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mlmxreader · 2 years

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I’ll Keep You Close | Corinthian x nonbinary!reader

Anonymous asked: Non-binary reader x Corinthian Protective/possessive Corinthian

He strikes me as the type who would be very possessive of his partner

So maybe reader and Corinthian are out somewhere and someone hits on reader (maybe even makes them uncomfortable) and Corinthian is just puts his arm around them possessively and threatens the person hitting on reader

Ok thank you 🙏🏽 goodbye

summary: there’s a lot of reasons why the Corinthian isn’t particularly keen on house parties, but you did ask him to go with you, and he’s not one to deny his partner of something like that.

tws: smoking, swearing, mentions of alcohol, possessiveness, mentions of torture/murder

word count: 2000

At first, when you told the Corinthian, your dashingly dangerous boyfriend, that you were nonbinary, you were worried, if you were honest, as you thought that he wouldn’t see who you really were and that he would make unkind comments; but he didn’t, he changed the language he used in order to fit with who you were, but he was never unkind or cruel about it. He was… as odd as it sounded, he was loving.

Anything to make you feel more like yourself, he was more than happy to provide; anything for you, anything you needed or wanted, it was yours, and he made damn sure you got it one way or another. He didn’t give a fuck what he had to do to get it for you at all. If you were honest, Corinthian was a good boyfriend despite his flaws; he was a good partner to you, and you loved him more than you could ever put into words.

He was good to you, and he was good for you - he was supportive, he was encouraging. He brought out the best in you; the smiles and the laughter, remembering which bands you liked and your favourite albums by them so that he could get the CDs for his car, pretending to accidentally leave one or two of his shirts on the bed - folded up and freshly sprayed with his cologne - for you each morning, keeping your favourite snacks in the cupboard and consistently stocking them up, hiding DVDs of your favourite films around for you to stumble upon, only to act as if he didn’t get them the night before on the way home from his latest kill, spoiling you at every opportunity he could get - shopping trips, concerts, festivals, you named it, and he would take you without even saying a word. He would just pack a couple of bags, throw them in the boot of the car and tell you that you were joining him on a little road trip.

Corinthian was really good for you, despite the fact that he was a literal serial killer.

So when you asked him to join you at a friend of a friend’s house party, he didn’t even think about it before he agreed; sure, house parties weren’t exactly his thing, he never had the opportunity to kill when he was at them, but he was with you at least.

Coming through the side and into the back garden, you held onto his arm as you guided him through; smokers were scattered on the black outdoor seats and the patio, laughing and joking and talking. Corinthian could have sworn he heard someone giving two others a pep talk about how to ask someone out, but he didn’t think of it a lot; in the conservatory, the floor was pounding as people sang and danced, the large light brown wooden table smothered with plated and bowled food and canned drinks. Cider, lager, beer, ale. The usual suspects.

The kitchen was the same, people dancing and singing, food and drinks all over the dark green counters and the black hobs; small groups of people had formed on the carpeted stairs as they chatted amongst themselves. In the living room, a large gathering was watching ‘Scream’, the sofas cramped and people scattered on the floor as they heckled the film and laughed.

A classic metal song came on, and everyone - including you and the Corinthian - seemingly gravitated to the conservatory and kitchen where the speakers were; people jumped as they danced, people banged their heads, but most loudly and most obviously - people sang.

You'll take my life but I'll take yours too, you'll fire your musket but I'll run you through so when you're waiting for the next attack, you'd better stand there's no turning back, the bugle sounds, the charge begins but on this battlefield no one wins, the smell of acrid smoke and horse's breath as I plunge on into certain death, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh, the horse he sweats with fear we break to run, the mighty roar of the Russian guns and as we race towards the human wall, the screams of pain as my comrades fall, we hurdle bodies that lay on the ground and the Russians fire another round, we get so near yet so far away, we won't live to fight another day

Corinthian kept you close, though, knowing all too well that you could easily be stolen by someone else, by some fucking mortal who thought they could out-do a literal nightmare, knowing that you could so easily be pulled away by someone who wanted to make you theirs, he couldn’t help but to keep you as close as he possibly could; he only let you go when you said about getting a drink, and he asked if you would get him one while he waited by the back door. But then you didn’t return after a moment, and when he looked around, he noticed something he fucking despised; you were visibly uncomfortable, looking around as if you were checking all the nearby exits, as some fucking idiot cornered you against the counter and their body, smiling and trying to get in your good books. It was only when Corinthian drew closer, jaw clenched and teeth grinding, that he heard what was being said over the music.

“You’re such a handsome man-”

“I’m nonbinary,” you corrected, not even daring to look at them.

“Still,” they scoffed. “My point stands. You shouldn’t be here all alone, someone as good looking as you.”

“I’m not here alone,” you pressed your back against the counter. “My boyfriend’s here with me.”

“Really?” They mused, moving to stand beside you as they looked around. “I don’t see him.”

Acting on pure instinct once he was close enough, Corinthian pulled you as close as he could once more, glaring at the fucking fool as he put his arm around you and caught your throat with his free hand, pulling you in for a kiss that made you smile as you melted against him; your saviour, as always. He pulled away, and turned to them as he shook his head.

“You talk to my partner again, and I’ll hold you over that sink,” he started, his voice so calm and collected, “with a tea towel over your face. And I’ll turn the boiling tap on.”

They swallowed thickly, licking their lips as they shifted from foot to foot. “I, uhm, look, buddy, I didn’t think that they were really here with their boyfriend and-”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Corinthian asked, tilting his head to the side. “Or do I need to show you exactly what I’ll do?”

“No!” They yelped, shaking their head and starting to back away. “I’ll back away! I promise!”

“Good,” he dared to smile. “I’d hate to ruin the party by taking those eyes out of your skull.”

Their eyes widened, and they started to back away a little faster, holding their hands up before bolting through the crowd.

Corinthian turned to you, daring to let you go if only so that he could take his hands in yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You okay?”

You nodded, daring to smile. “Yeah, they just… fucking creep.”

“I think I scared them off,” he admitted.

“I think you did,” you couldn’t help but to laugh a little. “Thank you…”

He shook his head, pulling you into his side and wrapping his arm around your waist, daring to sink his hand into the back pocket of your jeans, trying not to wince at the feeling of your keys against his skin, so fucking cold. “You’re mine, (y/n), you’re off limits to everyone. You are mine, and only mine.”

You couldn’t fight back the grin as you leaned into him, daring to press a kiss to his neck that made him smile, you even made him grin when you dared to mutter softly against his skin, only loud enough that he could hear it. “All yours, only ever yours.”

“C’mon, let’s go have a smoke,” he told you quietly, practically escorting you outside with him. But while you were more than happy to stand, as there was only one chair left, you were pleasantly surprised when he pulled you onto his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder while you lit up a couple of cigarettes and passed one to him.

“Fuck, I love this song,” you grumbled when you heard the opening of something by Stone Sour that, admittedly, made you think of him.

If you take a step towards me, you will take my breath away so I'll keep you close and keep my secret safe, no one else has ever loved me, no one else has ever tried, I never understood how much I could take, then I saw the worst was over when I laid my eyes on you, it was all that I could do to know my place, out of all the vast illusions, out of all the dreams come true, I was gone until I finally saw your face, if you cried out for more, if you reached out for me, I would run into the storm, just to keep you here with me, I have gone beyond my years, I've wasted half my life but I found it all in you, did I save you? 'Cause I know you saved me too

Corinthian groaned softly as he took a drag from his cigarette; he knew that you loved the band, he had heard that song a dozen times when he was in the car with you and when you were just relaxing with your headphones on, the volume always loud enough that he could hear it across the room. “You always play this one in the car.”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded, daring to laugh softly. “Sounds stupid, but it always makes me think of you.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid,” he replied, using his free hand to gently turn your head to the side so that he could blow the smoke directly in your face, making you lip your lips and grin at him. “A couple more drinks and then we’ll go home. I’ll keep you close, I’m not letting some other dickhead try and take you away from me.”

You hummed, daring to nod as you leaned in to quickly kiss him. “Thank you. My saviour.”

Let me take a step towards you, let me feel you in my hands, let me cross this line and show you where it leads, there's a darkness down inside me that I know we'll both enjoy and it's screaming from within to set it free, I have left this bloody nightmare, in my wake but out of sight, all I want is deviation by design, out of all the past confusion, out of all the common spite, just tell me I am yours 'cause you are mine

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he muttered. “You’re mine. I have to protect you, and everyone needs to know that you’re mine - and only mine.”

“Does it help that I’m never going anywhere?” You asked softly. “I mean, as much as I can’t really put it all into words, I… fuck, I love you. So, so fucking much, Corinthian.”

He couldn’t help but to smile, after his entire life had been spent hearing his name only when he was in deep shit, he couldn’t deny that he loved to hear you say it in such a confession; he couldn’t bring himself to speak, to ruin the moment, so he pressed a kiss to your neck, and he took another drag from his cigarette, leaning back a little and tightening his grip on you. No one was going to make you uncomfortable again, no one was going to fucking touch you unless they wanted to die slowly. Painfully. Horribly.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #the corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #the corinthian #corinthian x reader #Corinthian imagine #corinthian #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #the sandman imagine #the sandman #sandman x reader #sandman

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jawritter · 2 years

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Storm

Chapter 23

Summary: Raised in a cult, married at a young age, and divorced after catching your husband cheating on you with your neighbor, you decide to leave behind everything you know after you lose everything you love, and start over again. Who knew one little stop at a gas station would change everything?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Word Count: 1547

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d. It was at one time posted on Wattpad. In fact, it’s the first fic I’ve ever written. Which is why I wanted to correct and revisit it now that I’ve got more experience under my belt, and I’ve grown as a writer. Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

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When Jensen said that the schedule was crazy he wasn’t lying. Unfortunately he wasn’t lying about the 5 AM wake up call either, which for the both of you seemed to have come all too early. Then it was the hustle of getting dressed, having room service bring up breakfast in time. The in and out of handlers bringing schedules and giving directions of what the day was going to look like. It seemed like as soon as you opened your eyes, it all started rolling, and there was no sign it was going to stop.

By the time you both staggered out of the room, and met Jared and Gen in the hallway, you felt like your head was spinning, and you just couldn’t understand how Jared and Jensen seemed to be keeping up as you were all four bustled down the narrow hallway towards the green room they had set up for the cast and their families.

“How ya holding up?” Gen asks as a handler jumped right up as soon as you came through the green room, ready to give the boys the instructions and things for the breakfast panel they were about to walk into.

“I don’t know, ask me when my head stops spinning,” you tell her, and she threw her head back and laughed.

“It gets better,” she promised, passing you a cup of much needed coffee. “You fall into a rhythm, and then it’s just rolling with it.”

You took a look around the room at the mostly familiar faces. All of them looked tired, but otherwise relaxed. Apparently Jensen, Jared, and Misha had missed the concert the night before, but it wasn’t a requirement that they attend that anyway, but the ones that did attend seemed extra drained.

This was the part you wished the fans could see. The sacrifice these people made so that they could enjoy one of these cons. It wasn’t easy money exactly, it was work.

“Okay, Jared, Jensen, we’re ready for you guys on the stage,” a young girl said from the corner of the room holding an ear piece as if someone was talking into it to her.

Jensen quickly leaned down and captured your lips in his. “You okay?” he asked as the group of you seemed to move in a collective whole towards the stage area they had set up.

“I’m fine,” you tell him. He had enough to worry about, he didn’t need to worry about you.

“It’s this thirty minute panel, then we go straight to Autographs, and then the first round of photo ops,” he informed you, “but we get a few brakes in between. It’s not that bad. You will see.”

You gave him what you thought was your best reassuring smile, and Gen grabbed your wrist as the group started to break off. “Come on, we’re going to watch from the side over here,” she said, leading you to a group of chairs they had sat along the wall at the far side of the stage where most people could not see you.

“There’s only one day of this one,” Gen said as you both took your seats and the crowd erupted and Jared and Jensen took the stage, both now with a coffee in their hand. “Then we can fly back to Austin for a little while and just enjoy our boys not having to work.”

“You know, I don’t think Jensen and I have had a ‘normal’ time off where it’s just the two of us and no drama,” you told her, and she burst into laughter and Jensen and Jared started to heckle each other over Jared’s unreal dedication to winter head gear.

“Oh, I didn’t say there would be any drama,” she said, her eyes training to the stage as the questions started to flow. “Jensen and Jared tend to create that for themselves with no one else in the room.”

“You’re not wrong,” you tell her. “Have you ever watched Jensen try to fry an egg without burning his hand at least once?

The rest of the day passed without a hitch. The panels were by far your favorite thing to watch. It was fun to see Jensen and Jared interact with their fans and answer their questions. You had never really seen them interact with fans on this level before. Normally, it was just a quick, “omg I love you can I get a picture with you?” In this whole atmosphere they were in some sort of constant interaction with fans in one instance or another.

You were even able to see it up close when you were sitting next to him while he was signing autographs. He was so attentive, and he cared so much about his fans, it was sweet to see how much they meant to him. You could see at that point, why he still did this. These people, these virtual strangers. They were a part of them more than you could understand before. They really were a family.

More than that, everyone you seemed to interact with welcomed you. None of them had any angry or mean things to say to you like you feared, even though they were curious. That alone was a relief.

By the time the last panel of the day came to a close, you were all more than a little exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from gathering up with the cast and crew for one more dinner together before everyone broke for hiatus, and no one would see each other for a few weeks, save Jensen and Jared.

The laughter and jokes that spread around the table as drinks and food were passed around, look honestly like something you saw in a sitcom. It wasn’t something you had ever seen before. Happiness, friendship, laughter, they were all still so foreign in a lot of ways, and yet familiar. This is what you would have pictured a real, happy, family to look like. Not some headship and leadership that held dominion over the table while the family ate with sad faces and stoned silence as if in fear to utter even a word. You could see more than ever now, just how wrong that your life had been led, and just how thankful you were to be away from it.

“So,” Kim asked, tossing a bread roll back down onto her plate and taking a generous swig from her wine glass. “What are you two crazy kids going to do now aside from planning a wedding?”

“Sleep for about six days solid,” Jensen interjected, “or at least that’s my plan as soon as I get back to Austin.”

“Honestly, that doesn’t sound like a bad plan,” Jared agreed, yawning widely as he looked at his watch. “Good God it’s only 9 PM! When did we die man.”

“Think I was about 36,” Jensen said, talking around a mouth full of food and earning a giggle from half of the table.

“No seriously,” Kim said, looking at the two of you sternly. “What are your plans? You gonna have kids? Are you going to stay in Austin? What does the future look like goal wise right now for you?”

You froze mid chew, and Jensen choked on his drink as the whole table looked at the two of you, hanging on the edge of their seats waiting for your answers.

“Uh...I uh…” Jensen stuttered, but thankfully you had the presents of mind to start talking, because he looked like he was about to absolutely panic.

“Honestly, we haven’t talked about any kids, and I assume we’re going to stay in Austin unless Jensen knows something I don’t. We’re honestly just taking things one day at a time,” you answer, and everyone returns to normal chatter. Everyone except Jensen, who was suddenly very interested in his meal and had become very quiet.

“Well there’s no rush,” Kim assured you. “Take things as slow as you need too.”

Your eyes drifted to Jensen, who was still staring as the food he was shoving around his plate with a fork, refusing to meet your gaze, and you wondered if you said something wrong, or if he was just tired and ready to go back to the hotel room, but you weren’t going to probe it out of him. If he wanted to tell you, then he’d tell you.

“Come on honey,” Jensen said suddenly, standing up from the table and grabbing your hand in his. “I’m ready to crash, we got an early flight home tomorrow.”

You barely had time to tell everyone goodbye before Jensen was pulling you from the restaurant, and when you were finally out of the establishment, you turned to Jensen as you both walked down the street towards the hotel room.

“Is everything okay? Did I say something wrong back there that made you want to leave early?” you asked him, and he looked down at you with a soft gaze that momentarily made you forget what it was you were worrying over. He was good at that.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m fine. Just tired.”

You hoped to God that was the truth, but you couldn’t help but feel like Jensen was hiding something from you.

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ashasmonsters · 3 years

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The Thru-Hiker

Female reader x Male mothperson (Desmond)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Full-on smut, references to unhappy breakups

Words: 5.1k

Note: Here's the story that earns me the "18+" in my description. This is my first time making anything this smutty public, so any feedback or criticism would be appreciated. Enjoy!

You raised the viewfinder to your eye. The rolling hills fit within the frame-lines neatly, the trail before you leading straight down the middle and towards the horizon. With a satisfying click the shutter fired. You lowered the camera and cranked the film advance lever, confident that shot would turn out well. You let the camera dangle from your shoulder once again as you looked around: this spot was close enough to the main trail that you wouldn't need any "breadcrumbs" to lead you back to it in the morning. The sun would finish setting in an hour or so, and bird chirps had given way to trilling crickets and cicadas. It was warm enough that you didn't need to build a fire. Your stove would do just fine.

"That's a nice camera."

You turned towards the voice. Standing behind you, closer to the main trail and obscured slightly by foliage, loomed a lanky mothman. He wore clothes appropriate for hiking the Appalachian trail, though you hadn't seen him around. This meant he was quick or hiking the opposite direction as you.

"Thanks." You answered. He pushed a few low-hanging twigs out of the way and took a step towards you.

"Is that a..." he paused, his brow furrowing above his red compound eyes as he searched for a word, "Yashica, right?"

"Mamiya, actually." You answered, hefting the brick-shaped camera from your hip where it dangled. "It's been a pain to hike with, but I love it all the same."

"I'm sure you've got some excellent shots in that thing. I'm Desmond." He closed the remaining distance and tenderly extended a chitinous claw. You shook it in turn and returned his greeting.

"I don't believe I've seen you on the trail, Desmond," you said, "are you using those wings or hiking southbound?"

"Oh, I'm hiking southbound. Flying would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

"I guess that is a silly question." You lowered your eyes and made eye contact with his hiking boots. "I'm heading northbound."

"Hm. You must have started the trail pretty recently."

"That's right. I started maybe three weeks ago. You must be pretty close to finishing if you're going southbound."

"Been on the trail for five months." He answered.

"Wow." You breathed. Maybe mothmen wore it better, but he certainly looked neat for having lived in the wilderness for almost half a year. You caught yourself staring. "Um, got any tips for a relatively fresh hiker like me?"

"Take your time and enjoy yourself." He said, looking down at you. "The trail is going to take the better part of a year from you no matter what, so there's no point in rushing it."

"Thanks for the advice." A pause. You saw your reflection in his ruby eyes. "Anyway... I don't want to keep you from the trail, being nocturnal and all." You failed to suppress a tinge of longing in your voice. The sun started to kiss the horizon, making the canopy above you look like it was on fire.

"Well, actually..." Desmond rested a claw on the back of his neck fluff, "I was going to ask if you would share this spot with me. It's going to be a full moon and I planned to take a rest to enjoy it."

"Oh," you said, glad the sunset was masking your blush, "that should be fine, then."

"I don't want to impose, I could always find my own—"

"No, really, it's fine." You said, gesturing around the sizeable clearing. "We're sharing a view, not a cot. I don't mind."

"Ah, right." He played with his neck fluff again. "Well then, let's not waste the daylight." You nodded and slid your pack off.

Your sleeping arrangements for the trail had been spartan, but still comfortable. You carried a thin foam pad which rolled up nicely and fit under your sleeping bag, a tarp with hooks for hanging from above, a camp stove, and a sack to keep your food strung up a branch and away from animals.

All of this was set up fairly quickly since Desmond was helping you. He was quite tall, which made stringing up the extra food much easier than when you had done it alone. In no time, your foam pad was safely encircled by your hanging tarp and your stove was boiling a pot of water. Tonight's dinner was an Appalachian Trail classic: dehydrated cheesy rice. You took the initiative to invoke full-on luxury by adding a handful of equally dehydrated broccoli florets. You had a guest to entertain, after all.

"Thanks for making me breakfast. Dinner, in your case." Desmond said. The dim blue light from the camp stove caught only the very edges of his chitinous frame. His red eyes shone bright like a cat's through the steam from the culinary masterpiece cooking between you two.

"Consider it my treat." You smiled back. There was a pause, so you pulled a topic from the air. "Are you a photographer too? Not many people can tell apart the brands of these old things." You patted your Mamiya camera as if it were a tiny metal lapdog.

"Ah, no," He said, almost defensively, "if you have compound eyes like me, you can't really look through viewfinders. It just doesn't work."

"Right, sorry." You rubbed the back of your neck. "Where does your camera knowledge come from, then?"

"Well... you know the old mothpeople stereotype about how we like light?"

"Um." You spoke carefully. "I have heard of it."

"I kinda live up to that stereotype. Like, very much. It's why I wanted to stop here to watch the full moon."

"Okay, but how does that tie into cameras?"

"It's kind of embarrassing." He fidgeted with his long white neck fuzz. "It's the flash. When it goes off, it's like... like..."

"Like a drug?" You finished for him.

"No! Not like that. It's not addictive... I don't think. It's more like... what's that thing humans do with their nails and their skin?"

"Like scratching an itch?"

"Yes! Exactly." He said excitedly. "I don't itch, but if I did, I imagined it would feel like when a camera flash goes off."

You chuckled even though you knew he was a little embarrassed. This whole situation was just too absurd, too odd.

"So you're like a connoisseur of camera flashes." A pause. He lowered his gaze.

"Mamiyas have the best one." You chuckled again.

"Well, then." You pulled your camera from your bag and held it before you. "May I take your portrait?"

"If it's no trouble," his antennae perked up, "yes please."

Wrestling the camera into shooting position, you flipped the viewfinder open and aimed it squarely at him. The scene fit perfectly within the frame-lines; the glowing blue stove flames in the foreground and Desmond's red eyes neatly in the middle.

"Looks good to me." You said, pressing the flash release. The flash, a piece of metal the size of your thumb, sprung out of the camera and whined as the battery charged it.

"Oh, wow." He noted. You pressed the shutter—

"Goddamn!" Desmond cried, shuddering. Briefly, a low chirr seemed to emanate from him. "Pardon my French. That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Most people hate when I ask to take their portrait." You cranked the film advance lever and smiled. You returned your camera to its place in your bag, then... remembered there was a meal on the stove. "Crap, I hope the bottom isn't burning." You said, quickly grabbing the stirring spoon and scraping the bottom of the pot. You continued until you were sure the food was in good shape.

"You know, when I thought about making this trek, I was worried about getting lonely. Like I wouldn't be able to put up with just myself for so long... but I've already met so many people and they've all been kind." You continued stirring the meal.

