#(( and arrie misses it all the damn time ))

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E3; Chapter Three, Holly, Jolly - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘠/𝘯, 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Hopper pulls up to the library, thankful to get a spot up front. He steps out of the vehicle and makes his way inside, Powell behind him.

Hopper takes off his hat as he enters the building, making sure to send a big smile to the librarian.

"Hey, Marissa. How you doin'?"

The disapproving look on Marissa's face never left as she spoke.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here."

"What?"

"You could have at least called, said, 'Marissa! Hey, it's not gonna work out. Sorry, I wasted your time. I'm a dick.'"

Powell was unsure of what to do; he looked from Marissa to Hopper, waiting.

Hopper only stares ahead for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally, with a subtle smirk, he mutters,

"Yep."

She looks to him, shaking her head expectantly. He seemed at a loss for words again as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. Uh... Maybe we could go out again next week?" He offers, hoping for the best. She slowly turns her head to Powell and gives him a 'is he for real?' look. In turn, Powell slowly looks over to Hopper awkwardly. Hopper, already knowing he chose his words poorly, visibly cringed, and was eager to change the subject.

"Newspapers? You guys got newspapers around here?"

Marissa had shown them over to the filing cabinet and started pulling out drawers, naming the selections.

"We have the New York Times, the Post, all the big ones. Organized by year and topic. You can find the corresponding microfiche in the reading room." She briefly gestures behind her.

"Okay, we're looking for anything on the Hawkins National Laboratory."

"Well, shouldn't you be looking for that missing kid?"

"Yeah." He states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We are."

She nods her head, suspicious.

"Uh, so, why don't you start with the Times, and we'll check out the Post."

Marissa scoffs and looks behind her to Powell, unsure if he's serious. She turns back to Hopper and lets out a soft 'hmph!' before strutting away. Powell steps forward and lowers his voice in a questioning tone.

"The librarian?"

Hopper shrugs wildly before diving into the drawers of files.

The two men had gathered a handful of files and set to work in the other room. Each at their own microfiche, reading every column.

Hopper scanned another column that caught his attention.

'ALLEGED EXPERIMENTS, ABUSE' by T. Bridges.

"Terry Ives' legal case against embattled research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner suffered another setback today when the district attorney's office formally refused to press criminal charges against Brenner, his fellow researchers, assistants, or the project's sponsors, citing lack of evidence. Local law enforcement executed a search..."

Next column.

'MKULTRA EXPOSED' by T. Bridges

"The trust of the American people has been shaken to its core as a special inquiry into a covert CIA operation, code-named MK ULTRA, has exposed the extensive details about that which has been haunting the nation for the past decade. Six subjects have come forward..."

This particular column was accompanied by a negative of seven people. Five of which were slightly disheveled, in hospital gowns. A man in a turtleneck and blazer stood obediently in the back. A man in a fancy suit and tie, holding a clipboard stood front and center. A man with whom Hopper guessed to be Brenner.

Next slide.

'DR. MARTIN BRENNER NAMED IN LAWSUIT' by A. Ward - Staff Writer

"Senior researcher Doctor Martin Brenner and seven other staff researchers have been named in a new lawsuit filed today on behalf of former federal research study participant, Terry Ives. Dr. Brenner's attorney in conjunction with the Department of Energy has asked the circuit court to seal the details of the lawsuit until the attorney general's office can determine that no federal..."

Hopper found himself more engrossed and confused as he read.

"...her newborn daughter for scientific research. Following an investigation, the district attorney has already declined to press criminal kidnapping charges against the research facility and staff, citing lack of evidence. Dr. Brenner's attorney called Ms. Ives' allegations baseless and tragic, citing Dr. Brenner's excellent reputation, his twenty recent peer-reviewed scientific papers..."

The next slide was a short column with another accompanying photo. Although the picture was small and blurry, it wasn't hard to see the grief-stricken features on the young woman.

TERRY IVES SUING - 'They took my daughter' by Benjamin Buck

"After the district attorney's office declined to press criminal charges citing lack of evidence, local resident Terry Ives is not giving up her search for justice for herself and her daughter, and this morning filed a lawsuit against research scientist Dr. Martin Brenner and his staff.

Ms. Ives' suit seeks unspecified damages against Dr. Brenner and his facility, alleging physical abuse, sleep deprivation, malnourishment, and multiple allegations of kidnapping; both attempted and successful..."

Hopper sighed, trying his best to swallow all of this new information.

'What the hell has been happening in this damn town?'

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Three. One. Five. The numbers on the strange new bracelet read three one five.

Thankfully, El was able to find her way back outside by the large telephone pole where Mike told her to meet them. But El was still nervous. She just hoped no one had spotted her.

El couldn't find it in her ability to stay still. She couldn't stop pacing and she was subconsciously shaking out her hands, her nerves shot.

'What if someone saw her?'

She eagerly checked the bracelet, muttering aloud to herself.

"Three-one-five. Three-one-five. Three-one-five..." her voice turned soft as her confidence wavered. The only thing that was able to take her attention away from the bracelet was the familiar sound of meowing next to her.

Shocked, she looked over to see a scrawny orange cat staring at her from the other side of the fence. It began to meow again and panic and guilt crashed over her as once again another terrible memory resurfaced.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

The white cat in the cage before Eleven let out a terrible hiss at her. Her head began to shake as she strained her ability. The combination of the cat growling and hissing and the frantic beeping of the machines was enough to push her even further.

She didn't want to. She never wanted to hurt this poor creature. But she knew that if she didn't, she would have to face the consequences. She would have to go back there. The cat gave out another deep growl and Eleven tried to the best of her ability not to cry. Not to break.

The cat began snarling, and it quickly turned to whimpers of pain. Eleven was freely crying now as she looked between the frightened cat and Papa. She gave one final look at the cat before yanking the wires off her head in defeat.

No. She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She looked at Papa defeated. She shook her head in defiance, though her sobbing gave away her true feelings. He only stared at her in disapproval.

"No! No!" She struggled and kicked. She fought back with all her might while Papa stood at the end of the hallway. Doing nothing.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!" She screamed her throat raw as the men dragged her away, yet as always Papa only watched it happen.

"No!" Her shrieks grew more violent as she neared the room.

She couldn't go back in there.

She couldn't.

The men tossed her inside and began closing the door.

She wouldn't.

Eleven stood to her feet and before they could close the steel door, she threw it open in a fit of rage, her attention quickly shifting to one of the men doing this her. In the very next instant, his back was thrown into the ceramic just behind him. His limp body slipped to the floor, leaving a large hole in the tile.

The second man spared a second to look before turning to her to try and restrain her.

Before he could even step foot in the room, he was dead on the floor, his neck snapped. All with the flick of her head.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion, she collapsed against the wall, her nose and ears bleeding.

Papa appeared. He took one look at the cracked wall, to the collapsed man, and then at Eleven. Yet she couldn't move. She was completely drained, all she could do was stare at him. He slowly stepped towards her, staring at her.

She looked up at him in fear of what would happen next, and what did was not something she could have anticipated. He slowly reached his hands out, cupping her face. Sobs wracked her body, and he stared at her in awe.

"Incredible."

He reached down, hooking an arm under her legs, th arried her like an infant. He carried her out of the room and down the hallway, staring at her sobbing form as if he hadn't been the one to cause it.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"El!"

El turned her head to see Mike, Y/n, Lucas and Dustin. They were walking their bikes across the muddy grass in her direction.

Mike looked to her concerned as he, as well as the others, turned their bikes around.

"You okay?"

Relieved to see her friends, she nodded her head.

Mike gave the seat of his bike a few pats.

"Hop on. We only have a few hours."

Hesitantly, she walked forward. But she complied nonetheless and got on Mike's bike, and the five of them peddled off.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The five us were walking our bikes through the woods. Dustin and Lucas were in the back, while Mike and El were just a few steps in front of me. El was looking around as she walked and suddenly I felt her eyes on me. I suddenly became very self-conscious of my cut.

I got it to stop bleeding eventually, but I don't know how I will ever explain this to Mom. She worries so easily. And, I don't think I have ever had a cut this big but I'll survive. My thoughts are cut short when I become very aware of the fact that El had fallen back next to me and was now looking at me with concern.

"Why did they hurt you?" Her voice came out very soft but was laced with concern.

"Huh?" I asked surprised.

El extended her arm out and pointed to my chin. I looked down, upset with how things went today.

"Oh, that. I uh, well... I was tripped. By this mouth breather, Troy."

Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"'Mouth breather?'"

"Yeah. You know, a dumb person,"

I suddenly grew quiet, and El noticed.

"Y/n, are you okay?"

I paused. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll be ok." I said.

I knew what she meant but I didn't think it was noteworthy to bring up how I was feeling.

"Y/n." I turn to look at her and she is giving me a knowing look. "Friends tell the truth."

I began to fight tears that were stinging my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall.

"I just... I just miss him. Will, I mean. And the things Troy was saying..." I began feeling myself get worked up again at the mere thought of it. "They were awful. Truly awful, and I just... I'm tired. And worried. And I just want to find my friend."

There was suddenly a somber silence over the group that was quickly broken by El's soothing tone.

"Y/n," she said sternly, pulling my eyes to her. There was a soft demand behind her eyes, willing my gaurd down. "I understand."

I looked at her, a grateful smile on my features and my voice came out in a weak whisper.

"Thank you, El."

She gave me a warm smile in return. It very much resembled the one I gave her the first night we met. It was at this moment I knew. I had just found myself a very unique and powerful friendship; one that stood out from my friendship with the party.

El and I have a lot more in common than I thought.

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #y/n henderson #stranger things x reader #x male reader #x m!reader

[30secondstoanime]

The Birthday Present

pairing: Pro!Hero Midoriya x Fem!Reader

genre/warnings: Reader Insert, Birthday Sex

Kinky Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Gets Out of His Comfort Zone, That's Not How You're Supposed to Use Your Quirk, Porn With Plot, praise kink?, very smutty, Rough Sex, role-playing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Light Choking, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, after sex cuddles

word count: 7,467

→ summary: Your birthday is around the corner. What better gift than your boyfriend, the #1 Hero Deku, finally giving you what you want the way you want it: rough and kinky. But first plot!

a/n: Sorry about the crap summary and title, I'm working on that lol. So this is my first fic for the bnha fandom and first attempt at writing very explicit sex scenes and venturing into kinks/BDSM, so please be kind, but also I’d love feedback! This was supposed to be a cute four-page oneshot but turned into a sixteen-page, 7k+ word behemoth, hence the self-indulgent tag ‘cause I couldn't stop writing. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor ;)

In a few days, you’ll be turning twenty-four. Your birthday has always been an odd day you think for someone with your quirk because age really was just a number. That’s not to say you weren’t planning to do something fun, at least if you could figure out what you’d like to do. Okay, so that was a lie. You knew exactly what or should you say who you wanted to do and that it involved getting your back blown out. As soon as the thought pops into your head, your epiglottis forgets its job, and you choke on the sip of UCC coffee, you had tried to swallow. You cough to clear your airway, gasping when air finally expands your lungs. You tap your pen nervously against your desk, eyes scanning the other pro heroes’ faces in your agency. It seems your sudden outburst hadn’t disrupted the comfortable silence of the natural lull of the workday. A beep from your hero pager pulls your attention away from people watching in the office. Coordinates flash in five consecutive seconds before the transmission ends. You stand grabbing your toolbelt and strapping it across your hips; you make your way to the front. As you near the exit, you hear your hero name being called. You turn and see Yaomomo briskly walking towards you.

“Hey Creati, you got the page too?”

“I did, sounds like they’ve made a bit of a mess of things.” You scoff good-naturedly.

“When do they ever not. Were they really like this during your time at U.A.?” She giggles and nods her head. You wonder if you’ll ever stop cleaning up after the nation’s top three heroes.

“Better get going then, we both know they share a singular brain cell, so there’s no telling how much time we have to fix things.”

“Atomic!” You laugh at Yaomomo’s weak attempt to scold you — the amusement in her black eyes softens the tone.

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Oh my.”

You blow out a low whistle. Ice and scorch marks are scattered across the street and surrounding buildings. Explosive ash is still gently falling from the sky, and black tendrils are haphazardly keeping electric poles, exposed building foundation, and an abundance of wrecked vehicles from collapsing.

“Creati, check the building foundations. Create new beams and weld them together if necessary. I’ll get started on the pole, we can’t have a live electric wire falling.” She nods, and you split off. The work is slow and arduous, but the orderly nature of reorganizing and coaxing atomic particles back into place helps the time pass quickly. You’ve just finished rearranging the anatomical structure of a car hanging from a, thankfully, undamaged light pole, so that it falls to the ground weightlessly. You touch the damaged side, pull it back together, and return the car to its original density. You give the car a quick tap with the toe of your foot to test the structural integrity, satisfied you step back taking in your handiwork. What had a few hours ago looked like a DEFCON 3 military mission gone awry is now back to looking like an ordinary Japanese street. Well, as normal as you and Yaomomo could reconstruct — you weren’t miracle workers, and Ground Zero’s explosive residue was hard to get rid of. Instead, the way it collected and hung in the atmosphere made it difficult for your quirk to erase without condensing the air. That was out of the question unless you wanted to suffocate Yaomomo. Which you didn’t, so the employees of these buildings would be dealing with the smell for at least a week. Sighing, you tuck your hands in your pockets and make your way over to Creati. Her welding mask obscures her face, but you know it’s in deep concentration. After she cuts the torch and pushes the protective gear up, she gives you a smile.

“All done?”

“Just about.”

“I’ll page H.Q. Might even lodge a formal complaint against those three bird brains while I’m at it.”

“(Y/N), you can’t be serious.” She shoots you an incredulous look.

“They make this huge ass mess and don’t even bother to wait for us to arrive before dipping. Total dick move.”

“Ah-huh.” You don’t like the teasing note in her voice.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You cross your arms defensively.

“Spit it out, Yaoyorozu.”

“You sure your foul attitude has nothing to do with not seeing Deku?” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll see him at home like I do every day. So no, I’m not upset about not seeing him.”

“If you say so.” She gives you a look, and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“You cannot still be stuck on that!”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” She bats her eyes at you innocently while creating a duffle bag to transport the welding equipment.

“That God awful theory you and Ashido have about me having a hero kink for Izuku." You begin to walk side by side back to the agency. You hand her an energy bar from your utility belt.

“I mean, you do get very flushed whenever you see him on patrol. Like, if it were a hentai video, you’d definitely be drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.”

“Ugh!” You shove her with your shoulder. “That is so gross.” Both of you laugh, and after a small lapse into silence, you give.

“Okay fine. I might get instahorny whenever I see Izuku in costume, but I can’t help it. He just looks so good, and it’s heightened because I know what he looks like out of costume, and then all I want to do is jump his bones, but of course, I don’t because propriety. So I’m left with all this pent up sexual frustration!”

“So, are you going to ever mention this to him? Your birthday is in a few days and if I may be so bold —”

“It’s never stopped you.” You mumble under your breath with a smile.

“I’d suggest you request it be your birthday present.”

“Pfft. Yaomomo, we’ve been together almost a year and a half, and while our sex life is fucking phenomenal, I’m talking multiple orgasms almost every time, amazing — it’s been very strictly vanilla. Not from any lack of trying on my end, but every time I’ve tried to spice things up, he gets as close as humanly possible to spontaneous combustion. Don’t even get me started on the one time I tried to get him to choke me while I —”

“(Y/N)! Stop, goodness, I do not need the play by play of your and Izuku’s sex life. I just,” she massages her temples, “wanted to make a suggestion. While I’m relieved you feel so secure in our friendship to be so open, please remember I went to high school with him. He’s like a little brother.”

“Oh, Yaomomo, there’s nothing little about him.” Her face pales, and you can’t stifle your cackle. It quickly becomes a full-blown laugh that rattles through your body.

“I went a little too far with that last comment, gomen. On a serious note, though, how would I even go about asking him? ‘Hey babe, it’s my birthday so I want you to fuck me until my knees are jello while in your hero costume because it gets me all hot and bothered oh and since I’m risking it all I’d love it if you tied me up and maybe choked me too.’”

You glance over your shoulder, a look of profound regret is plastered over Yaomomo’s face. You give her an impish grin.

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue does it.”

“Oh (Y/N).” Your friend shakes her head. When you finally turn the corner onto the street, your hero agency is housed, you catch sight of a mop of green hair. You pick up your pace, a mischievous grin on your face. Using your quirk, you redistribute your mass, so your footfall’s noise against the pavement is silenced. Izuku is talking with someone, his back turned to you. The goods were on display. When he’s in reach, you stretch out your arms, hands cupping his butt you feel him stiffen as you whisper against his ear.

“You’re under arrest for transporting illegal buns of steel.” You watch the blush creep up from his neck before capturing his entire face. He turns his neck, trying to get a good look at you.

“Wh-what!” You begrudgingly let go of his ass, and he turns his body to face you, his freckles standing out against the pink hue of his flustered expression.

“Sorry hun, I don’t make the rules.” You shrug your shoulders.

“I- I, (Y/N) that’s not even a legal penal code! A-and there’s no way I could transport enough steel on my person to warrant a body search.”

“Ooh Deku,” you loosen up the state of your atoms, allowing them to vibrate in mock arousal, “I love it when you talk legal code at me. Repeat it: penal.”

He flounders for a reply, mouth agape at a total loss for words. You giggle at his expression, a total deer in headlights. The person he’d been talking to finally makes themselves known.

“Atomic, you’re still teasing the living soul out of Deku per usual. Glad to know things haven’t changed ‘round here.” His shark tooth smile pulls an equally toothy smile from you.

“Eijiro! When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” You rush to the redhead, and he reciprocates your hug, holding you tight.

“Man, I’ve missed you too (Y/N). The States were cool, but there’s no manlier place than home sweet home.” You pull back and take him in. He looks the exact same if not a little bit more tanned.

“Damn straight.” Yaoyorozu arrives at the end of your reunion. Her excitement at seeing her old friend is nearly palatable. They catch up enthusiastically, and you saddle up next to your boyfriend, who’s finally gotten his blush under control.

“Hey, babe.” You give his cheek a chaste kiss, and he smiles.

“Hey, love,” Izuku gives your hand a squeeze, “How was your day?”

“It was pretty run of the mill except for the utter shitstorm Yaomomo and I had to clean up in Minato City.” You glance down and watch his feet shuffle from side to side.

“Huh, sounds pretty epic.”

“Not the first, second, or even the third word I’d use, but we’re all entitled to our opinions. And don’t you try acting coy with me, Izuku! That blonde ticking time grenade, the confused weather pattern, and your quirk were all over that place.” Izuku gulps.

“I expended a lot of energy cleaning up after you and your friends baka. As compensation, you’ve gotta cook me curry rice. Deal?”

He kisses your cheek in assent.

“Great!” You beam. “I’m gonna go change, be back in fifteen.” You disappear through the agency’s massive double doors. Yaomomo watches until you’re out of view before she walks over to Midoriya.

“So about (Y/N) ’s birthday . . .”

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

When you come out, you find a peculiar scene waiting for you. Yaoyorozu has crafted a fan for, you presume, Izuku, who is so red you could almost see the light refraction from his face’s heat and sweating by what looks like the gallon. Eijiro is by his side, trying to calm him down. You heighten the sensitivity of your cochlea to pick up the tail end of their conversation.

“It’ll be super manly, dude!”

“Bu-but I’ve never . . .” Your boyfriend seems tongue-tied.

“You’ve definitely got it in you,” Eijiro slaps Izuku on the back, “Plus Ultra!”

