Main bitch to the famous boxer in Windenburg
"While I am also sleeping with your daddy and mommy"
Seduction: 5
Physical Strength: 5
Mental Strength:3
Manipulation: 3
Anger management: 2
Carlee is the definition of "I don't give a fuck. Pull up outside if you're all big and bad." She has been like that since before she was born, growing up in a house full of older brothers, she learned quickly to not carry her feelings on her sleeve. There was no point of crying and whining about something when you could get it yourself. Her father and Mother are both hardworking High-income civilians. Houses in the hills, Vacation homes in all the exotic countries, theaters in the basement attached to the indoor pool. Yeah, Carlee lived and lived lavishly at that. but don't mistake her for a prissy stuck-up diva who relies on Daddy for his money. No Carlee was birthed into a family of you need to make your own money in order to earn a place at the table. Would you consider that insensitive? maybe but to Carlee this was the foundation of who she was today. A self-employed Owner of multiple thriving businesses at the age of 28. Hooking in one of the most famous Boxers in WIndenburg. He is ready to put a ring on her but Carlee ain't about the family right now, she is still in her Hustling era, with no time for relationships on her brain
"You are my stress reliever, baby that's it, I don't have time for your needy shit, your insecure shit, your whinny shit, if I have more balls than you, get the fuck out of my face because I will WALK. ALL. OVER. YOU."
Carlee Is the type to take on a challenge, easily overcome it, and move on to the next celebrating with a glass of champagne while laughing in the faces of the people that told her she couldn't.
She will speak her mind freely hoping that someone will step up to her. Yet that day has yet to come.
"I wish a bitch would. HA. My hands were registered, think on that"
This brings us to her favorite pastime, Laughing in someone's face after they decided to throw a tantrum.
"silly bitches, especially when they start yelling around and throwing their arms around ahhhh. what a fucking joke, I am the type that won't argue with you all day, because the second you make one wrong move... I am not afraid to get my hands dirty. don't let this pretty face fool you, baby, I am not for hair pulling and slaps on the ass, no ma'am I will hit you straight in your fake ass nose with your fake ass clothes."
Production asked who Carlee was:
Carlee is I"'m a classy, booshie, ratchet, sassy, moody, and nasty bitch. I own my own businesses, make my own money, and still spend yours. I know I am a bad bitch for 4 reasons, this face, this ass which is all real baby so are my double D girlies, my confidence, and the fact that nobody can tell me shit. None of these girls is above me, none of them will ever be above me. best believe that. These hoes can't tell me who I am, because I know who I am and I am a bad bitch, I don't need followers, boyfriends, girlfriends, and rich daddies to tell me that." Carlee smirks
"But it is nice though. I don't even need to pay my bills because I got all my ducks in a row, knowing this pussy is pricey make it worth my time."
I keep my rocks spotless
And my hoes topless
Take time try to figure out who da Lox is
Fear no one
Kick rhymes like Shoguns
You scared to blow one
Get robbed wit' your own gun
If I don't respect you I'mma check you
And if I don't kiss you I'mma peck you
Right before I wet you
I sneeze on tracks an' bless you
I'm special 🎵🎶
(I hope I covered everything. @plumbewb)
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