"Then what made you consider it in the first place?" Desmond asked, cocking an antenna.

"Oh... you know... adventure." You lied. The resulting pause made you painfully aware of how bad of a liar you are. The cheesy rice bubbled and spat steam at you as if heckling your poor performance.

"I'd believe that if you had a fedora and a whip. And knew where the holy grail was." He chuckled, his mandibles clicking.

"What?"

"Ah, just a stupid joke. There's these old movies..." He cut himself off and extended an empty claw, taking the spoon from you and making it his turn to stir. "I don't want to tell you your business, but everybody I've met in the past five months comes to the trail to run from something."

"Well... you're right that it's definitely my business." You tried not to scowl. The turn in conversation had resurrected an unpleasant feeling in your heart; something in the same neighborhood as shame or sadness.

"Not if what you're running from is the law and you're a serial killer or something. Then that's definitely my business." He clicked once more. His attempt to lighten the conversation didn't help that feeling much. The cheesy rice heckled him this time.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise." You started, drawing in a sharp breath. Perhaps you just needed to vent. Maybe that would ease this malaise. "Why don't you start? Tell me what you're running from first, then I'll tell you about me." You took the stirring spoon back from him. He ran a claw down his face.

"I'm running from a breakup. We dated for three years." He sighed.

"I'm... sorry." You said, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't apologize; not unless you're the girl she ran off with." His mandibles clicked weakly. "I'm kidding. She didn't run off or anything. She didn't even cheat. She just realized that men weren't for her."

You raised an eyebrow. "Three whole years?"

"It didn't take her that long to realize it, just that long to work up the courage to tell me. Maybe I wasn't her true love, but she cared about me a lot. She was so scared of hurting me that she bottled it up for most of that time."

"You didn't want to remain friends?"

"I did— and I still do. I... I just said three things: 'I need some time to process this,' 'I'm in a lot of pain but it's not your fault,' and 'I'm going hiking for six months, call me back when I'm done.' That's all I could think of in the moment, and now I'm here."

"That's rough."

"You're telling me." His shoulders dropped. "I'm used to breakups with jerks. That I can make peace with, because then it's like a problem that solves itself. Jerk breaks up with you, therefore no more jerk to deal with. But... when it's someone that you love, that you want the best for, and that means they have to move on... that's something I'm still trying to work out." He sighed hard and lowered his crimson eyes. "I think the rice is done."

You were so caught up in his pained explanation that you lost track of time. You quickly turned off the camp stove and set the pot on the ground.

"Thanks for reminding me." You grabbed your enamel bowl as he readied his and started dishing out the rice and broccoli. You both sat there in silence, enjoying the feeling of hot food in hand. "Anyway, I guess it's my turn to share."

"Please. I wouldn't want to dump my problems on you without hearing out yours."

"I had a breakup too, though honestly I think mine wasn't as rough as yours." You said.

"We all go through different things. It's not a contest." Desmond said, idly poking his steaming meal. "Tell me about it, if you want."

So you did. Over the course of the meal, you told Desmond all about your past relationship: the fights you had with your ex, the nights spent in separate sleeping arrangements, the endless worry over how much of it was your fault. He nodded sympathetically with each painful memory you unraveled to him. Remembering it all made you feel worse, but having him listen made it feel much better. When you had no more to say, he stared at you. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Your spoon was trembling.

"It's okay to cry. I won't mind." Was all Desmond said before you had to set down your food and hold your face in your hands. It's like you had been saving up a surplus of tears throughout all these events and just barely they were escaping you. You could hear Desmond awkwardly scoot over in the dirt to your side before he offered a rigid shoulder to you.

"Chitin isn't exactly memory foam, but..." You rested your head on him without a second thought. One of his claws found its way to your shoulder and you felt better for it. This was the first time you had mentioned your breakup out loud and unquestionably the first time anyone had offered you a shoulder to cry on, literally or figuratively. You quickly came to find even Desmond's exoskeleton quite comfortable.

"Thanks for listening." You said as your sobs started to slow. He plainly chirred in response, making his grip on your shoulder a little tighter. His embrace was the first one you had felt since the breakup. You felt warm and safe in a way you had previously only had with your ex long ago. His neck fluff tickled you as he leaned his head onto yours.

"It's okay." You could feel his mandibles nudge your cheek as he spoke. "I know how hard it is." Your composure returned, and you stilled yourself against him. You finally removed your hands from your face, your eyes bloodshot.

"I'm glad I'm not wearing makeup." You chuckled weakly. "Otherwise my cheeks would look like a barcode right now."

"That's the spirit. Enjoy the little things." He rubbed your shoulder. "That's what the trail is all about."

You found yourself naturally holding Desmond closer, burying yourself in his neck fluff and wrapping an arm around his side as he held you. He smelled like pine and smoke. You grabbed your bowl of food once more and resumed eating, not leaving Desmond's side.

"I'm sorry for smearing my tears all over you." You said, coming back to reality. The taste of rehydrated cheesy rice wasn't great, but it was warm and familiar. Combined with Desmond's arm wrapped around you, the pain and baggage from the breakup left you like grime after a shower.

"It's alright." He said. "If moths could cry, I'd be crying all over you too. We're in the same shitty breakup boat."

He and you sat there together, finishing the meal. The camp stove had been turned off for a while now, and the only warmth you felt was your own, reflected off his chitin. The pause was permeated by lesser insects chirping and wind gently rustling the branches above. As you finished your food, you became painfully aware that Desmond couldn't hold you forever. He'd have to get in his sleeping bag eventually, and in the morning, continue his hike to nowhere other than your distant memories. Or, maybe...

"Want to share my sleeping bag with me?" The words left your mouth before you could even react. A second later, you realized what you had said and your heart raced. Your face found itself hidden in your hands again.

Why the fuck would you say that? Are you crazy? How would you feel if he randomly propositioned you for sex, huh? To which your responded to yourself with, Screw it, I'd be down for that.

Oh well. The fact he'd leave forever in the morning was both a blessing and a curse... but for now, mostly a blessing. It didn't matter if you were "rebounding" or doing something impulsive. Whatever happened tonight would stay in tonight. You and him would go your separate ways and there wouldn't be any regrets to be had. You practically held your breath as he processed what you said; the pause felt infinitely long.

"I'd love to." He broke the silence, his mandibles clicking more than usual. "Unless you're having second thoughts."

You looked up at him and shook your head. Wordlessly, he took your hand stood up with you. You led him to your dangling tarp wherein your sleeping bag and foam pad rested. Luxurious it was not, but as you slapped aside the flap and pulled Desmond in behind you, little else other than him was on your mind. You sat down on your "bed" and turned round, looking at him. His saucer-sized red eyes glowed as they met your gaze. He stepped closer.

"You're sure?" He said, kneeling before you. "I don't want to—"

You leaned forward and grabbed his head, clumsily planting a kiss where his mouth would be if he was human. It seemed to do the trick; he gasped and relaxed, his mandibles caressing your cheeks. You pulled back to breathe.

"I'm not asking you to marry me." You planted another kiss on him, tugging on his neck fluff. "I'm asking you to keep me company tonight."

"If you insist." He clicked. Something in his tone changed. For the first time his voice had timbre and need. He had left his tone suited for polite conversation and jokes outside your tarp. Here on your twin-sized foam pad, all pretenses were gone. You both knew you were going to give yourselves to each other; yet he surprised you by tugging the neck of your shirt down and scattering little kisses from your chin to your collarbone with his proboscis. It was rough and leathery and frankly didn't feel like anything you had touched before. You shuddered when he took it with him, descending past your breasts and peeling your shirt off your belly.

"Desmond..." You sighed, the only thing keeping this encounter casual being the button on your jeans.

"Everything alright so far?" He looked up at you with his large eyes, his mandibles brushing against your thigh as he spoke.

"Excellent." You breathed, resting a hand on the back of his neck fluff. "Please..." You used the same hand to ever-so-gently nudge him closer to your midst, which was already roiling with burning need. With a single claw, he carefully undid the button and zipper. You shimmied out of your jeans until his neck fluff tickled the inside of your exposed thighs; your underwear soon followed. He clicked some more as you fully exposed your entrance to him, his eyes studying you and his claws gently finding their way to each of your legs.

"Forgive me, it's been a while." He said as he lowered his face into you. You reclined further, only gazing upwards to the tarp and a tiny patch of starry sky.

"Don't talk, just— Ah!" He pulled a gasp from you as he began his ministrations. With your head resting on the foam pad, you just closed your eyes and let the sensations fill you. Something of his, you weren't quite sure what, playfully danced around the edges of your entrance until it found its mark. It gently flicked across that tender nub and your hips bucked in response. You held his neck plumage tighter, desperately tugging him closer to you.

"Keep going, that's— oh, that's perfect..." He didn't resist your pull. If anything, as his fuzz tickled you and his mandibles started to prod at your folds he increased his fervor. Relentlessly he played across all parts of you at once. Hard chitinous mandibles spread you open while his proboscis felt like it was everywhere. It rubbed your bead with every advance it made into you, filling you with a tingling warmth that spread throughout your whole body. He didn't let up at all, your breath hitching and leaving you as moans. You rocked your hips and whined. Harder and harder, rhythmically to a rapidly increasing tempo. You gripped him tighter, burying his face into you. Ecstasy built within your core with each surge of his "tongue" until you could hold on no longer.

"Oh, oh!" You cried, your body seizing and legs locking around his shoulders. Pleasure crackled around your whole body and there, in the dark with Desmond wordlessly working you, you weren't sure how much time you spent at the peak. Slowly, the sparks behind your eyes stopped flying. Your breath resumed its normal rhythm. Lifting your head off your sleeping bag, you made eye contact with his glowing red orbs, the only source of light under your tarp.

"How did I do?" He chittered, his grin smug enough for you to sense even in the darkness.

"You were fantastic." You indulged him, running your hand through his fuzz as he crawled over top of you. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"I didn't tire you out, did I?" He asked before descending upon you and kissing you lightly. With the gap between you two closed, you felt something tumescent and twitching under his shorts brush against you.

"I suppose I can stay up some more." You giggled as his fuzz tickled your collarbone. "I'll just sleep in."

"Glad to hear it." Desmond rasped. His voice grew ragged as he nipped at your neck, cradling your chin in one claw and using the other to undo his shorts. In the darkness, you could only feel something slick, smooth, and long come to rest on your belly. You squeezed your thighs around it. Desmond immediately chirred louder than before, sounding like a baritone version of the insects outside. His deep timbre resonated inside you.

"Excited?" You teased, his length completely at your mercy as you held it between your legs.

"I've forgotten how warm humans feel." He rumbled.

"Can I jog your memory?"

"Please."

You released him from your thighs and reached down with a hand. You felt the entirety of his length in your grasp; it was delightfully slick and uniform with pleasant little ridges to encounter as your hand traveled towards his base. You grasped it gently, eliciting more bassy chitters from him as you angled it towards your entrance. You fumbled a bit in the darkness, but after a few tries his tip rested at your threshold. His eyes met yours.

"Ready?" He clicked.

"Go ahead." You gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, nestling your face in his fluff as he started entering you. His hips slowly began to close the distance, each ridge on his length pushing a squeak out of you. His pace was deliciously slow. You had just enough time to adjust but not to catch your breath. All you could do was hold him tight in the darkness, nothing but the sensation and his chirring to occupy your mind. It felt like an eternity of slowly being filled by him. Eventually, cool chitin met your wet bundle of nerves, sending electric pleasure up your spine and forcing a gasp out of you.

"That's all of it." He grunted, his body completely flush with yours. "Do you feel alright?"

"Give me a moment." you said, exhaling sharply. The sensation of fullness with him hilted completely within you took your breath away. Little moans escaped you as his shaft quivered inside your depths. Embracing him, you found a steady breathing rhythm once more. "Okay, you can move."

With only chitters in response, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, his mandibles poking and prodding as he peppered you with kisses. His hardness withdrew just as slowly as when he entered you, then returned with a steady tempo. Each time his hips rocked you moaned into his fuzz. You imagined if you and Desmond had met at a different time or a different place, you'd be voicing your pleasures into a pillow. Since he had started his rhythmic thrusts, Desmond held a low, purring chirr that surged each time his pelvis met yours.

He chittered something specific, completely forgoing English as he picked up speed. He released your shoulders from his grasp. Changing position, he now kneeled upright with his knees on either side of your rear and his claws firmly gripping your thighs. The new leverage and angle made you squeal. He pumped in earnest now, both the speed and impact making you moan with nothing to stifle your voice.

"Desmond!" You cried, one hand splayed above your head and the other reaching down to hold your sensitive bead, "Keep going!" His pace remained constant. The low chirr grew into a growl. He pounded over and over, his hips slamming into your ass. As if it took considerable effort, he wrestled his chitters back into grunting speech you could understand.

"Close," he said sharply, "getting close!" You decided against speaking, instead locking your ankles behind him and rubbing your nub feverishly to meet him at the brink. His pace quickened even more. His claws squeezed your thighs as he desperately held onto you— into you, his thrusts remaining deeper inside you as they mounted in strength. His chirring returned, ascending in volume and pitch into a strangled, desperate call. His gaze snapped skyward and his back arched and he desperately pulled at your entire body in an effort to seat himself as deep within you as he could. You cried out in time with him. Your voice reached its limits. You rubbed yourself with abandon as you felt his cock fire within you with great trembling pulses. The pleasure within you mounted, growing until it erupted with a crackling warmth that left you quivering and crying out. He held himself as deep as he could go, grinding his hips into yours. Hissing, he lowered himself upon you once more and kissed you hard. You wailed into his mandibles as you rode out your peak. His hard chitin ground into your nub and held you at your limit before his rolling hips finally relented. Still, but remaining deep within you, he broke away from the kiss. You caught your breath as your eyes locked.

"Goodness..." You panted. Your face burned. Streaks of cool wetness rolled from your eyes down your cheeks. Desmond's chirring slowed into nothingness. The only sounds left were your breathing and nature outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his usual tone returning slowly.

"I'm great, Desmond," You smiled, "but you managed to tire me out this time." He clicked, then slowly withdrew his softening length from your sensitive core. You felt something ooze out of you, but were too exhausted to do anything about it.

"Sleep, please." He said, stroking your hair with a claw. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about anything else."

When morning arrived, the hole in the roof of your tarp acted as a skylight. You had awoken fortuitously just before the golden beam would have shone burning rays straight into your eyes. You definitely slept in, but found yourself fully clothed. You expected to feel something regretfully sticky and wet in your underwear, but you were completely clean. For a moment, you considered that last night might have been a dream. That line of thought was cut short by the sound of boiling water and the smell of coffee creeping into your tarp.

You emerged to find Desmond sitting in front of a small fire, emptying granules of instant coffee into a pot.

"Coffee?" He offered. "It'll be done in a bit."

"Thank you, Desmond." You sat in the same spot as you did last night over dinner. The silence that followed was comfortable and warm, unlike last night's awkward pauses. You watched him shake the pot with a claw as the sun warmed you. "I guess I should also thank you for, um, cleaning me up. I kinda passed out on you there. Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm nocturnal, remember?" He looked up at you and grinned. "It felt good to take care of a sleeping human again. It reminded me of old times." His grin softened into a gentle smile. The instant coffee had fully dissolved and he pulled the pot from the fire. He filled, then offered you an enamel mug which you accepted. The aroma was cheap and comforting.

"I'm going to miss you." You held the mug tightly. You didn't meet his eyes as you spoke, instead staring into the coffee as if it would tell you what to do.

"Me too." Desmond responded.

"Could we... could you..." You searched for the best way to ask. "Would you want to be with me?" Desmond released a slow chitter. He shook his head, and his soft smile shifted further into a shallow frown.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I wouldn't feel comfortable whisking you away three weeks after your breakup. Hell, I'm five months out from my own and I'm still not sure about where I am emotionally." You nodded in response. The coffee in your hands cooled in the resulting silence.

"I guess this is where we part ways, then." You sighed.

"Maybe..." He finally met your gaze. "You're hiking northbound. That means you'll finish in what, five more months?"

"Four if I hurry."

"The trail ends in Maine. There's this tiny, tiny town up there." He mused. "When you finish the trail, look for me around town. I'll be there. If you still want to be with me... then we could pursue a relationship like normal people. Coffee dates and stuff. If not... well, I'll buy you lunch."

"Is that another one of your movie references?" You chuckled. His plan sounded like something straight out of a cheesy rom-com.

"I'm serious." He explained. "My mom lives up there, and I've got nowhere else to be in four to five months."

"How am I supposed to find you?"

"I'm pretty sure the town population is in the double digits, and I'm definitely sure that me and my mom are the only mothpeople there." You considered his offer. It was all you had to look forward to, really.

"Let's shake on it." You extended a hand to him over the dying embers. He reached out to meet you, but then suddenly paused. "What's wrong?" You asked, a pang of fear striking you.

"I have one condition: when you inevitably run into my mom, our story has to be something other than, 'we met up on the trail and had sex after an embarrassingly short conversation and a camera flash,' okay?" You burst into laughter, as did he. He took your hand in his claw and shook enthusiastically.

"We have a deal." You answered. "Don't worry, I'll come up with something good."

"You better. You've got four-to-five months to craft it." He clicked. You smiled.

When you both finished your coffee, you gave him a hug and enjoyed the feeling of his neck fuzz on your cheek one last time. The fire had gone out, you packed up your tarp and sleeping bag, and you took a few steps north on the trail. You stopped soon after and turned, watching him go. He disappeared into the foliage. Sighing, you resumed your hike. To pass the time you talked to yourself.

"Ah, so nice to meet you, Mrs. Moth-mom. Yes, of course, we met at a pottery class."

No! Stupid.

"We were flying kites in the park, and ours got tangled up together—"

Now you sound like you're referencing sappy rom-coms.

You sighed. At least you'd have a while to come up with something convincing.

#monster x reader #lemon #male mothperson x female reader #mothman x reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster love #female reader

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littleblueteacup · 2 years

Text

I went to see the new Batman movie today and I am very excited. I’m gonna just bullet point stuff down below, so go forward with caution.

Potential spoilers ahead, you have been warned

Holy mother of Maple the suit is accurate???? Like, not necessarily comic book accurate, but to the real world. You can see the break lines where cowl turns to cape, turns to suit, turns to boots!!!

That beginning monologue was kinda funny. Like, it obviously wasn’t mean to be, but it was just angsty enough to toe the line, and it made me snicker a little.

Speaking of, there were little moments all through out that were just… so ignored, that it’s obviously a common enough occurrence, but it was just a little funny.

I know I’m not the first to say this, but holy moley, this Bruce Wayne would realistically be willing and able to take in children, and he’d actually cope on a level that previous incarnations of the character wouldn’t have.

The route the writers took with Martha Wayne’s family being the Arkhams, rather than the Kanes, may cause issues with bringing in Kate and Bette to the family (should they choose to bring them into the story) but, ultimately, if Arkham Asylum is still run by the family, it gives Bruce a potential connection to pretty much all of the rogues, but most prominently Harley Quinn and Scarecrow.

They managed to make the Riddler a problem. Like, this may just be the type of exposure I’ve had to the Riddler, but he’s always had this goofy, eccentric feel to him (not a bad thing!!!). This wasn’t that. You could see exactly why Riddler would be a flipping problem if he ever broke out of Arkham. The problem is it didn’t feel like just the Riddler, it felt like a combination, but dang it if I know who the other person/people are!

Carmine Falcone. Carmine Falcone was the slimiest damn person on screen at any given point in time, and it was beautifully done.

The Penguin, holy cripes, the performance was so good, and he was sassy and angry and hahaaaaa- It was a very nice performance.

I could go for daaaays about Selina Kyle. She was funny, she was sassy, she didn’t take any of Bruce’s bullshit, and when the opportunity came up? She had to be held back from murdering the heck out of Falcone!

Selina and Bruce had the vibe of ‘this will be the recurring love interest that will maintain a love-hate relationship with the audience because she and Bruce are just never going to get together in any way that she would stay in Gotham long term.

If (and it is, at this point, a big if) the Robins/Batgirls/Batkids are going to be a thing, then come Jason’s death, Bruce is gonna be a heckling disaster. Like, Tim Drake will become a necessary continuation of that story line, if they wanna keep Batman around. And then, Jason comes back a few years later (and I have theories for how they could fill in some of the gaps) and turns around and goes “why the fuck wouldn’t you kill the Joker?! Did you not love me enough???” And everyone would lose it.

Selina would make Red Robin jokes. Tim would snap that “it’s not my fault, I was kinda in a rush!” And Selina would turn to Dick and go, “Yeah, we need to talk about that” and Dick, who’s already gotten it from Alfred, Jason, Steph, Cass, Commissioner Gordon (which, how the fuck??), Babs, any one who has any way of finding out has had a go at him for it, just groans and goes, “yup, sure Selina, whenever you want.”

Wayne Manor (which I think got turned into an orphanage?) has the potential to become the biggest running gag, whether it’s just among the kids, or it’s Gothamites in general. Like “hey, what happened to the old Gotham orphanage? Like, after the Riddler, what did the family do with it?” “Oh, it’s still an orphanage.” “But how? I thought the Wayne family lived there.” “Exactly.”

Bruce: you’re not my father, Alfred

Me, in the middle of the theatre: Bitch, he helped raise you, shut the fuck up.

The Batmobile was so cool!! This tires could be jacked by a starved eleven-twelve year old boy.

It most definitely has an intimidation button. Any one who Bruce let’s into the car just begs to press the button. The answer is always no. They press it anyway. Yes, even if the person is well into their twenties.

There are more, but they lean into where I want them to take the series, rather than things I noticed and thought were cool (or things I think would happen that have no plot relevance)

#this is set out the way i actually thought about it and i am so sorry for that #the batman #selina kyle #bruce wayne #catwoman #the penguin #the riddler #carmine falcone #batmoblie #(theoretical) batfamily mentioned #Arkham family #Martha and Thomas Wayne #Batman thoughts

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charincharge · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Want To Wait, nineteen

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

Walking in on Lyria/Rowan in a compromising position

How the hell are you two friends? We’re not. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Aelin sighed as she scrolled through her texts. Putting Lorcan and Lysandra on the same group text had turned out to be her own undoing. Together, they were a tag team that she had not been prepared for, bouncing ideas back and forth with a never-ending list of potential suitors.

She rolled her eyes as Lysandra’s latest text came through.

WE HAVE A HOMECOMING DANCE CONTENDER!

Lorcan’s text came quickly after.

Don’t spoil it. I want to see her face in person when we tell her.

Monsters. Both of them. It seemed that something they could both agree on was wanting to be Aelin’s wingman, and it had bonded the two faster than Aelin could have predicted.