Izuku echoes Eijiro, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it.

You return to your average level of hearing and walk up to the trio.

“Everything good?” They all look at you with expressions that clearly scream, ‘No, everything is not good dumbass.’

“Riiight, foolish question. Izuku, babe, do you need me to help you?” He squeaks, and that stops you dead in your tracks. The last time he had squeaked in your presence was when he’d asked you out on your first date, and you think it was mostly because you had bluntly told him you had every intention of having sex with him if not after your first then for sure after your second date. He didn’t even squawk when you made good on your declaration, and you had been positive he was going to. Your assurance cost you a ¥2,000 bet with Ochako and Shoto. Whatever had transpired while you were changing had him spooked.

You crouch down and gently take his face between your hands. His cheeks are unnaturally warm. Closing your eyes, you reach out with your quirk to scan his vitals. What the actual fuck? Izuku’s pregenual anterior cingulate cortex is enormous. Your boyfriend is next level embarrassed. His heart rate is in the 200bpm range, which should have been impossible because it only ever got that high when he was exercising, and you were quite familiar with getting it there.

You’re honestly shocked his heart hasn’t started to palpitate with the sky-high levels of cortisol in his blood and high heart rate. Taking a deep breath, you begin to gently persuade the firing neurons near his PACC to chill, its size slowly decreases. You travel down to his hypothalamus and rearrange some of its chemical balance, so it stops producing corticotropin-releasing hormone, creating a negative feedback loop that would lead to his body to drop its cortisol production. You vasoconstrict a handful of the blood vessels in his face for good measure, hoping to cool it down. Your eyes flutter open, and the ruddiness is gone, and his cheeks feel cool against your palms. He gives you a weak smile and gosh that smile, these freckles, those lively emerald eyes. You lean your forehead against his, taking a moment to collect yourself. You kiss the tip of his nose before pulling yourself up, stretching once you’re fully upright.

“Well damn, I’m starving now. I know I said you had to cook for me, but I don’t think I’ll last. What do you say, Number 1. Hero, care to take me out to eat?”

Izuku gets to his feet, with a bit of help from Eijiro, who keeps a hand wrapped around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

“Yeah, of course, love. Just tell me where you want to eat.”

You grin in delight. Before making a decision, you turn to your two other companions. You’re not sure when Yaomomo had time to change, but she’s no longer in her hero costume.

“Would y’all like to join us? Izuku’s treat.” Your cinnamon roll’s protest is drowned out by their loud acceptance.

“I mean, if my bro is gonna treat us, then how could I say no?”

“How gracious Izuku, I’d love to share a meal with everyone.”

“Let’s get going then!” You grab Izuku’s hand and turn around, heading in the direction of the train stop. The walk will give you time to decide where you want to eat.

              −−−−−−−−−−−−−−−−

“Hold on one sec, almost got it.” You pace next to Izuku; the pressure on your bladder almost debilitating. At the click of your front door unlocking and seeing Izuku push it open, you rush through over the threshold. You kick the heels off your feet, your slippers abandoned at the entryway as you make a break for the bathroom. You can’t get your underwear off quick enough. The relief is almost pleasurable. You’d forgotten what it felt like to pee while exceedingly inebriated. Typically when you go out drinking, you elevate your liver’s production of alcohol dehydrogenase so you can avoid getting drunk, but tonight was your birthday celebration, and you wanted to get shitfaced, so you dialed it back. Now that you’re home and not interested in a hangover, you make the necessary adjustments to your liver. The night out had been a pleasant surprise. More people had shown up than you’d been led to believe would, most importantly, your younger siblings had stopped by — you hadn’t seen them since moving to Musutafu to pursue your hero career. You finish reminiscing over the night’s events. Quickly wiping, you flush the toilet and wash your hands. When you open the door, you find your slippers are there waiting. He was a total sweetheart.

You slide your sore feet in and sigh at the fluffiness. You make your way to your bedroom, surprised to find it empty. Where had Izuku gone? You take off your earrings, dropping them into your jewelry box. Making your way to the main bathroom connected to your room, you’ve just finished wiping away your makeup when you hear the door open. You walk to the bathroom door to peek and gasp as soon as you spot the figure closing the door behind them. Now you’d be the first to admit you are a horny bitch, but never have you felt your pussy throb with such a deep longing the way it was throbbing now. You stand still dumbfounded at seeing Izuku in his hero costume in your bedroom.

“Babe?” You try to suppress the quiver in your voice.

“Ma’am,” He tilts his head in greeting, “I got reports of a villain in the vicinity. I’m Deku, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Why the fuck did he just introduce himself? And a villain? You reach out with your quirk but don’t feel an unknown presence nearby. You start to walk towards him but stop at the foot of your bed. He meets you there, and you don’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not him pushing you onto your back. You fall with a muffled thud against the comforter. You stare up at him at a complete loss. You then become hyper-aware of what you’re wearing. The sparkling strappy mini dress leaves little to the imagination, and you’re positive that from his angle, Izuku can see your panties and the growing evidence of your arousal.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I’ll be using my quirk to restrain you as a precautionary measure.” Your mouth goes dry as you watch Blackwhip manifest wrapping around your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, and adhering to your shared bed’s headboard. You have to scoot yourself back a few inches to ease the tension in your shoulders. Holy shit. He just tied you up. This whole time he’s been standing at the end of the bed taking you in. You know your face is flushed, and you can feel your nipples brushing against the material of your dress now that you’re so turned on. Izuku’s hands come into view, and that somehow gets your mouth to work again.

“What are you going to do?” You arch an eyebrow and part your lips to let your tongue dart out and wet them. Fuck Yaomomo wasn’t off the mark with her comment.

“I’ll need to do a full-body search to ensure you’re not concealing anything illegal on your person.” You don’t have time to respond before his gloved hands caress down your pinned arms, across where your neck and shoulders meet. Leaving goosebumps in their wake. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You groan as the sensation travels down, pooling between your legs. He moves down your sides, slowly over your exposed thighs sticking strictly to the outside of your legs until he reaches mid-calf. You feel his hands move, and suddenly their inching closer to your aching cunt. Using his right hand Izuku runs a finger teasingly up between your clothed slit and your hips give an involuntary buck. He removes his finger and tuts at you, that pisses you off.

“What the fuck Izu —” You stop yourself when you see another tendril of black materialize near your face.

“Don’t make me gag you. My name is Deku, and you will address me as Deku-sama.” There’s a finality in his tone that leaves no room for argument. You’re torn between being really fucking aroused and very vexed at this role reversal. You’d always been on top, literally and figuratively, and now here he was, your cinnamon roll, threatening to gag you and not even blushing about it. He takes your silence as understanding and begins to hike up the bottom of your dress. With your midriff exposed, he finally settles between your legs, his toned abdomen flush against you. He places an open-mouthed kiss just above your belly button, his tongue flicks out to taste your skin. Izuku’s lips continue to roam over every inch of your exposed abdomen, sucking and biting. He’s going to leave love marks all over your stomach, you’re sure. His hands travel up under your dress, coming to rest just below your breasts. You feel the flat of his tongue working its way towards his hands. When you can feel his breath tickling you already hard nipples, he pulls his face away. You squirm and pull against your restraint — you feel them tighten.

“What is it you want, villain?” Fuuuck. The word falls from his lips wrapped in sinful promise sending another steady pulse of need through your body. Your nervous system was on fire.

“I want you to touch me.” You try to taper down the pleading in your voice, but the mildly amused expression on Izuku’s face says you failed.

“Like this?” His hand runs down your neck, over your dress and through the valley of your cleavage, past your naval stopping at the band of your panties. It dawns on you that he was teasing you.

“Or like this?” You’re not sure when his gloves came off or how he managed it, but one second you’re covered by the flimsy dress material next, the straps keeping it up are torn, and the dress pulled down. You hiss at the shock of the sudden temperature change, but quickly warm up as calloused fingers massage your breasts. A greedy moan is the only answer you can manage as you arch your back into his touch. He leans closer, breath warm against your neck, and moves a hand down to grip your ass,

“Let’s see if these are illegal buns of steel.” Even with how incredibly husky his voice is, you almost laugh at his remark’s absolute absurdity. Still, having maybe foreseen your reaction Izuku wraps one of your nipples between his lips before you can utter a sound.

“Deku-sama.” You inhale sharply coming completely unwound as his tongue flicks and swirls. His mouth sucks and pulls playfully. When his teeth graze your nipple, you contemplate making your hands boneless to escape the restraints just so you could tangle your hands in his hair; even with the undercut, you knew you could make him moan. The idea is quickly dashed as Izuku releases your now overly sensitive bud with a resounding pop that sends the ache in your pussy into a frenzy. Good god , he hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet. He treats your other nipple with much the same attention. However, this time, he lets his teeth give it a gentle nibble, and the shock of the feeling causes your skin to prickle. You feel him grin at your reaction before giving your nipple a farewell lick. He captures your lips, shoving his hips down against your own, as his hands’ ghost over your neck. You hook a leg around his hip, pulling him closer, trying to create as much friction as possible as you roll your hips upward. He lets out a breathy chuckle, as his mouth moves to replace his hands. He kisses up your neck, his breath tickles your ear, and you stutter out a needy whimper.

“Someone’s eager.” You groan in frustration as he pulls back. His hands grab hold of what’s left of your dress, and you help him get you out of it. He runs a finger up your stomach, stopping just below your sternum. The tip of his index finger traces a lazy circle before leaving a trail of goosebumps back down to your hip. The pressure of his finger is replaced by his mouth, biting the flesh of your hip crease hungrily. He kisses his away across to your opposite hip, traces of his kisses wet against your skin. You feel his fingers toying with the lacy hem of your panties before he hooks them in the elastic, pulling them down. You lift your hips as they pass over the curve of your ass, and you wriggle in anticipation. Izuku braces his left forearm against your right thigh, pushing your legs wider. His index finger explores your wet folds, dipping briefly into your slit, before brushing against your swollen clitoris.

“Deku-sama, please .” You don’t care how desperate you sound, the ache in your pussy is becoming unbearable. The slow burn was killing you.

“Since you said, please.” He slips a thick finger inside of you, curling it just so it massages the soft and spongy spot that makes your toes curl and lewd obscenities fall from your parted lips.

“Aah, fuck. Fuck, yes, there, right there. More. Izuku give me more.” A second finger is roughly inserted. You cry out as a jolt of ecstasy consumes every inch of you. He begins to scissor his fingers back and forth, “It’s De-ku sa-ma,” each thrust emphasizing the syllables of his declaration. You rock your hips up, trying to get his fingers deeper because you are close. You can feel the dam getting ready to burst. When his thumb circles your clit, you feel yourself clench around his fingers. He inhales sharply. You bite back a moan as stars begin to dance across your vision. The rhythm of his fingers picks up, and the pressure on your clit begins to be too much.

“You’re about to cum.” It’s not a question, but you manage to pant a yes, and it becomes your undoing. Tongue replaces fingers before you can bemoan feeling empty, hands wrap under your thighs, keeping you exposed when they instinctively try to shut. His fingers dig into soft flesh, and the pain leaves you dizzy for more. He unhooks his left arm from your thigh, again using his forearm to keep your leg down. Two fingers spread you open, and his breath is warm, and you screw your eyes shut because fucking hell, you feel ready to erupt. You feel the warmth of his tongue as it slips inside you and starts to lick around. His nose brushes against your clit as he laps up your wetness. When he takes your clitoris in his mouth, you feel yourself at the edge of a precipice.

“Y-your fin-fingers. Deku-sama.” You frantically tug against your binds as you arch your hips rutting into his face. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You feel yourself drowning in pleasure when his fingers join back in the fray. You’re full, and his tongue is everywhere. Inside you along with his fingers, pressing in all the right places. There’s no room to be embarrassed by your body’s wet sounds as you thrust against his fingers or the sounds he’s eliciting from you — loud, throaty, and gluttonous. He laps up the juices wherever they end up, on your thighs, in your folds, the space between your pussy and ass. At your clit he teases with nibbles, quick flicks of his tongue, and long flat strokes. He was treating you like you were his favorite meal. Coming back for seconds, thirds, fourths. You lose track of time. The air crackles with electricity, Izuku, the electromagnet to your copper coils. It sparks against your skin. Were you doing that? You couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter because something was building. You feel it in your core, your quirk causing your atoms to buzz in excitement. He lets you hook your legs around his back, locking your ankles. You make a strangled noise when a particularly aggressive thrust combined with the head-splitting euphoria of Izuku’s tongue on your clit brings your Earth stuttering on its axis.

“Oh fuck, oh kami. Shit, Deku-sama!”

You flicker in and out. One second howling Izuku’s name like a prayer to the Gods, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. The next, you find yourself weightless in a void no longer in a corporeal form. What the fuck? It lasts no longer than a second before you return to your body and the sound of him cooing against your aching cunt.

“That’s it, cum villain. Cum for me.” And cum, you do. Waves of fiery ecstasy set your body aflame. You clench your fists and use your legs to pull Izuku’s face further flush against you. When you think you can catch your breath, Izuku surprises you by coaxing you into another smaller orgasm. You don’t know how he did it, but you really can’t complain, you’re feeling blissful as fuck. The bed creaks as he shifts back onto his knees, unwrapping your legs from around him. Blachwip is deactivated, and your arms fall uselessly to your sides. You feel your legs quiver from exertion, and you watch your chest rise in fall sporadically as your breathing levels off. You prop yourself up on your elbow to give Izuku a once over. He’s got a bit of sweat on his forehead, you can see the outline of his erection against the front of his hero costume, and your cum glistens on his nose, mouth, and chin. Not sure how you manage it, with your body feeling so close to putty, but you scoot back, pulling yourself up into a seated position, and rock forward onto your knees so you’re facing him.

You move closer, so your knees brush against his. Now that you’re close enough, you can see how blown his pupils are. They almost wholly eclipse the dark shamrock of his irises. He had it bad for you. You could fix that. You grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting it down to your lips so you can lick it clean. When your tongue traces the outline of his mouth, a low moan rumbles in the back of his throat. You get his mouth open with a hard nip to his bottom lip. Tasting yourself in his mouth and on his tongue makes you squeeze your thighs together briefly before you let your free hand wander between your legs to stroke your clit and moistening labia. You give the tip of his nose a cutesy peck that almost brings a blush to his freckled face, but he remains in character, so you palm his cock with your damp hand grinning devilishly when he stutters an exhale.

“I want you, hero.”

Izuku’s chuckle is rich, and you can feel it reverberate against where your chests connect. You start to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, the short buzz of his undercut tickles your fingertips. Sliding your hand up, you finally get to tangle your fist in his hair, your grip tightens, and you pull his head back, exposing his neck. Your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to just below his earlobe, all the while your hand strokes him into fully hardening.

“I’m not fucking around, Deku.” Your voice is thick and your tone dark, dangerous. He grabs the wrist of the hand that’s between his legs and growls,

“Neither am I villain slut.” You swallow hard at his inflection on the word slut. You’d never been called a slut during sex, and under any other circumstance, you’re sure it wouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal pulsing from your fingertips down to your toes. He brings the hand up above your head, reaching behind his head to grab your second hand. You give him a feral grin, and his eyes flash before he sends you to your back. You’re about to stretch out your legs when he commands you to flip over onto your hands and knees. You do as you’re told, biting your lip as warmth begins to once again pool between your legs. You wish you could help him out of his costume, but it sounds like your help wasn’t needed. His dick grazes against the back of your thighs. A finger follows the curve of your spine. You arch into the touch and moan when it dips at your hip to tap your clitoris.

“You’re so wet already. You villains really know nothing about bedroom decorum.” He skims a hand over your stomach, stopping to grope and tease your hardened nipples.

“Oh? Keeping a woman in suspense isn’t exactly proper in my book De-ku sa-ma.” You look over your shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re,” he thrust into you without warning, quickly turning the grin on your face into an open-mouthed ‘oh,’ “not,” he pulls out, so the tip of his head just barely touches your cunt, “a woman.” He pushes into you, swearing under his breath as you push your hips back to meet his momentum. A ragged breath escapes your lips as you adjust to him, filling you. Shit, the boy is thick. His nails dig into your hip as he continues to fuck you at a painfully slow pace. Fingers tweak your nipples, and you feel your whole body flush with pleasure. You clutch the bedsheets in two tight fists when he starts to quicken his thrusts. His chest is slick with sweat against your back, his tongue tracing circles into your shoulder. An aggressive stroke sends the head of his cock rubbing up against your G-spot, and you feel your walls squeeze around him.

“Shit, shit, fuck Deku. That’s it. Just keep putting pressure on that spot.” You feel your elbows buckle, and you expect to crash into the bed. Instead, black tendrils wrap around your arms to keep you upright. This is definitely not how Lariat intended Blackwhip’s tendrils to be used. The thought makes you giggle. It seems that this was not a sound Izuku wanted to hear coming from you. He bites down on the spot of your shoulder he’d been suckling, making his displeasure known. You feel him adjust himself behind you, perhaps too quickly, because he slips out of you, and you protest immediately with a loud whine.

“I’ll give you something to whine about.” He thrust back into you, your knees go weak, and your pussy’s stimulation begins to pull the taught rope of your impending orgasm closer to snapping. One of his hands grabs the hair at the base of your neck, tugging with just enough force to tease a guttural mewl from you.

“That’s more like it.” You’re so overstimulated, with the rhythm of his dick coming in and out of you. The attention he’s paying to your clit, you scarcely have the headspace to be shocked by the personality change. Izuku doesn’t release his hold on your hair; instead, he deactivates Blackwhip and uses the grip to guide you, so your back is flush against his chest. You can smell the muskiness of his sweat with him so close. It mingles in the air with the scent of your arousal. Sex, the whole room smelled heavily of your fucking. He brushes a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down gently. You open your mouth, taking it in, holding it gently between your teeth, your lips acting as a cushion. You suck on Izuku’s thumb, letting your tongue swirl over the tip treating it how you would if you were instead sucking on the head of his cock. You hollow out your cheek and release his thumb with a satisfying pop. Your reward is the sound of Izuku’s heated gasp. The sound tightens the coil in your groin. You feel his right hand lightly trailing up your side. You expect him to stop to cup your breast, but a tingle runs up your spine when he skips it entirely. His thumb rests a few inches under your right ear, the fleshy part of his palm rests against your trachea, the remaining four fingers occupy the same spot under the opposite ear. You can’t hide your excitement as he begins to apply light pressure to your neck. It’s amplified when he whispers in your ear,

“Whose slut are you, villain?”

“I’m yours. All yours.” He squeezes a little tighter, and you squirm, gripping his left hip for stability.

“Yours, Deku-sama. I’m all yours.” You choke over the words while he loosens his grip satisfied with your correction. The brief bout of intoxicating lightheadedness dissipates quickly, but he keeps his hand around your neck.

You feel him, hard and slick, throbbing inside you, and you know he’s close. You prepare to ride out the coming crescendo that you’ll set off with your silver tongue.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you, hero? I can feel your cock pulsing.” He squeezes your neck tighter than he has before reminding you who was in charge. You dig your nails into his hip and bite your lip. Was he turning into a masochist, or were you?

“I want you to cum in me. Make me your bona fide villain bitch — think you’re up for it, big boy?” You were being so bold, goading him. It does the trick. He releases his hold on your neck, you’re a little sad, but are swiftly distracted by a sudden burst of heat and green energy crackling, the telltale sign of Full Cowl being activated. What the hell was he up to? Your answer comes moments later when his hands push your bent legs further apart, hooking his arms under your thighs to lift them up. You feel weightless, free, and so very wanton. Then like being dosed with ice-cold water, you come back to your senses; you’ve always been terrified of being picked up during sex. Your arms flail, searching for anything to grab hold of. They settle awkwardly at Izuku’s neck. Your breathing is a little erratic.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Oh, he was being a total ass.