Because apparently Aelin was too picky. When the first names started rolling in, all Aelin could think was all of the reasons why they wouldn’t be a good match for her. She looked at the unanswered notification on her phone, not clicking into the text from Rowan, but reading the words clearly.

Will I see you at Homecoming?

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time replying to it. The answer was yes. She would be there, of course. But she was nervous that if she told him that, she’d inevitably have to make plans to meet up. And she definitely didn’t want to hang out with him and Lyria on the cheerleader’s big night.

Homecoming was a huge affair at Orynth High – a full weekend extravaganza with a pep rally around a bonfire, followed by the game and a dance on Saturday night. And of course, Lorcan would be hosting a giant after party. Aelin had always loved Homecoming. She and Rowan had always gone out to dinner before the pep rally and heckled the game from the sidelines, then Aelin would force him to come to the dance, mocking the way he’d grump about going but inevitably have a good time. It was one of her favorite school traditions, but this year she was dreading it. She knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the last two Homecomings.

Coffee Cat in 30? Lysandra asked, interrupting her train of thought, and Aelin chuckled when Lorcan sent back a thumbs up immediately.

She supposed she had nothing better to do today. It certainly beat staring at Rowan’s unanswered text.

Thirty minutes later, Aelin was shocked to find her friends packed into the corner couch section of Manon’s favorite coffee spot. She hadn’t anticipated them all being there, but sure enough, Lysandra, Elide, Manon and Lorcan were all there, drinks in hand, whispering softly. Manon sat as far away from Lorcan as possible, her golden eyes narrowed as she greeted Aelin with a stiff smile. Aelin had gathered the two had bad blood, but hadn’t been able to suss out where it came from.

Lysandra patted the seat next to her and handed her a hazelnut coffee. Aelin moaned appreciatively as she took a sip.

“Okay, hit me.”

The group looked at each other conspiratorially before Lysandra beamed. “Chaol Westfall.”

“No,” Aelin responded automatically.

Lysandra held up her hand with a frown. “Hear us out! You’ve turned down at least ten other guys, and this one is a really good option!”

“He’s my lab partner!” Aelin insisted. “I’m not willing to tank my Physics grade for a handful of dates that will inevitably end poorly.”

Manon scoffed loudly. “Defeatist,” she said at the same time Lorcan said, “Cynic.”

They briefly made eye contact and looked away quickly again. Aelin could feel her lips purse in curiosity. But she wasn’t able to ask what was on her mind because Elide did it for her. “Why aren’t you two friends?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Manon laughed, her head tipping back wildly. “Because we’re mortal enemies,” she said with a wry smile at her girlfriend.

Elide looked between the pair, so starkly different in appearance – one pale and white haired, the other dark skinned and dark haired – and shrugged. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

Lorcan raised a dark brow in Elide’s direction and smiled in a way that Aelin had never seen before. It made her strangely nervous. And if the vice grip Manon was keeping on Elide’s hand was any indication, she felt similarly.

“Back to Chaol,” Lysandra quipped, and Aelin could feel herself slouch over, annoyed. They really weren’t going to let this one go. “He’s smart. You know that because you are lab partners. He’s so polite. You already know he’s a good dancer. Remember your birthday party?”

Aelin nodded, though the memory of dancing with Chaol seemed like lifetimes ago, not mere months.

“I think he’s a super solid option,” Elide chimed in.

Aelin sighed. “And what if I ask him and he says no?”

Lorcan held up a finger. “We have a backup choice. Obviously.” Aelin held her breath, waiting for the other name to drop. “Fenrys Moonbeam.”

“What?” Aelin replied, confused. “No. He’s on the lacrosse team with Rowan.” The rest of the group stared at her, as if her comment meant anything. “I don’t want anything I do to eventually make its way to locker room talk!” she explained, her frustration with her friends rising by the minute.

“Stop shooting every suggestion down!” Manon huffed, clearly just as annoyed with Aelin.

“What are we shooting down?” Rowan’s voice called from behind the group, and Aelin jumped as she felt his hand touch her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy, hovering over the back of the couch and watched as he removed his hand from her quickly, shoving it back into his pocket as he glanced at the group of friends.

“We’re trying to come up with a boyfriend for Aelin,” Lorcan explained, all too aware of the grenade he’d just launched. Aelin glared at him.

“Oh?” Rowan replied, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead. Aelin wished she could stand up and push it back down.

“But she’s being a total naysayer,” Lysandra frowned.

“Good,” Rowan said, exhaling quickly, causing Aelin to frown at him. What does that mean? She asked him silently, and he backed off immediately. “I just mean, no one at school is nearly good enough for you.”

There was a pregnant pause of silence while Aelin struggled to find something to say in response to him, but she couldn’t think of a single thing, other that – what about you? Are you good enough? She shook the thought from her head.

“I still vote Chaol,” Lorcan chimed in, causing Aelin to sigh again.

“If I ask Chaol to Homecoming, will you all leave me alone?” she asked. She wasn’t surprised in the least to see four matching grins staring back at her. “Though, I still don’t think he’s going to say yes,” she added.

Rowan coughed lightly behind her, and she looked over her shoulder again as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said, his eyes suddenly trained on the floor, his sneaker tapping lightly.

“What are you even doing here?” Aelin asked, feeling annoyed with his response, until he blanched and then she just felt like a dick for snapping.

“Sometimes Maeve sends me to do competition recon,” he said with a shrug. “So I guess I should…” He pointed in the direction of the coffee counter. “But I’ll see you at Homecoming.” His voice was soft as it addressed her, and Aelin could feel her stomach clench slightly. She nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the front of the line.

“Awkwardddd,” Lorcan sang, and Aelin glared at him again. Lorcan held up his hands, laughing. “What? I knew he had a new girlfriend, but I didn’t realize you two had broken up.”

Aelin felt her eyes narrow at the oafish boy on the opposite couch as the group burst out laughing, at her expense, per usual. “You all suck.”

She sighed at the expectant faces looking her way. “So, Chaol?” she asked, still unsure about it.

“Chaol,” they replied in unison, spurring another round of giggles. Aelin was so annoyed, she barely even noticed Rowan glance over his shoulder at the laughing group before exiting the coffee shop quietly.

. . .

It turned out everyone’s assessment had been correct. Despite it only being a few days warning, Chaol had enthusiastically accepted Aelin’s invite to the dance. He also asked if she’d want to go to the pep rally together, completely surprising her. Not particularly ready for a one-on-one date, she suggested he join her group of friends, which he was more than happy to do.

Aelin stared at her sweatshirt and jeans and wondered if she should dress up more for a date, but she shook it off. It was going to be freezing cold at the pep rally and game, and she wasn’t exactly trying too hard to impress the boy who had seen her strung out in science labs most days.

She was just finishing lining her eyes with dark liner when the doorbell rang. She tried to run downstairs and beat her dad, but Rhoe opened the door with a small smirk. “Hello?” he said to the brunette boy on the other side of the door.

Chaol was also wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief that they both seemed to be on the same page. She bounded up to the door, pushing her dad out of the way as she made her way out of the house.

Rhoe cleared his throat. “Aelin, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, and she could see the laughter in his blue eyes as she tried to sneak away.

“Dad, this is Chaol. Chaol, this is my dad.”

Chaol stuck out his hand stiffly, and Rhoe smiled as he took the boy’s hand in his. “Mr. Galathynius. It’s so nice to meet you officially. My name is Chaol Westfall,” he began all too politely. “Thank you for letting me take Aelin out tonight,” he said, and Aelin’s cheeks burned with a furious blush at her dad’s widening smile.

“You are most welcome,” Rhoe replied sarcastically, and Aelin wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She could already tell this date wasn’t going to go well if Chaol thought Rhoe let Aelin do anything.

“Shall we?” Chaol asked, extending his arm to Aelin, and she took it, looking back at her dad as Chaol opened the passenger door to his small sedan.

It was weird to be so, handled? Aelin was so used to being independent that it was strange to have someone opening and closing doors for her. It was not her usual. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she knew she needed to just relax and give Chaol a fair shot. At least, that’s what her friends would say.

The drive to school was short, but awkward. Chaol tried to fill the silence with questions about her week, but the pair had seen each other every day that week during class, and it felt like there wasn’t really that much to say.

Luckily, they’d decided to meet up with Lysandra and Wes for the pep rally, and Aelin was grateful that they’d saved them spots beside them. She greeted her friends with hugs, but she paused when she saw Rowan on the other side of Wes. She hadn’t anticipated him being a part of their group tonight. She didn’t know why. It hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“H-hey?” she said. His reply was overwhelmed by a massive wave of cheers as Principal Havilliard lit the bonfire, which came blazing to life in front of them. It immediately warmed Aelin, sending a small shiver down her spine.

“Are you cold?” Chaol asked, his chestnut eyes filled with concern. “I have an extra jacket in my car I can grab for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Aelin replied. He nodded happily and watched as the pep rally started, but Aelin couldn’t focus at all. Her eyes kept sliding to the side where Rowan’s bright hair peeked out over Wes’s head. It seemed like he was getting even taller every day.

She felt this strange pressure, this weird tension settling around her shoulders, tugging her towards Rowan. She was so focused on him that she startled, surprised, as Chaol slid his hand into hers, linking their fingers.

She looked over, but Chaol wasn’t looking at her at all. He was listening to Principal Havilliard welcome everyone to the rally with a small smile on his lips. Aelin exhaled as she squeezed his hand back. It wasn’t exactly comfortable or natural, but she was giving this a chance.

She felt her heart pound as the cheerleaders ran out in front of the fire, starting their routine. Lyria settled in the front row and Aelin swallowed thickly as she watched her warm brown eyes seek out Rowan in the audience. Aelin refuse to look at Rowan’s face as he watched her. Instead, Aelin focused on the dancing girls in front of her. She watched with a wildly beating pulse as their green and gold uniforms flounced with every move. It was almost indecent.

At the end of the routine, Lyria broke form and skipped into the crowd, making her way straight to Rowan. And Aelin could feel the pressure on her hand increase as Lyria grabbed Rowan by the neck and pulled him in for a large kiss. Too large for public, if Aelin was honest.

Lyria smiled as she pressed her lips against Rowan’s again before making her way back to the group of cheerleaders, who giggled wildly at her. Despite the fire raging in front of her face, Aelin felt completely frozen. She didn’t even process the rest of the rally, ignoring the rest of the cheers and cries, until Chaol tugged at her hand.

“You ready to go?” he asked, and Aelin nodded, still in a bit of a daze.

They were silent again on the ride home, and Aelin could feel her mood souring as they pulled into her driveway. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan long enough to give Chaol the time of day. She felt awful.

Biting her lip, she decided to do something drastic. Just to get Rowan out of her head.

“So,” Chaol began as he put his car into park, but Aelin ignored him and leaned over the console and kissed him. Her hands went to his hair, tugging the dark hair as tightly as she could to her face.

If Chaol was surprised, he barely showed it, his lips moving beneath hers, responding surely and confidently. His lips were rough and chapped and dry, and their lips seemed to mash against each other uncomfortably, instead of fitting together. The lack of chemistry was so evident, that Aelin wasn’t even offended when Chaol pulled away, wiping his mouth. What a disaster.

“Umm…” Her eyes fell to her lap as she chuckled softly. “Sorry.”

She was trying to figure out a way to let Chaol down easily. It was so clear there was no romantic spark between the two when Chaol started laughing loudly. She looked back up, his brown eyes warm with laughter as he smiled at her. He pushed a strand of her pink hair behind her ear and clasped his hand on her shoulder.

“That was…” He laughed again. “Oh gods.” He looked at her with apologetic eyes, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “We’re still friends, right?”

At least they were on the same page. She nodded, laughter bubbling up in her chest, too. She supposed this is why she needed to start dating. To see who she actually connected with. It turned out Chaol was not that person.

“Do you still want to go to the dance together tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m still game,” he said, reassuring her.

“As friends?” Aelin said, and Chaol smiled widely.

“As friends,” he said.

Aelin couldn’t stop laughing as she made her way out of the car, getting her phone out to update the group text on their candidate.

Chaol = DUD. I’ve never had such a bad kiss.

She nearly dropped her phone as Rowan texted back. LOL.

Another text quickly followed. Sorry, don’t mean to laugh. I’m very sorry to hear that.

Aelin practically smacked her face with her hand as she groaned and all caps texted back in a flurry. THAT TEXT WAS FOR LYS, NOT YOU. UGHHHHH.

He didn’t reply again, and so Aelin put her phone away as she got ready for bed. She knew she should text the group chat for real, but she was too keyed up, thinking about Rowan. It’d been so long since his name lit up her phone, she forgot the electric jolt that ran through her spine when it happened.

And though she knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him, she couldn’t help but run her hand between her legs, imagining what it’d be like to kiss him instead. She had a feeling that Rowan’s lips would be soft, and she wondered if their mouths would fit together perfectly. She didn’t let herself think too hard about how quickly she brought herself to release thinking of him, succumbing to sleep quickly after.

. . .

“Do you want a drink?” Chaol asked, slightly breathless, as the fast song morphed into a too-sexy R&B hit for their dance comfort.

Aelin nodded, tugging at the neckline of her dark green dress. Her dad had surprised her with it, and she couldn’t even begin to express how good she felt in it. It was the perfect length, hitting just above her knee with a soft flounce, and the neckline was tightly fitted slight sweetheart, held up by two thin spaghetti straps. It was perfect. And despite being at the dance with just a friend, she still felt remarkably beautiful. It was a strange but delightful feeling.

After their short drink break, Chaol and Aelin returned to the dance floor. She’d forgotten how much Chaol loved to dance – in that respect, her friends had chosen wisely. She ignored their pointed looks all night, though, content to just have fun with Chaol. Which, strangely, she was. Having fun. In fact, she was having so much fun that she barely even noticed when Rowan and Lyria entered the dance, hand in hand. Instead, she refocused on Chaol, her limbs flailing as she tried to keep up with the boy in front of her.

As the succession of dance songs morphed into a slower beat, Aelin anticipated Chaol taking them off the floor again, but instead, he stepped closer and hovered his hand over her waist, his eyebrow raised in question. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, wondering if this was somehow breaching the friend agreement they’d come to, but Aelin figured slow dancing with a friend was totally fine. In fact, they’d done it before.

She nodded, and he smiled, stepping closer as he slid his hand around her back, pulling her close. They swayed to the music, Chaol leading her around in circles, taking back out his ballroom dance skills and showing them off.

“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile. He grinned outright, spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in time with the music, never falling out of step. Aelin’s skirt flared around her knees, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back and laugh at the sensation. It felt so good to release her worries, just for a little bit.

“My mom will be so pleased to hear that,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Aelin found herself laughing, tripping over her own feet as she tried to keep up with him, causing Chaol to snort.

“You, on the other hand…”

Aelin pretended to be offended, a pronounced frown on her lips, her brow furrowed as she chastised him. “Hey! I am extremely graceful.”

As if on cue, she tripped over her foot again, falling into Chaol’s chest with a soft thump. Both laughing, wide smiles on their faces, Chaol managed to save her fall by spinning it into a low dip.

When the dance came to a close, Aelin looked around to see a small circle of people had formed around them, applauding wildly. Chaol stepped aside and pointed to Aelin, who curtseyed as a soft blush colored her cheeks.

When the circle cleared, Aelin caught a glance of a slumped over figure on the bleachers, sitting alone, dark green eyes marred by a furrowed brow and pronounced scowl on his face. Rowan did always hate a school dance. Her heartbeat picked up as she stared at him, looking dapper in his dark grey suit. How many times had she danced with him at a school dance? It felt so odd to her to see him so far away, annoyed and alone. Her eyes flitted across the floor, looking for Lyria. She was with her usual gaggle of friends, completely unfazed by her lonely boyfriend sitting in the corner.

Aelin warred with herself, wanting to go over and say hello to him, but also knowing that she shouldn’t do that. She was just about to look away when his green eyes lifted and met hers across the room. She waved briefly, hesitant and unsure in her small gesture, but it was met with such a contented grin that she couldn’t bring herself to regret doing it.

She was about to take a step toward him when Lysandra came rushing up to her in a whirl, her arm hooking around Aelin’s and spinning her in the opposite direction.

“Come on, it’s time to head to Lorcan’s,” she said. “This party’s getting stale.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but laughed regardless. She knew what her friend was doing. Keeping her away from Rowan. She couldn’t be trusted, left to her own devices.

Aelin looked over to Chaol, figuring she should extend the invite to him, too. “Do you want to come?” she asked, and she felt her stomach sink slightly as Chaol shook his head.

“No offense, that’s just not really my scene.”

“No offense taken,” she said quickly.

“I can drive you there, though, if you need a ride?” he offered, and Aelin was once again thrown off by how polite he was.

Lysandra smiled and wrapped her arm around Aelin’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Nah, we’ve got her.”

“Thanks, though,” Aelin said sincerely. She was grateful for Chaol’s company. With his distraction, she’d been able to keep her mind off of Rowan in a way she hadn’t before. Maybe her friends were right. She should be less of a cynic and defeatist. She could find someone. It wouldn’t be Rowan, and it definitely wouldn’t be Chaol, but, it’d be someone.

. . .

At Lorcan’s the party was already raging, the rest of them far behind the drunken students who’d left the dance early to go in search of free beer and better music.

“Babesss,” Lorcan slurred, his dark eyes unfocused as he sipped at some gross-smelling green concoction. “You’re finally here!”

He looked at Lysandra with a raised brow. “How’d it go?”

Lysandra sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, she’s here alone, so I guess you were right.”

Lorcan snorted loudly. “Sorry, but I told you. The Goody Two Shoes wasn’t going to cut it.”

Lysandra handed Lorcan a twenty-dollar bill, and Aelin gaped.

“You know, I am standing right here,” she said, completely annoyed that her friends were betting on her love life.

“What?” Lorcan laughed, slinging his arms around the two girls and leading them into the kitchen. He dunked two cups into a trash bag and pulled out neon green liquid.

“What is this?” Aelin asked, sniffing the concoction dubiously.

Lorcan laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

Aelin took a tiny sip and shuddered at the sickly sweet taste of apples and some sour liquor she was sure was potent as anything.

“Just… drink it slow,” Lorcan said with a pointed brow in Aelin’s direction.

“Rude,” Aelin laughed. “I’ve learned!”

“She has,” Lysandra assured Lorcan, who couldn’t resist grinning at the two girls.

“In that case…” He paused dramatically. “Who wants to play beer pong?”

Both girls cheered exuberantly, causing Aelin to smile. If she’d told herself that she’d be part of Lorcan’s inner circle, personally invited to play beer pong with him and his friends, she would not have believed it. Things had really changed since her first Lorcan Salvaterre party.

As they approached the beer pong table, though, she was hit with a wave of déjà vu as the Moonbeam twins welcomed her with matching grins. It was almost an exact replica of the night she had made the decision to kiss Rowan. Only instead of Rowan at her side, now it was Lorcan. Something about that made her feel strange and unsettled. She looked around, as if Rowan would magically appear at her side out of thin air, but he was nowhere to be found among the throngs of drunk upperclassmen.

Fenrys cocked his head at her approach and threw a tanned arm around her shoulders. “Aelin Galathynius, as I live and breathe.”

“Fen,” Connall said in a low, warning tone.

“What? I’m just welcoming a beautiful girl to our table.” Fenrys winked at Aelin, bringing a soft blush to her cheeks under his attentions.

“Babe, are you blushing?” Lorcan laughed, poking at her reddened cheek.

“No!” Aelin said, swatting his hand away. “It’s this disgusting drink,” she said, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes slide back to Fenrys. Despite her insistence that she shouldn’t get involved with someone on the lacrosse team, there was no denying that Fenrys was incredibly attractive. And he had called her beautiful. It felt nice.

Fenry’s winked again as he caught her eye, and she was sure her face was flaming as the rest of the table burst into laughter. He let his arm fall from her shoulder to the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he took his first shot.

“Come on, partner,” he said, nudging her hip with his and sinking his first shot, much to Lorcan’s chagrin. “Sorry Con,” he said, shooting a sly smile at his twin, who simply flicked him off as he skulked away into the party.

As they played, Aelin could feel herself loosening up. Lysandra and Lorcan were predictably a power team, sinking every single shot flawlessly. And with each cup of beer Fenrys drank, he got a little looser himself, his hand grazing her arm, her back, her side, pushing her hair behind her ear with small little teasing motions.

It was different than being touched by Rowan. It didn’t have that same shock to her system, jolting her awake, but it was still electric, just at a much lower voltage.

And even though they’d lost three games to Lorcan and Lysandra, Aelin was feeling on top of the world. The green drink coursing through her system had taken its toll, making her feel light and floaty and warm all over.

“Again?” Lorcan asked, stacking the cups back into a pyramid, but Aelin shook her head.

“Oh,” Fenrys said, his shoulders sagging with disappointment at Aelin’s decision to stop playing. It made her feel invulnerable.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something else instead?” Aelin said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, causing the boy to snap his dark eyes in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his body suddenly mere inches away from hers. Aelin leaned over on her toes and whispered in his ear, her voice low and gravelly from alcohol.

“Wanna go upstairs and makeout?” she asked, her heart pounding at how brazen she was being, but there was something about Fenrys’s confident smile and flirty touches that reassured her in her pursuits.

A wicked smile curled across Fenrys’s lips as his eyes gleamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Aelin grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs as Lysandra and Lorcan whooped and hollered behind them. Aelin ignored them, focusing on the feel of Fen’s hand delicately twined with hers.

At the top of the stairs, Fenrys’s control snapped, and Aelin found herself pushed up against the hallway wall with his mouth on top of hers. His lips tasted like stale beer with just a faint hint of the sticky sweet apple drink, and she found that she didn’t mind it at all. She wrapped her hands in his curly hair as his hands slid across the silky fabric of her dress, palms greedy to touch every cloth-covered inch he could. Warmth spread across each spot he touched, and she leaned into him.

She hummed as his mouth opened, his tongue sliding against hers roughly as her head hit the wall with a loud thump.

“Ow,” she laughed as they stumbled their way down the hall, teeth clinking against each other as they fell against each other again and again. Fenry’s reached out, trying each door they reached, but each and every one was locked.

“Get a room!” a booming voice called behind them.

“We’re trying,” she giggled, breathing heavily as Fenry’s moved his mouth down her neck with sloppy kisses. “Oh…” she moaned as Fenrys’s teeth scraped against the sensitive skin behind her ear. That was different. Good different.

They stumbled to the very end of the hall, Fenrys attacking her lips again as he reached behind her and turned the last door in the hallway. It turned in his grasp, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan appreciatively as Fen pressed his entire body against hers, leading them into the darkened room.

“Uhh, occupied!” a low strained voice came from the darkness, and Aelin froze, feeling like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Rowan?” she squeaked out, refusing to look over her shoulder at whatever was going on in the bedroom behind her for fear that it might kill her.

“Aelin?!” he sputtered back, and Aelin could feel her entire body tense at the sound of rustling fabric and people moving around.

“Fenrys,” Fen said, causing Aelin to bark out a loud laugh.

“Lyria,” the girl deadpanned. Aelin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, removing any of Fen’s attempt at levity.

“Sorry, Whitethorn,” Fenrys apologized, pulling Aelin by the waist, closer to him. “As you were…” he continued, backing up out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway. Aelin blinked several times, but all she could see was images of Rowan and Lyria, tangled in sheets, spurred on by her wildest imagination.

Fenrys leaned in to kiss Aelin again, but she was still frozen, heart pounding loudly against her ribs, so hard that it almost hurt.

He sighed loudly and gave her a reassuring smile as he took a step back. “Mood killed, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, willing herself to hear anything other than Rowan’s breathy tone coming from a darkened room at a party. She hated how upset she felt, how she felt like she was suffocating at the idea of him sleeping with Lyria, if that’s what they were doing. Given the circumstances, it seemed likely. Aelin swallowed back a wave of nausea.

But Fenrys refused her apology, pushing her hair behind her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. “I kind of figured.” He paused, looking at her seriously. “It’s okay,” Fenrys said with too warm a smile for how much of an asshole Aelin felt like. She covered her face, completely horrified.

“I’m gonna…” Aelin ducked under Fenry’s arm and headed toward the stairs, needing some fresh air. Luckily, Fenrys didn’t make a big deal about it at all, meandering downstairs with her and rejoining another game of beer pong as Aelin snuck into the cold night.

She wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, sinking onto a chair on Lorcan’s front porch. She stared into the distance, willing her nausea to subside as she breathed slowly. So deep in concentration, she barely even heard anyone take the seat next to her until he began speaking.

“So, I guess you got that kiss after all…”

“Rowan…” she whined. “Can we not?” She bit her lip. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

He frowned, pausing ominously.

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Aelin asked, startled by the question. “No, of course not.”

He shrugged, his dress shirt open and rumpled, his tie long gone. “It feels like you do.” He paused.

She wanted to snap at him, unload all her hurt on him, but she paused when she took in his face. She’d never seen him look so tired, so sad. “No, I don’t hate you,” Aelin said, giving him a soft smile and earning a small smile in return.

He exhaled a long, steady breath, and leaned back in the chair, letting the rocking chair sway back and forth as he pondered his next words.

“But you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Rowan said suddenly. Aelin opened her mouth to protest, but Rowan barreled forward, his tone urgent. “No, you don’t. I’m not that dumb, Ace. You straight up told me. It just… sucks. Because you’re my best friend, but…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Ro…” Aelin said, her heart tugging, wanting to comfort the boy in front of her, but completely unsure of what to say.

“No,” he repeated. “Please let me finish.” Aelin nodded, biting her lip, forcibly preventing herself from interrupting what he so clearly needed to get out. “I was so excited when I got that text from you last night. I thought, maybe you’d decided you wanted to be friends again, and then to hear it was a mistake…” He laughed sadly. “Gods, I felt like such an idiot. You’ve always been my person.” His words came more rapidly as he got more worked up. “And you decided all of this without me, and I don’t understand. Like, telling me I didn’t need to pick you up from school anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated, but Aelin couldn’t really process what he was saying.

“I just figured you wanted time alone with your girlfriend…”

He practically growled as he sighed. “Why would you assume that without asking me? I only gave her a ride the first morning because she asked if I would. I’ve been driving alone to school for weeks,” he said.

“Really?” Aelin asked, confused.

“And I know I’m going to sound like a complete tool when I say that it hurt my feelings, but… that really hurt my feelings.” Aelin opened her mouth again to say something, but nothing came out. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Rowan be so forthcoming about his feelings. He was more the type of person to hold his feelings in forever.

“I didn’t know,” Aelin whispered.

Rowan scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you didn’t ask. You just bailed.”

Then it was Aelin’s turn to frown. “It’s not like you tried to reach out!” she snapped, and she could see the hurt turn into anger as Rowan raised his voice again.

“Because you didn’t want me to!” he growled. “And… you seemed… fine.” He laughed sadly. “And I am so not fine.”

Aelin breathed steadily. “You think I’m fine…?” she laughed with no humor.

“Yeah!” he cried, exasperated. “You have all these friends, and I’m the loser with no other friends but you. Lys, Elide, Wes… they only invited me around because of you,” he laughed sadly. “And, I keep waiting for you to reach back out to me – I don’t want to force you to be friends with me when you clearly didn’t want that, but you never do.” He sighed loudly. “And without you, I don’t have anyone.”

Aelin whispered. “I don’t think your girlfriend would agree with that.” She scrunched her nose.

“Don’t tell me this is about Lyria, because you’ve been acting weird long since before she came around,” he huffed, and Aelin threw up her arms, annoyed with the boy in front of her who clearly didn’t understand anything.

“Maybe there’s just an expiration date on boy girl friendships,” she sighed, and she watched as Rowan’s cheeks grew red.

“Stop,” he stuttered. “That’s bullshit.” He breathed. “You put an expiration on it, not me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “I put an expiration on us? Ro, we don’t talk about anything anymore. I just walked in on you having sex with your girlfriend!” she exploded. “I didn’t even know you were having sex anymore. Because we can’t talk about that stuff! Because it’s weird, okay? You freaked out when I hugged you, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me I put an expiration on our friendship because I didn’t.”

Aelin felt her heart pound with every staccato word that exited her mouth. She felt flames on the sides of her face, burning her up as she finally told Rowan how she felt.

“I…” He shook his head. “Lyria got accepted into a college prep program at the OU. If she decides to go, she’ll be gone all of November and December, and we’d be in a long distance relationship,” he said, causing Aelin’s heart to pick up pace again. Lyria was leaving? “That’s what we were talking about upstairs,” he said. “We weren’t, um… doing anything. We haven’t even done anything other than kiss.”

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, and she breathed easily as the knot in her chest unfurled at Rowan’s intense stare. She hated how much better she felt. It stung and soothed her simultaneously.

“A college program?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan ran his hand through his hair.

“Huh,” Aelin replied, unsure of what else to say. Rowan seemed to sense it, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “What? She just doesn’t seem that into her studies.”

“I knew you didn’t like her!” Rowan laughed. Aelin wanted to defend herself, but she shrugged instead. She didn’t feel like getting into how the very opposite was actually the truth.

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m not Fenrys’s biggest fan at the moment.”

“Rowan…” Aelin sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about this with him. She hadn’t anticipated him seeing it. She’d wanted time to process it all. But it seemed like he wasn’t going to give her that.

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know you don’t want to be my friend right now.” She watched as he scratched the back of his. “And you can go back to hating me tomorrow, I promise. But, can we just pretend tonight? For a little bit?”

She nodded, unable to deny him her friendship. The truth was, she’d missed it, too.

And so she unleashed. Aelin found herself rambling about the last month of her life, telling Rowan about how she started cooking with Maeve, how much she loved it, and her long walks home. He apologized, not realizing that Aelin had decided to walk instead of find another ride. But Aelin waved him off, instead telling him her favorite recipes and how much she’d learned just from being in the kitchen and being a part of prep. She went on and on about how she ended up becoming friends with Manon, and the weird group of friends that had formed in Rowan’s absence. She even told him about the terrible kiss with Chaol and how she’d decided to kiss someone tonight to make up for it. He laughed heartily at her description of her bad kiss, sighing loudly as he wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes away.

“You deserve a good kiss,” he said, rocking himself back and forth again, the movement starting to hypnotize Aelin as she watched.

“Well, Fenrys delivered,” Aelin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Gross,” he muttered.

“Rude!”

He laughed as she changed the topic, telling him about her tough classes, and he immediately picked up on it, following suit and talking about his own.

Talking to Rowan was like riding a bike. A really comfortable bike. He laughed in all the right spots, and by the time they were finished catching up on Aelin’s life, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He offered to drive her home, and Aelin stupidly accepted, both of them singing happily as he played her Game Day Mix that she’d made for him all those months ago. As she looked over at him, she could feel her breath catch.

Gods, she missed him. She missed everything about him. And it hurt all over again.

She was like an addict who had easily relapsed. She couldn’t believe how careless she’d been. She thought she could have him just a tiny bit, but she was too stuck on him still. She’d taken a giant step forward with Chaol and Fenrys and then immediately retreated, letting Rowan back into her heart. Who was she kidding? He’d never left her heart. She’d just gotten better at ignoring that persistent tug, always pulling her to him.

As they turned onto Aelin’s street, they fell into a hushed silence. One that was so strangely comfortable that she almost forgot he was there until he spoke up again.

“I guess we’re done pretending,” he said, rubbing his hands against his knees as he parked in her driveway, and Aelin nodded.

“I just want us to still tell each other the big things, even if you don’t want to do the stuff in between.” He paused. “Like, if you decide to date Fenrys, can you tell me?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” she replied softly, and he nodded again. “I don’t hate you,” she said, feeling the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he said, relieved.

“I promise if I ever hate you, you will not have to wonder,” she sassed, and she laughed as Rowan shoved her shoulder, sparks flying up her arm at the brief moment of contact.

Aelin exited the car with a small wave and took a deep, steadying breath as he drove off into the night. Yes, she had relapsed. But, she’d also kissed two boys in two nights. She clearly just needed to push herself a little further.

She fell asleep that night, wondering who the next boy on her list would be.

~*~

If you’d like to be added to my ToG taglist, message me – HERE! (replies get lost in notifications)

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes #throne of glass fanfic #tog fanfic

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secretkeeper13 · 3 years

Text

Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

141 notes · View notes

gothamsglam · 3 years

Text

Can I have Your Name? (a SamBucky ficlet)

for @samshield hope you enjoy 😘

(also on ao3 under @/the_fifth_marauder101)

---

“Thanks, can I have your name?” asked Bucky with a charming smile on his face, pulling out a sharpie. However, instead of writing on an empty class as the poor customer thought, he scribbled down “Tony” on one of those ‘Hello, my name is…’ stickers.

“That’s a wonderful name by the way,” Bucky compliments, because fck you Steve, he can be polite.

He fcking told Steve going into customer service was a great idea. Idiot wanted to continue doing door to door shit, or, even worse, mope around forests for wandering travelers. He told him it wasn’t the 1400s anymore, and to grow up. Damn the supernatural council and their ‘hunt in pairs’ rule, he will go rouge and leave Stevie, he will do it.

“I’m this close,” Bucky had hissed, holding his fingers in the air so Stevie could see,

“Your fingers are touching,” Steve deadpanned.

“Exactly.”

The man doesn’t look up from his flurry of typing, “Thank you, it’s a family name.”

“Sure,” Bucky replies quietly “Alright, your order will be right out,” Bucky grinned, replacing his name tag with the new one without looking away from the brown-haired customer. The second the tag sticks to his shirt, he feels a refreshing rush of energy. Kind of like what he imagines those ‘caffeine/sugar rush’ those damn teens keep harping about.

“Thank y—” The customer—Tony—looks up from his phone to flash him a grin, only to have it fall from his face when he sees the name tag.

This was the fun part. Bucky didn’t break eye contact, maintaining it with the same smile, only now he could tell it felt eerie to the human. Like something wasn’t right.

The man’s brown eyes flitted up and down between Bucky’s face and the name tag, before he surged forward, “What di—”

“Have a good day,” Bucky bit out, still keeping the smile and cheery customer service tone. His eyes were blank, he made sure of it. Honestly, this whole song and dance was unnecessary. Stevie usually just wrote the name tags, and then stuck them on as he was making the drinks. Their shop was typically slow enough that there wouldn’t be people behind to question why the tender had a new name. But Bucky loved to fck with humans. What the hell else was he supposed to do? He’s been alive for 70 generations, let him have his fun.

However, today was a bit different. Another two walked into the shop, Bucky didn’t see it as much as he felt it. Bucky kept his back turned, hollering “Welcome to Stars and Stripes, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” over his shoulder as he made the three drinks. What asshole ordered three drinks?

Bucky’s question was answered when he saw the two men walk over to Tony’s table. One of them kissed Tony on the cheek and the other just faux-gagged before giving Tony a hug as well. Bucky called out the order, eyes tracking the way Tony mumbled something to the two men and both reacted oddly, as they probably should. Bucky would expect no less.

Apparently, he jinxed himself, because the man who hugged Tony came to pick up the drinks.

“Nice name,” said the man.

“Thanks,” Bucky flashed his uncanny valley smile and offered nothing else. The man winked and then walked back to the table.

Bucky did not look at his ass, he didn’t.

---

The next day, the man comes in. Not Tony, but other guy. The cute one.

“Hi my name’s Jacob, how may I help you today?” Bucky asks politely.

The man, to his credit, didn’t bat an eyelash, “Hi I’ll have three—” And he rattled off the same order that Tony had. Bucky resisted the urge to frown, maybe it was just a two-time thing? This group has only come into their shop once before, what are the odds of it happening again, for a third time?

“Perfect,” Bucky slid the receipt across the counter, “Can I have your name?” Bucky asked, as he reached for a pen.

“Nope,” the man replied.

Bucky froze in his moments, “What?”

The man shrugged, face showing nothing but politeness, “I’m the only person in this store, you’ll be able to find me.”

Bucky was stunned as he watched him walk back to the spot the trio was in the other day. As he sat down, the man gave a nod of acknowledgment to Bucky, who was still staring.

His brown—almost hazelnut with the light of the sun—eyes stared into Bucky’s own, and in them all he saw was mischief.

Fck.

---

For the next two days, Bucky kept a—subtle, he wasn’t obsessed or anything—watch out for Tony or The Man. And for those two days, he didn’t see hide or hair of them. Bucky figured they must have been college students from nearby campuses, wandering in when Starbucks was too full, which happens often enough. Then on the third day, he returned.

“Hey, Jacob” greeted The Man, his smile so bright—so bright that Nat would have burned like she does under the sun and threaten to bite the man in the jugular. Bucky, who was too gobsmacked to even deliver his customer service opening, stared at him.

“Not Jacob,” Bucky said, his voice strangled.

The Man chuckled, his eyes sparkling with the same look from the first day he ordered, “Ok ‘Not Jacob’, may I have—” And repeated the same order from the last two times.

“Um, right, uh” Bucky stammered, face growing hot as The Man raised an eyebrow at him smugly, “Can I have your name?”

“Put Redwing,” The Man said, shrugging. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a happy smirk—how can a person have a fcking happy smirk?—, not that Bucky was only looking at his lips or anything.

“Redwing?” Bucky asked, stupidly. Because why ask, idiot, why ask for clarification? He read somewhere that the psyche is powerful enough to make the body do things, like fake pregnancies. Whether that’s something only reserved to humans is up for debate, but maybe, if Bucky doesn’t ask and lives in blissful ignorance, he can feed off of a fake name. But no, because he’s a bloody fool, he asked.

“It’s my pet’s name,” The Man answered, then looked tilted his head, giving a sheepish smile, “Or at least, that’s what I want to name a pet, I don’t have one.”

“Right,” Said Bucky, suddenly feeling empty in ways that have nothing to do with hunger, “Your order will be right out.”

Their conversation was longer than normal, so when the man went to sit down, the couple came in moments afterward. All three sat in the same place as before.

‘Oh no,’ Bucky thought in dawning horror, ‘Regulars.’

---

“Falcon,” grins The Man, now foregoing any attempts to be subtle and simply being a little shit.

Bucky looked at him, face void of any amusement. At this point, he’s shucked the polite customer service voice and snarked back and forth with the regular like there’s no tomorrow—only in this situation, there is a tomorrow, there always is tomorrow.

Their staring contest probably goes on for a bit too long, judging by the way Tony and his boyfriend—Bucky can feel comfortable calling the two a couple, based on how disgustingly affectionate the two get in the cafe—walk in.

The Man flashed a smile and turned away to greet the couple. An audible ‘Rhodey!’ reached Bucky’s ears. Now, finally, he has a name for one of the dark-skinned men, the one who kissed Tony’s cheek and was currently walking in with said Tony, arm around his shoulders. Only Bucky doesn’t feel that familiar warmth pool in his gut, refreshing his energy levels.

‘Oh,’ Bucky thinks, and watches as the man—his regular—laughs with his friends but also how his eyes flit back to peek at Bucky as names are spoken. ‘oh, loopholes.’

Bucky is so screwed.

---

The names his regular gives become increasingly goofy, and Steve teases him about how flirty they get—Bucky absolutely didn’t have a favorite, and it absolutely wasn’t Angel. But Bucky only believed Stevie when he got a number instead of a random moniker.

“What?” Bucky short-circuited.

The man just sighed, “Come on, I gave you my number, work with me here.”

“You finally did it, huh, Sam?” Tony called out from where he was typing away on his computer, which rested on Rhodey’s legs. Rhodey, who was sprawled out in one of their chairs, nudged Tony with his foot, “Shush, let them have this.”

‘Sam,’ Bucky thinks, and all he can come up with in his blue screened mind is, ‘Perfect’.

In his phone, the name Sam’s contact is under is ‘Angel’.

Steve heckles.

---

“How did you know, Angel?”

Sam looks at Bucky, and Bucky’s struck into silence, The whole world falls around them in muted sounds and lights fade into balls of blurry color, because as they lock gazes all Bucky can notice is Sam’s eyes. Sam’s eyes—his wonderful, soul-deep eyes that shine with mischief and laughter, that glow so bright and rival the heavens when the sunlight reflects off it just so—are sad.

“My friend,” Sam says quietly, “Riley. He was one of yours.”

Bucky nods, and reaches out with his metal hand—an injury from decades ago and a gift from a shapeshifter who hissed that his debt was repaired before slithering off into the night—pulling Sam closer to him. They watch the sun go down from the top of the roof, the stars revealed one by one, twinkling against the darkness of the dusk.

---

(One day, Bucky will ask for Sam’s name again, specifically his last name. Only then, will Sam reply honestly.)

---

AN: This is a more bastardized version of faeries/fae, I just made up my own creature for what Bucky and Steve are. Simply because I just wanted to write a little ficlet about SamBucky and didn’t do much research. Don’t think too hard about it :)

(and the link to the Tik Tok I saw on tumblr that inspired this is also linked on my ao3 fic)

Hope you enjoyed!

-vix

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feeling-uncomfy · 3 years

Text

I've decided I'm gonna start naming these because it just occurred to me that I don't usually, so-

Code Orange

In which the league work around one of their members sleeping issues.

Warnings:

- only slight injury is mentioned

Hope you enjoy! :D

There were things Kurogiri noticed, working with the league. It was in his nature to take care of people, so bad habits often caught his eye. For instance, Shigaraki's inability to eat a full three meals, or Spinner's energy drink addiction that Kurogiri was sure was going to catch up on his heart soon. Or Dabi's pure apathy towards everything to do with pain. There's also Twice, but he's a whole list on his own, unfortunately.

Slowly but surely, Kurogiri has made an impact on the group's health. Shigaraki now eats three full meals (only if Toga does too, but it's a win) and Spinner now drinks a bottle of water every day, and if pushed, two. Dabi hasn't been very cooperative, and try as Kurogiri and Compress might, he refuses to let anyone try help him. He just walks around half dead at this point. Kurogiri decides it's a battle for another day, as Toga pointed out another bad habit among his colleagues.

Sako Atsuhiro.

For some odd reason, Kurogiri has a hard time getting mad or finding flaw in him, but now that he's aware it's there, Kurogiri can't help but focus a little more on the man's lack of a sleeping pattern. Compress stays up with Kurogiri until he's done cleaning the bar, and more often than not will stay up after Kurogiri returns to his room. Though technically Kurogiri doesn't need sleep, it's nice to lay down to de-stress.

However, when Kurogiri bids Compress goodnight at one am every night, he also finds himself up after him. They enjoy the silence they have at six am, knowing they're about to be dragged on another life threatening adventure by twelve pm at the latest. Kurogiri had never thought to question the magician, but now he had to, with Twice and Toga on his case.

In fact, as Kurogiri looked up from the glass he was cleaning, it seemed they had roped Spinner into this too, judging from the conversation they were having. "I'm just saying, you're the last one alseep and first one awake," Spinner said, leaning back as he diverted his attention from the game he was playing to the conversation. "I'm like- ninety nine percent sure you shut down like a computer."

At that, Compress laughed, a lovely and rich sound that had Kurogiri paying more attention than he was before. "I wish it were that easy, but alas," Compress shuffled his cards as he spoke. "I can't do that." Twice leaned over, watching the cards move and Compress's mask as if looking for a change in its expression. "Then when do you sleep?! I don't care, deal me in." Kurogiri caught Toga's eye, and was surprised by the thoughtful look she had. After a second, she addressed Shigaraki, who was sat next to Spinner. "Tomura, how long does it take you to fall asleep?"

Shigaraki looked over, and with a scoff, he answered. "It wouldn't take half as long if I didn't hear someone pacing around at five o'clock in the morning." For a brief moment, Kurogiri saw Compress's shoulders stiffen. The movement was miniscule, but it was a confirmation. Toga noticed as well, apparently, because she leaned over to Compress. "What's wrong, Mr.? You look a little tense." Kurogiri knew as well as Toga did that Compress couldn't exactly talk his way out of this one, especially when he didn't have the time to come up with a lie.

With a forced laugh, Compress handed Twice his cards. "Oh nothing, just remembered something important is all." Toga rolled her eyes, but didn't push as Compress stood up and made his way past Kurogiri, towards the front door. "Where're you going at this hour Mr.?" Spinner didn't bother pausing his game as he glanced over. Compress didn't answer, just bowed slightly with another forced out laugh, a little dramatically, to Kurogiri, and left.

Toga and Kurogiri met eyes again as Shigaraki looked up at the door. With a grumbled "He better be back tomorrow." He stood up and went upstairs, no doubt to plan their next move. Toga sat up on the stool closest to Kurogiri, and played with the knife she had. Kurogiri didn't pay much attention until her question had him scrambling to not drop the glass he was holding. "So, you care for Mr, right? You gonna try seduce him to sleep or something?" Twice's dry wheeze mixed with Spinner's groan of second-hand embarrassment was lost to Kurogiri's loud yell.