“Absolutely not.” You bite back.

“Heh.”

Sensing your discomfort, he places you back down on your knees, his hand returning to your neck — where it belonged. Shit, it was you, you’re the masochist. You feel him throb inside you, the head of his penis gets a little bigger and his cock harder. His movements become more sporadic. You take his free hand and lead it to your clit, you’d be damned if he cums before you. His groans become music to your ears, loud and ravenous as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. Soon that’s all you can feel, like tunnel vision nothing else matters, there are no other options, but his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you as his fingers dance around your clit. He flicks and pulls, rubs circles, and you savor every second of it. Everything cumulates into a blinding flash of white-hot light as if you’re staring directly at burning magnesium. You hear him crying out your name, and it mixes with your carnal pleas into a cacophonous soundtrack to your mutual climax. He finishes inside you, the thick viscous liquid of his orgasm, filling you with more warmth than you anticipated. As you ride out your orgasm, you don’t stop gyrating your hips until you feel Izuku become soft. You let out a shaky breath as you come to a stop to catch your breath. You’re thankful that he doesn’t seem eager to pull out quite yet while you bask in the quiet exhilaration of having orgasmed three times this night.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay?”

You nod your head slightly, words out of reach with your euphoria’s hum still clouding your mind. Cum trickles down between your thighs, the sensation almost ticklish, but far more erotic. With nothing connecting you to Izuku, your body gives in to its exhaustion, falling forward unceremoniously. He wraps an arm around your waist, setting you gently down on your stomach. Rolling onto your back, you shimmy up onto a pillow to support your head. You glance up at Izuku and sigh in content. Hair stuck to his head, abs contracting as he slows his breathing (his heart rate close to 180bpm), and his left-hand traces the scars on his right arm absently. Even in such a worn-out state, he looked otherworldly. You lock eyes, and you pat his side of the bed next to you.

“Cuddle with me.” At hearing those three words, he sheds his façade, his eyes soften, his jaw loosens, and he eagerly obliges your request. He rests his head on your chest, your fingers playing with his hair as he gently brushes your side. You stay like this for a few minutes until he starts out of your arms like someone’s lit a fire under his ass. He sits up, you follow suit intrigued by what’s got him so worked up. You watch him reach across towards his nightstand. He pulls out a notebook and a pencil. You have to suppress your snort as he begins scribbling furiously. You couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, catching bits and pieces of his muttering.

“. . . dominated . . . choking . . . loud . . . buns of steel. . .” You can’t stifle the laugh that escapes you. He glances up and gives you a sheepish grin, his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“You fucked me into another dimension, jot that down in your sex notebook.” A blush erupts across his face.

“I-I what? Seriously?”

“Mhmm, as seriously as my orgasm.” Embarrassment flickers momentarily in his eyes, quickly replaced by intense curiosity. You dare say you see a little triumphant gleam too.

“What happened, tell me everything, love.” You recount what he’d been doing with his tongue and fingers. The feeling leading up to it and what it looked like in this other dimension.

“Sounds like you’ve unlocked another facet of your quirk.”

“Looks like it, but it’s not really useful.” He gives you an inquiring look; you roll your eyes. He could be so dense sometimes.

“I can’t exactly have you eating me out in public every time I want to astral project now, can I?” His blush returns full force.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Possibly, but I’m beat. My legs feel like jello, and I’m starting to feel sore.” You massage your neck, glancing at your exposed breasts and the marks that speckle them. Izuku looks at you with worry.

“You can’t fix it with your quirk?”

“I can, but where’s the fun in that? One of my favorite parts of sex is feeling it the next day. I’m definitely going to tomorrow and maybe the day after thanks to you.” You give him a wink and admire as he fumbles with his words.

“Oh! Well, I mean. Yeah. No problem. I think?” He was definitely back to being your cinnamon roll. You giggle quietly.

“Before I go clean up, I’ve gotta know. How did you do that.” You motion with your hand, hoping he picks up what you’re putting down. He does.

“Simple, lots of research.” You squint at him, touching the pulse at his neck. It was slightly elevated.

“Ah-huh, and what else?”

“No-nothing!” The pulse quickens a little more.

“Did you role play with someone?” The idea sounds absolutely preposterous, but when he pushes your hand away from his neck and gets up off the bed, you know you’ve struck a nerve.

“You’re using your quirk, that’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. So, who was it with? Shoto? Eiji? Or was it Katsuki ?” The light hue of pink that creeps up his neck is all the confirmation you need.

“Ah,” you bob your head sagely, “it makes sense, babe, he gives off a total masochist vibe. I’d have practiced with him too. What was it like? Would he be open to a threesome? Or would it be a foursome since he’s got that not, so secret thing going with Eiji? Could I even handle the three of you?” You wonder out loud.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku rushes into the bathroom, adamantly trying to end this conversation. You weren’t letting this go, oh no siree, so you get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where Izuku’s turned on the shower and is standing under its current.

“Nice try. You’re giving me the details.” He sighs defeatedly.

“Can it wait until we’re in the bath.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting.

“I guess.” Izuku grabs you, pulling you into the shower with him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. He gives the top of your head a kiss.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

Happy fucking birthday to me. You smile to yourself.

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #midoriya fic #reader is female #reader insert #midoriya fluff #the gift that keeps on giving

[buckysgoldenheart]

Late

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry has a reputation that makes you cautious and it’s caused some disagreements. Everyone thinks you hate each other, but maybe you don’t as much as you let on. (fluffy ending, and idk, maybe angst depending on your definition).

Words: 2880

Notes/Warnings: I made this like mid-20s Henry during the Tudors filming, season 1. If I messed up with tenses somewhere, I’d like it of you let me know. I started this story out in the past-tense then changed it to present so I might have missed some stuff when editing, even after reading it 100 times over.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hop up from your sunken spot on the couch. After the day you had, the Chinese food on the other side of that wood slab is the only thing with the ability to help you recover before you must face a fresh 5 a.m. morning with Henry tomorrow.

God, you want that man to fall off the face of the earth. You don’t care if his disappearance meant you would temporarily be out of a job. Being an assistant on the set of The Tudors was something you had strongly considered sacrificing in the past if it meant never having to work with one very particular, blue-eyed, temperamental actor ever again.

You almost quit weeks ago but told yourself to suck it up. You can’t afford to unintentionally cause drama at your workplace, not after your last job; and getting that kind of reputation is not what you are going for. Besides, filming for the first season is almost over, and you will gladly welcome the long break before everyone needs to report back for season two.

The smile you were fully prepared to give the delivery man falls entirely at the sight on the other side of the door.

“What the hell are you doing here,” You huff out.

Henry crosses his thick arms over his even thicker chest and frowns back at you. “I didn’t get my script.”

A headache is already forming just from his proximity and you don’t bother resisting the urge to rub at your temple. “Well, I sent it to your house a week ago.”

“And I didn’t get it, so clearly you didn’t do a very good job.”

With an eye-roll, you say, “Is there some reason you had to come all the way to my apartment and bug me for the script when I will see you first thing in the morning?”

“Everyone else will have had theirs longer, and I wanted to get a good start on learning my lines, so yes, I have a good reason for ‘bugging’ you, Y/N.”

You hate the way he says your name. It passes his lips so softly every time and makes your heart speed faster than your liking. If another man said your name like that, you’d fall for him in an instant, but no, Henry seemed to be the only man possessing that thick, honey-sweet voice.

“Whatever,” You groan and turn on your heel. In your office desk are two extra copies of each actors’ script for emergencies, but a simple text from Henry would’ve sufficed; this is hardly life or death.

‘Hey, never got my script. Can you bring a copy in the morning?’ So damn easy.

You turn your head back when Henry’s heavy footsteps hit your hardwood floors. “Hey, I didn’t say you could come in,” You snap, eyebrows drawn together.

“What kind of person would leave their guest outside?”

The sass in his tone makes you want to pull your hair right out of your scalp. “You’re not my guest,” You say, but your blatant aggravation does nothing to hinder him and his body is a foot away from yours before you know it. Inches he has on you forces you to look up just to meet the smirk on his face.

“Stop acting like you hate me,” He says as he reaches a hand to grab yours.

“Excuse me?!” You quickly swat that hand away. “I am not acting like anything! Any negative feelings you are sensing from me are one hundred percent genuine.”

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms once again. “Oh, please.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. He is unbelievable. Everything he does, everything he says, everything he is has had the power to make your whole body shake since the day you met him. “God, I can’t stand you!”

Walking away from him for the office, he follows close behind. “You know what, you’re not all that great either!” He yells at your back as you open the drawer of your desk to shuffle through the scripts. “You yap all damn day, talking to everyone else on set and making them laugh! You shoot that pretty smile in any direction and people flock to you like deranged birds!”

“So!” You pull out the script and hand it to Henry. Without giving it a glance, he snatches it from you and tosses it back on the oak wood surface of the desk.

“So? You’re distracting them from their jobs! We could probably get things done twice as fast if you weren’t around!”

“That’s—”

“And you are annoyingly beautiful!” He harshly interrupts. “Annoyingly! The men we work with will not shut up about it and I’m sick of listening to them talk about you the way they do! I end up hearing your name more times in a day than I hear my own, and I get called upon every five seconds! I’m practically forced to think about you!”

You blink at the increase in volume that makes the thin walls of your home quiver.

“I don’t know how many times your face manages to flash in my mind in the course of a week, but it’s starting to get to me!”

Your hands rise in disbelief before they slap back down to your sides. “That’s not my fault! But you’re one to talk! You’re well aware you’re ridiculously, unnaturally hot, and I fucking hate it! The women we work with won’t shut up about you. And you think I’m annoying? Imagine being surrounded by a pack of idiots that go on and on about how amazing you are, when the truth is, you’re so arrogant I can’t stand to be within two feet of you!”

When you try to walk past him, his hand wraps tightly around your upper arm. “Hey!”

“Leave me alone! I hate you!” You snarl at the rage in his eyes and try to shake him off you.

“You don’t hate me.”

You glare up at him. “Oh no?”

He gapes at you, seemingly stunned you have the gall to challenge him. The grip on your arm loosens until you are free. Winding his fingers through his chocolate locks, Henry shakes his head and clenches his jaw. “You are so...”

“So what? So irritating? So infuriating?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“If I’m such a problem, then go.” Ignoring his words, you point a finger in the general direction of the nearest exit.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Of course, I do!”

He quirks an eyebrow and cocks his head. “So you’re going to grab me with your tiny hands and throw me through the front door, is that right?”

“I can’t fucking lift you!” You yell.

“Then I’m staying!”

“I think you’re really not! You can’t just demand to stay here! That’s not how this works!”

“Why can’t you just—God damn it!” He stomps his way back into the living room, script forgotten, and reaches for the doorknob. You follow him and let out an exhausted breath of relief, but Henry whips around to you again before you have time to revel in the feeling. “You know what, no. I’m not going anywhere until we settle this bullshit between us. I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m not going to act like I dislike you. I’m not going to keep playing this game, because it’s clearly not getting me anywhere; in fact, it’s doing the opposite.”

“Getting you anywhere?” You mumble.

“This whole thing is fucking bullshit and I’m over it.” He swallows. “Tell me what I did.”

“What?”

“You keep saying you hate me but have never given me a reason, so what did I do?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You were just telling me I suck at my job, yet at the same time you don’t think I have a reason to be mad. You glare at me during work, you act like I’m an inconvenience, you—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Henry grabs your hand, and for a reason you couldn’t place, you allow it this time. “At the beginning, when we met, what was it that caused a problem between us? I’ve gone over our first meeting in my head about a thousand times and cannot figure out how I upset you so much that you’re still mad after months.”

You slip your fingers out of his palm, looking to the floor.

“Please just tell me,” He begs. “Please, I--”

“You sleep with the women you work with.” You spit out.

When he stares at you in confusion, you wince and say, “I have this friend…kinda. She was an extra on Hellraiser and claimed that you slept with nearly every woman on set, herself included. When I told her I got this job she said you’d probably try to get in my pants if I wasn’t careful, and I’m not cautious enough about men as it is, so—”

“You were mad at me before we met for something I didn’t even do?” He isn’t angry or looking at you like you’ve lost your mind; more like he can’t believe that was all it was. As if he had a simple solution to the problem that planted its roots deep into the both of you months prior.

“Whether or not you did, it’s not like you’ve been an angel to me anyway,” You say.

“Because I fucking panic when someone I want doesn’t want me! And you’ve made it very clear that you do not want me! You always seem so angry and…and I’m not very smooth, ok!? I say shit I don’t mean!”

“So you do want to get in my pants?”

“No!” He says quickly, then after a beat, sighs. “Yes.”

You give no response, so he continues.

“I swear, despite how idiotic I have acted, I really like you, and I don’t know who your friend is or why she would tell you I slept with a bunch of women on set, but I didn’t.”

You have to look away from him. His eyes hold too much sincerity and all it does is confuse you. You have spent too much time pissed to feel comfortable with the idea that it was potentially all for no reason, so you hug your arms across your middle and take a step back from him.

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.”

You shake your head. “I can’t right now.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s late, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You won’t meet his stare but can see from your peripherals his head slowly nod. You don’t look up until your front door closes softly behind him.

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

You spend the earliest hours of the next morning sipping coffee before everyone else arrives for work, wondering if the night before actually happened or if it had just been a very realistic messy mix of a dream and a nightmare.

The sun rises and you watch as it ascends each inch until it’s planted high enough in the sky to warm your skin. He’d be here soon, looking for you, wanting answers for any questions you hadn’t given him the chance to ask.

So, what, he likes me now? He wants me? You can’t wrap your head around it. But you suppose it makes as much sense as you saying you hate him when really what you’ve been is nervous. You don’t want to be used again by some man with more power than you. Pulling yourself out of that hole was hard enough and you have no desire to trip and fall right back in.

“Y/N. You’re here early.”

You jump at the first voice to interrupt the peaceful silence. It was the last moment you’ll have to yourself for the next fifteen hours at least.

Turning your head, you smile at your boss. “Morning, Em.”

“Henry’s here early, too,” She says. “He asked me to let him know when you came in, but seeing as you’re already here, you think you could just head to his trailer now?”

No, you want to say. I’m not ready. “Sure.” You half-heartedly smile, dumping the last of your coffee in the nearest trash can.

Each crunchy step along the gravel to Henry’s trailer feels less sturdy than the one before. Though, he isn’t in his trailer when you find him, but standing out in a grassy patch, throwing a ball to Em’s dog, Leo. It makes your heart pump hard to see him so casually soft. It’s the first time you are looking at him when his eyes aren’t already on you.

Leo loyally returns the ball to Henry three more times before you gather the nerve to step up to his side.

“Em said you wanted to see me.”

You notice him hold in a breath when he registers your voice, then tossing the ball once more, he says, “I’d have gone looking for you myself if I knew you were here.”

You nod, but you’ve yet to look at one another.

“The makeup artists are gonna have a blast today trying to make me look decent,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t sleep all night. I spent it trying to figure out what to say to you but came up short.”

You scratch behind Leo’s large ears when he nudges your legs with his head. Henry gently grins, though you don’t see it. You shrug. “At least you don’t have as many scenes today.”

Henry chuckles. “That’s true.”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say to you either,” You say.

A moment passes as he blows out a deep sigh.

“Y/N…I don’t want to act like it didn’t happen. I know that’s what is easiest, but I meant what I said. The good parts, not the shit about you sucking at your job. You’re the best at your job.”

Finally meeting his eyes, the corners of your lips curve up just a bit.

“But I don’t expect you to feel the same about me.”

“Henry…”

He shakes his head and throws the ball for Leo after the pups persistent whimpering. “I’m not going to make things hard for you. Filming is almost over anyway and if you want, I’ll try to bother you as little as I can. I’m sorry I’ve been an ass, it’s just…you like everyone around here except me, but I’ve liked you more than anyone else since the moment we met. It’s no excuse--”

“It’s ok.”

He looks at you. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Without thinking, you place a hand on his arm. He stares at the touch you give him as you continue. “I didn’t have a good reason for treating you like I hate you, not really.”

“So, you don’t…hate me?”

“…No.” You look away in shame. “And I have a better explanation for that.”

He blinks, clearly relieved that every horrible thing he figured you felt for him was not, in your heart, the truth. “You don’t owe me one.”

“I slept with my boss once,” You rush out. “And, um…got the same warning as I did with you: sleeps with the other women he works with, will try to do the same with me. He did and I let him because I thought he liked me, but…no. All it did was make me feel like an idiot in the end.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I made a mistake.” You shrug. And suddenly, admitting that out loud, confiding in someone, knocks some of the painful gears in your head loose. You’d never told anyone the truth about your past. “Look, this is going to sound really odd but,” You swallow. “…Don’t stop bothering me.”

“Wait,” He turns his body fully to you. “What?”

Your lips thin, but then you smile, inch up on your toes, and go to kiss his cheek. All you wanted to do was provide a little reassurance, to let him know that you now forgive every misunderstanding between you, but the kiss lands a little too far to the right and covers the end of his mouth.

Immediately, you pull back a few centimeters and feel heat flushing your cheeks, but Henry tilts his head the slightest. He takes a breath, giving you a chance to pull back further, but when you make no move to abandon him, he connects your lips again.

It feels good. He feels good. So good it shocks you how much you don’t want it to end. And when you part your lips and his tongue touches yours, you can’t stop your hands from sliding up his chest before roping around his neck and tugging him closer. Only then does he greedily grab at your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your t-shirt.  

Leo’s bark separates you minutes later, though you’re reluctant to allow it. You glance at the dog, chuckling at his rapidly wagging tail as he watches the scene before him. But when you look back to Henry, his eyes are already glued to you, their hue a little brighter and a small smile on his face.

“I’ll bother you as much as you like,” He says and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

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

*reposted for tag testing reasons. 

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill tudors #henry cavill the tudors #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill angst #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fics #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfics #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill charles brandon #charles brandon

[magalidragon]

we’ll meet once more | chapter 2 | teaser

LOL I am working on it! Didn’t forget this fic! And as much as I wanted to tease an interaction in this chapter I didn’t, but I will say we meet Jon’s Dad and he isn’t Rhaegar!

Dany, who was wearing sky-high stilettos that looked like they could mirror as weapons, did not fare quite as well on the slick walkways around the port, slipping behind him, the fish sloshing up against the plastic-covered bowl top. "Rhaego!" she shouted, but her son either did not hear her-- or rather Jon thought-- ignored her.

His initial hope that Arry would be fine vanished when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. She was moving too fast. “Arry!” he exclaimed but it was too late.

Arry skidded on the walkway, and he reached out to grab her, but missed, her left leg sliding under her, tearing her pink tights. "Nooooo!" she howled, grabbing for her knee, bellowing like a wounded animal. "My kneeeee!"

"Arry!" He would not be shocked if someone called child services based off her behavior in the last five minutes. He hoisted her up, checked for blood-- none thank gods-- and hauled her up again, but she kicked, wanting back down. He sighed, trying to figure out where to take them, and Dany came up behind him, taking her hand silently.

Grateful for Dany taking on Arry who was now shouting about her torn tights, he chased after Rhaego. He feared given that there was limited safety features this far down past the check in stations for most of the boats, they'd be fishing the boy out of the harbor and that was the last thing he needed. Somehow he was sure Daenerys would blame him for it. She seemed the type. No wonder she and Ygritte were friends, he mused, probably had "We Hate Jon Snow Fan Club" buttons made.