"I'm not going to seduce Atsuhiro into sleeping! What do you take me for-?!" Kurogiri knew that if he felt warmth at all, he'd be a blushing mess. Toga giggled and leaned forward. "So you're not going to deny you care for him? That's adorable!" Spinner ended up dying, screen flashing as he spat his drink out, Twice falling into laughter to the side of him. Kurogiri spluttered, caught off guard from the question, because no, he wasn't going to deny it. But the thought of admitting that created a sick feeling Kurogiri was unused to in his gut.

"I care for all of you equally, that includes Atsuhiro." Kurogiri said instead, finding avoidance easier than defense. Toga nodded a little. "Nice save, mist man." Twice gave a thumbs up and the middle finger from the table. Kurogiri sighed a little as he nodded his thanks. "So, we're all in agreement?" Spinner finally recovered, and looked up. "Agreement on..?" Toga pointed at the cards. "That we're gonna make Mr. sleep like we helped you with your addiction to Monster, or Tomura and his food issues!" Spinner nodded, a faint "Ohhhh-" following from Twice. Kurogiri just nodded, having suffered enough embarrassment for one evening. Toga clapped her hands together, cheering. So that's how Kurogiri ended up getting roped into helping the league's resident magician into sleeping a full eight hours.

The task, however, was easier said than done.

Atsuhiro didn't end up returning until just before Kurogiri "woke up" for the day, and Kurogiri found him donning just his balaclava, scrubbing the already spotless countertop at half six in the morning. He seemed more tired than usual, movements sluggish and his reaction was delayed when Kurogiri entered the room. "Atsuhiro?" Kurogiri called, and got no answer the first time, so he walked up to the man. "Atsuhiro." Kurogiri was caught off guard by the full body flinch he received as an answer. "Yes-?" Compress looked up at Kurogiri, eyes drooped more so than last night, Kurogiri was sure.

"Are you alright? You look rather tired." Kurogiri wasn't sure why he spoke like he was addressing an angry Shigaraki, but it felt natural. Compress let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like an exhale than anything else. "I'm well, I had a little run-in on the way back, nothing serious." Kurogiri didn't like how that sounded, nor did he like how Compress avoided his second comment. Compress made his way towards the bar, and Kurogiri spoke up again, keeping his voice low. "The other's are worried, you know."

Compress paused, but kept walking after a moment. "Worried about what exactly? Are they not aware I can take a punch?" Kurogiri barely suppressed an eye roll. "You know what I mean, Atsuhiro. They don't like watching friends suffer." Compress looked down at the drink he was pouring. "I'm not suffering," he started, only to have his coffee taken away from him. "Hey-" Kurogiri held up the cup. "Go a day without this, then we'll discuss how you're "not suffering". Alright?" Compress snorted dryly. "Very funny, can I have my drink back?"

Kurogiri didn't answer, walking back to the kitchen, Compress hot on his heels. "I mean it, go a day without a single drop of coffee, or anything made to keep people awake." Kurogiri poured the coffee down the sink, watching it with a sick sort of satisfaction. Compress glared up at the back of Kurogiri's head. "I'm not a child, Giri, don't treat me like one." Kurogiri turned to see Compress and crossed his arms. "Take care of yourself, as an adult would, Atsuhiro."

Compress sighed. "I do take care of myself," he snapped, and Kurogiri raised a brow. "And the one time I don't I'm getting heckled?" Kurogiri actually laughed at that, surprising Compress. "This "one time"? Atsuhiro, I've seen you mix Spinner's Monster into your coffee." Compress didn't have an argument to that, and spluttered for a few seconds before throwing his hands up. "That was only once!"

Kurogiri didn't hesitate. "It was not, I've seen you mix plenty of things together, you put salt in water one time to wake yourself up." Compress paused. "How did you-?" Kurogiri gestured to himself. "I see everything, Atsuhiro." Compress didn't know whether to laugh or ask what else he'd seen. "That's irrelevant, that doesn't mean I don't take care of myself." Compress argued, and Kurogiri caught himself before he snapped. "Atsuhiro, sleeping is included in the act of taking care of yourself." Compress shrugged. "And? It's not affecting my performance, is it?"

Kurogiri shook his head. "Maybe not, but that's not the point. You can't neglect yourself like this." Compress rubbed his eyes, trying to make it seem like he was more irritated than tired. Before he could speak, Twice walked in. For a second, Compress thought he was seeing things again, because Twice slept like a log, and it took forever to wake him up. "Jin? It's almost seven am, what are you-" Twice yawned loudly, obviously faking it, but Kurogiri was the only one who noticed. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come down here." Twice mumbles, putting on a sleepy voice. Compress was at his side before Kurogiri could blink. "Well it's too early for you to be awake, come on," Compress walked Twice upstairs and completely missed the thumbs up Kurogiri received from Twice.

Half an hour later, Twice came down again, and Spinner looked up from his cereal. "Did it work?" Kurogiri sighed in relief at Twice's enthusiastic nod and shake of his head. "It worked like a charm! He's sleeping like a dead man up there." Kurogiri relaxed as Spinner gave Twice a high-five. Toga sauntered down another hour later, and showed the group a photo she snapped of Compress to prove he was still asleep. It was adorable, according to Toga and Twice, Spinner thought it was unusually sweet, and Kurogiri had the photo saved on his phone, simply because it was nice.

Now unfortunately, once Compress woke up, he was pissed. He refused to speak to Twice for the rest of the day, and Spinner joined Twice in the silent treatment swiftly after he showed Compress the photo. However, Compress was well rested, and that was all Kurogiri cared for. "You don't look as tired, Atsuhiro." Kurogiri said offhandedly. Compress glared slightly. "Don't give me that now. I said I didn't need sleep." Kurogiri sighed, a little too fondly to be friendly, but he didn't care in that moment. He didn't feel the need to answer that.

The league's only issue was getting Compress to follow a sleeping pattern. Compress often avoided sitting on the couch for too long, or sitting in a car, he often shifted restlessly. Kurogiri had tried again and again to get Compress to agree with a normal sleep schedule, but he simply refused. Spinner so far had been the most successful forcing him to sleep, because the car rides with him were to often end up long and Compress fell victim to his tiredness.

Then one day, by some miracle, they made progress.

Kurogiri was cleaning the bar, the others out on a mission. Or, mostly everyone. Shigaraki got pissed at Compress for not sleeping, having also become invested over the last few weeks, and made him stay at home. Compress was on the couch, writing something down as Kurogiri worked. At first, Kurogiri wasn't aware of what Compress was doing. He looked over to check on him, having not heard anything from the man in a while, only to find him out cold, laying down. Kurogiri froze when he saw it. Compress willingly fell asleep on the couch. Kurogiri couldn't help the feeling of pride burst through at the sight of progress.

Oh so gently, Kurogiri brushed his hand over Compress's cheek, relishing in the warmth that seeped into him before disappearing. Compress stayed asleep, his only reaction being him burying his face further into the couch. The feeling of wanting to keep Compress asleep, hold him close and never let anyone near was almost vocalised, and Kurogiri found he didn't mind the feeling so much, and wrapped Compress up in a blanket. Leaving some water on the table in front of him, Kurogiri got back to work and let Compress sleep.

Soon, though, Kurogiri found they had a slight problem.

Compress was sleeping irregularly still, but now he conked out anywhere and everywhere. This wouldn't be an issue if it stayed exclusively in the base. Kurogiri had his own version of a heart attack when Big Sis Magne burst through the door, carrying an unconscious Compress. "The hell happened?!" Shigaraki demanded, dropping his controller. Toga walked over. "Who do I need to cut?" Magne shook her head, setting Compress down next to Twice, who moved to let Spinner check for injuries.

"I just found him out back," Magne explained. "I wasn't sure whether he was dead or asleep, so I brought him in." Kurogiri came back into the room, medical kit in hand. Spinner looked up from the couch. "There's no broken bones, or any new injuries." Magne sighed in relief, sinking onto the bar stool closest. "Just some scratches and bruises," Spinner continued, moving Compress so he could lay down. "They're kind of old, but still." Spinner said. Kurogiri frowned under the mist and came over. Spinner got to work, just as Dabi came down the stairs. "What's all the murder plotting about?" He asked, grabbing a beer from the bar.

"Someone hurt Mr. so we're planning revenge, wanna roast them with us?" Toga span the knife she held, a different one with patterns, Kurogiri noted. Dabi scoffed a little, but he didn't say no. "I got nothing better to do." Was all he said in response to Twice's stare. Kurogiri chose not to question Dabi, nodding to him in a small thanks, to which Dabi didn't respond. "We going or what? I could use an outlet." Twice jumped up to follow Toga out the door, Dabi following the pair after he'd finished downing the beer. "Be careful darlings!" Magne called as the door swung shut.

Spinner sat back, satisfied with his work. Kurogiri scooped Compress up wordlessly, and made his way to Compress's room. Kurogiri kicked the door open, stopping it before it hit the wall, and set Compress down on the bed in the far corner. Compress shifted, mumbling incoherently and rubbing his eyes. "Atsuhiro," Kurogiri muttered, and Compress looked up at him with half opened eyes. Compress hummed as Kurogiri brought the blankets up around him. Kurogiri heard Compress's half aware questions, and chose to not answer them and to make him comfortable.

"Kurogiri?" Compress tried again to get the bartenders attention, and only when he moved to sit up was he given said attention. "Atsuhiro, don't do that, lay back down." Kurogiri spoke quietly, and Compress huffed before complying, more tired than usual. Kurogiri finished his dotting and walked over to the door, moving to close it. He took one final look at Compress, who was already falling asleep. "Goodnight, Atsuhiro." Kurogiri didn't expect a response, and left before he could be proven wrong.

After that, the term "Code Orange" came to light. Whenever anyone stumbled upon a sleeping Compress, they'd message the league "Code Orange" and their location if they weren't in the base. It was the easiest solution to their dilemma. Kurogiri has often gotten pinged in the league's group chat he swears he regrets making, by Twice, Toga, or anyone who found Compress asleep. It's become a sort of competition, who can find Compress, and who can find him in the weirdest place. Kurogiri has gotten some weird photos the past few weeks, but it's worth it if Atsuhiro is sleeping.

Even their newest member, Hawks, has been informed of their shenanigans. Though he doesn't volunteer outright, he helps the nearest person find Compress for the fun of it. Though conversations of sleeping have been banned between the two by Dabi of all people, who once dragged Compress away from Hawks after burning him. When Kurogiri asked, Dabi explained what he'd walked in on.

Dabi simply wanted a beer, that was it. He didn't expect Hawks to be chatting up to Compress of all people, fake smiles and cracking jokes. Dabi didn't care until he heard Hawks. "So, from what I've gathered, you don't sleep a lot do you Mr.?" Compress scoffed, refusing to show the newer member a sliver of vulnerability. "Who did you hear that one from?" He said instead, closing to ignore Hawks's snickering. "Just everyone I've asked." Hawks answer smoothly. Compress sighed, putting his glass down. "Well I'm not in the mood to be lectured, so let's not." Compress said simply, and Dabi just knew that one made Hawks's feathers bristle.

"On the contrary, I think it's a good thing you get shit done instead of sleeping, Mr." Dabi stopped, refusing to give himself away just yet, but he was close. Compress didn't answer for a minute, caught off guard. "Yeah!" Hawks continued, uncaring of the lack of response. "If we remove the eight or more hours you spend sleeping, that makes up so much more room for productivity, right?" Compress nodded. "However, human bodies have their limits." Compress countered, remembering what Kurogiri had told him after one nap he took after not sleeping for a while. (Four days, but you didn't hear that from him)

Hawks shrugged. "Who cares about limits if you're making progress?" Compress tapped his fingers against the bar. While that was true, he'd hate to make the others worry more for him by going back to square one. "Mr.?" Compress snapped his head up, not realising he had spaced out. Hawks was standing, leaning over the bar, over Compress. He looked taller, or was that just the wings? "I asked if you wanted to pull an all-nighter with me to get some work done." Hawks repeated, and before Compress could even think about it, Dabi was there.

His hand met Hawks's wing and he was jumping away, yelling. Compress glanced between the two and made a mental note to stop spacing out as Dabi grabbed his arm and started moving. "Wait-" Compress started, only to have Dabi pull him over to Kurogiri. "Hawks isn't allowed talk about sleep with Mr. anymore." Kurogiri looked between the two. "Alright, why..?" Dabi pointed back at Hawks, who was still nursing his wing. "I have a point!" Compress shrugged when asked about what Hawks asked.

Compress took up on that offer, only because Hawks quite literally broke into his room.

A few weeks later, Hawks was at his agency, checking up on the league's chat and trying to handle an injury Tokoyami had received. He'd been knocked out of the air, landing with a solid crash into a car. As Hawks took the glass out, Toga called him. "Who's that, sir?" Tokoyami asked, leaning over. Hawks laughed, a little forced. "Just a random number." He hung up on Toga with a quick apology text. A few minutes later, there was a dim in the lights as the projector turned on. Tokoyami jumped up, arm half stitched, and Hawks sighed. "A heroes job is never done, huh?" The two looked up at the image projecting on the screen. "Is that—?" Tokoyami asked, and Hawks nodded.

Toga was on the screen, laughing as she went on about random things. "I hope you can see this," she said. Twice burst into the room, making Toga jump. "Oh! Jin, you have to say hi." She jumped up excitedly, only to be interrupted. "We've got a Code Orange, do you know where Dabi is? Cause Kurogiri is freaking out." Toga frowned. Hawks snorted loudly, recognising the term. Tokoyami looked over with a tilt of his head. "Nothing, it's nothing." Hawks waved his intern off.

"I haven't seen Dabi, but Spinner might've? And why's Kurogiri freaking out?" Toga stood up and started walking out the hallway, camera on Twice's back. "Just look! It's really stupid." Toga walked into the bar, and gasped. "That's adorable!" Kurogiri groaned from somewhere off camera. "Wonderful, what did I say about recording?" Toga didn't answer, and pointed the camera at the source of the problem. Tokoyami stared, utterly confused. Hawks barely suppressed a laugh.

Kurogiri was standing at an awkward angle, and Compress was sleeping against him, snoring quietly. Twice was wearing his hat as Toga snickered. "Kurogiri, scariest member of the league, also a pillow." Twice gestured as Compress would, making Toga fall into laughter. Kurogiri grumbled angrily, but didn't dare move. Hawks looked over at Tokoyami. "Guess we don't have to worry much, huh?" Tokoyami nodded after a second, sitting back down and letting Hawks continue to stitch his arm.

Kurogiri gave in, wrapping his arms around Compress as Twice and Toga snapped photos. Kurogiri gingerly picked Compress up, taking care not to disturb him. Other than an exhale, the magician stayed asleep. Kurogiri brought him to the couch, and before he could set him down, Compress's hands clasped at Kurogiri's waistcoat. "Come on, Atsuhiro." Kurogiri said quietly, trying again to put the man down. He didn't seem to want to, though. Kurogiri decided with a huff to just sit down and let himself be used as a pillow, just this once. Compress curled up, blissfully unaware of the embarrassment he was causing as he slept. Kurogiri indulged a little, holding the man close and leaning back.

Twice plopped next to them, deciding that it was nap time for him as well, and promptly fell asleep, head dropping onto Kurogiri's shoulder. "Twice?" Kurogiri was now effectively trapped, and Toga fell on his other side, so now there really was no getting out of this. Kurogiri sighed loudly, and ran a hand through Compress's hair. "You're going to be the death of me," he spoke softly, admiring how relaxed Compress was against his hand. "I think I'm alright with that, though." Compress didn't answer, nor did he hear anything Kurogiri had said, but he didn't need to. Not when eventually, everyone in the league was laying down napping, Kurogiri keeping watch. Kurogiri was just fine, as long as he got to hold those he called a family close.

[Listen, I'm in love with BlackMagic at the moment- it's just so soft-]

[I'm definitely gonna write a mini spin-off about Hawks and Compress staying up all night to do work- (and most likely get off topic-)]

[maybe even include Kurogiri finding their dumbasses-]

[Anyways- hope you enjoyed! Stay safe! :D]

#boku no hero academia #bnha league of villains #bnha mr compress #bnha kurogiri #bnha dabi #bnha toga #bnha twice #bnha shigaraki #bnha spinner #bnha hawks #tokoyami #blackmagic #some parts of this were vERY SELF INDULGENT-#totally worth it tho

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

I need to take this out of my lungs, HANGE AND LEVI AS MIA WALLACE AND VINCENT VEGA FROM PULP FICTION oof 💖💖

Title: No Foot Massages

Summary:

'You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages'

"Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi decided to keep it simple. Keep it distant. Keep it casual. Keep it fun."

Levi is ordered to take care of a married Hange for a weekend.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Note:

That movie was just... a roller coaster ride really.

This ended up a quick fic I wrote in between some meeting we were forced to attend outside office hours.

You might be disappointed by the lack of sex and drugs compared to the actual movie. But I'm leaving my adult content for another one shot ;)

“A new mission?”

Erwin nodded and rested his chin on his hands. “Looks like our boss is gonna be gone for the weekend, on a trip to the Middle East and he’s leaving his wife alone in the house. You think you can handle taking care of her?”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “He has a wife? What’s her name?”

“Hange Zoe.”

“How did they meet?”

Erwin shrugged. “How else do rich people meet their wives?”

“They pick the prettiest woman around right?” Because they can. Levi added to himself. Somehow though, a name had so easily accompanied the face. And she wasn’t at all what people would have concluded to be ‘the prettiest woman around.’

Erwin narrowed his eyes at Levi. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking? I just thought she wouldn’t be the prettiest woman around. Not enough to attract the richest person within the walls right?”

“But why are you making that face?”

“What face?”

“The face of intention…” Erwin gave him a knowing look.

A face of intention? Even before Levi though could figure out how exactly he had looked to Erwin, the latter continued speaking.

“Do you know what happens when someone lays a hand on Marsellus’ wife? Do you remember what happened to Moblit?” Erwin asked.

Moblit? It had been a while since Levi heard that name, or has seen him walking through the hallways in between meetings.

“Well, our big boss sent some of his men after him. They broke into his apartment and pushed him out the window. ”

That was enough explanation at least for Levi to remember… Moblit was dead. “For what?”

“On account of one Hange Zoe.”

“What did he do? Fuck her?”

“He gave her a foot massage.”

“A foot massage?”

Erwin nodded his head.

“But… what if her feet just hurt?” Levi asked.

“It’s laying hands on his wife that’s the problem.”

“He gave her a foot massage. Foot massages are nothing.”

“By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. It’s not the same as fucking her or eating her out but I’m sure you can agree that they’re in the same field right?”

Levi though, was still very much new to the nuances of romance. The world had only recently opened up to him and he was still very much unfamiliar with the cultures outside his own small country. He wrinkled his nose and sighed. Let’s keep it simple. “Okay, so I just have to take her out, keep her happy for just one weekend,” he asked. “And no foot massages right?”

“You’re taking care of a married woman, Levi. No foot massages”

“That’s easy enough,” Levi said. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Romance was something that came slowly, a mysterious thing he never dared to test without putting the time and effort. Yet at the same time, he was aware that the smallest things could constitute cheating or ‘stealing’ with the right context and the most convenient explanations.

So Levi kept it simple. Keep it distance. Keep it casual. Keep it fun.

Erwin’s last three words, he kept like a mantra, a little guideline Levi allowed himself as he approached their mansion.

No foot massages.

*****

“Oh, so you’re captain Levi?”

“You can call me Levi.” We don’t use terms like captain in my job. Levi said silently. But he didn’t mind such a term. The way it had rolled off her tongue had been a little too seamless to have been worth a verbal correction.

Hange settled on the sofa in front of him. The sofa could have fit three people but Hange managed to occupy three people’s worth of space with the way she stretched her legs so messily and if Levi angled his view a little lower, he might have seen something which could have had him thrashed like Moblit.

“Levi huh? Well, given my husband’s position. I guess that makes me your boss too right?” Hange asked.

I only answer to Erwin, and by extension, your husband. That at least had been what was taught to him since he started his job. But somehow, he felt more inclined to listen to Hange first.

“You have anywhere in mind you want to go?”

Hange hummed. “My husband keeps me really busy… so it has been a while since I got to go out like this. To be honest though, I don’t know much about the town. Do you have anything in mind?”

“There’s a new diner in town… Niccolo’s been cooking for Sasha a lot lately so I heard they’ve been offering more in the menu lately.”

Hange grinned. “Then let’s go?”

*****

“What do you think?” Levi asked as they settled into one of the booths in the corner of the restaurant.

Hange didn’t reply. Her face was completely hidden by the menu in front of her. And all Levi did get in return for his consideration were a few hums of approval.

“Your husband is paying. Get whatever you want.”

“Well, I heard Niccolo makes a great milkshake. And Sasha said the seafood from Marley is particularly delicious… So what about lobster?”

“Then we order two lobsters and two milkshakes.” Levi looked at his own menu. The numbers came in two digits, sometimes three.. Something Levi had never gotten used to having grown up in the underground and he found himself having to grip the menu a little harder to stop himself from dropping it. “Wait, you’re willing to pay this much for a milkshake? And Hange… The price of lobster?”

“Why? What’s wrong? These are pretty reasonable prices. It’s not like we can actually get these locally.”

But is your husband willing to pay for the lobster and the milkshake of his own employee? Levi felt the panic well inside him. At the same time, he was still conscious enough to know that such a monster like panic manifested in wide eyes and a sweaty brow. And for once, Levi found himself thanking the lord for that awkward height difference. Made it all the easier to put the menu in front of him.

“My husband told you right? You take me out to do whatever I want this weekend. And I want my lobster and I want my milkshake.”

*****

“We just ate. And you wanna dance?”

Hange only had to look at the stage to answer that question. She had that longing look in her eye, and when she looked back at him, it morphed into something, an expression Levi could have sworn he had only ever seen in dogs. “Levi… You know, I never get to leave the house. Especially when my husband’s home.”

Hange didn’t need the explanation though. Levi had already given in when she had given him that look and we had allowed himself that extra few seconds to stare a little longer. But even before he could give a nod of submission, Hange’s face brightened. She quickly stood up and pulled him along all the way to the top of the stage.

Levi focused on the blinding lights above him. Undoubtedly, it hurt. But for someone who never did get used to having at least fifty people watching him, it was still a better view.

“What a lovely couple we have here!” Niccolo of all people was at the center of the stage microphone in hand. With his free hand he pulled Hange to the front. “Could you introduce yourself and your partner here?”

“Hange Zoe here,” Hange said, with the widest grin on her face.

The crowd exploded into murmurs and among them Levi heard something about a ‘big boss’ and a ‘wife.’

Hey shitty four eyes, you’re gonna have me killed. Levi had reached out his leg half way, ready to kick her in the shin when Hange spoke up again.