He reached Rhaego at the end of the dock, the little boy confused, turning in circles, because there was no boat there. "Where is it?" he cried, holding his fingers in circles and lifting them to his eyes, mimicking binoculars. It was really adorable, actually. "I can't see it!"

"It was the one back there, I was trying to tell you!" Dany shouted at him.

"That one didn't have any one on it!" A boat full of children would at least have some noise, that boat didn't have anything. He left them there to gather themselves and run back up the walkway, since his rubber-soled boots could actually take him where he needed to go without fear of taking a swim, and reached the dock in question, but the boat had already pulled away, was well into the harbor. "Shit," he cursed. He spun around, grabbing a dock worker. "Hey! The Dragonstone Ferry, which one is it?"

The worker chuckled, pointing to the boat that had just pulled away. "That's the nine on its way."

"But..." he trailed off, shoulders sagging. Shit! He weakly pointed to another boat. "What about that one?"

"That one has engine trouble, so we switched them."

Shit!

He checked his watch. There was no way they could even think of trying to find another way to get the kids to Dragonstone. It was too late. And blast it all, he had to be in Davos's office in about twenty minutes. He dropped his arm, shoulders slumping, more disappointed for his daughter than he was worried about his meeting. He chewed his bottom lip, glancing at Arry, who peered up at him, wide-eyed, confused. "Sorry," he mumbled, shaking his head and sighing, leaning down to her height, and squeezing her hands comfortingly. "We missed it."

"Noooooo!"

She howled, devastated, while Rhaego looked to his mother for comfort. The look Dany set his way was scathing, and she turn in a couple of circles, peering towards the main road. "Well...we...." she sighed, reaching for the phone in his hand. "Come on, we have to get going. I'll try your uncle."

"But I don't want to go with him, I want to go with you!"

"Rhaego I can't, I have to get to work!"

Arry was screaming now, high-pitched again, and Jon hauled her upright, kneeling to her height and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Aryanna Snow, you stop that now," he ordered, putting all his military bearing into his voice, firm, decisive. She glared at him, a look reminicent of her mother, and closed her mouth, continuing to sniffle, but he could see there was no actual wetness in her eyes. Fake tears? That's new. He exhaled hard, cupping her face, gentle. "Arry, I know you are upset, but you have to stop this. It's not right."

"But I want to go!"

"I know you do and I am sorry, you're going to have to come with me." His mind racing, he thought of his mother, or maybe even his father. He checked his watch again, wincing. He had to get to the base. It was clear to the north, it'd be forever in traffic. He patted his pockets, wondering where his phone was.

It was clutched in Arry's hand, probably from the cab and he took it, against her protests. He shoved it into his pocket, looking at Dany, who was comforting Rhaego. The little boy was disappointed, but unlike Arry's explosive response to rejection, his was quieter. It made Jon sad, made him think he was kind of used to it. His heart sank. "I'm sorry Rhaego," he apologized to the little boy.

Rhaego shrugged. "S'alright," he mumbled. He looked up at his mother. "What now?"

Dany squared off against him. "Now, we get to my office while I figure out what to do the rest of the day. I hope you're happy Captain Snow."

"Hope I'm happy?" he echoed, barking a laugh. If this woman hadn't been so damn contrary all morning to everything he said, maybe they would have gotten there on time, but nope. "Maybe you need to take a look the mirror, aye?"

She made a face, checking her watch. "I have a day, you have effectively ruined it."

"Well..." he sighed. He shook his head. "Look, we're both in a jam here, I have a day too, you're not the only one with a career!"

"And what do you suggest then Captain Snow?"

"It's Jon," he said through gritted teeth. He took in her flashing amethyst gaze, the way she composed herself, bringing all of her short height up so she was at least trying to look him in the eye. He had to admit, she had presence. No wonder she was a formidable investigative journalist. He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. "I am suggesting we work together on this. I have a day, you have a day, and we're in the same boat."

Her eyes narrowed to slits, teeth gnashing. "My day will not include you in it Captain Snow. Thanks for the offer, but I have to get going. Arry, sweetheart, it's nice to see you, and here..." She reached into her bag, rummaging and unearthed a pouch, unzipping it and removing clear nail polish. "Hold still."

Arry watched, fascinated-- as did Jon-- as Dany squatted before her knee, dabbing the tear in the tights so it didn't continue to run. Then she took out a large bandaid, doctoered up the little scrape that Jon could barely see, and patched over it. He was about to ask what else she had in there-- state secrets? A nuclear weapon?-- when she took out an elastic headband, the perfect size for Arry's knee when wrapped twice, protecting her skin from the elements and pseudo-patching the tights.

He cocked his head, curious. "What else is in there?"

"Nothing you need to know about Jon Snow," Dany retorted, getting back to her feet. She took Rhaego's hand, grabbing the phone from him. "Stop playing with my phone."

"But Mai!"

"No, come on, we have to go, look a taxi!"

Jon called out to her. "Do you ever accept help?" That's what it was. He recognized it in himself, he hated help, but damn, sometimes you needed to take it.

Dany shouted over her shoulder. "Not from men like you Captain Snow!" She opened the taxi door, laughing and smirking. "All you do is disappoint, might as well do it myself."

He chuckled, shaking his head and lifted Arry, who was holding up her arms. His back was going to be broken by the end of the day, constantly doing this. The taxi sped off, kicking water up. He walked off towards the street, to find another cab. "Arry, darling."

"Yes Daddy?"

"Don't be like that when you grow up."

"Okay Daddy!"

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #fic tease

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

HEART DON’T FAIL ME NOW

gendry + arya + anastasia au // ao3

Gendrya Appreciation Week, Day 2: AU

Girl gets a family.

Boy gets rich

And fairytale gets a spin

How can we fail with everything to win?

 Conman and princess get their wish

Fairytale comes true

Funny, one small part I never knew

With everything to win

The only thing I lose is

 You.

- Everything to Win, Anastasia The Musical

 *****

Never, in his twenty-seven years of life and twenty-one of making a living as a thief, a swindler and a trickster on the streets of Leningrad, Gendry Waters had a worse job than teaching one infuriatingly stubborn orphan girl how to be a princess.

If only Arry did not look like the absolute older mirror copy of Princess Arya Stark, he would’ve long ago vetoed the whole idea and, with or without Davos approval, left the girl somewhere near the closest bar so she could find a job better suited for her fiery temper and foul mouth. But, to his eternal despair, she is every bit as pale-skinned, grey-eyed and dark-haired like The Lost Princess and the fact that she doesn’t seem to remember a single thing from childhood only makes the whole con easier.

She is also desperate to find out anything about her past and willing to believe in the story they made up about her with a heart-wrenching determination.

Truth to be told, Gendry can understand that. He too, comes from nothing. Maybe if he was not sure of that, if he didn’t remember his mother’s clients kicking him for laughs as if he was a street rat, he would also entertain the thought of having a loving family once.  But he does remember and he has no doubt at all that he is a rat indeed. A clever, Russian rat, but a rat still.

See, that is the whole problem about Arry – it is all about this idea of a loving family for her. She doesn’t care if they were Starks or simple factory workers. She just needs to belong somewhere, it is clear as a day.

And that makes it impossible for Gendry to hate her, even when she is bickering with him all days long and getting on his last nerve every time she opens her mouth.  

Which means all the damn time.

 ***

 He found her in Winter Palace; a small figure curled on the damaged wood of the ballroom’s floor, tracing the ruined tapestry depicting the former royal family with her fingertips.

In the cold winter light getting through the shattered windows, she looked like something straight out of a dream. Dressed in mismatched, baggy clothes to keep warm and with an uneven cut hair underneath man’s hat, she might have been just another poor girl, whoring herself to keep starvation at bay. She was probably just looking for shelter from the cold.  

No need to pay attention to her at all, I should just leave her be and look through the second floor like I planned to –

Her gasp could be heard even across the room when Gendry stepped on the particularly squeaky floorboard.

She jumped to her feet immediately, quick as a flash.

‘’Don’t be afraid.’’ He said, but the cold shock spread through his body, making him freeze in place.

Because the girl was standing tall in front of the tapestry and the stray sunlight framed her, caressed her features so lovingly – her cheekbones and her chin, her eyes, and her brow – that something sweet and long gone resurfaced suddenly in his memory. Buried underneath the years-long past like a smell of his mother’s hair and the screams of people butchered on the streets.

On the wall behind her, there was a damaged depiction of a small girl in silver furs, Dark-haired, long-faced, gray-eyed.

And she was staring at him silently. Dark-haired, long-faced.

Fire burning in her grey eyes.

 ***

 ‘’ One more time. You learned how to ride horses at three.’’

‘’And my father got me my own when I was six.’’

‘’Correct. The horse’s name was –‘’

‘’Nymeria.’’

 ‘’I don’t believe we told her that, did we?’’

 ***

 ‘’Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. It doesn’t seem right.’’ She whines, wriggling in her seat.

The train slowly rolls through snowy hills of Poland towards France and Gendry wants to do nothing else but savor the triumph of getting out of godforsaken Russia – oh, excuse him, Soviet Union – but he could not do that with Arry’s constant chirping. Sometimes, he wonders if the perspective of Princess Sansa offering him the girl’s weight in gold is a worthy reward for all his trouble. She’s a small thing, after all.

With a pained groan, he covers his eyes with his arm.

‘’Would you shut up for a second?’’

He can hear Davos’ warning huff and then Arry’s voice, dripping with honey.

‘’Gendry, can I ask you something?’’

He wants to say no, but he has pushed his luck enough already. You need to control your temper, my boy, Davos said. We need to keep her happy.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Do you truly believe I’m a princess?’’

No.

He drops his arm and nods his head slowly. Arry sits with her back straight as a rod and her chin up, the way they taught her. Gendry cannot help but think that this posture suits her.

‘’Yes, I do.’’

She bites on her lip slightly and then one of her eyebrows slowly raises up in a perfect arch.

‘’Well, is it a way to speak to a princess then?’’ she says coolly, dignified, and Davos doesn’t manage to reach for his tissue fast enough to mask his laughter under fake coughing.

Somehow, it’s hard to scowl at her after that.

 ***

 ‘’What’s so incorrect about that?’’ he asks her later, in the dead of the night, when only Davos’ snoring interrupts the silence in their car.

‘’Huh?’’

‘’No, huh. Pardon.’’

‘’Fine. Pardon?’’

‘’When you were repeating- ‘’ Princess Arya’s ‘’-your siblings’ names. You said that there’s something incorrect about them.’’

‘’Oh, that.’’ She stays silent for a moment and he turns his head slightly to glance at her. In the darkness he can only see the outline of her body, its hills and valleys under the blanket. He can paint the rest in his mind; Arry in a white nightdress, her feet bare and hair loose. Warm and pink.  

He shivers slightly and pulls his own blanket higher under his chin.

‘’I just think there is something missing. Or rather someone. There should be one more person, before Robb.’’

Gendry’s heart loses its rhythm in his chest.

‘’Have you read about this person somewhere?’’ he asks cautiously, but he somehow already know what her answer will be.

‘’No. All the books you gave me name five royal children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.’’

He’s glad for the darkness, cause just as it shields her from him, it also shields him from her. So she cannot see how he’s staring at the ceiling, internal battle tearing him apart.

‘’There was.. there was one more Stark child.’’

She sits up so abruptly that she bumps her head against the top bunk of her bed and groans.

‘’What? If so, why didn’t you-‘’

‘’His name was Jon. He was King Ned’s bastard son, that’s why he’s not in the books. Not worth mentioning.’’ Gendry’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘’He was also not very popular at the court. There is not much to know about him, anyway. They sent him to the military before the Revolution and he died at war.’’

Gendry can hear her sharp inhale. He doesn’t dare to look in her direction.

‘’Well, it was stupid of you not to mention him anyway. What if Princess Sansa asked me about her – about our forth brother and I wouldn’t know what she’s talking about?’’

Gendry knows Arry is right. He doesn’t know himself why he told Davos not to inform her about the existence of the Bastard Prince.

(Only, it’s a complete lie, because he does know. Because Princess Arya was rumored to have a lot of affection for Jon, going as far as calling him her favorite brother. Out of all her siblings, he would be probably the most difficult for her to forget. Which meant- which could mean that-)

‘’Jon.’’ She flops back on the mattress. ‘’Jon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon.’’

Gendry remains silent, hands clenched into fists.

‘’Yes.’’ She sighs sleepily against her pillow. ‘’Yes, now it sounds right.’’

 ***

 He is sure he has suffered through the worst of it; through history and etiquette lessons, through her terrible table manners and sailor’s mouth, through getting out of Russia and getting to Paris.

He thinks that he and Davos actually managed to transform dirty orphan Arry into a well-educated, bright and charming Princess Arya, or at least, a very good imitation of her. She doesn’t keep her elbows on the table anymore, can recite the whole family tree of the Starks three centuries back and is an excellent cyvasse player.

And he… enjoys her company. Somehow.

So the dancing lesson takes him by a complete surprise.

‘’Come on, lad, pull her closer! I could’ve fit another couple in-between you.’’ Davos barks and he sounds far too gleeful for Gendry’s taste. ‘’Her Majesty is doing splendidly. Maybe she should be the one instructing you, huh?’’

Arry laughs at that, gracefully spinning underneath Gendry’s arm. Her blue dress swirls around her bare calves when she turns.

It’s really pretty. It looked good on the hanger in the shop when he was picking it out, but now that she’s wearing it – now that she’s wearing it, it has completely transformed into something truly beautiful.

‘’One, two, three. One, two, three.’’ Davos counts, but it sounds distant somehow.

All Gendry can really hear is his own heartbeat and the slide of silk against her skin; all he can really feel is the smell of her hair and her perfume, light and fresh. Where did she get it?

Left and right and backward and forward, they waltz to the music from a borrowed gramophone in their hotel room. Arry avoids looking down at her feet by staring right into his eyes as instructed, and it somehow makes him feel both hot and cold, uncomfortable and hungry.

After two rounds, they no longer step on each other’s feet and simply go through the motions, silently moving around each other. Closer. And closer.

She’s so confident now, no longer skittish like a deer. There is not a single ounce of shyness on her face. Only curiosity… curiosity and a dash of awe. 

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His fingers itch to caress her blushed cheeks, to brush stray strands of hair from her forehead.

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His hand fits in the dip of her waist perfectly.

This smell… light and fresh. Nothing with flowers. More like a wind – like pines, like snow –

There is no snow in Paris, it’s ridiculous, pull yourself together Gendry, for fuck’s sake

 ‘’I think Davos went to sleep.’’ Arya whispers and Gendry abruptly stops moving, making her lose her balance and bump against his chest, their legs tangling together.

He glances at the empty armchair above her head. You old fox

‘’Yeah. It’s – it’s probably late. I think we practiced enough.’’  He lets out through clenched teeth, looking down at her still in the circle of his arms.

Arry bites on her lip and there’s this overwhelming desire in Gendry, wild and dazzling, to just reach out and pull it from in-between her teeth, to just press his mouth to her instead, to make her moan and gasp the way she sometimes does in her sleep and I am forced to listen and do nothing, nothing at all, cause this is just a con, and she is just a girl, and none of this is even real.

‘’Goodnight, Your Majesty.’’ He drops her hands and leaves, leaves as fast as he can.

 ***

 ‘’You’re playing a dangerous game, lad.’’

‘’I don’t know what you mean.’’

‘’Oh, young hearts. They want what they want, truly.’’

‘’Fuck off and let me sleep, won’t you?’’

 ***

 Gendry finds her on a bridge next to the hotel. She’s staring at the Seine lazily passing down below,  humming to herself this strange lullaby, as she always seems to when she’s feeling uncertain.  

Far away, long ago, burning dim as an ember

‘’Stressed?‘’ he asks, softly, so as not to startle her.

But maybe she knows his steps just as well as he knows hers by now, because, when she turns around to face him, she doesn’t look surprised at all.

 It fits her, all of this. The beautiful dresses they obtained through Countess Shireen. Hair bows and pearls. Fine silk stockings.

Her hair reaches past shoulder blades now, curling at the ends a bit. Even when they are messed by a wind, she’s still every inch an image of a princess. Every inch of her perfect and enchanting.

‘’A bit. ‘’ Arry admits. ‘’Tomorrow, I might get everything I’ve ever wanted. But I can also find out that this-‘’ she gestures down at the pink skirt of her gown and her shiny shoes. ‘’-is just a lie. That I’m a lie. I can break this woman’s heart.’’

Gendry takes a few steps to stand next to her, leaning on the railing by her side.

‘’I just wish I could feel like Princess Arya. She’s still somehow a foreign person to me.’’  She raises her eyes to the outline of the Eiffel Tower at the horizon, harsh black lines against sky bleeding with a setting sun.

And the resolve that Gendry kept inside his heart for fifteen long years breaks.

‘’I saw her, once. When I was twelve.’’ 

 Arry whips her head towards him, mouth opened in shock, but Gendry’s firmly staring down at the dark river, lost in the memories.

‘’There was a parade in Saint Petersburg. It was hot, especially in a crowd – I think it must’ve been June or July. Royal family rode in a carriage, surrounded by guards, but I was tall for my age, and quick; I ran along, hoping for a glimpse of them. There were rumors that they wear clothes made of gold.’’ He chuckles quietly. ‘’And then there was some commotion on the street, so the carriage stopped. And I saw her.’’

Her, not you. His hands grip railing tighter, but Arry doesn’t seem to notice.

‘’How did she look like?’’ she asks, her voice shaking like a leaf on a wind.

‘’She was wriggling in her seat like a worm. I think Princess Sansa was scolding her, but she didn’t seem to listen. She kept on waving to the people and, for just a second, our eyes met.’’

He remembers it so well. Ever since he Arry appeared in his life, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that day, how it made him feel everything at once; how such an insignificant thing turned his world upside down.

This image of a little princess, so joyful and so vibrant, has kept him warm through many long nights. And the thought that such a bright light was snuffed out in a bloody basement so easily, made him the person he is now. There is nothing beautiful in this world, not a single thing he can protect or preserve. Nothing.   

Or, so he thought. Until another pair of gleaming eyes gazed into his.

‘’She had – she had such beautiful eyes. Such happy eyes. I had never seen eyes like that before.’’

The silence falls between them for a moment, before Arry inhales deeply.

‘’A parade in June.’’ She says. ‘’In Saint Petersburg.’’

‘’That’s right.’’

‘’Crowded streets. ‘’ she closes her eyes. ‘’It was hot, not a cloud on the sky. I was riding with my family and everyone was cheering for us and Sansa kept on telling me to sit down, but I wanted to see better. I wanted to see all those people, to thank them for coming to see us.’’

Her skin turns honey-golden when the sun submerges into the Seine.

‘’Then the boy caught my eye. Tall and skinny. Dark-haired. He looked at me  with those pretty blue eyes…. and bowed.’’

Boom. The church bells ring.

Boom. His heart hammers in his chest.

Boom. Arya spins on her feet and looks at him, wide-eyed.

‘’I didn’t tell you that.’’ escapes from in-between his stiff lips.

‘’I know.’’ she takes his hands in hers, cool from the metal railing and trembling. ‘’I remember.’’

 Boom.

He drops to his knees.

 ***

 The worst thing is, he should be happy.

He should be happy, cause he is about to become filthy rich; no more sleeping on the streets, no more struggling, stealing, running away. He is in France and there is a whole wide world ahead of him. Their impossible, half-cooked plan actually worked and it seems like they somehow, by some insane miracle, actually did not con anyone at all.