“No, Levi here is not my partner. He’s just taking care of me for the weekend.”

There were ‘awws’ of disappointment among the audience and maybe a few heckles. Before Levi even gave in to that bout of self consciousness, looking back at the stairs behind him, Hange had pulled him to the middle of the dance floor. “Come on! Let’s win this.”

The heckles eventually transformed into cheers but Levi had to shake his hips for a few seconds or even a minute longer than he wanted too just to placate that hungry crowd.

He couldn’t dance for sure. He didn’t have the coordination to move everything at once. At that moment, the only thing he did feel was his hips, he jutted out with a few arm movements to add some color at least. That seemingly ridiculous movement though did nothing to erase the nervousness and the tension he felt then.

He looked up at Hange. She was smiling, much more confidently. And a few times she closed her eyes and swayed her head to the music. And she was closer, closer than Levi would have liked. He pulled away, keeping the swaying of his hips and the waving of his arms in check and as he did get a wider view of her, a head to toe view, he became a little more nervous and a little more self conscious.

He was a horrible dancer. He felt it in the way, his body could only move in sharp movements. And he had imagined how he looked to the crowd, a constant mixture of cheers and murmurs. And maybe a few laughs.

But that was the thing. With a limited view of Hange, he could just rely on his imagination to give him a merciful picture of how he looked. But when he stepped back, Hange became a top to bottom picture, a moving picture, her movements too sharp and a little too stiff. With her as reference, Levi became a little more conscious of how the hell he looked at that moment.

Am I that stiff? Levi thought to himself. In reply, his joints creaked to the unnatural movements, his arms shot up and he waved them like he was waving some sort of sword. And his movements although swift, were sharp, they jutted in directions a little too mechanical to have been considered a dance.

And Hange who had closed her eyes, and shaken her head and all directions within a few seconds, who had shot her hands up in the same way, moving her hands and her chest one direction and another, looked fucking ridiculous too.

Levi considered closing his eyes for a second, to at least get into the rhythm and maybe forget the audience behind him, but Hange, with her eyes closed in front of him, looked all the more ridiculous having chosen to forget everything around her.

I could close my eyes and forget... And for a while, as Levi did stare at Hange, he considered following suit.

Levi found an alternative though, an alternative that was so much better in the moment that Levi didn’t even bother weighing or comparing it to anything else. He jumped for that alternative a little too hastily. He rushed towards her, until all he saw in his vision was her face, then when all he saw was her eyes right in front of his.

She opened her brown velvety eyes and for a second, they were the only things he was seeing. But the view had only lasted a second. Too little time to count the colors in her eyes and too little time to admire her lashes and how beautifully they all formed such a unique shape between almond and round.

“Levi what the--”

And even before he could start admiring such a view, he felt a blinding pain, smack on his face.

“What the f---”

The whole word had been against him then, not even allowing him a single taut curse at such a cruel turn of events. They were at the edge of the stage and it turned out they had been for a long while.

And they were fucking idiots. Or so, that was what Levi realized, they were idiots enough that they had only noticed it themselves that they had been going in too many directions at once, only when they found himself tumbling down the stairs.

And Levi did only have a second to process that part, before the world had gone black.

*****

“You won’t tell him right? He’ll kill me.”

“Believe me, he’ll kill me too.”

“So how are you going to explain that,” Levi asked, gesturing a little too subtly at Hange’s swollen ankle propped on the coffee table in front of her.

“Well, how are you gonna explain that…” Hange asked, gesturing at him in general.

Levi didn’t have to look at the mirror to know what she was talking about. His skin was taut and he felt a dull pain spread out across his nose, he was sure at the best case scenario his nose and his cheeks were bruised. But that was the least of his problems then, he wasn’t sure if he’d still be alive and worrying about a possibly broken nose by the end of that week.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t care too much of a minion is bruised up. The more important thing is his wife doesn’t come out of this worse off.” Levi got up and went to the kitchen. “You’re going to have to wrap that.”

Levi’s penchant for cleanliness and orderliness had made it a little too easy for him to deduce where the first aid supplies would be hidden in such a high end house and Levi found himself back in the living room a second later, bandages in hand. He dropped it on the coffee table next to her.

“Here,” he said. He sat in front of her, leaning one elbow on his knee, propping his chin on his elbow.

Hange only returned his look, with an expectant one of her own.

“What?”

“Well…” Hange stretched out. “It would be a little awkward if I tried to bind my own ankle right? What if I fall off the couch?”

No foot massages. Erwin’s words echoed in Levi’s mind as he stared at the swollen foot in front of him for a little longer than what would have been normal.

And Hange noticed. “You don’t know how?”

“I know how to bind a sprained ankle.”

“Then why don’t you?”

No Foot Massages. Their words loomed on him like a ghost and as Levi gripped the roll of bandages, unravelling them slowly, he started to realize, there was no way of wrapping bandages on a sprained ankle, without caressing, without gripping at her injured foot and without pressing at a few areas as he tightened the bandage and got rid of the few pockets of air.

But I had to do this right? He can’t kill me for giving her the care she needs...

But just in case, he did make sure to confirm with her. “This doesn’t count as a foot massage right?”

*****

That weekend passed by in blur. Or maybe because he didn’t want it to end. And the world had proved multiple times already that it was constantly on a mission to fuck him over.

Saturday and Sunday were peaceful, too peaceful that it shouldn’t have gone too fast. Then, with nothing much to do but nurse his broken nose, keep Hange company, and nurse her through the first few 24 hours of dealing with a swollen ankle

And with nothing else to stimulate his mind or his senses but the brunette next to him on the sofa, Levi started to notice something a little more glaring.

“You haven’t showered since I came here.”

“Okay, thank you for that statement,” Hange said, not even looking up from the book she was reading.

“That’s not a statement. That’s a light suggestion.”

“Okay, I can ignore the suggestion.”

“It’s a request.”

“Well requests can be rejected right?”

“I would appreciate it if you explain why you’re rejecting that request.”

Hange gave her bandaged ankle a long stare, looked back at Levi then back at her book.

“Then I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“No. I’m at a good part.”

“Well, I can’t stand you stinking up the house either.”

“This is my house. I can let it stink how much I want!”

Pulling her out of the couch had been a blur of an ordeal. He felt like he had done it many times before so even with the flailing of arms, the screams and despite all that, the great care he had to take with her sprained ankle, he had managed to forget it all as he sat outside her bedroom, letting the sound of the running water calm him down.

“You okay in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her words were garbled, cracked between syllables and Levi found himself peeking in, just to check if she had been okay.

“Hey…”

A mop of hair should have been visible, even with the steam that blanketed the bathroom. Alarmingly, there had been nothing there.

“Hange, are you there? Hey, don’t die on me fucker.”

“I’m fine… Levi… I’m just tired.” Hange said, between bubbles and short breaths.

“I’m not leaving this room.”

“Then don’t leave,” Hange said, as she sat up a little straighter on the bathtub. And that was when Levi saw it, the hesitation, the recoil. He heard it soon after, the creak then the whimper.

“Tired isn’t supposed to be painful.”

“Well I’m exhausted and sometimes being exhausted is painful.”

Didn’t we spend the past few days doing nothing though? Levi thought to himself. But time had been an illusion the past few days and he could have sworn only a few seconds had passed by since that long dance in the diner. Even with the past two days of doing nothing, somehow he did understand the exhaustion.

In fact, he understood it a little too well. His own instinct had been to approach her, reach out a hand on her shoulder and squeeze. Her shoulders were hard and for a while, it had felt like they were pushing back.

But Levi was strong and he easily won that small battle with that knot on her shoulder.

Hange let out stilted breath. “That felt good.”

“Why is your body so stiff…” Levi asked as he ran his hands over her shoulder. He squeezed points right after the other, and her body could have been made of those knots and he wouldn’t have been too surprised. It was unsettling and almost terrifying.

“I told you. My husband overworks me all the time.”

“But really what do you do…”

“I work… I work everyday.” Hange said.

“Work for what…” Levi continued as he ran his hands up her neck.

Hange stretched her neck, letting out a resounding crack. “I don’t wanna disappoint…”

Disappoint him? His hands were over her damp hair, and he found himself amazed by how easily his fingers had untangled the waves in her hair.

“Disappoint?”

Hange turned to him and stood up.

“Disappoint him?” Levi asked. And as the haze cleared, as Hange stood up, and grabbed the towel, for a second Levi did see her raw, damp and very much exposed.

Exposed in ways that only her husband should have had the privilege to see. And Levi only noticed it then.

No foot messages right? Foot massages were actually very innocent things.

By laying hands I mean, laying hands in a familiar way. In fact, foot massages were such innocent things, Levi would have been happy to confess to a foot massage if it meant forgetting everything else he had done.

Fuck, he’s not just gonna be disappointed. He’s gonna be angry. Furious. He’s gonna fucking kill me.

And the steam chose that moment to disperse, the steam chose the moment when Hange was looking back at him yet still a good many movements away from wrapping that towel around herself.

And for some reason, Levi couldn't move. He couldn't walk away nor could he put his eyes up in some sort of defense. The only thing he had control of then had been his voice. But would she listen?

Either way, it was worth a try. “Hange, stop. Don’t!”

“You didn’t sleep well last night did you?”

Levi’s blinked back from that last view. That transition had been a little too abrupt. In what world would steam, with the silhouette of a naked Hange open up to a pile of paperwork on a desk? His mind had asked him then.

A voice had broken through his mindspace to answer it. “You looked like you were having a bad dream there. You okay?”

Levi looked up to see Hange clad in survey corps green coat, like she always had been, every single day before that.

And that… That was a fucking dream. Levi let out a long sigh. He wasn’t some low life stealing someone’s wife. He was a captain. And Hange was his commander.

“I’m fine. Sorry I dozed off for a while. How long was I out?”

“Around 12, I came back from a quick lunch and found you asleep. So looking at the watch now… Two hours?”

“And you didn’t wake me up?”

“You looked tired,” Hange said matter-of-factly, she said it too calmly that to Levi, it had been almost painful hearing it. Hange didn’t look like she had slept well either, her worry lines were more apparent and her eyes tended to droop a little more than usual.

And Levi found himself focusing particularly on the way her shoulders dropped yet at the same time stiffened. From a meter away, Levi could already pick out the knots on her shoulders and he was certain she never did give them a proper stretch. “You always look tired. That’s why I’ve told you many times before, give me some of your work.”

“No need to deal with any of those, I fixed the purchase orders already.”

“What about these?” Levi asked as he read through the topmost paper.

“I read through and documented everything already.”

“Then why are they here?”

“You’re still the head of the special squad. So I thought you’d want to review the purchase orders for the weapons.”

“I could have dealt with this myself,” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange.

“Well it’s done at least. Doesn’t matter who did it.”

“No. It does. You’re constantly tired,” Levi said. “You might get sick or hell, you might drop dead at the rate you’re going.”

“I’m commander, it’s my job to read through all this.” Hange walked back to her desk and gently tapped the stack of papers on her desk.

“I can take some of that,” Levi offered.

Hange shook her head. “These are reports on the installation of the new train line. I don’t think this is the type of paperwork I can easily hand over to anyone else. Just read through the purchase orders, tell me if I missed anything.”

Even when Hange was requesting something with such a serious face, it had almost sounded pleading. And Levi felt almost obligated to look through every single one of the records very carefully, even after poring through more than half of them and coming up fairly convinced that there would be no mistakes among the pages worth of purchase orders.

No calculation errors. No typos. Levi had spent the last two hours before the sun set, even doing some quick calculations and estimations through them to be sure. Hange was thorough.

Before Levi knew it, the office started to come out looking a light orange, a far cry from the dull rustic brown hue that blanketed it most of the day.

It had been a comforting view long ago, when it had been a sign of the end of a long busy day.

But recently, Hange had been staying longer, even after the bright orange faded into purples and into a dark blue, even long after Hange had to turn on dim light. What had been the most unsettling part for Levi though had been the fact that she never did go home. When he entered the office in the morning she was there. When he left the house for the night she was there.

As if she were married to her job.

“Hey.”

Hange looked up, catching his gaze. “You need something?”

Her eyes were glossy from what could have been a constant stream of exhaustion and somehow that made Levi all the more determined to get her out. “What’s your plan tomorrow?”

Hange shrugged. “Depends what I finish tonight.”

“You haven’t taken a rest in so long. It’s like you’re married to your job.”

“I don’t wanna disappoint,” Hange explained. “Erwin made me commander for a reason.”

“We never got to check out that one fancy restaurant. I heard that Marleyan soldier makes really good food.”

“New shipments are coming tomorrow so I’m going to have to go to the port and---”

“That can wait until tomorrow,” Levi approached her table, placing his hand gently on the edge. “One night. Forget about your work for one night. I promise, we’ll have a great time.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “A great time? It’s been a while since I had one.”

“And all I’m asking for is one night. You’re not happy married to your work.”

Hange sighed. “Actually you might be right. I have been pretty miserable lately. Maybe because I never give myself a break.” She pushed the papers haphazardly to one side of the table. “One night,” she repeated.

They could have taken the carriage to the restaurant and could have been there in five minutes. But somehow, Levi was scrambling for reasons to make the night last longer. And Hange didn’t protest.

They were walking through the more silent parts of town. The walk took them through winding paths that only prolonged their trek to the restaurant. Although they were very much familiar with that part of town, neither of them protested such a silent decision.

“You know, you were smiling in your sleep for a while,” Hange said.

“Was I?”

“Then suddenly, you were frowning. Then you woke up screaming,” Hange said, widening her eyes in emphasis. “Was it a bad dream?”

Was it? “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“It had good parts and bad parts.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There were a lot of things which happened there, which I wish could happen in real life… And other parts were just…” Levi trailed off. He felt himself shudder just thinking of that phantom husband of Hange.

“Things you wish could happen? You mean… like a happy ending after the war or something?”

Some of the pictures though had Levi cringing and unable to stop that grimace that played at his lips. Levi looked away as soon as he felt the blood rush to his face. “What about… You enjoy tonight… Like enjoy to your heart’s content, take a great rest. And I’ll tell you.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you so eager to hide something from me. ” Hange let out one whistle, one provocative whistle that only served to make Levi’s blood boil. “But I’ll hold you to do that.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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turkishdreams · 3 years

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before i get to giffing this week’s episodes..

i normally don’t do write-ups for baht oyunu or ada masalı but i just had some thoughts that i really wanted out of my head. this got a bit out of hand and became longer than i intended oops 😅 and ofc, beware of spoilers!

so this week’s episodes of both baht oyunu and ada masalı dealt with quite a lot of pain and heartbreak, which really put my shipper heart thru the wringer. but that’s what we get for clowning and investing as much as we do, right? 🤡

i really wanted to give a special shoutout to AM for finally having all the cards on the table. a lot of the times with dizis they tend to drag out the miscommunication and lies to no end, but seeing them confront all the lies and deception in one go was so flippin’ refreshing. not to mention, that scene where haziran and poyraz were locked up in that hotel room and just hashing everything out.. that deserves all 👏 the 👏 awards👏 their acting was so well done, i had tears in my eyes by the end.

and you know what? i also really appreciate that the writing gives haziran a lot of credit for trying to fix her mistakes and still wanting to stick around as opposed to her moping around and leaving the island out of self-pity, which is what we normally see. even just her locking both of them up in the hotel room just so she could have a chance to present her side of the situation was legendary behaviour, but for her to step out afterwards and claim her mark on this island, knowing she would be ostracized and heckled was the cherry on top. im HERE for this queen shit 👑 they really don’t write female characters like this so i'm just so excited that we’re going somewhere new that i personally haven’t experienced before in diziland.

also, thank god that 🐍 hakan got exposed for the lying cheat that he is as well. i was so worried that he would still get away with all his crimes and just blame it all on haziran, but he also got what was coming for him and i’m just so pumped about that. sure he got away by the end of the episode, but that ass-whooping was SO satisfying.

of course, the next couple episodes are gonna be pretty intense and filled with a lot of pain, but they’ve ripped off the bandaid at this point and now everything just has to settle down and heal. which means they can get back to falling in love without any more hurdles and lies!! what a win, right??? like honestly, as a viewer & fan, i feel respected in a sense bc they’re not wasting our time with any more intricate lies and we’re finally getting down to the bottom of things, we’re not beating around the bush anymore.

which leads me to baht oyunu..

trust me when i say i actually enjoyed this latest episode a lot, purely for the angst. but at some point, the can of worms has to come out, right? and the lies just keep piling up, there’s no end to it. the worst is that SO many ppl are becoming involved, right down to ada’s prof - who’s a real one btw - for not clarifying with bora that ada never graduated.

i hate to compare, but after seeing this week’s ep of AM, it’s hard not to wish for something similar to happen in BO bc as a viewer i’m starting to get confused about who’s in on all the lies and who’s not. as far as i can tell, the major lies seem to be that a) ada’s married - happily and b) ada graduated, but because of these lies, a lot of smaller lies have stemmed like selin being married.

i know with a show like BO where everything is more light-hearted, we can’t expect the same sort of fallout like poyhaz had in AM but man it would be really cathartic. i just want all cards on the table, i want everything cleared up so that adbor can also move on and fall in love without anything burdening them. with the way the show has been going so far, i really thought they would be switching things up and having a confession earlier on, but i’m starting to think we’re gonna have to wait for it just like every other dizi. i hope to god i’m wrong tho.

also, if we really think about it, why would bora even be personally affected by these lies? like she basically just lied on her resume and got the job, and is amazing at her job. if bora wasn’t already falling for her, would this really be that big of an issue to him? it shouldn’t matter, right? the most this would be is a breach of contract, a breach of trust, but the longer they drag it out, the more involved he becomes (unnecessarily). she didn’t exactly do him dirty by lying and getting the job, she got the job for her own means, not as a favour to him or anything.

the fragman for next week’s ep doesn’t really make me feel any better, but obviously i’ll still be around, esp to see jealous bora lol. idk, i just feel like it’s really unfair to both ada and bora’s characters to have all this be so dragged out, esp considering how much all this is weighing on ada's conscience and how supportive bora has been this whole time.

bora continues to surprise me with how he's ALWAYS there for ada and notices the tiniest things about her. he's becoming one of my fav characters in any turkish dizi. which is why im equally as jumpy to see how exactly he would react when all the truths are exposed. i highly doubt he'll be as erratic as poyraz, he'll more likely be very emotional and disappointed. and he's been trying to connect the dots since the beginning instead of being totally blissful so when exactly do we get to see the outcome of that? atp im more impatient than he is for everything to be laid out 😅

all in all, these episodes were still fantastic and we better gear up for more pain coming our way before our mains get the peace and love they deserve 🥲 im gonna get to giffing tonight so if you have any requests pls hit me up (that is if any of you are still reading). also if you like these write-ups, i might do more in the future 😊

also also, im lowkey thinking about making a twitter account so that i can be engaged in the dizi fandoms in a different way and possibly share more of my thoughts, is that something you guys would be interested in seeing or nah?

EDIT: i did end up making a twitter account, check it out @ xturkishdreams if you wanna give it a follow!

as always thanks for the support, until next time 💖

#baht oyunu #baht oyunu spoilers #ada masalı #ada masali #ada masalı spoilers #misc

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ninjakasuga · 3 years

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Sonally Week Year 3 Day One

Another year, another of @gojira007 and their blog @boundforfreedomsonsal hosting another week of one of the best OTP’s of fiction. Here’s my entry for Day One: Dawn.

Foreward: Another year; another Sonally Week! Here’s my entry for Day One, and hope ya’all enjoy. This one is a sequel of sorts to my “Surprise” Day entry last year, where after some heckling over certain aspects of his romance with Sally; Sonic gets the news he’s gonna be a big brother! Instead of a literally dawn I decided to do a more thematic ‘dawn of a new part of life’ aspect than the actual time of day.

“Sonic.”

The blue furred Hedgehog in question continued to pace the floor, seeming to either not hear, or simply not regard the call of his name. He stopped, but not to reply, and began to tap his foot repeatedly as he often did in a show of impatience. Soon he was pacing yet again, causing the one trying to get his attention to sigh in exasperation, again.

“Sonic!” Raising her voice, just-oh-so-slightly, Sally again, attempted to get the attention of her fiancé’ this time reaching out and managing to grasp his tail and give it a small yank. Probably not the best thing for Sonic’s pride as he let out the cutest squeak in response, but Sally didn’t mind. Smiling coyly yet with a hint of apology in her eyes as he turned to face her, she reached for his arm, softly rubbing it. “Calm down a bit hun, you’re going to wear the floor out.” Rubbing his slightly sore posterior, Sonic gave his beloved a mild glare that softened almost as soon as it appeared; agitation giving way to the concern plaguing him. “Sorry Sal, it’s just, well it’s been over an hour since the expected due date. What’s the hold up?”

A voice quips from a chair along the opposite side of the waiting room from Sonic and Sally. “Well that’s how labor sometimes goes Sonny-boy. I mean you didn’t exactly pop out as soon as your Ma’s water broke. Slow-going was the name of the game.” Chuckled Charles Hedgehog, finding much amusement in his nephew’s impatience. An impatience he very much empathized with, but knew better than to get too riled up at this point. “So an hour past when the doctor expects the babies to come is small change, especially compared to how you made everyone wait a whole ten hours and ninety-one minutes before you finally graced us with your presence.”

Sitting besides Charles, Rosie Woodchuck let out her own dainty but hearty giggle as she reached to give the silver-furred Hedgehog a gentle squeeze of his hand. “Oh the language coming out of that room. We both feared for your brother’s manlihood if not his existence.”

“I wasn’t that hard on Mom was I?” Inquired Sonic with genuine curiosity mixed with a mild hint of indignity. His gaze only half-way went to his Uncle and Rosie; mainly because he still found it weird they were dating. Correction had been dating on the down-low since, well, a long time with the two only having a ‘break’ when he’d been roboticized all those years. He was genuinely happy for them, but it was still just plain weird to him.

“I think pregnancy is hard for any woman the first time around, or so I read and was told.” Mused Sally as she gently pulled Sonic to sit beside her, rubbing his quills to both straighten them out, and to soothe his nerves. Not unlike Sonic she was still processing the semi-recent revelation that her beloved former Nanny and Sir Charles had been dating under everyone’s noses for so long. Then again should she be surprised? Both were rather private people about their personal lives outside of whatever they did with friends and family. Not to mention the true reason they kept it quiet back in the day had more to do with concerns their positions in the Royal Court would cause unrest for some if their more intimate relationship came to light.

Looking toward Rosie, Sally was now curious about her own birth given the topic. “Were Elias or I rough on Mother?”