They delivered Princess Arya to her sister. She finally had a place where she could belong. The family she dreamt about her whole life.

And for this good, good deed, Gendry is going to be rewarded with a pile of gold.

So, he should be fucking overjoyed.

‘’I don’t want it.’’ He says to Princess Arya’s butler. The man looks as if he did not understand Gendry’s Russian, so he repeats in French. ‘’I don’t want the money.’’

‘’But sir, Princess Sansa-‘’

‘’Please tell her that – that the joy of her sister is a big enough reward for me. I don’t want this money.’’

Arya, in the opera, in this night-sky-dress sparkling with diamonds and falling down her body like a waterfall. The line of her spine and her shoulder blades moving underneath her skin. The smell of her hair; pine and fresh snow.

Her happy grey eyes.

A silver tiara atop her head.

He wants nothing to do with the Starks, nothing at all.

 ***

 ‘’So, you didn’t take the money.’’

‘’I didn’t.’’

‘’Why?’’

How can you ask me this?

‘’I didn’t feel like taking them.’’

‘’That’s not an answer.’’

‘’Yes, it is.’’

‘’No, it isn’t!’’

‘’Yes, it is! Gods, Arya, can you, for once in your life, not make it difficult for me?’’

He doesn’t know what she’s doing here, standing in front of his hotel in the pouring rain and letting it soak her to the bone. He would offer her his umbrella or a coat, if he wasn’t so angry at her.

She has her sister now, what is she looking for here?

‘’I just want to know why you didn’t take the money.’’ She stubbornly repeats. Droplets slide down her cheeks like tears. ‘’Tell me that and I’ll let you go.’’

‘’Oh, and what’s stopping me know, Your Majesty? Did you bring your guards with you, ordering to stop me from leaving if you won’t get what you want from me?’’ he snarls and regrets it the moment the words drop in no man’s land between them.

Arya’s face breaks and she takes a step back as if he slapped her.

‘’You know I didn’t, Gendry.’’ She sounds awfully small, looks awfully small in a wet dress and with her hair plastered to her head and neck.

Desperation does ugly things with a person, Princess.

‘’I’m leaving Paris, Your Majesty. I wish you all the happiness.’’ He says stiffly and steps on the street, passing Arya with his suitcase in one hand and an umbrella in another.

‘’No.’’

He wants to weep. He knows her. How could he believe it would be so simple?

Arya has her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed to his back. He can feel shivers running through her body.

‘’Please, Gendry. Please. Tell me why.’’ She whispers and his blood boils in his veins, coloring the Paris red in front of his eyes.

‘’Because you are not a transaction to me!’’ he shouts desperately, turning around to face her. His hands grab her shoulders; the umbrella and the suitcase drop to the pavement and the cold rain viciously attack all exposed parts of his body. He cannot find it in himself to care about that, not even a bit. ‘’Because maybe it started as a con, but it isn’t and it’s – it’s you, Arya. It’s you and I cannot pretend anymore that I don’t care, because I do. I care so much. And you’re a princess and I’m just me and this can never work, and I-‘’

Her lips are cold and wet against his. He tastes salt on them; salt, pine, and snow.

His hands fit around her waist perfectly.

His stubborn, impossible princess, laughing, when she embraces him. 

 ***

 Dear Sansa,

I am so sorry for leaving so quickly after we reunited, but you know yourself I was never suited to be a princess. It seems that I have found myself a family even before I met you again. I cannot abandon him now.

Wish me luck! We’ll be in Paris together soon, I promise.

I hope you’ll understand. After all, you’ve always loved grand stories of romance.

Your little sister,

Arya.  

#gendrya #gendrya fanfiction #gendryaweek2020 #gendryaweek #gendrya week 2020 #gendrya week #gendrya fic

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (10/23)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: LONG TIME NO SEE! So, I did nanowrimo 2019, and I worked on my book and NOTHING ELSE. so it's a miracle that i've managed to write this chapter in like two days. I hope you guys enjoy my comeback. hopefully it isn't crap. i very much enjoyed writing this chapter! happy to be back and happy to give you guys some happiness.......

Gendry stood at her doorway, stealing kiss after kiss, Arya’s small smile into each making him feel alive. Regardless of how many times he did it, he never got tired of kissing her - she was joy incarnate for him, a source of light when everything around him was dark. 

“I have to go, they’re going to call a meeting soon,” Gendry said in between kisses. 

“I wonder why. You’re always late,” Arya laughed, pulling on his tie to keep him in place.

“I needed to get you up somehow, wasn’t my fault you kept my head between your legs,” he reminded as Arya giggled, her hand on the back of his neck, almost forcing him to stay. Under any other circumstances, he’d stay and finish the job of that morning, but the time was being pushed. 

“Shut up before someone sees you,” she said, planting one more kiss on his lips, shoving his chest. 

“I’ll be back in like twenty minutes, don’t do anything reckless in the meantime,” he said, fixing up his jacket and tie, trying to seem like he was actually in order. He wasn’t, but it was good to pretend, considering what a mess his life was. Secretly dating royalty was one thing, but also being her bodyguard was another act of ‘you’re a complete dumbass if you think you’re getting away with this’ but hey, he was having fun in the meantime. 

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Arya smirked, and Gendry moved back into her space, kissing her with the depth only the night should ever bring. Her moan was intoxicating to listen to, and it became even harder to pull away. 

“I’m serious, don’t fuck me over,” he said, wrenching himself from her hold and moving down the hallway quickly. 

“I thought I already did that,” she said, and Gendry stopped, looking at her with wide eyes and a shocked expression. She was begging for them to be caught out.

“Oh shut up,” she shot back, watching as a bright smile echoed on her face. It filled him with a joy he couldn’t quite describe. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, waving over his shoulder as he moved down the hall and got into the role of bodyguard he had somewhat forgotten among the night in the sheets of royalty.

 *~*~*

 Arya knew that Gendry was going to be longer than twenty minutes, as she texted Brienne about going to breakfast. By Brienne’s message, it was clear that her twenty minute wait for Gendry would be closer to an hour. So, in the meantime, she organised with Sansa to walk around the palace grounds after they grabbed a quick breakfast. 

On the second floor landing, amongst the construction for the elevator, the sisters walked arm in arm, their legs overlapping as they walked, with Arya’s left leg going far and Sansa’s left crossed in front of Arya’s right. It continued with each leg and each direction. 

With the workers all moving about, the girls just walked back and forth, not really minding the small interruptions. It was funny, as they walked, silence taking them to their phones, it was clear that they were both texting people they couldn’t see. Sansa, with her mystery man (aka, Theon), and Arya, with Gendry. As Gendry sent her a suggestive message, Arya laughed. 

“So…” Sansa said, putting her phone in her pocket. 

“So, what?” Arya said, putting her own in her back pocket.

“Make up sex?” Sansa asked. 

Arya shrugged, “It was good.” 

Sansa stopped, making Arya looked back at her stunned sister. “Wow, just outright admitting it, huh?” Sansa faltered, blinking at Arya. 

“Why shouldn’t I? You asked, and he was very good,” she replied, watching as Jon came up behind Sansa, walking fast and his hand on the button his suit jacket. He was obviously late for a meeting with Robb, if Arya’s money was right. 

“Who was very good?” he asked as he walked past. 

“Your best friend,” Arya called out, to only have Sansa’s fist meet Arya’s ribs. 

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Jon said over his shoulder, continuing on like nothing had ever happened. Arya looked to Sansa, her face still stuck in the constant state of disbelief. Arya shrugged again. 

“I told him, he just didn’t listen.” 

To that, Sansa scoffed. “He’s going to kill you both when he realises.” 

“Sansa, it’s Jon. I could be getting married in front of the twat and he’d think it was a joke. Would take him five years to realise I wasn’t kidding, and still something in the back of his mind would think I was playing a prank on him,” she explained and Sansa gave an agreeing nod. 

“To be fair to him, you’ve made that man paranoid as fuck over the years,” she replied. 

“Good. Made him a good head of security for Robb. Protects the shit out of our brother,” Arya explained, and to that Sansa scoffed.

“I can’t tell if you actually thought about this, or have reasoned it along the way,” Sansa stated, looking Arya over, who only smiled a wicked grin in reply, “you’re a scary, scary woman.” 

“I feel like muffins. You want a muffin?” Arya played off, skipping down the hall and leaving Sansa to shake her head. 

“Don’t forget! Our dress fitting is at four!” she said, raising her voice and Arya raised a thumb in the air.

“I won’t forget.” 

“Pretty sure a guy with a square jaw and dark hair might make you forget,” Sansa called out, and Arya agreed, biting her lip and skipping down the hall, guiding her way towards the business quarters of the palace. 

In Arya’s mind, she had every intention of snatching up Gendry, taking him back to her room and having her way with him. She didn’t care if she had things to do that day, or that he may be required or a possible interruption occurred. She just wanted to have her boyfriend. A foreign concept for her - a significant other was always a rarity in her life. She’d had sex, sure. When she was on exchange, she’d have one night stands and flings with men and women all across Braavos. But boyfriends, or girlfriends, it was always a distant, or nonexistent possibility.

Then Gendry came. He was a possibility, then, a reality, and it still threw her at times. 

By the time she got to the security teams meeting room, they were dispersing, and Arya saw as each member of the security team clapped Gendry on the shoulder, whispering something to him. 

In her stomach, something twisted, that something was wrong but she couldn’t work out what. Part of her, an insecure part, told her it was something to do with Gendry and her, but that couldn’t be. Gendry was a private guy, he wouldn’t brag. Plus, he’d lose his job, not gain attention and congratulations. 

When he was finally left alone, Arya cautiously walked to him, and he perked, smiling to her as she came into his line of sight. She swallowed before she asked the question. 

“What was all that?” 

“They were just giving me a birthday bonus,” he explained, showing off an envelope before he put it into his breast pocket.

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” she asked, and he gave a bashful nod. “You’ve been with us for like a year and a half, how could I have missed this?” she said, and Gendry’s hands went to her waist, bringing her into him, her own arms curling around the small of his back as she pouted. 

“To be fair, when it was my birthday last year, you weren’t too happy with me being around, I didn’t expect you to remember anything about me,” he reminded, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

“But it’s your birthday and I didn’t get you anything!” she said, a worried crease wearing into her brow. Gendry chuckled, his nose brushing her own.

“I mean, this morning was definitely a present for me,” he smirked, and she punched at his chest.

“Fuck you, it was not.” 

“Arry, it’s fine!” he laughed, rubbing at where she punched.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, and I don’t even know my own boyfriend’s birthday. I’m so crap at this,” she cursed, her chin falling to her chest. In a breath, Gendry’s thumb and finger gripped her chin and made her look at him. His eyes were so blue, it made Arya’s heart jump into her throat.

“Arry, it’s fine. I don’t want anything. Being with you is enough for me,” he said, voice low and edging towards something that could make her reckless. The smirk at the corner of his lips confirmed that was what he wanted. 

“Ew, you’re so gross and needy,” she teased.

“I would like to remind you of how you reacted after we had -” 

Arya smacked her hand to his mouth and rose on her toes. “LA LA LA LA! I can’t hear you!” she laughed, and beneath her hand, she felt the breath of his own laughter coming through. It made everything so worthwhile, every time she was nervous or when her heart leapt from its place in her ribcage; the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the smiles and smirks that filled out his face - it was all enough to make everything feel easy. 

For the remainder of the day, they mostly stayed in her room. Although part of her wanted him to ruin every aspect of her room, taint every inch of furniture, Gendry reasoned that getting caught with a princess was something that could risk not only his firing, but kind of treason? To that, they mainly sat on her bed, talking about things that they didn’t know about each other, and watched some movies. 

As well as intermittently kissing each other.

During one boring movie, and the tension too much to bare, Arya climbed into Gendry’s lap, kissing him with all the need she had been holding in since that morning. It wasn’t her fault that she was as horny as anything. He forced it on her by waking her up like that. It was a surprise, and one that kept her wishing for it all day. 

Gendry’s hands were tight in her ass, fingers dangerously close to slipping past and playing with flesh that he was well accustomed to in the morning. Arya moaned into every touch, trying to see what would urge him on. With her hands on his neck, Arya pulled him flush against him, trying to see what would set him off and get the aggressive man that first took her to bed. Instead, her phone went off, making them pull apart briefly.

With a huff, Arya reached for her phone, Gendry moving up to kiss at Arya’s neck. God, why did his lips have to be so soft and inviting? It made concentrating on her texts impossible. She flicked to her message app and found the texts that had interrupted them.

3:02pm - Sansa: you better not be having sex with your guy when we’ve gotta leave

3:03pm - Sansa: get out of his lap, or i will come up there and tape you two 

3:03pm - Sansa: which will be more traumatizing to me than it is to you

“Oh shit, I have to go! I have to get to a dress fitting,” Arya said, pushing herself out of Gendry’s hold and his back met the mattress easily. Arya went through her closet, finding a pair of jeans and shirt that wasn’t ruined from fondling her boyfriend.

“Dress fitting?” Gendry said, and Arya heard the shifting of her bed frame. She stripped her shirt off and pulled her new one on as she collected boots at the foot of the door. There, she saw Gendry standing, trying to fix up his suit. 

“Robb’s wedding. We left the dresses to last minute when we were helping Talisa decide on hers. It was a big disaster at the time,” she explained, pushing a boot on and smacking it to the floor to get the perfect fit. 

“His wedding is in like two months,” he reminded, and Arya nodded in agreement.

“This is very last minute, Gendry.” 

“You need me to drop you off?” he asked, going to stand again, but Arya moved into his space, her second shoe barely on. 

“I’ll go with Sansa and Sandor,” she said, hands on his shoulders, and finally she was able to kick her boot on.

“That guy hates me,” Gendry sighed, and Arya chuckled. 

“He hates everyone that isn’t royal. And even then, the line is a little thin.” She gave a quick kiss to Gendry’s cheek and grabbed a jacket on her chest of drawers. “Bye, love you,” 

“Love you too,” he said a little bewildered, “be safe!” He called out and Arya raced down the stairs to see Sansa waiting by the car. Arya jumped in first, as Sansa unfolded her arms and climbed in after.

“What? I wasn’t allowed to catch you guys in the act?” she asked.

“You interrupted that, thank you very much,” Arya said, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“You guys are just horny.” 

“Can’t deny what’s true.” 

The sisters looked at each other and laughed. 

 *~*~*

 TO GROUP ‘The Ghost Fan Club (Jon fuck off)’ 

3:32pm - Bran: my spotify wrapped dragged me into an alley and beat the shit out of me

3:33pm - Sansa: Which artist got you through your depression?

3:34pm - Bran: Bon Iver

3:34pm - Arya: just the one song?

3:35pm - Bran: 127 hours

3:36pm - Arya: its like your own personal arm caught in between a large rock and a wall

3:36pm - Bran: maybe it was my legs instead

3:38pm - Bran: too soon again?

3:39pm - Theon: did i listen to 10 years of heartache whilst in a happy relationship? You bet

3:40pm - Robb: theon...read the room

3:40pm - Theon: sorry

3:40pm - Theon: thought it was relevant

3:41pm - Sansa: it is sweetie, you’re doing amazing 

 *~*~*

 “Nope,” Arya spat, folding her arms over the monstrosity that was the dress she was currently pinned in.

“It’s the bridesmaid dress, Arya, you have to wear it,” Sansa reminded. 

It was a purple and white mess, sticking out from her waist and going to her knees. It was a mix of tulle and ribbon, that that stars sewed into different sections of it. It was looked like something a child would wear. And it was their bridesmaid dress. Either Talisa had lost her mind or she just wanted to outright torture Arya. Either way, she was succeeding. 

“I won’t go,” Arya tightened her grip on her arms as she remained defiant. 

“You can’t not attend the future king’s wedding,” Sansa reasoned.

“Don’t care. Can’t make me wear this.” 

“But Arya,” Sansa tried to persuade right before her face broke out into a wide grin and she gripped into her knees. She wailed out a laugh, clutching at her stomach as she tried to keep it all in. “I’m sorry, I was trying to keep a straight face for so long!” Arya turned to her, hitching up the dress and kicking at Sansa’s side.

“You asshole!” 

“You were scared though,” Sansa laughed, moving away from Arya, most likely for fear of another attack that would have come if Sansa had stayed close. 

“It’s a nice dress, but what the fuck kinda person would let this slide for a royal wedding?” 

Talisa had come in at the exact moment, putting her bag down and opening her arms up to Sansa. “Oh, don’t worry little one, I would never pick something so awful for my wedding,” she said, embracing Sansa and moving onto Arya. They quickly hugged before Arya stood with her arms crossed again. 

“Where’s the real thing?” Arya huffed. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Sansa confirmed before Talisa ushered in the dress makers. 

“Okay, you two. Go get changed, we need sizes,” she said, and Arya and Sansa were hurried off. 

It wasn’t long after Arya and Sansa were midway through getting changed that they heard a commotion at the front door. Both sisters poked their heads out of their respective dressing rooms to see Ygritte in her workout clothes, gym bags falling to the ground as she rushed inside. 

“Sorry! Sorry!” she yelled, moving towards Talisa, “hey, Tal, practise ran late and I knew I couldn’t be all sweaty,” she said, kissing Talisa’s cheek and rushing back with the seamstresses.

“It’s okay, as long as we get all the measurements figured out, it shouldn’t be a worry,” she yelled as Ygritte went back to her room and waved to the sisters. 

As they were ready, they were called out front for Talisa to inspect the dresses. Arya stood beside Sansa, both of them silently judging the dresses. It wasn’t bad, it was a good judgment! It was an air force blue silk with sky blue undertones of fabric beneath it. It flowed and allowed an ethereal look to those that wore it. On both Stark girls, the colour suited their skin tone, and a bonus for Arya, was the fact that it was Arya’s favourite colour earned Talisa a lot of praise in her book. 

The only thing that Arya didn’t like was the neckline. The silk went into a v-neck, showing off tits for those that had any - a category that Arya wasn’t included in - yet the skin was on the chest was covered by a sheer lace embroidery of leaves and feathers. As Ygritte walked out, pushing down the silk, she grumbled, trying her hardest to adjust the lace front, just as annoyed with it as Arya. 

Talisa clicked her tongue, tilting her head and shaking it once she saw it on the three women that were set to be her bridesmaids. “I’m thinking of leaving the lace out, just have it a plunging v-neck? Thought?” 

“Please,” Ygritte whined, and Talisa giggled, noting it to her seamstress.

“You’re really juggling the whole Olympics, royal engagement thing,” Sansa commented, finally touching the lace front and grimacing as she laid a finger on it. Arya was sure that if Ygritte or Arya hadn’t said a word, she would have grinned and bared it - just to make her future sister in law happy. Arya wasn’t that kind to people’s feelings. 

“Seeing as how your brother-cousin still hasn’t proposed, it isn’t that bad,” Ygritte complained and and the Stark girls groaned. 

“He still hasn’t!? I’m going to kick his ass,” Arya sneered, readying to leave at any moment. 

“I think he’s thinking of stealing Robb’s thunder and doing it at the rehearsal dinner,” Ygritte

“He better,” Sansa mumbled under her breath. Everyone heard it, regardless if she were trying to hide it or not. 

“I don’t want to take away from you two,” Ygritte said as Talisa moved closer to the three. She felt the fabric before she looked up at Ygritte. 

“He’s been waiting too long as it is, so I’ll push him to,” she said, scrunching up her nose as she smiled. 

“Thanks,” Ygritte said back in a quieter voice. 

“And you all look so beautiful,” Talisa said, ending with a sigh, “I’m going to have the perfect wedding.” 

“Yes you are!” Sansa squeaked and brought everyone closer, making them all bind together in a hug that seemed to last an eternity. 

Arya wasn’t too upset if that was what eternity looked like. 

After the last measurements for length and fit were taken, the women all changed, getting back into their clothes and started to head out of the store. As they all gathered their things, Sansa gasped, gripping into Arya’s arm as if she came up with a devilish idea. 

Arya was immediately intrigued. 

“Oh, is Dany coming?” Sansa asked. The women turned to her, before going back to Talisa. Daenerys Targaryen was such a force of nature, so many kingdoms across the seven feared her. Not the Starks, however, as they had so many successful trades and peaceful meetings. When it came time for Dany to rule, she got on with everything and bonded with the kids far quicker than any of them thought on surface level. She even had Tyrion Lannister on her side, a talking point at most functions. 

Sansa and Dany were close, bonding over the years. As Arya was the rebel of the bunch, she’d only had a few conversations with Dany, but they went well. Arya loved her hounds more than anything. They were beasts that were bred to hunt bears, huge dogs that almost towered over her; they fit in well in the north, but Dany loved them and took them north as often as she could. 

“We got word from the Lannisters and the Targaryens, they’re coming,” Talisa confirmed before they all started walking out of the shop and going around to the cars down the street. It wasn’t far, but the journey gave them enough time to gossip slightly. 

“I wanted to see if Dany was bringing her new guy,” Sansa said, biting her lip and Arya pounced on her sister, grabbing hold of her arm tightly.

“Is it -” 

“Yep!” Sansa squeaked and Arya dropped her arm, covering her mouth as she stood, astonished at this new revelation.  

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed under her breath as she looked to Sansa for confirmation once more. 

“Who?” Ygritte asked. 

“Khal Drogo,” Sansa said

“Fucking Drogo!? The chief of the Dothraki?” Ygritte shouted before covering her mouth, realising her voice was much louder than she once thought. 

“Isn’t he the same guy that throws those wild parties and that your dad wants to drink under the table?” Talisa confirmed, and Arya nodded. 

“Oh dad’s definitely tried. But the Lannisters hate him because of his views of crime and punishment. Heaps of nations are wary of him. But he’s really kind and generous with his people and they mean a lot to him. He’s really big on his culture and educating the masses,” she explained as they all walked down the street. They had a few scattered security guards walking across the opposite street, their eyes on the royals and keeping them safe from a distance. 

Sansa bounded forward, taking the confirmation back to the start. “Dany’s had a crush on the guy for years after seeing the video of him at the school opening where they performed the dance to celebrate good fortune and prosperity. They met at a banquet when she went travelling to different nations.” 

“She’s so tiny!” Arya blurted the words that were pressing to the front of her mind. 

Talisa gasped, turning sharply to her. “Arya!” 

“What?! You seen that guy? He’s huge! He’d ruin her,” Arya said, and all of the women laughed.

Sansa leaned down to Arya, so only they two could hear. “You’d know something about that,” she whispered, and Arya jabbed a finger into Sansa’s side. Arya chewed on her lip as she held in a laugh that agreed with Sansa’s statement. 

They got to a car first, to have a few members of the security team come. Arya recognised Sam, who opened the door for Talisa. They all smiled as Talisa waved from the car door. 

“See you later, ladies!” she called out, only for Ygritte to be the car ahead. 

“I’ve got to go meet with some trainers, but I’ll see you two at dinner,” Ygritte said. 

“We’ll kick Jon for you,” Arya offered.

“Hey, that’s my job.” Ygritte smiled and waved the two of them off. As the cars departed, it was only Arya and Sansa left, and with their car at the end of the street, Arya walked past stores and shops that she had ignored the first time they had past. 

When one caught her eye, she yanked Sansa back. 

“Oh! Can we go in here for a sec?” 

“Why?” 

“It’s Gendry’s birthday,” Arya whispered, holding tight to Sansa’s arm. To this, her sister rolled her eyes. 

“Come on, hopeless.”

They walked inside, and Arya looked through the collection, pointing out a few pieces she enjoyed and ones she thought would suit Gendry the most. A lot were discredited by Sansa, only for the pair to agree on one - one that blew them both away. 

Whilst in the shop, Arya couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable, like she were being looked at in a greedy way. Her shoulders rolled awkwardly, and something in the pit of her stomach told her something was wrong. 

Before anything could come over it, they bought what they needed to, and left the store, heading back to the palace. 

By the time they were back, Arya forgot the interaction ever happened. 

 *~*~*

 When Arya left Gendry that afternoon, he wasn’t sure what else to do. He checked on security, ran tests and even spoke briefly with Robb. He was very impressed with Arya and how she was handling her new duties, even surprised that she was willingly participating with foundations and community possibilities. Gendry played off, making sure that word ran down the line that Arya worked hard because she cared deeply about her causes. 

In the rest of the time, any time he’d interact with someone new, they’d wish him happy birthday, and he’d have to end the conversations because his mum was calling for the fourth time that hour because she was crying about him getting old. 

As the family dinner came in, Gendry stood at the door waiting. The King was allowed back home  that day, and it was a great gesture of his strength when he was wheeled into the great hall. He gave Gendry a nod as he and the Queen made their way inside and took their seats. 

Soon that followed was Robb and Talisa, who were such deep conversation that they barely took a moment to glance up at him. He didn’t blame them, they were in the midst of organising the most intense day their country had seen in a very long time. Then, Jon was running to keep up with Ygritte who bound towards Gendry, asking him about the warhammer games that they both enjoyed. He didn’t get much into the conversation when Jon took them inside. Bran and Rickon came skidding in on Bran’s wheelchair, testing the traction on the wheels. It honestly surprised Gendry that they didn’t topple over with how hard they came rounding that corner, but they made it inside, cheering about their achievements. 

Sansa came next, so deep on her phone that she didn’t even notice Gendry and ran straight into him. “Oh, gods. I’m sorry!” she apologised. 

“No worries, your highness. Have a great meal,” he replied. 

“I’m sure you did this morning.” She winked before moving off like nothing had ever happened. He had doubts that Arya would tell Sansa about their intimate lives, but he had no doubts that she worked something out all on her own and really just worked things out on her own. He wasn’t sure how, but Sansa was scary good at that kinda thing. 

Then, came Arya who hurried over. He smiled wide as she ran towards him.

“How was the -” he started as Arya took his arm and ran with him in toes. “wow, where are we going?” he said as Arya guided them somewhere. 

“I want somewhere private,” she said, pushing open the doors to the front of the palace and having a moment off to the side. 

“Ah yes, outside is definitely private,” he scoffed. From behind Arya, she took out a small box, it wasn’t that wide, but its contents were unknown to him.

“Shut up, just open it,” she said, pushing the box into his hands. 

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A present.” 

“Arry, I told you -” Arya stopped his words by putting a finger to his lips and made him look at the present that was resting his hands. 

“I know what you told me, but I saw them and thought of you and your mum,” she said, and Gendry opened up the box, seeing a perfect pair of bronze stag cufflinks. Stag heads to be more exact. The bar. A lump formed at the back of his throat. 

“Wow,” he exclaimed. 

“Do you like them?” she asked, eager for a reply.

“Yeah,” he choked, holding a hand to his lips, “they’re proper mint.” He really wasn’t expecting anything, and this floored him. They must have been expensive, and they actually meant something to him. To both of them. 

“You’re so southern born, it’s ridiculous,” Arya giggled. 

“Hey, you’re dating me.” Gendry closed the box and put it in his breast pocket. 

“Yeah, I know,” she teased, dragging his collar down, planting a kiss on his lips. He shut his eyes, falling into her sway and loving every moment she lingered her lips to his own. 

Parting, he smoothed out her hair, and smiled down to her. 

“Go inside,” he said, forehead against hers, nose nudging nose. 

“Don’t be too long out here,” she warned. 

“I’m going on break, have a good dinner,” he said. 

Arya sighed. “I wish you could come.” 

“Someday, maybe,” he gave hope. 

“Love you,” she said, kissing him again. 

“Love you too,” he said, letting her move out of his hands. As she went through the doors, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, that there was something he was missing that was a threat. He was missing something, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it all was. 

There was something off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. 

Instead, he took out a pack of cigarettes and took one between his teeth. He swore to himself that he’d stop a long time ago, but with the twisting feeling in his stomach, he needed something to take the edge off. Anything. 

He sighed, letting it fall to the ground, squashing it under his shoe and moved back inside to take up whatever last minute job he needed to before heading home. 

Well, Arya’s room, then he’d be going home. 

#gendrya #gendrya fic #my fics #got fic #arya x gendry #gendry x arya #chivalry fell on its sword

[raindrenchedstories]

Forever home CH 19

YES. It’s happening. No I didn’t abandon it. I’ll make a second post.

Richter sat miserably on Bear’s shoulder. Holding onto a thick chain necklace, and using the giant’s shoulder straps as a seat belt. The past few days he didn’t speak much. It took a little over a week to coordinate the meet up. In that time, Bear had been trying to pull the little fellow out of his funk.

It wasn’t really much use. Instead the nightly visits were converted into time to console his small friend. Richter had been reunited with his family prior, so there wasn’t much in the way of paperwork afterwards. Nor the more invasive, but much quicker memory probings.

Instead, he was just left to feel like a failure. Neil had been luckier, and managed to find the whereabouts of his father. The two managed to meet with one another and promptly decided the memories were too painful. Apparently they offered to stay in touch.

Bear’s relationship with Archibald took a small break in light of the events. Both men felt too guilty enjoying themselves while their friends were in such misery. Though, they did still spend plenty of time together. It was less focused on them, and more on... Richter.

Despite being surrounded by friends and family, there seamed to be a lot on the mans mind. As he stared glumly from his vantage point. Bear swallowed. Drawing the small mans eyes onto him. “Not far now. Um... There’s a warp.”

“That’s fine.” Richter nodded, before settling into his little ball again. As it turned out, it was fine. Not even Richter’s extreme discomfort with the gates was enough to shake him. Bear crossed the new surroundings. Having to pull a map from his overall pocket. He hoped this visit was enough to shake the human.

Crossing his way to Lev’s home he heard a tiny gasp from Richter. Finally some excitement from the man. And Bear could see why. Levas home was much like the woman herself. Flourishing with life. Many stone guardians, animals long since dead and reanimated through magic, surrounded her home. Protecting it. Her garden grew high above any small one’s head. A few even towered over Bear himself.

All vegetables and fruits. Quite the contrast to his flower garden. But nestled at the roots of every great tree, was a tiny little patch of small foods. Strawberries, peas, parsnips and the like. All of it culminated into a massive hill, with a door. Not quite Archibalds mountain. But it was large enough for a giant to live snugly.

“Gotta give her props for decorating.” Richter commented. Bear could only hum in agreement. He’d never really seen Leva’s house until now. Though, it clearly spoke of her. Bear’s knuckles gently wrapped on the door frame. He got a stony hollow barking in return. There was an argument before she shoved her way through the door.

“Quickly. And get a good hold on Richter. I don’t want Arrie playing with him.” Bear slunk inside, a firm hold on his human passenger. The large dog guardian bounding behind his knee caps. Excitedly attempting to greet the new guests.

“er. Hello miss Leva.” Richter inclined his head. Poking just above Bear’s index finger. Tiny hands resting just on the middle digit for support. Probably cover, as well. Richter was never a fan of new anything for the first three days.

The fiery giantess grinned in kind. “Good day Richter! Avery is waiting for you in his shelter. He’s anxious about your visit.” She gave the human a brilliant smile afterwards. Bear thought he saw his small pal blush. Soon enough Richter was set beside Avery’s shelter, and Bear was dragged into the living room. Just out of ear shot.

“How’s he holding up?” Leva hissed. Bear could only grimace.

“He’s... Well he’s holding. It’s just going to take some time. Maybe more time than I imagined. I’m getting worried.” He admitted.

*

Avery opened the door for him, leading Richter in. Once the giants were gone, and Arrie was sufficiently shooed into the other room. Avery leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay so I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” He threw an arm over Richters shoulders, guiding the human to his living room.

Which was apparently turned into a room sized pillow fort. Richter stared in bewilderment. “Not... Really. No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, mouth agape.

“What? It’s effective. I don’t get a lot of privacy around here.” Avery dragged him into the fort. “I should thank you for giving me the idea. Here. Back towards the book cases.” He began crawling back to the indicated end. Resting on the bookcase were two small make shift bags. Supplies and clothing squirrelled away. A rough cut in the plastic and wood of the back wall of the book case making the plans clear.

“You’re escaping?” Richter gave him a curious glance. Though, he wasn’t about to pass judgment. He wouldn’t blame anyone for choosing an alternative to his own decisions. He was quite sure Neil would be doing the same if it weren’t for the ability to learn magic through Archibald.

Avery just laughed in return. He placed a warm hand on the humans shoulder. “No Richter. WE’RE escaping. Today. I had to pull some strings to get ‘em to wait. But I have a few friends waiting outside. I’ve already cut a hole in the wall across the counter. We just have to be quiet. Arrie is like a personal alarm system.”

Richter glanced at him. Eyes wide. “Oh... Avery I. I’m not sure about this.” He shrugged. “I know you don’t like Bear but-”

“Richter. Listen to me. It’s not about that. Hell if it doesn’t work out, I’ll lead you right back to Williams door step. But how long has it been since you last tasted freedom. Real freedom?” Avery squeezed his shoulder.

Richter grimaced. Then shook his head. “Look. I’m not going to judge. And it has been a while since-”

“Good let’s go!” Richter was dragged out by the arm. Hissing his disapproval of the situation.

“Avery just listen dammit.” He was already carrying both bags for the elf as he began prying the back wall open. Suddenly a noisy barking sounded beside them. Thunderous and alarming. Leva and Bear both entered the room in time to see Avery pry the wall open.

“AVERY!” Leva’s voice was stern. Disapproving.

Bear just stood. Crestfallen. “Richter?” Richter wanted to say so many things to clear this whole debacle up. Instead he felt something press against his throat. A firm arm gripping his shoulders. His hands still full with both bags.

Avery snarled behind him. “Don’t you fucking move! You freaks just keep your hands to yourselves. I don’t need magic to slit his damn throat.” Bear froze up. Leva clapped her hands over her mouth. Avery started backing them both through the hole.

“If I even see one shadow waiting for me outside. Hell if I even THINK there’s something out there to stop me. You’ll have to be ready to bury this bastard.” He continued, never taking his eyes off the giants. Even doing his best to hide his form behind Richters. Being tall and sturdy had it’s disadvantages, it seamed.

He stuck the knife in the wall opening, shutting it behind them. Avery turned Richter around. “There. Now you have an excuse if you choose to stay. But please. Just walk with me. I just want to talk this out. Okay?” Richter rubbed his neck, but followed through the surprisingly thick, expansive walls.

Avery’s gate was erratic and sloppy, his eyes stayed ahead. In the minimal light from some unknown source, he could see the elf’s ears constantly turning. “Have you been sleeping? Like. At all?” Richter stared out at the carved and chipped walls. His response was hysterical laughter. Which basically told him everything he needed to know.

“I can sleep when I’m out!” Avery grinned. Richter shoved his hands in his back pockets, losing himself in his thoughts a little. None of which involved flattery towards his elven friend.

He gave a sigh before shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”

“Huh?” Avery glanced at him, eyes sparkling and wide. Filled with dream like wonder. Richter almost felt like he was about to break the news about Santa-clause to the guy. He took a breath to steady himself, then continued.

“The moment you’re out, it’s a game of survival. Let me ask you. Can you hunt? How about your friends? Do you know how to build a fire? Or purify your water? What tools have you brought for yourself?” He started rummaging through his bag. Nothing but clothes. Mostly summer wear.

“Do you have anything to help you survive the cold?” His lips pressed into a hard line. He almost wished he’d called more. Given Avery more of an outlet. The guy had a life before the war. Of course he knew he’d needed some more than this. Right?

“I...Didn’t think of that. But that’s why I want to bring you. You’re clever and innovative. Something we elves just plain aren’t. If it doesn’t have to do with magic, we fail at it.” He grinned. “Where did you learn all that anyhow? What do humans do when giants aren’t scooping you up by the ankles?”

Richter sighed. Stopping halfway down the tunnel. Avery paused as well. “Honestly? I only lived because of my old man. He was always paranoid about the end of the world. He prepared himself, and his family along the way. It ended up saving our lives. But there were still things we needed to learn.”

“... This is your chance to pass that on, you know.” It all came to a head there. Richters eyes started to tear up. He just gave a bitter laugh and motioned for Avery to join him sitting.

“I just can’t Avery. I can’t.” He shook his head resting his chin between his knees. “Hell I honestly believe living with Bear is better for me. Anything is better than wondering if you’ll wake up tomorrow or not.” He was shaking. And for once, someone his size held him. Pulled him closer.

“What do you mean by that?” Avery’s voice was emotionless, but that was fine. He simply wanted to understand. Richter took a deep breath. Held it for a second. Then let it go. Along with it, he spilled his entire past.

Richter wasn’t that old when the world had ended. He’d fled. Pulled by the writs to the nearest shelter with his parents. He couldn’t find Neil, or his family, But they were assured he was safe. That was a good thing at least. They waited in the rescue centre for days with no word. Supplies were dwindling, and surrounding him were unfamiliar faces he wanted nothing more than to know.

Despite this, folks remained hopeful. Joking, laughing, and making the best of a bad situation. Richter remembered one particular old man, who had made a point to read stories to the younger children. The older ones had taken to acting out some of the fairy tale drama behind him. If for no other reason than to distract them from sad times. It was just until disaster relief could get in.

Then the word got out. There would be no rescue. There would be no better times. Or rebuilding. It was a real, honest to god, end of the world. Richter vaguely remembered lamenting the lack of television. Of all things. But his parents, they were more concerned with getting the hell out of dodge. And for good reason. The bad news turned everything into a riot.

Even the old man with his stories and wonder, made for the hills before things got out of hand. Taking a few good souls with him. Richter often wondered what became of them. But over time, they mattered about as much as the buildings he slept in each night.

They first took shelter in the basement of their former home for a while. Gathering supplies and preparing for a longer trip. What followed was a long series of small trips here and there. Quite often they’d run out of food, or water. And gaining these resources was less than easy.

People would gather in small collectives. Some were docile, even friendly towards his family. Some weren’t. But everyone was hungry, thirsty, or tired. It ground down to negotiating what was needed between peaceful parties. Or an outright brawl for life giving supplies.

Richter remembered being forced to yank a satchel of food free from an elderly woman at one point. While his father stood firm between the pair and a large young man. They traded blows for a long time. He remembered the look on that lady’s face, as his mother dragged her back from him. Shrieking and pulling hair. There was only desperation and contempt in those eyes. If ever Richter needed to remember terror. He revisited that moment.

On occasion, Richter would be sent to a different room in their shelters. Always near the door. To keep watch he’d been told. He was fairly certain it was for other reasons, however. A few months later, his mother ended up slow, sluggish sickly or off balance. It was about then his parents realized their mistake. Richter was soon left holding his baby brother. A little brother who did not last long in the new world.

Richter held his arm in front of Avery. In all it’s scarred glory. “This is the only thing I have left of him. From the night we lost him. My parents left me alone to look after him. A pack of feral dogs decided to roam by. I thought they’d leave me alone. I mean, I was bigger than them. But I’m only one man.” He shuddered. “I still remember his screams.”

“Wh-... How did you get out of that?” Avery sat with him. Staring Richters scars down like they’d offended him.