Rosie shook her head, “Not really, Elias took some time, but your dear Mother thankfully did not have too rough a time of it. Her calm demeanor kept up even dealing with labor pains, and the end result more than made up for it. You were much easier, as she knew what to navigate and you only took so many hours after the labor contractions began to grace us with your presence.” She smiled fondly, thinking about the two occasions, then giggled. “That said she wasn’t above occasionally reminding your Father it was his fault she was in that state, and well, that’s her story to tell more than mine.”

Snickering, Sally looked at Sonic with a very straight face, barely keeping a grin from forming. “I promise if we have kids, not to threaten your masculinity. That said, I will probably get my vengeance some other way.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Sonic elbowed his girlfriend-now-fiance’ gently in the arm. “Oh reeeeeeeally? Well you gotta catch me first Sal.”

“I already did.” She murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek as she laced her fingers with his.

“Got me there,” Relenting, Sonic returned the smile, as well as the kiss, planting it on her fluffy cheek before leaning back in his seat. His concern for his Mother and his impending siblings, slightly alleviated for the time being.

The elder couple shared a look, one they had often shared when they were witness to the dear love and devotion between Sally and Sonic. From children to adults, the two always seemed to be a pair they fit so well, it was clear as day even when they were in diapers or arguing up a storm as toddlers, to their teen years. The small things in life that made all the gloom and doom of the past decade and some odd-change worth living for. Soon everyone’s heard turns as the double-door leading to the maternity ward opened and Doctor Quack limped out, leaning on his cane carefully, but with a confident stride; showcasing he’d come to master the walking tool quite well.

“Well-?!”

Holding up his free hand, both to interrupt as well as allow Quack to pull down his mask, his bill forming into a smile. “Your newborn sister and brother are here, healthy and loud, and your Mother is doing very well herself.”

The four cheer as they stand up, mindful this was still a hospital and kept it down, but their jubilation was completely understood.

“Can we see them?” Asked Sonic, already antsy and looking ready to speed down the corridor.

“Yes, we’ve already handled all the post-birth clean up, and checked their vitals as well as Bernie’s, who herself wishes to see you all as well. So I see no issue with allowing visitation right away, but do keep it brief, they do need their rest.” Advised the water-foul doctor as he kept himself straight, if just to fight off his own fatigue which was now creeping up after the long labor. “Just NO running Sonic, got it?”

At the mild admonishment, the Hedgehog simply grinned. “Me? Run through a hospital? Would I do thaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

“Yes, you would.” Everyone else remarked with amazing timing and matching deadpan. To which Sonic rolled his eyes.

“Sheesh, talk about a crowd! Anyway let’s go, let’s go!” Sonic urged, already half-dragging Sally along, forcing his beloved to keep in rapid pace close to him as they held hands still. Sally simply went with it, laughing softly at Sonic’s outright adorable impulsive need to see his new siblings. Chuck and Rosie merely followed at their pace, but there was certainly a spring in their step as well.

Eventually the group, along with Doctor Quack, reach the room designated for Bernie and her newborns. Managing to keep Sonic at bay enough, Quack pushed the door open for them and cleared his throat. “Jules, Bernie, your guests have arrived.”

Like an impatient puppy, Sonic squeezed past Quack, Sally trailing hand-in-hand still from behind. His emerald-green eyes, zeroing-in on the target, even as his breath hitched softly as a wave of emotion floored Sonic as he finally gazed upon his Mother and new siblings. As tired as Bernie Hedgehog looked, nothing could dull the intense love and adoration in her eyes and face as she held two swaddled bundles in her arms. Her husband Jules’ own expression was a mirror of his wife’s, only tinged with the pride only a Father can know. Each look up their expressions beaming more at the sight of their eldest child, with Jules instantly waving him over.

“Hey there son, come say hi to your baby brother and sister!”

Noticing that Sally seemed a bit frozen, Sally found back a ‘snerk’ that wanted to come out, and simply pulled him along. Upon seeing the two infants, mewling and cooing, her own eyes mist. “Awww, they’re adorable!”

“Y-yeah they are…” Sonic managed a dry chuckle, why did his throat feel so dry? He’d been psyched for this ever since his Mom laid the bombshell she was pregnant nine months ago! Of all the times for Sonic the Hedgehog to choke and lose his cool, it’s this? He didn’t lose his cool this much, asking Sally to marry him for Almighty’s sake! Leaning over he got a much better look at the two.

One of the two clearly favored their Mother’s more light-purple coat, another had the milder-blue of his Father. Both were cute as a button, and just, the sounds they made! Sonic usually wasn’t one to obsess over cute things, but he was entranced. “So we got names for these two? Or do I call em’ Li’ Sib one, and two?”

“We were thinking of Sonia, for this little angel.” Explained Bernie as she gently pet the back of her daughter’s head. The newborn curled against the warm hand that carried the scent of her Mother. “As for this handsome young man, I was thinking of something with M, like Manwell or Manny.”

“If he’s anything like Sonny-boy he’ll be one manic child.” Chuckled Charles as he and Rosie moved closer taking the end of the bed so as to not crowd anyone.

Something about that line struck a chord with Jules, who instantly adopted a thoughtful look as he rubbed his chin. “Manic, manic, why not Manic?” He grinned even as his wife looked at him rather funny. “Face it hun, if Sonic’s any indication, these two are going to be spirited, and it kind of goes well don’t you think?”

After a moment, Bernie tired rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she however smiled, “Manic it is. However if that name causes him woe, I’ll be sure he knows he has you to blame.”

“Anybody gives him or Sonia woe I’mma deck em’.” Sonic proclaimed, pounding his fists together.

“Nor alone,” Agreed Sally as she leaned against him. They weren’t her siblings biologically, but already she had decided she would help protect them at all cost.

“Triple, and quadruple so.” Added Rosie, who nodded along with Charles. The family was united on this front.

“Fantastic.” Giggling, Bernie kissed the heads of her newborns. “Hear that, your family is ready to murder for you.”

“You all can plot future murder later, as much as I hate to spoil the moment, Mother and both newborns need rest.” Spoke up Quack as he stood at the door, keeping silent until now.

Yawning, Bernie nodded in agreement, she was drained. Her gaze lifted to her husband. “You get some rest too, you’ve been up with me through all this.”

“I didn’t do even a fraction of the work; but, rest sounds good.” He yawned, quickly covering his mouth. “Mind if I just crash here Doc?”

“I’ve already asked an orderly to bring a rollaway for you. I know better.” Smiled the duck-doctor in a knowing fashion. “Now come now everyone, time to go.”

Looking at his parents, Sonic instantly stated. “We’ll visit tomorrow, promise.”

“Looking forward to it son, looking forward to it.”

Giving his siblings one last look, Sonic smiled and winked at the two infants. “Welcome to the world you two, hopefully by the time you can talk and explore the world there’ll be one last fat-man to worry about. That’s a big-bro promise!”

#boundingintofreedomsonsal #Sonic the Hedgehog #Princess Sally Acorn #Bernie Hedgehog #Jules Hedgehog #Chuck Hedgehog #Rosie Woodchuck #Manic Hedgehog #Sonia Hedgehog #Archie-Sonic

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veorlian · 3 years

Text

honey tongue

The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.

my submissions for @hightown-funk are up!! here’s the first one <3

read it on ao3 here

The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets.

Well. More riots than usual, at least.

Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.

And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales.

He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.

“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”

“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them.

“It was not,” Marian tossed back.

“Was too."

Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.

“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”

“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.

“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.

“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”

“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.

“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”

“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.

“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.

“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.

“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.

“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.

“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.

“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.

She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.

“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”

“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”

“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”

“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.

“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.

“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.

“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”

Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. What the hell…?

“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.

“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”

“Hey—” Carver began.

The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.

Plus, you’re not as good-looking.

Did Varric think she was good-looking?

Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually matter to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.

Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.

It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And so.

“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.

“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.

“You’re my favourite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.

She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.

After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.

And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that. … Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.

It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine.

Until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).

She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.

“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.

“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.

“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. What the hell?

The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.

He missed it, when it wasn’t there.

He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Oh.

With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.

Shit. … The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.

She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.

“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.

“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Marian, I—” Record scratch, freeze frame. Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.

“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”

His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.

She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.

“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.

She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.

“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.

“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.

“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.

“I have as well,” she said at last.

“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”

“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.

#this was such a joy to write #da2 #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #hightown funk

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robuttsinyourthighs · 4 years

Note

Starscream telling Arcee and the Autobots he killed Cliffjumper cause Cliff killed Star’s trine with an explosion and Bumblebee sadly admits that it’s true and Star tearfully says that Skywarp and Thundercracker were the last of his loved ones after losing Vos... "I lost everyone... At least you still have Jack and your fellow Autobots!" 💔

I kind of took the idea of this and went on a bender. I’ve been writing this on my phone for... well, however long this ask has been in my inbox! I’ll also be posting this on my AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27387250

Please ENJOY~!

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

He was backed into a corner yet again. That blasted femme always had it out for him, even after all this struggle and strife to hop on board the Autobot goody-two-shoes-train. He always had to prove himself, even when he wasn't up to something he was never fully trusted and especially not by her. He just wanted a ration, that was all, and Ratchet had sanctioned it and Bumblebee offered to go as his chaperone but it didn't stop Arcee's pent up frustration and mistrust from tailing the seeker and exploding at him.

"I've been with you lot for nearly a year and you STILL want to badger me?" The seeker cracked open the corner of his cube right there in the storage room, not wanting to give the two-wheeler enough time to make him lose his appetite by stalking him to his hab-suite as well.

"It's not badgering, it's questioning. I deserve answers, and the team deserves to know what you REALLY are." The former Con-turned-Not-quite-Autobot sneered.

"And what am I, exactly?" He leaned over her, a common intimidation tactic he used when on occasion he was taller than the other person in the room. "I would so LOVE for you to tell me."

Bumblebee tried to fit between the two somewhat, hands held up while buzzing and beeping his concern and warning Arcee to move back. The blue and pink motorcycle refused, clenching her fists and fighting to not transform out her blasters.

"You are a sick monster who has killed more Cybertronians than any Autobot or 'Con! You killed Cliffjumper in cold blood!" The jet sucked his teeth in irritation and leaned back from her space, folding an arm over his torso and resting his elbow on the back of his hand.

"Oh this old song and dance again? Please, find something new to hyperfixate on," he sneered dismissively, 'We've all lost someone in this war, you're not SPECIAL. Look at your scout, he's always sunshine and fluttering doors despite what Megatron did to his vocalizer." The seeker flicked his wings irritably and his plating flared around his collar and sides, a sign he was more upset than he was letting on. Arcee read him well enough to not want to back down yet, even with Bumblebee between them and actually having to put his servos on her shoulders to keep her back.

"You're nothing but an emotionless, unfeeling BEAST! You're unfit to call yourself a Cybertronian!" The seeker curled his lip in a snarl at that, wings rattling and giving the femme the justification she wanted to finally ping the entire base to assist.

Bee could only keep Arcee back for so long, but he'd be nearly helpless to stop an attack from Starscream. The two wheeler scoffed at the display and took a couple of steps back from the amount of force Bumblebee was putting against the femme.

"Look at you, Screamer. You're NOTHING. No wonder you don't care about the pain and suffering you dish out. You've never known what it's like to lose someone. Who would care about a sparkless THING like YOU??" Arcee didn't have time to flinch when the cube of energon was smashed into her face, the liquid splashing out and covering Bumblebee's chest and arms. The room exploded with movement, Optimus and Bulkhead bursting into the storage room and grabbing both of Starscream's arms and pinning them back and under his wings, Ratchet closely following with the stasis cuffs needed restrain his hands and wings.

On the other side of the spat Arcee was thrashing against Bumblebee until Wheeljack jogged in and promptly bear-hugged her from behind, lifting her off her pedes and trying to get her to stop yelling and listen. Smokescreen stood at the door, watching the chaos unfold and unable to tell what was happening before they'd arrived to the shouting pair smothered in wasted energon.

"Let me at him! Let me go!! He deserves to pay for what he did!!" Arcee nearly got an arm loose to transform it but Bee caught it in time, beeping and pinging her desperately to stop.

Starscream was forced to the ground rather quickly, pinned while the bots bound his wrists and wings.

"Told ya it was a matter of time before Starscream tried something," Wheeljack called over. "Better get on disarming him quick, doc, before 'Cee does it for us." The scout finally had enough. He revved his engine so loudly the whole room was filled with the vibrations of it. When it stopped Arcee was still, though venting heavily from her struggling, and Starscream was seething quietly.

::Arcee started it!:: Bumblebee group-commed them, including Starscream so he knew he wasn't going to just let this go by without all sides knowing exactly how this went down.

That certainly changed the perspective of things a little. Wheeljack flattened his mouth into one of thin annoyance since he looked like an aft for accusing Starscream of being the root of this predicament. Bulkhead and Optimus helped him up and kept him steady on his feet.

"Starscream, can you tell us what happened? Why would you resort to violence?" Optimus started, wanting to open a dialog where the seeker could be heard.

"That's all he knows, Optimus! He only knows how to destroy and kill!" Arcee shouted past the Autobot leader. Starscream's heckles raised again, wings clattering in their confines even as Optimus began to admonish Arcee.

"HE GOT WHAT HE DESERVED!!" He shouted over the Prime's voice. "Did it HURT, Arcee?! Did you feel his spark GUTTER?!! Did it HURT?! DID HE TAKE PART OF YOUR SPARK WITH HIM?!" Starscream's voice was strong, unwavering and profoundly pained. "I can only hope so! I hope I gave him just one ounce of the pain he put in mevwhen he slaughtered MY TRINE!!"

The two wheeler opened her mouth to argue back initially but couldn't process what she was hearing right away. She was immediately skeptical of his claim. "How? Your what??"

"My bonded!" Starscream stamped his pede in frustration, bending forward and wanting to just collapse but the sturdy Autobots on either side of him holding onto his arms prevented that. "He ripped them away from me! He tore their wings off and made them watch each other while they were TORTURED!!" He tried to lunge forwardn in his hurt and fury, Optimus and Bulkhead changing stances to hold him back more easily.

"He wouldn't do that!" Arcee bit back, though the bite in her voice was ebbing into confusion.

"You don't believe that, do you?" Starscream looked up at her, coolant having flooded down his face in his grief. "You were his partner. You know he delighted in torturing the enemy, don't you?"

"Starscream," Optimus spoke up. "Autobots do not condone unnecessary torture of prisoners. If what you're saying is true, please understand it was never under any order to do so. I am sorry for your loss."

Following Optimus' lead, Bulkhead gave a light pat to the jet's shoulder. "Its messed up that that happened to you... I'm sorry." Bee gave a small whirring noise of sympathy to the seeker, knowing his words wouldn't be enough to help his ache.

The jet was finally settling into his footing and standing properly and very still. A calm came over him as he shoved his hurt and pain deep down. Something finally clicked in Arcee's mind while she watched the jet mask his emotions and lift his helm with pride. The way he brought his snarkiness back into his voice so effortlessly and pretended there were no wet streaks on his cheeks from the tears that were streaming just a moment ago.

This was what she always saw as his facade- his ability to just LIE and feign emotion he couldn't actually feel, the remorseless way he would dupe others into helping him and then stab them in the back without batting an optic, but her perspective had shifted.

His raw emotion, his unhinged E.M. field lashing out just moments before would be a tremendous feat to fake. His shift into calm was not a lack of actual emotion, but it was his defense. How often did he have to do this? To be this convincing? How long had he developed this skill to just HIDE his pain?? How much trauma... His bonded... To lose such an integral part of your spark not once but twice at the same time? Bots wouldn't normally survive that without going insane, which she thought he was up until this point.

He was untrusting, angry, bitter, and always plotting for his own survival, none of that changed. The only new ingredient was the WHY. He wasn't cruel for cruelty's sake. He was just another victim of this ridiculous war, and he was acting out of revenge against Cliffjumper.

In spite of everything he had still joined the Autobots, coming to them scarred and broken almost beyond repair, all at the hands of the Decepticon warlord he never fully obeyed. Everything made so much sense but made it so much harder for Arcee to feel steady.

Her beliefs were upended and in an instant it was as if she didn't know anything anymore.. Who could she be angry with? Who was the real victim here? Who was the monster? She had no focus, she had no real motive if she didn't know?? The clawed servo on her helm startled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Starscream's calm, vermilion optics gazing down into hers.

"Ground yourself, Arcee. Be proud that you've come so far." What was he saying?? Was he mocking her? A small wave of regret trickled from his field against hers. "Let's clean you up. It's only fair I start taking care of the messes I create." She pulled herself back from his touch and Wheeljack eased his hold on her when he was sure she wasn't going to go on the offensive.

The two wheeler realized she'd been covered in thrown energon and he was offering to make amends. After everything, all these years, he was sorry without actually saying it. She understood him more clearly now, though it would have been easier to just keep hating him senselessly. Jack would be pretty disappointed if she went about like that.

He had already expressed concerns for her before due to her conduct when it came to Starscream and Airachnid. She heaved a sigh and turned on her heel to follow the jet as he began to walk.

"Fine. Let's put this behind us." She sounded stiff and unsure. "No funny business."

Starscream scoffed. "Please, you're hardly my type." The jet brushed his wing against Wheeljack's door as he moved past him, startling the wrecker into turning to give them room to go by and catching the suggestive stare the jet gave. Smokescreen had a front row seat to the show and his jaw dropped in shock, not hiding his entertained he was at all.

Arcee hadn't missed it either and grinned to the explosives expert. "Uh oh, better watch out Wheeljack, I think somebody's got eyes for you," the two wheeler teased in passing.

The rest of the Autobots were left in a mix of relief and amusement, save for Wheeljack's open confusion and concern. "Wait what?? Wait-!!" Bumblebee and Bulkhead broke into laughter, Smokescreen clapping Wheeljack on the back and congratulating him. "Was that serious?! He wasn't being serious!"

Optimus let out a cycle of air he didn't know he was holding, relaxing his shoulders just a little at the progress his team seemed to be making. Ratchet's troubled field got his attention and he looked to the medic.

"Something has you worried?" He inquired down to him. Ratchet tisked and propped his hands on his hips.

"They're going to be unstoppable, you know, now that they're getting buddy-buddy. Who else do you know that can get Wheeljack FLUSTERED like that??" Optimus looked back over to the team laughing at the fretting Wrecker. The smile the Prime made was undetectable behind his mask, but highly evident in his soft and amused tone.

"I don't believe it is entirely bad if Wheeljack is on the receiving end of some teasing once in a while."

The medic gaped up at the Autobot leader. "Optimus!" He scolded but the Prime was already heading out to attend to other duties. The medic scrubbed his hand down his face.

"Out of one mess and into another."

#starscream #arcee #angst #tfp #tf #maccadams #tf fanfic #fanfic #writing #drabble?#probably too long to be a drabble #hurt no comfort #time to get in your feels #transformers #transformers prime

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eddie-spaghettis-bifocals · 4 years

Text

Seed part 2

read part 1 here :)

For years now, Eddie has told Myra he wants a garden.

The first time he told her was a year into their marriage. She went along with it, probably assuming he had some semblance of botanical knowledge to suggest it at all, and then he killed everything he planted, and it had upset him in such a deeply personal way. She could never understand it. Not that he fucking understood it either, but rather than take the time to try and figure that out, he stubbornly tried it again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

Of course, at some point, Myra just begged him to stop. To stop doing this, to stop making himself so angry over something so trivial. “Why does it matter?” she’d ask. Ha! As if Eddie had any fucking clue, himself.

And he thought he never would. He thought it’d just be another one of those weird inexplicable things about him. He thought he’d spend the rest of his strange, spotty life miserably failing to garden every single summer and getting upset about it until he stumbled upon whatever the hell this midlife crisis symptom was trying to fucking tell him.

Ha.

You suppressed the weirdest childhood trauma known to man, it told him the second he came back to Derry. Then, when he saw all the losers: You used to have a real family that made you happy.

Your sickness isn’t real and you kind of always knew, he remembers shortly after Mr. Keene’s pharmacy basement nightmare. You’re gay actually, he accepts in the hours before going down into the sewers and very nearly dying.

You fell in love once a long time ago, he thought as he lie bleeding out in his best friend’s arms in the place he feared the most. He shut his eyes on accident and opened them back up in a hospital room, where he sees all the losers in various states of exhaustion. Richie is asleep, leaned halfway over onto his hospital bed, head on Eddie’s tubed up arm. And you never really fell out.

He was sure, at the time, that that was about the last of the suppressed Derry revelations about himself he could take, but that was then. This is now, at their final stop before meeting Mike at the airport and leaving Derry forever. Richie’s hand supports Eddie’s bandaged arm again as they stand in the Barrens, as if he thinks Eddie might lose his balance and topple right into the fucking creek—as if he doesn’t have a brand new cane to help prevent things of exactly that nature. He joins Eddie in staring up and up and endlessly up at what Eddie thinks may have been the lamest, most confusing grand gesture of his entire life:

A tree.

It definitely wasn’t here the last time he was, but he knows it innately, all the same. And judging by the look on Richie’s face, he knows it, too.

He wants to slap himself.

For years now, he’s told Myra he wants a fucking garden to his own bewilderment when all along, it’s been because of some stupid tree—and every embarrassingly intimate thing it accidentally represented—that he grew with comedian Richie fucking Tozier back when he was a nobody twenty-seven years ago. Back when they were both at their most honest and vulnerable. When Eddie was at his most unabashedly infatuated—uninhibited in a way he’s never been since, determined and emboldened, freshly thirteen and endlessly stupid—

“Well, whaddayaknow, huh?” Richie whistles. Eddie slides his nervous eyes over to see Richie still looking up like he’s afraid to stop. “Tall and shady. Just like you said. There’s some birds up top, I see. For Stan,” he says, and his lips tilt up at the sides.

There had been, it appears, some sort of magic involved in Eddie’s survival. Bill told him that by the time they got him to the hospital, the bleeding had stopped. Combine that with the fact that the scars on their palms are now completely gone, and the fact that Stan’s wife called Beverly back before Eddie woke up to tell her that Stan had pulled through somehow—it’s so strange we were sure he was gone—Eddie is inclined to think that, too.

And of course, they’re all overjoyed about it, but Eddie thinks Richie’s probably the happiest, since Stan was his best friend. Eddie likes to think that he was too, but there hasn’t been a good time over the last couple of days to ask. Or a good reason. Or a mature reason.