“Dad heard me. Us. He had both hands and a weapon. I had a stick and a baby. They never blamed me. But... I couldn’t sleep after that. I kept thinking those dogs would be back.” Richter shrugged.

“And that’s only one of the things I didn’t expect. It’s a mess out there. Honestly I’m not the only one with a story like that. There are things you can’t be ready for. I’m not saying this to discourage you or anything. I don’t actually know WHY I’m saying this.” Richter ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Because you’ve had a bad run of luck, and you just need to talk it out.” Avery shrugged. Richter scrunched up closer to himself. When finally he heard something he didn’t even know he needed to hear.

“Well, I finally got my answer to my biggest question. Why you could deal with my... Condition so well.” Avery pulled his knees in, mimicking Richter. “You’ve been there.”

“No. That’s because my mother was a therapist.” Richter laughed. “Look. I’ll walk you out and give you a few pointers before you guys try to survive on your own. Besides, you still have your magic, to some extent. So it’s not going to be so bad.”

“Right. I hope you don’t get into too much trouble with Bear.” Avery stood, tugging Richter to his feet. Richter shrugged. Laughing it off. The worst Bear could do was lock him in a room for an hour or two. In comparison it was nothing. Just a bit boring. Maybe a little degrading.

They spent the last of the walk talking about survival tactics. Until something drew Richters attention. “Wait. Where did you get that knife? And how did you do all this?”

“Like you said. I still have some magic. And the knife.... It was given to me by my friends outside. The resistance.” Avery shrugged. “You can ask them where they got it when we meet up. We’re almost there.” Light pooled in through a small hole leading outside. Richter took a breath of fresh air. Before turning to Avery.

“I do appreciate the attempt, you know?” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s just...I can’t.” Avery just grinned back and nodded slowly.

“I wish I’d known earlier how things were. I guess we find freedom in our own ways. Right?” They stepped into the warms sunlight, and the knife was reapplied to Richters throat. Lightly. Avery glanced about warily. It turned out to be well within his right.

Richter could just make out a few tell tale signs of Bear, but he couldn’t see much else. The brute could be stealthy when he wanted to be. No clearer had it shown than that moment. The only reason Richter knew he was there was having lived as the mans pet for so long.

There was just that looming sense. It was far away, almost invisible. But Richter could just feel it. He half expected to look up, and see the giant with a casual cup of coffee and a smirk for the ages. Waiting for the inevitable scream and fall. Such things still happened. Though now it was more a game between them.

Not this time. Richter knew damn well he was being watched. Bear was waiting to spring from his hiding place. Waiting to rescue him. Or scold him. Though Richter really wondered if it was really worth either. Of course, Bear had no idea what was going on.

Avery gave a short whistle. Three elves emerged from the garden. One gave Richter a harsh look. He folded his arms. Speaking quickly. Avery shook his head, responding in kind. Neither of them wanted to talk to him, it seamed. So Richter was left in the dark. Eventually it turned into an argument.

Richters eyes shifted over the group. They were all lean men. One bore a few scars from battles passed. Another had bright blue streaks across his skin. Another kind of scar, Richter had been told, from magic. The third was better off, clean of injuries.

The conversation finally translated. “So you’re just going to turn him lose? Avery just slaughter him now.” The blue streaked one commented. Avery shook his head.

“You just said he was a valuable asset! It’s not like he’s going to rat you out. He’ll have no idea where we ARE.” He argued. Poking his own palm to accentuate the point. “We just need a way to contact him without being noticed and-”

“And what Avery? You met this human what. Once? Twice? You’re really willing to put your life in his hands? OUR lives? Look at him. Pampered little pet. Give me one reason he won’t turn right around and give his master our location, and status.” The clean one barked. His eyes flicked over Richter. A sneer pulled his features.

Richter just shrugged. Waiting patiently for something a little more substantial to happen. “Besides, when have we elves needed any other species’ help?” The streaked one snarled. Their hands were twitchy. In an all too familiar way. Resolutely, Richter took two steps back. One to the left, finding himself safely behind Avery.

The friendly elf’s ear turned towards him a moment, before returning to his companions. “Listen, I had to kidnap this damn human just to get him out. Bringing him along would be a liability. His master would hunt his ass down, and by extension ours.”

“You said he’d come willingly!” The scarred one piped up.

“Everyone is willing with a blade to their throat.” Avery countered. Things were starting to go south. Richter could feel it. But Bear was there, right? He’d be protected if things went wrong. Relaxing his stance, Richter turned his head towards the three aggressors.

“Are you an idiot?” The streaked one spat out. His eyes started darting in every direction, ears swivelling nervously. “Is his master at least a soft heart like yours?”

Avery cleared his throat. He shook his head quickly. “No but-”

“Who is it then? Do we know them?” The scarred one kept his full attention on Richter. Eyes widening. The human, in turn, shrugged in an ‘I don’t know man’ fashion. There wasn’t much he could say in this situation. Or do. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had an owner. Or that they would be protective of him. Bear was nothing if not vigilant when it came to Richter.

It occurred to him. Would Avery be left alone to enjoy his stolen freedom? These elves fell under the responsibility act as much as he did. If a human were to try the same thing. Would they be hunted down? He was starting to understand the paranoia.

“We do, he’s-” It happened in a blur. Avery was wretched aside. The unmarred elf snagged the humans arm before something cold, and painful stung into his ribs. Richters eyes blew wide. He managed to stare up at his attacker. Before he heard Avery scream.

“He’s WILLIAM THE WARHEADS!” A look of horror struck the trio. The two marred ones glanced at the one with the knife in Richters breast. Then at Richter himself. Neither of them had to ask what would happen next. The clean one just released the blade. His hands trembled.

Avery shot for him, shoving the attacker aside and supporting the humans weight. “Richter. Oh gods above. Richter I’m so sorry this-” A mighty roar of anger crashed from some unknown hiding place. Richter had only enough time to see a massive palm snag his attacker into the air. The other two jolted away.

He clutched Avery’s shoulder, struggling to breath. “Av- A-a-a-Avery. How bad?” He winced watching the scene behind his elven friend. The blue streaked one dropped to his knees, hands up. There was a gasp as he was plucked from his position on the ground. The scarred one tried to flee, and was quickly snagged.

A looming shadow fell over the both of them.

*

It didn’t look good, he couldn’t understand either mans ramblings. Richter was spluttering out names at random. Both his, and Avery’s. As for the elf. He kept repeating apologies in his native tongue. He would occasionally check over his shoulder, wince, and look back to Richter.

It was clear the attack was unplanned. Based on Avery’s response. However, it happened, and now Richter was in critical condition. Where were Archibalds spells now? Of course protection against stabbings were tricky, there was no spell for true invincibility.

“Avery. I can’t see how bad it is. Hold up your hand if there’s a chance.” He tried to keep his voice from shaking. He would not repeat his past mistakes. Minutes passed. Avery remained still, fretting over Richter’s injuries. Bear licked his lips nervously.

When it was too long with no response, Bear reached forward. Avery’s voice cracked into a scream, but the giant paid it no mind. Instead, he scooped the small human into his hand. There was too much blood. Richter was struggling for air. He took a shaky breath.

“Ricky?” The humans eyes snapped to his, he seamed to force a laugh, leaning back.

“Hey big guy.” He winced. “Not exactly the ‘goodbye’ I was expecting when all this started.” There it was, that ever present smile Bear thought was extinguished. Only, it was far from a happy occasion.

“Don’t send yourself to the grave early bud.” The giant tried to smile, but getting Richter to any kind of medical facility would take an agonizingly long time. Avery was useless with the inhibitors, and Lev was no healer. Bear scrambled every memory he had searching for some kind of answer.

“Hey Bear?” Richter’s voice was merely a whisper. He was struggling to hold on, but the fight was draining him fast. The giant was sure his hands were causing the man a small earthquake.

“Yeah Richter?”

“It’s stupid I know. But was I... Fuck...” He paused, then cursed one more time. “Fuck it I’m dying anyways. Was I a good pet?” This shook Bear from his panicked stream of thoughts, turning to the man in his hands, he sat dumbfounded. Richter’s form was shaking with effort.

In the days after Richters translation Bear had stopped considering him a ‘pet’. He’d always just been a small housemate. A friend, and the only person he’d ever shared most of his concerns with. But there was a time before that. Bear gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. Yeah you were...”

“Hah. More than Archibald can say for Neil then. Beat him at something.” Neil... Oh how would Bear break the news to Richter’s long time friend? The two were thick as thieves. Sure at some point, he would have had to anyways. Neil was a familiar. Destined to live as long as Archibald did. Neil. Familiar. That was it!

Like a bolt of lightning a realization hit him. Bears eyes lit up with glee. “Richter! Ricky I think I can help you. But I need your answer on this. I need your permission.”

Richters eyes were starting to glass over. It had might have been just a bit too late. But he gave a short nod. Sputtering something that Bear hoped was ‘yes’. His palms lit in a feint green glow. Channelling magic between the humans limp form and his own. Every nerve sung for a moment, before the same glow echoed back from the humans form.

Richter pulled in a deep breath, then fell still. Eyes shut. The glow faded. The group sat in the garden waiting. But there was no response from the human. Bear took nervous pulls of air. Just waiting. “Richter?”

#Fictional drama #G/t #cliffhanger #Forever home

[bonesgadh]

How my mom™️ reacted to every Gendrya scene from seasons 1, 2 and 3.

As requested by @stuffjusthappensworld.

Season 1

1x10

Arya meets Gendry after he defends her from hot pie.

My mom: poor Arya all alone and confused, she must be so scared. Yeah she is not going down without a fight, defend yourself and let them know you are a badass. Wait, isn’t that the King’s bastard Ned met a couple of episodes ago? They are going to travel together? No shit! I ship them, I’ve only seen them interact for 20 seconds but I saw a spark. That means he’ll probably die soon, my ships are cursed.

Season 2

2x01

That little glimpse of Gendry helping Arya getting on the wagon.

My mom: yeah, I definitely ship them.

2x02

The gold cloaks ask Yoren to give Gendry to them.

My mom: damn, so both of them are fugitives? That’s good because that way they’ll look after each other. Arya definitely needs someone she can trust.

The river scene.

(You don’t have to be a knight to buy armor, any idiot can buy armor.

How do you know?

Because I sold armor!)

My mom: aww, look at that little smile. They both know they are smarter than the rest of their companions.

(Asking me questions is bad luck, you’ll be dead soon.)

My mom: uh, I don’t think so. My guess is you are the one who’ll be dead soon.

(Did you kill someone or is it because you are a girl?)

My mom: yeah, of course he realized she is a girl. He is too smart and besides Arya is way too pretty to be a boy. And Gendry is pretty too but that’s another issue.

(Lommy and hot pie can’t know. No one can know.

They won’t, not from me.)

My mom: oh shit she is going to tell him who she is? She must trust him a lot. He won’t tell obviously but it’s risky more that one person knows her secret.

(My name’s not Arry, it’s Arya of House Stark. Yoren is taking me home to Winterfell.)

My mom: okay but she didn’t have to tell him the truth only because he discovered she is a girl. She could’ve pretended to be someone else but she told him the truth. This is fascinating.

(All that about cocks—I shouldn’t have said. And I’ve been pissing in front of you and everything!)

My mom: lol he is panicking! This is the start of something beautiful, I’m telling you. They will tell this story to their grandkids someday.

(I should be calling you ‘milady’.

Do not call me ‘milady’!

As milady commands.)

My mom: you know how couples call each other ‘sweetie’ or ‘sweetheart’? Yeah he’s totally going to call her ‘milady’.

Arya pushes him to the ground and he laughs.

My mom: *heart eyes*

2x03

Arya talks to Yoren as she cleans Needle.

My mom: love that shot of Arya because you can clearly see Gendry sleeping in the background. Coincidence? I think not.

Yoren gets shot with the crossbow.

My mom: that’s right Gendry, you protect my girl.

(You want Gendry?)

My mom: the fuck Arya what are you doing? Noooo.

(There you got him. He always loved that helmet.)

My mom: omg she is so smart!!!! She saved him, I love that.

2x04

Every scene of them in Harrenhall and watching how the Lannister soldiers torture the prisoners.

My mom: You notice how how they are always side by side? They look great together.

The scene where is seems as if the soldiers will torture Gendry to death.

My mom: no no no Gendry you can’t leave Arya alone! Oh thank god for papa Lannister.

2x05

Arya watches Gendry “practice” with the sword.

My mom: omg she totally checked him out. And not just once but like four-five times! Clever girl. Honestly Arya just shamelessly staring at Gendry’s body added years to my life. And that cute little smile good jesus.

2x08

Arya finds Gendry and hot pie and asks them if they have seen Jaqen.

My mom: well finally, there’s my boy again. Missed him last episode. 

Arya, Gendry and hot pie prepare to escape at midnight.

My mom: haha, they both shut him up. He’s a bit exasperating but I like him. Yes, they are out!!!! Go find your mother and your brother my girl, and introduce them to your new boyfriend.

Season 3

3x02

(I’m just trying to understand.

Would you please shut up about it?

Jaqen H’ghar offered you three kills.

I’m not listening.

But just explain it to me. He offered to kill any three people you wanted. Dead. All you had to do was give him the names. Anyone. You could’ve picked King Joffrey!

Shut up. 

You could’ve picked Tywin Lannister. 

Jaqen got us out of Harrenhal, why are you complaining?

You could’ve ended the war.)

My mom: I kinda get his point but dude, she saved your ass! I hope they run into Robb and Cat first because the north is not really an option for the Starks anymore, is it? I mean, Winterfell is all destroyed and there’s no one there to protect them. Their bickering is adorable by the way.

They run into the brotherhood.

My mom: oh jesus, who are those? Arya and Gendry keep jumping from one captive to the other, don’t they? Lol Gendry put that sword down, five episodes ago you showed us you can’t wield one for shit. Seriously, put it down before you hurt yourself.

Scene at the tavern.

(Gendry is a smith. He was an apprentice at the armory.

A smith, eh? Where did you train?)

My mom: adfñskjl that look they gave each other! 

Enter the Hound.

My mom: omg he is going to recognize her! Shit, they are in trouble now.

3x03

Scene outside of the crossroads inn.

My mom: okay I don’t like this. I get Gendry is helping the tipsy guy only to stay out of trouble but they gave a lot of emphasis on they guy being interested in Gendry being a smith. He is not going to stay with them, is he? Oh no, the squad is separating!  Awww he made her a wolf-shaped bread. Arya and Gendry want to laugh so hard lol. This is such a cute scene but also sad. I’m going to miss hot pie, he was an idiot but he was Arya’s friend. Now Gendry is all she has left. 

3x04

Scene in the cave where the brotherhood hides.

My mom: I just love how they always put them side by side. Yeah you bet one-eyed guy, Arya is the bravest of you all.

3x05

The Hound kills Beric.

My mom: shit he killed the cool guy. It was kind of obvious he would but it still sucks. Oh jesus Arya what are you doing? Yeah Gendry, stop her from doing something stupid. Adsklafjñfaslkj am I an idiot if that shot of he holding her is making he happy? OMFG HE BROUGHT HIM BACK?? WHAT KIND OF SORCERY IS THIS??

Gendry tells Arya he’ll stay with the brotherhood.

My mom: oh great, I knew he was going to stay with them. This is just fucking great. Yeah Arya has every right to be pissed. After everything they’ve been through he’ll just leave her? Can’t he see he is the only thing she has now?  Loosing him will destroy her.

(I never had a family.)

My mom: omg please don’t say it, Arya.

(I can be your family.)

My mom: that’s the 13-year old equivalent of an adult saying ‘I love you’. Good lord take me now, I don’t think I can watch him reject her. She is on the verge of tears, she is staring at him with so much love and she pretty much begged him to go with her. 

(You wouldn’t be my family, you’d be milady.)

My mom:  This is just heartbreaking, you can see the exact moment her heart shatters into a million pieces. She looks so hurt at what he said and he looks hurt as well, he is on the verge of tears too. 

3x06

Melisandre and the soldiers take Gendry away.

My mom: what the FUCK???? God please no someone stop them. Arya trying to get the soldiers to release Gendry is so cute. Yeah Arya, kick her ass. It’s kind of adorable how concerned she is the witch will hurt him. Hey don’t touch her with your dirty hands. Seriously, a stupid prophecy?? This is not the time for this shit. Noooooo don’t take him away! Sweet jesus look at Arya’s face, she is devastated! She is going full-dark Arya after this, isn’t she? They have taken everything away from her now. Please tell me they’ll see each other again because if they don’t I swear to god...

THE END.

Bonus: 

3x07

Arya with the brotherhood after Melisandre took Gendry away.

My mom: aww my poor baby, she is so sad because Gendry is gone. She must feel so alone. Yeah get the fuck out of there, they only care about fighting the bad guys and gold. Oh dear now what? The Hound, are you kidding me??? Told you, from one captive to another. Here here we go again.

You can read her reactions to Gendrya scenes from season 8 here:

Part one

Part two

Part three

#watching their scenes together after what happened in season 8 was very painful #but they were always so damn charming #you could see they had something very special going on #and despite all the fuckery we were very blessed in season 8 #gendrya

[thecursedson]

B O U N D  I N  B O N E S

H A R R Y

It was always the weakest of the group that was picked out on the Isle, and it still shown today that it hasn’t somehow changed. They knew Baelfire was the weakest of all them. Harry was downright insane, CJ was gone, and Harriet was murderous and vicious like her little brother.. but Bae.. he was a truly weak one.. to damn kind and full of heart.

Harry found him there, laying there and for a second his heart stopped, fearing the worst. He saw the blood all over him and the bruises.. and he thanked what ever Evil that kept him breathing as Harry lifted the boy up as quickly but carefully as he could with ease. “Ye fool.. ye foolish laddie” He whispers, keeping his hold and running back to the Jolly Roger, ignoring anyone that looked his way.. his focus all on Bae getting help from their mother. Harry just had to get him to the boat like somehow that would save his life. “Don’t ye dare die.” He whispered while running.

Soundly Baelfire slept in his bed just the room next to Harry’s, across from Harriet’s and down from his parents. He was dreaming of oceans far off in the distance when someone came into his room. Hearing the door, he squinted his eyes trying to see in the darkness. “Harry. . ? Is that you. . .?” He asked to the figure in the darkness. Then one figure became two and before he could scream for help he was gagged, dragged from his bed, bound in chains, and taken from his home. All that was left was his door wide open and his bedsheets that had been pulled across the room while Bae fought for his freedom. That was the last time Baelfire saw the stars. . .

No matter how much he screamed and pleaded, they wouldn’t let him go. Hours turned into days.  No food, no water. Bound in darkness by chains as he endured stab wounds, punches and more at the hands of his captures. Normally, Baelfire had enough strength to fight on but the light he had was fading quick as he lost more blood every day.  By the fourth day of enduring brutal torment, Baelfire had completely given up hope that he was going to live past this.

After a week, news got out that someone was looking for him and offering a hefty reward for his return.  Note-- it wasn’t specified that his return was safe, which his kidnappers took note of. They dragged Bae’s barely alive body to the sidewalk where they were going to leave him for dead by his hair, but not before delivering one final blow. To them, the deep stab wounds on his sides and legs, bruises on his arms, cuts on his ankles and wrists from chains, and the gash on his head and cheek were not enough. Bae’s eyes opened just enough to see the blurry barrel of a gun and then - 

-Everything went black. 