He knows that Richie, Bev, and Ben have made quiet plans to go to Georgia together after Richie finally leaves Derry to visit Stan in the hospital and stay for his recovery. Meet Patty. Obviously, they’re all invited, but they’re all acting like they don’t expect to see Eddie there for a while. At least not as immediately as Richie, Bev, and Ben will be there. He figures they all think he’s got his divorce to deal with and don’t realize that he’d rather do anything but.

“No squirrels though,” Richie hums. He looks at Eddie, eyes suddenly full of mischief as he pinches his lips to hide a smile. Just like he used to. “Just you, Rocky…”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Shut up, don’t fucking call me Rocky, that’s not even funny, are you kidding me?” He kind of hates the way he knows he’s doing exactly what Richie wants, just like back then. Richie watches him explode just like then, too, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be watching. Eddie’s heart thrums like a hummingbird’s. “Like, now I have to call you Bullwinkle, you fucking gargantuan moose-headed motherfucker and that’s not any more original than you still calling me Rocky twenty-seven years later.”

“What was it you said that day?” Richie grins. He’s not even hiding the way they both know he just likes to rile Eddie up. Eddie wishes he were really as annoyed with him as they both know he pretends to be. “Something about carving your name at the very top with my buckteeth?”

“Well what were you doing with them aside from taunting the bullies?” Eddie laughs out, surprised, but now he definitely remembers saying it. Worse, he remembers imagining later, after he and Richie had gone their separate ways, coming back here and carving Richie’s name instead. God.

“Ouch, and you called me a dickhead?”

Eddie snorts, can feel his smile matching Richie’s. “Yeah, you were being a dickhead.”

“You were being short.”

“Well—” Eddie stares and blinks and bolsters himself up for another round but finds himself laughing instead, isn’t all that surprised when he can’t make himself stop. He wants to say it’s a belated release of all the leftover adrenaline he’s probably still got pent up inside, but he’s getting tired of lying to himself. He can feel his smile stretching and stretching, and knows he hasn’t smiled like this in years, hasn’t laughed at something stupid like this in longer. The laughing kind of hurts, what with the violent ripping open, then rapid mending shut of his chest cavity, but he thinks for the first time in his life that this is a good pain.

Richie reaches to steady him, again as if he doesn’t have a cane for this very thing. Richie hasn’t even left yet, and Eddie misses him. Ridiculously, he thinks he’ll miss him for the rest of his whole life.

“You’re not funny,” Eddie deadpans once he stops laughing, once he's caught his breath, but he fails terribly, still grinning. He sees the way Richie is smiling back at him. He is just as afraid to look too much into it as he is to look away.

“You sound just like my critics,” Richie laughs. “You should come to my shows,” he offers like a second thought, but Eddie thinks his cheeks look a little pink, then that he’s losing his mind. “You could heckle me—that’s always good publicity. You’ve always been the best at roasting me. You know all the embarrassing stuff. You know exactly how much of a fucking joke my life is.”

Eddie scoffs. He would say he’s always been the worst at roasting Richie because he never means a word of it. “My life’s a joke,” he rolls his eyes. “On top of everything Derry did to us, I think this fucking tree kind of haunted me.” He says, as a joke, but he thinks there’s a part of himself that means it. Which is even more ridiculous. “I spent the better part of like fifteen years trying to garden for no apparent fucking reason because apparently this tree was that big a fucking deal to me. Do you remember wanting anything the way we wanted this tree to grow?”

Richie doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighs, meets Eddie’s gaze, then drops a bombshell. “Eds, dude, you gotta know I, like, barely cared about this thing.”

“What?” Eddie reacts with so much shock, it must show on his face because Richie winces. “You… what?” Eddie says slowly, waiting for Richie to crack but be doesn’t. Only shakes his head, sucks in air through his teeth and keeps wincing.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad, just—” He’s a little embarrassed. He could deal with this if they had both trauma bonded to this stupid fucking tree. He could chock that down to more Derry bullshit—he already had, but he couldn’t handle it if he were the crazy one and Richie had just been, what, humoring him? He shakes his head. “No, I am mad,” he decides, and Richie chortles and that only makes him madder. “What do you mean you didn’t care? That doesn’t make sense, you woke up at like five a.m. to come do this with me!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you cornered me in the clubhouse all alone and said you needed me.” Richie looks over at him, then seems to immediately regret it, drops his eyes onto the grass. “I mean, I barely even knew what you needed me for when you said it, but I thought if I didn’t do it, you might ask one of the others, so I woke up to come do this really fucking depressing thing with you—”

“Fuck you, man,” Eddie snaps, flustered. “It was supposed to be hopeful!”

“Well it was fucking depressing,” Richie tells him with an easy smile. He finally looks at Eddie as he does, but his expression is nervous. Pensive. “But that’s okay. Because it was you.” Again, Eddie’s heart thrums like a hummingbird. “And if you were gonna make anyone wake up at the ass crack of dawn to try your hand at desperately redefining the word ‘burial’ just to prove something to the universe, then I fucking wanted it to be with me.”

Eddie stares at him, speechless. Richie stares right back, shoulders kind of slumped, like he doesn’t know how to hold himself. There’s this feeling like a deep breath, a feeling of relief—finally it’s out there.

And Eddie supposes, now that he has to face it, that he knew. Maybe even back then he knew. Maybe he always knew, deep, deep down, that it wasn’t always just him. He was just afraid, and wasn’t that always the thing about him? He had been too afraid to hope then, and he almost wants to be now, but he looks at Richie and thinks they’ve wasted enough time.

“I always used to hope it was something like that,” Eddie admits. When Richie looks over at him, he stares back head-on, tells himself to be uninhibited, and determined, and emboldened, and endlessly stupid, just like he was all those years ago. Just like the last time they were here together. “That you did… stupid things just for me like I did stupid things just for you.”

Richie watches him like he’s afraid to hope, and frankly, Eddie kind of is, too. Irrationally, despite everything, he imagines Richie possibly having someone back in LA—possibly having a hundred someones on reserve, but something unhinged inside him thinks if even the jaws of fucking death couldn’t keep him from Richie, then good luck to Richie’s imaginary side piece in LA.

Richie laughs loosely, looking uncertain. “If you’re trying to tell me that this was one of those stupid things and not just some weirdly morose growth allegory, then—”

“Yeah, okay, growth allegory,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “whatever—whatever, but also you.” They’re close, Richie still hovering like something might happen, but Eddie doubts he planned for this. For Eddie to release his cane in favor of Richie’s hands. To tug him even closer like he knows what he’s doing. To reach up and pull his face toward him so he’ll stop looking wildly between Eddie’s hands and the cane on the ground he traded for them. “Like, mostly you.”

“Oh,” Richie blinks, eyes wide and owlish like they always looked when they were kids. He looks at Eddie, back and forth between his eyes like they’ll tell him the truth more than words could. He smiles and proceeds to nearly ruin it. “Cool, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? I’m not good under pressure.”

Eddie scoffs, says, “Pressure,” and kisses him.

Richie kisses him back, startled and laughing a little, but he kisses back like it’s nature. Like it’s innate and organic and unchangeable. Something that Eddie’s certain has been trying to grow between them for decades.

They won’t forget it this time.

#reddie #seed #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #prompt fill #it's a metaphor hazel grace

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

The Loud House Reviews: The Cow-Pie Kid and Saved by the Spell

Welcome back Loudiacs.. I .. don’t know what the fandom calls themselves. And given I dont’ know anyone personally in the fandom and the going into the tag is like living in a living nightmare.. it’s easier to keep workshopping a name till either someone tells me or I find one that sounds right. Loudites.. there we go that didn’t take long. Point is we’re back in The Loud House, In The Loud House for the first regular coverage, i.e. when I cover a show as It comes out of the season. And I was lucky enough to actually see the episode same day this time and with a promo that at least gives me images to work with, so yeah, i’m pretty pumped. And not just because I can cross this one off because SOMEBODY has a birthday tommorow.. no not me, that was last month.

There ya go. But yeah the show’s back. I’m excited, your excited, i’m scared because nick dosen’t give a clear schedule out ahead of time so i’m left wondering when one’s going to pop up and when to get it on my schedule now I have one... it’s a good time. Seriously though Nick needs to get their scheduling in order. So i’m happy to be back, your happy to have me here, but probably not happy to have spoilers so let’s take this under the cut and we can talk about cow pies, magic, and ... how this block is weirdly almost all lincoln episodes.

The Cow-Pie Kid: Yeah.. this was the only bit from cow pie kid I could find. Tons of stuff to mine from for saved by the spell. Nothing for that one. Weird. Anyways our story opens with Lynn’s baseball team, who we’ve met before.. and include friends who have played other sports with her and that guy she had a crush on for all of five minutes because the writers kinda forgot L is for Love happened for anyone but Luna and Luann.

Okay look MOST of the love intrests introduced there were not great and while Lincoln needs one NOW, at the time he really did not as the Ronnie Anne thing had not, and still has not, been properly resolved. Still vastly prefer him with Stella and her with Sid, i’m just saying closure would be nice. Look i’m getting off topic point is one besides Sam, who was great out of the gate and not just for being gay.. though that was a lot of it, and Benny, whose objectively a really sweet kid and damn likeable. Luaggie shippers feel free to boo me, I understand.. dosen’t change my mind or the fact Poly exists to fix that. I mean why not both I ask you. Besides them, we had Chazz, a loveable chubby guy who Leni was into and worked at clothing store and knew his fashion stuff. and was charmed by her romantic gesture. He just seemd sweet and it was implied via background stuff they were still dating.. but he hasnt’ shown up since despite her working AT the mall and that being her main arc for the last two seasons.

Just why? What’s wrong with the chubby fashion boy? Why? Did they decide they had too many romance arcs.. at exactly two? I get focusing on sam, because duh, and because that was awesome.. but you’ve had 2 full seasons since then and again Leni and him now work in the same location if not the same store, which in itself is a plot. I don’t ask much from you show.. well okay I do but let me clarify I don’t ask much from you that you could actually do: I know i’m never getting my a diffrent world style spinoff with lori and bobby. I know Zach is going nowhere and i’m just going to have to get over it, I will not, but I DO know you could include chaz and just won’t. So do that at least. I will put up with several more seasons of Zach if it means this adorable love story continues. It’s even easy enough to pick up this late: they are both stupid. Work with that. Gah... coach if you’d please.

Thanks coach. Okay so one tangent later we’re back to the episode. Point is her team is loosing even though Lynn’s the captain now, and while she’s perfectly encouraging it’s not winning games. Lynn is understandably dejected in the car not helped by the sports commentor guys from the game... commenting about it on the radio...

I mean.. I get sports can have dry spots and all that but who covers a middle school basketball team on the radio that isn’t the middle school radio station. I mean I genuinely can’t decide which is more sad... a radio personality doing a children’s baseball game on his own show, or having so much trouble getting one that he’s apperaing on the middle school radio show. And I COULD say it’s just a guest spot but he’s talking like he knows what’s going on intmatiley> Did his daughter ask him to? I mean I know radio’s fallen pretty far but I dind’t think it was that much in the basement. Do a podcast at least man.

Okay before I go on another Tangent point is Lynn feels it’s her fault as Captain.. which granted whoever the coach is should be .. but it genuinely looks like they don’t HAVE a coach. Maybe they had to sack him to pay for the newly refrubished av department? I dunno. Point is she feels bad and Lynn Sr vows to cheer her up.. before stopping for farm fresh eggs. Which.. yeah can’t blame him. He’s a cook, and Liam’s family likely has good prices. He can buy for both home and restraunt at once. I mean he has a van and only one occupant at the moment. Don’t judge him. But this little detour DOES help Lynn’s mood. Her problem is the team lacks a decent pitcher, since Lynn herself was banned for throwing one at a heckling goat. The Lawsuit is ongoing and that made me laugh a lot. But Lynn finds Happy Gilmore style that Liam.. has a really great arm. Granted instead of actuall balls it’s with cowpies because this series really loves a shit joke, hence the title and the new nickname for liam, the cow pie kid.. but compared to some of the series toilet humor it’s a lot less in your face. But with Liam being so good Lynn can’t help but sign him to the team and Liam being a sweetie pie is happy to agree. I have.. not hid even for a second how much I liked Liam or wanted him, and Stella, to show up outside of Lincoln episodes more often, or even get his own again. That day.. has come. Not only does LIam now have a roll entirely outside his friend group, but this episode’s about him and Lynn together.. not in that way.. yet. Someday.. Point is my boy is in the spotlight and I could not be happier. And thankfully.. Lynn’s at her best. What I feared would be an episode about her overtraining him and making him not enjoy the game, htat old chesnut instead.. she just genuinely helps mentor him. She’s tough but fair as she helps him get his aim right as he’s used to firing Cow Pie’s, so the weight distrbution is off. So she helps train him and .. it’s really cute honestly, with her genuinely helping him and showing a softer side and later realizing she had him thinking about it too hard and just having him not think.. and going by instinct naturally works for a carefree and easygoing guy like liam. Wouldn’t be suprised if he went ultra instinct eventually.. but that’s for another episode. They also have a pig pile together.. which sounds bad but is just pigs piling on liam and lynn gladly gets on top of the pigs and god that sounds worse. next scnee.

So Liam gets ahead and becomes the star pitcher for the zanarkand abes.. I mean the Royal Woods Kangaroos, and they just keep wining and wining and wining. Their like glomgold: all they do is win... but probably with less attempted corpse dancing. Problem is as we see during the montage Liam’s arm is slowly but surley getting cramped and while he wins hte next game.. his arm gives out from noodle arm. The good news is with rest, he can fix it, as her injury prone friend Paula, whose somehow allowed to play with crutches despite ALL the legal and moral issues that raises explains. but they don’t have days to rest it. So insane plans it is! So Lynn goes to her sisters for herlp..specifically lisa int he hopes her mad science can either fix his pain or turn him into the hulk. Neither happens.. yet. I mean LIam is so sweet if he IS a hulk, we won’t know yet. But the green door will.. it always knows. IT ALWAYS KNOWS. Lynn bemonas her luck.. before Lucy appears!

I JUST said last month when reviewing 11 louds a leapin that I missed the duo of her and lynn and lo and behold here we are. While we dno’t get much of the two fo them, it is still nice to see Lynn suprised by her scares and Lucy trying to use the dark arts to heal his pain.. which actually works. Lucy’s upgraded from wants to be a witch to full witch.

So yeah her dark magic works and now Liam is fine just fine as the championship game approaches. Until naturally it isn’t. While Lucy STOPPED the pain, she didn’t make anything better, just numbed it so Liam’s arm’s pretty bad and Lisa suggests there’s a 70 perfecnt chance he’ll wreck it if he does so.. and while Lynn is naturlaly, given one of her main traits is asshole, ready to risk that.. she realizes she can’t. Rusty is on her team following her orders.. and no matter how good a W feels.. she can’t trade in someone’s health for one. Honestly bettter than most sports managers ngl. So Paula subs in and misses, loosing them the game.. but Lynn. takes it in stride, having realized she can win next year and having finally realized what being the leader REALLY means. She can work on paula’s curve, give Liam a break, and win next time... which she’ll have because time dosen’t work normally in this show’s dimension and a solid timeline is just a pipedream, so she probably has another year of being 14 to redo this and has become aware of it. I’m scared and excited for what that means. Liam celebrates with a pig pile of two and we get a REALLY fucking cute shot of the two being happy and what not before a pig jumps on them still though.. yeah I ship it now. Liam taps into the space where I thought a black void of misery and douchebaggery was but ti turns out is in fact a heart, something few can do with Lynn and Lynn can protect him form bullies and is perfectly suited for his rough hewn farmboy styles. Point is their cut.e And so was this episode. IT was a really nice return to the series and it was again REALLY fucking great to see one of Lincoln’s firend,s and one of the GOOD ones at that, get a starring roll without him. HOpefully this keeps up and hopefully we see more of these two.

Saved by the Spell:

RUSTY SPOKES IS TRASH (Ring) I don’t have a saved by the spell font that’ll have to do. Point is he is but before we get to Rusty being Rusty, Lincoln is doing magic tricks at the table.

youtube

Point is he’s excited to do it at the talent show. The next day his friends discuss doing something to make them look cool to everyone. WHich.. kids. i’ll level with you. You. are. NERDS. As a massive one in both size and nerdiness myself, there’s nothing wrong with that. 2/3 of you are lovely people. You’ll be fine. But you are geeks, and should be proud of that.. not so proud you evolve into an incel or it’s adjacent form of assholes mind you, but still proud of who you are. You are never going to be that cool by trying to appeal to everyone. Just be yourslef and the cool comes naturaly. Like kool aid, which is naturally made by milking the Kool Aid man. Be you.

But instead they decide to do a dance routine which.. let’s face it.. is probably just this spread across 6 people...

Point is maybe don’t do that. Also when Clyde does a dorky but endearing dance and says their going to shake their groove things, Rusty pipes in with “But cool”... and while sadly not as glorious as EVERYONE looking enitrely done with him like last time we saw this tool, Clyde clearly still does while the rest of hte Lincrew have no idea what the hell he’s on. I think their just.. numb to his stupidity and ego at this point. But when Lincoln shows off his magic they all hide him, fearing that magic.. is well for younger kids and this won’t play so well. Which isn’t an invalid fear: this is middle school and from personal experince, middle school can be hell.. and also one of hte best years of my life which shows the vast gulf between the two schools I was in but was also not the point. the point is kids can be cruel and maybe don’t do this. But lincoln gonna do it anyway because he has confidence.. and frankly given there was an ENTIRE episode about being yourself instead of putting on an asshole suit of armor to avoid being hurt, which Lynn finally took off again last episode, he’s right.. but the rest of them all feel THEIR ALL GOING TO LAUGH AT YOU. and since they don’t know if he has latent psychic powers or not can’t risk him getting pigs blood dumped on him so they plan to find some way to trick him out of it.. Clyde of course gets his stomach in nots because he’s not good with schemes or lying ot his best friend, both of which this is and requires.

Also Stella’s in the lead, as she should be. And she helps as her positive attudie makes what their doing come off as it should: KINDA douchey, but not intentionally so, they just worry about hteir freind getting pummled.. possibly by his own sister but now sh’es possibly with Liam that’s probably not as much of a worry. Or Chandler but frankly he’s going to do that no matter what.. and is probably getting his ass kicked himself by older kids who won’t toldeate his bs, so your clear. But their fears while a bit unfounded are understandable and well inteitoned if misguided, as we don’t know LIncoln’s act at this point or how well it’d go over with a mostly tweenager crowd, who can be the best as we’ve seen in recent tv.. or aboslutel monsters.. same deal. You either get Luz or you get BOscha, the inbetween is rare.

So cue our usual setup of a bunch of attempts to do something in a row, but like I said while i’m not a fan of reptition if it’s done well enough it works and with it’s rather sizeable supporting cast , LIncoln and Friends episodes usdually do make it work. In this case it does as each of the sensational 6, lincoln and clyde asid,e try their hand at it. Liam, being the golden child, just has the most direct and obvious route: swipe his magic stuff.. and runs off without letting them talk it out but unlike Rusty in the next attempt, his plan was actually viable.. he just gets tangled up in the scarves and taps out. Rusty is next ....and his idea is to.. show lincoln his killer dance moves to convince him normally.

Yup pretty much that. And somehow out of the four plans, RUSTY’S is the only one that dosen’t bring up any serious moral quandries. I know i’m shocked too. He just thinks his moves will do it when no they won’t, please stop it hurts to watch and I can’t turn the fuck away. This is my job you redheaded kanker sore! Gah it thankfully ends and is unsurisingly unsuccesful.

Also unsuprisingly, i’ve been waiting since i got that image to use it on Rusty. And as a third dollop of unsuprise I did not have to force it in any way shape or form. Point is it’s Zach’s turn as during the last two he’s been pushing really hard to use some form of brainwashing on his friend.. yes .. really.

Thought Rusty would be the first loud house character to get that one but hey if the shoe fits. Seriously I thought rusty was the creep among them but at least you know.. altering someone’s throughts to suit your own isn’t his go to move. Being excetsivly cocky and coming on too strong is but still better to take THAT out of the Zach Morris playbook than “brainwash people into dooing whatever you say because tha’ts not creeptagious.” And unsurpsingly it does not work.. on Lincoln it woroks on Meyrl for some reason. Thankfully it dosen’t though just.. Zach needs no power epsiecally over the mind.

So UNSUPRSINGLY, Stella has the working plnan.. and also unsuprisingly the last three just did theres by running off, running off and shouting the loudest. Again somehow Rusty is NO LONGER the most obnoxious one of the group. Zach won that title this episode. He’s still the most pathetic.. but i’m the most done with Zach who adds nothing to the dynamic or the planet or anything and I wish would just go away. Your home planet needs you.

But yeah Stella has the winning idea: pretending to be “Yodel Boy”, a student who was humilated at a talent show last year, proving sh’es not only a decent actress (I mean it’s obvious i’ts stella in a wig, padding and lederhosen, but points for the accent being okay and hey she’s in middle school), but also the smartest of them. Only one of those is a suprise. It works and Lincoln agrees.

So the night of the talent show they’ve caught him up to speed and prepare to celebrate, only for clyd eto open the wrong locker and reveal the yodel boy suit. WHy it was in there instead of at Stella’s house where this wouldn’t happen?

But yeah the cat’s out of the bag and lincoln leaves, depressed his friends think that little of him and lied to him. Which.. yeah completely fair. They tried talking to him, it did not work.. they shoudl’ve just left it at that. It would’ve SUCKED if he got bullied true, but it was his choice to go out there and take a risk and do what he loves. As someone whose constnatly self concious and had to fight to start writing like i’m doing now, I envy that kind of youthful confidence and thus wholly support him.

And finally.. so do his friends. Realizing they’ve been kinda crappy, they introduce lincoln instead and work as his assitants.. and.. it works. Stella gets sawn in half, Zach gets astounded by a card trick, and Liam wears a bunny outfit which is just.. precious. Good boy. Best boy. It’s a huge hit.. and we also get to seesome of the new background kids including one with pink hair who looks kinda nb. I’m just saying one of you should take a crack at them, they seem nice. But for now our heroes are haield as heroes, and the other 5 apologize to lincon and they do their now cemented and fucking adorable group hug. Happy ending to a pretty great episode, with decent gags, a good relatable plot, and Rusty being just the right amoutn of obnoxious. Good stuff. So that does it for this week. If you liked this review like or reblog it, check out my other work and come back later today for some duck content. and every week once the show returns. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#the loud house #lincoln loud #stella zhau #clyde mcbride #lynn loud jr #liam honeycutt #who finally has a last name!#FINALLY #zach gurdle #rusty spokes #lucy loud #lisa loud #saved by the spell #the cow pie kid #animation #reviews #nickelodeon

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