He laid there suffering, struggling to live as he laid in a small puddle of his own blood. His breathing was slow and painful as his body counted the minutes until he would eventually stop. If it weren’t for Harry finding his little brother it would have been too late. He could hear his voice as he picked him up from the ground and held him as he ran. Something about hearing Harry’s voice was comforting, perhaps because it was the first voice he recognized since he had gone missing. 

“H. . . a . . .r. . . .” Was all that Bae had the strength to force out from his cut-up lips before he let himself slip into darkness against Harry’s chest. 

{ @secondbcrnpiracy​ | cont. }

#secondbcrnpiracy #my queue abandoned me too #tw:blood #tw:shooting #tw:stabbing #tw:kidnapping #v:the baeby and his hookin' big brother #c:harry #{para}

[katlyn1948]

He Said, She Said (Part 13 of “The Family of Storm’s End” Series)

He Said, She Said

Katlyn1948

Summary:

Arya receives two letters while in Winterfell.

Notes:

HAHAHA! So....I FINALLY added another part to my little series! I know I've been AWOL with this one, but I've been busy, give a girl a break. That and I had no idea what to add for it. I am proud to let you all know that I was finally able to get out of this series brain funk? and come up with another drabble. I hope you like this one and I think it's cute!

Work Text:

Arya sat in her bedchambers back in her childhood home. It was nearing two weeks since she left Storm’s End for a much-needed break and in her time away, she had received three letters from home. The first letter received was from her eldest child of only seven years. Bella was a smart girl for her age and picked up her father’s trade in the war hammer rather quickly. Her septa, along with Arya’s dear friend, Sienna had agreed that the child was gifted; she could read a whole chapter by her second nameday.

When Arya received the letter, she should not have been as surprise as she was. She had an inclination that eventually she would hear about the misadventures her husband along with their children were up too. What truly surprised Arya was that the letter came from Bella’s hand and not that of her husband’s.

Dear Mother,

I do hope that you are enjoying your visit with Aunt Sansa, but I do have to wonder when you will be returning home. It has been nearly a week and father has already forgotten to feed the twins, nearly drowned Reenie, and almost taken off my head with his war hammer. I am not saying that he’s doing a bad job, but mother, he is doing a bad job. As you know, Alyse is in the Riverlands visiting family and Sienna has been preoccupied with Reenie. I’ve been trying to help him the best as I can, but I am only seven namedays! I cannot do everything. Did you know that he didn’t even know how to change the twin’s cloths? Who have you left us with?

With all my heart,

Your Daughter Bella.

Arya scoffed as she read over the letter. Her daughter could be a little dramatic and she had to take everything she said with hesitance. She knew that Gendry would have some difficulty with the children, but Arya believed that everything Bella was telling her was out of proportion. Just a day later, another letter arrived, this time from her husband.

My dearest Arry,

When are you coming home? I don’t mean to pry or even rush your time away, but the children are missing you terribly. I was informed by the maester that Bella has sent a letter to you. Do not believe everything she says. She is just a girl who misses her mother. I’m sure she has told you of her shenanigans around the castle. To my defense, I thought the twins were asleep and when I returned from the shore I fetched the wet nurse and got them fed straight away. Shireen is fine! She just had a little accident in the ocean, but nothing to worry about and Bella knew better than to play in the forge with my hammer. I didn’t see her when I picked up the damned thing! Nearly took her head off. The point is I just was to reassure you that the children are doing fine and we eagerly wait your return.

Love,

Gendry

Arya’s anger began to bubble as she set the piece of parchment down. Bella had been telling the truth and now she was even more worried about her children with their own father than she was shipping them off to Bravvos. In a fit of fury, she swiftly wrote her Lord Husband.

You Stupid Bull Headed Man!

If one hair is misplaced from any of my children’s heads, I promise to castrate you into the next moon turn. I will be leaving Winterfell come the morning. By the time you receive this raven, I will leaving the dock from White Harbor sailing into Storm’s End. In the meantime, try not to kill MY children!

Yours Always,

Arya Stark

She huffed as she placed the quill into the ink jar, quickly rolling the parchment and sealing it with a Direwolf seal. She pushed from her desk and stormed out her room trying to find the maester. In her rage, she hadn’t noticed her sister walking down the corridor in the opposite direction.

“Arya? Is everything alright?”

Arya raised her hands in frustration, “My husband is going to kill my children!”

With that, she turned on her heel and down the stairs in search of the maester. Sansa turned to the guard on her left as said, “Prepare my sister’s ship. She will be leaving at dawn.”

Three days later in Storm’s End

Gendry stared at the piece of parchment with wide eyes. His face was drained of color and his palms were sweaty. There wasn’t much that he feared in the world, but his wife was one of them.

“Bella?!” He shouted, “What did you tell your mother?!”

#gendry x arya #gendry/arya #Arya Stark #arya/gendry #Gendry Baratheon #original house baratheon children #axg fic #got #non canon

[sassypotatoe1]

On loss:

So the last month or so, a LOT of what I've been struggling with has been cleared up for me and I got meds to deal with a MAJOR cause of my issues, and am better able to understand why a lot of things in my life are the way they are, but one thing I couldn't figure out (and watching a memorial episode for an actor in a series he played in and crying my eyes out the whole 45 minutes triggered the thoughts about it) was why I struggle so much with grief.

Now grief is a weird as fuck thing, and I looked for answers in a lot of places, figured it out a couple times before realizing nope, that ain't it, before finally talking it out with my therapist.

Grief is weird, and no one deals with it the same way, but it's pretty difficult to deal with when you don't seem to be dealing with it at all.

When my grandpa died, I was kinda shocked, and suddenly really focused. I was really fucking annoyed when my teacher tried to make me feel guilty for not attending a school event even though I couldn't attend because my grandpa's funeral was on that day. A lotnof things suddenly seemed like they didn't matter anymore. My grandpa was my idol, and you'd expect I'd be crushed by his death, especially since I cried myself sick over the death of a duckling, and over not getting to go horse riding even though my dad promised me, and over the almost-death of an animal in a movie. All at around the same age. If I could be that damn sad over such little things, why couldn't I be sad over my literal idol dying, the one person in my life that got me and completely supported my every nutty endeavor and whim.

I felt so guilty. Did I just not care? Was I only pretending? Was I a psychopath? Was I crazy? What is so wrong with me that I can't seem to mourn my own grandpa? Am I selfish? Inhuman? Why don't feel sad?

Now it should be noted that I struggle with depression and anxiety pretty frequently (due to some undiagnosed things fucking up my life and people continually telling me I was just lazy, there's nothing wrong with me, I should just try harder and me burning myself out trying my absolute fucking hardest but never being enough) and that at the time of my grandpa's death (who had been getting worse and worse for months due to cancer) I was stuck in the worst depressive episode to date, and actively having suicidal thoughts.

All that contributed to this massive numbness I continually felt in between random bursts of complete and utter rage, but when I got the news, I was talking to a family friend about why I wanted to be an actress and actually doing my homework for once half an hour later. For the first time in my life, I felt NORMAL, and it was right after the most important person in my life died.

How could I feel so okay with it? Why was the only thing even remotely making me feel something the pain other people experienced at his death, people who almost definitely didn't idolize and care about my grandpa nearly as much as I did? What was wrong with me? WHY WASN'T something wrong with me?

It took months before I actually felt ANYTHING about his death, and even then it was some sadness and a general fear of death for the 6 minutes it took to listen to a song about a departed mother and tell both my parents how much I love them. After that I all but forgot about my grandpa. I missed him sometimes, I missed him when we re-did his house to put it on the market, I missed him when I ate eclairs (toffee with a chocolate paste center if you don't know it) for the first time after he died, I missed him when I had orange flavored baked pudding (he gave it to me every year on my birthday and though everyone says he baked it himself, including him, the container he bought it is is a clear indication of the fact that he bought it instead) in my first year of university and again when my friend invited me to her house because I couldn't go home for my birthday and her mom baked me oramge pudding. I miss him now as I type this and every time I hear arrie wadetchi (probably some really twisted version of some germanic greeting but he used to say it every time I went home from a visit and it was eventually shortened to arrie warrie) which is not extremely frequently but surprisingly still being said. I missed him when my grandma (his divorced wife) married again, and when she started getting sick too. I missed him when my dad put up his coffee grinder in the kitchen, and when he took it down a month later because everyone kept walking into it and getting nasty bruises and the most swear words my childhood home ever heard occurred in that month. I miss him every time I see a station wagon. In between though, I don't miss him at all. And I couldn't figure out why I can mourn small losses so welk, but big losses just don't seem to affect me the same, or at all.

At first, I thought maybe I am a sociopath. Maybe I'm just so good faking emotions I fooled myself. Turns out that's not it, so maybe I'm healthy, and actually capable of dealing with my emotions, like one article suggested between the millions of articles calling me selfish. Nope, if I was good with dealing with my emotions I wouldn't be in therapy having someone else explain to me why the idea that everyone hates me is an irrational thought, and suggest I actually ASK people what they think of me if it bothers me so much. Maybe it's because I feel so damn deeply about everything amd had a pretty shitty fuckin life, and I'm so used to dealing with shitty crap that another shitty thing is just another inconvenience to add to the pile.

Or maybe, and this is what my therapist suggested, I was just dealing with so much emotional turmoil, and depression, and social anxiety, and having adhd but not knowing, or having meds, and constantly trying to accomplish the impossible feat of being perfect, and I just didn't have the emotional capacity to deal with it then, so my brain was like "yo, let's fix your other shit because this shit warrants your full attention" and am only able to deal with it now because my mental health (though not anywhere near perfect) is about 700% better than it was then, and I have the emotional capacity to deal with it. Which I did, I finally actually GRIEVED my grandpa's loss. I cried about it, remembered why I love him, I took about 17 minutes of the session just trying to process the fact that I'm human and can apparently actually experience grief, I just needed to figure out how. For the first time in my life, I felt for the death of my grandpa what I felt for the death of a damn duckling I knew for a day, and I have a lot of grief and loss to catch up on and work through, but at least now I know I'm not a sociopath, I just process things differently, which I always knew but never realized stretched as far a grief. I'm going to be okay, and not feeling sad for a significant loss right away is okay, and not feeling or expressing grief the way that's expected is okay. And if you can relate to this at all, I hope my story helped you figure it out, because by damn it took me about 7 years.

#Tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicude #death tw #tw grief #Tw loss #Tw depression

[jlf23tumble]

Here’s my recap of episode 9 for @newleafover and @justlarried! I might need to add to it because the ep cuts off at the one-hour mark in dropbox. Note: this isn’t a faithful update, caveat emptor, etc., etc. (and honestly, I encourage everyone to watch it, do it illegally, you aren’t being ~noble by missing the glory that is Louis 0wning this entire shitshow, Jesus, the editing is so hamfisted to accommodate him, and I am LIVING for it). As you can tell, I have a glass of Little Black Dress (my fave garbage wine) in hand for X Factor UK (my fave garbage show), so let’s do this! Behold, my very random musings:

This is the six-chair challenge (the start? the whole thing? who knows because this ep is incomplete for me), but it’s a total farce because SPOILER, everyone “gets a seat,” only to replace the person who was sitting in it earlier. There’s a buzzer that the judges can use to “guarantee” a contestant’s place, and all of this pisses me off very much a lot.

As per usual, Dermot is a bright spot, but no fitted t-shirts for him, and, godddd, why not? I deserve nice things!!! :-\

The girls are up first, and they’re Simon’s team because he is, in fact, straight, so you can just ignore his camp eye-rolls, okay? He loves ladies! 

Georgia (girl Louis #1; wrote Home 2.0) is up first and easily scores a seat...later, Simon tries to oust her, but she demands another song and blows it out of the park (Louis’s quite proud; hearing his interview today about mentoring makes me think how much he actually DOES enjoy meeting singers like her, a true diamond in the rough).

I hate the reactions from every single person in this crowd.

It’s so obvious that this is a farce because Simon gives a seat to this completely forgettable girl who sings “Perfect” in a completely forgettable way, prompting one of Louis’s many smirks of the night.

Another sign of what a farce this is? Bella, the blonde girl that the edit is clearly backing earns a dramatic “guaranteed” buzz from Simon, who says, “I’ve always had this feeling about you,” and, no shit, the edit makes it super clear (later, we see how terrible she truly is, like, you would “guarantee” her before you’ve heard Shan? Please.).

Louis’s reaction to Bella makes me LOL because sbb plays the long game, so we get him saying his “pet hate is every Tom, Dick, and ‘Arry thinking they can rap,” which she does (cringe), yet he’s full of praise (his vote doesn’t count here), and all of it--the six chairs, etc., not just him--is so weirdly strategic and fake that it’s borderline genius? A+.  

If you want to play a drinking game with the aim of getting shit-faced, drink every time a contestant gets a seat and/or Simon rolls his eyes or blatantly stares at Louis/the crowd for a reaction before saying anything.

Louis’s accent saying this whole thing is “BROOT’uhl,” yes, please.

Ayda does the overs in this ep, too, but it’s kind of boring (it only underlines the farce because she gives a seat to the Eurovision contestant and then immediately replaces him, like, why bother).

Simon genuinely asks, “Why are they [the crowd] giving me a hard time?” lmao, maybe because a) this is the first time in a long time anyone gives a shit about this show, b) they’re in the audience for Louis, and c) it’s a completely ridiculous waste of time if EVERYONE gets a seat only to be replaced by the very next person.

Molly (girl Louis #2; looks like Xtina and also my neighbor 25 years ago) is another one who CLEARLY has more to give this world than Bella, you know, if we need more blonde ladies in this race. This entire buzzer bullshit, I swear to god.

Okay, now to the real gold: Louis’s face. Here he is, mid-micro expression about a contestant that Simon booted too early...a look that actually prompted Simon to call the girl back and boot someone else instead, wow, the power!

...and here he is, gleefully remarking about how “hard” this whole thing must be for Simon:

But the very best is when he’s pulling the patented Louis Tomlinson hahahahaha about how Simon has given a seat to all kinds of mediocre talent to placate the crowd when Scarlet is still yet to come:

I want to see a gif of this entire segment, but this is pretty damned close.

If you watched episode 9 and want to scream at me, please do!!!

#x factor uk #recap #what a shitshow #i love my shit wine

[rfsak2]

Cactus, a Love

I missed this… I hope you did too. Drop me a line and like and reblog!! Validate me! Also this is all written from Harry’s POV cause I never really did that much while writing the bulk of Cactus and we need it.

Cactus, a Love Summary: It wasn’t just Jamie who caught feelings. This kind of love takes two. The Styles Warnings: Fluff, some sexual thoughts and behavior. Intense flirting and some dirty talk. Teasing mentioning of daddy kink.

She was a stunner.

Small and delicate, with tiny hands and platinum blonde hair that fell in thick spirals past her shoulders. She pushed some of that hair off her face as she turned towards him, fingernails painted a brilliant coral and reached to set her cactus shaped mug on the table in front of her.

She stood, pausing to shake out her skirt and he caught sight of few words tattooed under her collarbone in an elegant script. His eyes drifted slightly lower and it took every bit of politeness and gentlemanly manners instilled by his mother to lift his eyes to her face and away from possible the prettiest cleavage he had ever seen.

Honestly.

Shit…. I am fucked.

She smiled, offering her hand to shake. Her free hand nervously smoothed at her pretty, white maxi dress, muscles gliding gently under the smooth tattooed skin of her forearm.

“Jamie Schwartz.”

His eyes jumped to Jeff Bhasker as his hand completely swallowed hers. Jeff grinned.

Ohh… That Jamie Schwartz.

“‘Arry Styles.” He grinned down at her admiring the blush that shaded the bridge of her nose. “Yeh look very pretty today, love.”

The blush deepened. “Uh.. thanks.”

They both sat and despite his best efforts, Harry found himself watching her every move instead of listening, eyes tracing her profile and dancing over any skin she been generous enough to leave bare.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug it out.

Like something you see, bro?

He glared at Jeff.

Maybe focus and stop ogling my guitarist!

He discretely flicked him off and focused on what Mitch was saying.

Shit.

**

This really wasn’t fair…

And what’s worse is he had no one to blame but himself.

Let’s go to the beach, I said… it’ll be fun, I thought.

She lifted her vest top over her head and he wanted to drown himself in the sea.

She was covered in brilliant color from the T-rex tattooed on her foot to her pretty, peach bathing suit to the sleeve that covered her left arm.

She leant over to peel her cutoff shorts down gorgeous, dimpled thighs and he tugged at his swim trunks, hoping the stiffy he was close to sporting wasn’t as obvious as it felt. He cast a look around, checking for pesky photogs who would love a picture of playboy Harry Styles and his problem.

When he turned back, she was stepping out of her shorts. She tried to shake some hair of her face and her sunglasses slipped off her nose and into the sand.

“Well… fuck.” She huffed and Mitch said something to her left, causing her to turn away from Harry.

She’s got a cute bu- Fuck!

She giggled and leant over at the waist to reclaim her sunglasses and Harry wanted to die.

Close to sporting, my fuckin’ arse… Harry groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, thinking of anything and everything he could conceive to try and distract him.

When he opened them again, she had straightened and was starting to spread out her beach blanket. He watched, still thirsty as fuck if he was honest, and caught himself moving forward toward her as she lay back on her blanket.

“Help wit’ m’sunscreen, love?”

**

Harry was all but resigned to his fate at this point.

She was beautiful and had been built by some higher power to completely torment him.

It was fact at this point.

She reached behind her to undo her bra and the way she was turned half away from him, afforded him a glimpse of those lovely tits. He sighed and she turned toward him fully, blushing slightly when she caught him looking.

“Dirty boy.”

There it is.

He was glad he had already changed into a pair of soft sleep shorts. It did nothing to hide the evidence of his erection of course, but at least he didn’t have to contend with the compounding effect of knowing her eyes were bare on him.

She slipped his shirt over her head, pretty blue eyes hot on him and tugged it down over her denim shorts. Eyes still on him, damn her, she slowly unbuttoned and unzipped and then let the shorts fall to pool at her ankles.

“Ya okay, Pretty Boy?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Fancy a cuddle, Monster?”

She smirked and moved to her side of the bed. He followed her down and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. When she chuckled and snuggled back against him, her ass naturally grinding ever so slightly against his hips (and rather obvious erection), he groaned and hid his face in her neck.

“Yer mean.”

She did it again. “I’m not mean. You chose this, you laid out the rules and decided to torture yourself by insisting on sharing a bed nearly every night. This is you, baby-boo.”

“I’m trying to leave your options open.” He huffed and shifted even closer to her. “And I like cuddling you. Sleep better.”

“I’m not complaining about the cuddling, I like cuddling with you too. You smell nice. And I appreciate that you’re trying to be sensitive about this. I just don’t get why you torture yourself.”

He shrugged, chin still on her shoulder. “I dunno… I want this with you, but I know what any connection with me can do to a girl. I’ve seen women harassed by my fans for simply being a friend of a friend who was invited to a dinner party. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“I get that.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek. “I do. And it says so much for your character and the way your mother raised you that you think about it like that. It does.” She smiled against his cheek. “But I also think you sell yourself short. You are worth it, I promise, and any chick doesn’t think so, isn’t worth you worrying yourself sick over, ya know?”

His heart stopped beating, he could swear. “You think I’m worth being chased down and cyber bullied?”

She turned in his arms and locked eyes with him. “I do, yeah.” She nodded and grasped his face. “I do. Even if we’re just friends. Even if we end up not keeping up with each other in the future and we only see each other at industry parties and we never talk. You are a fantastic human being and you are worth it. That’s why your friends who have been harassed stick around. Not because of money or their fifteen minutes, but because you are wonderful. You gotta believe it though, baby. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that if you don’t believe it.”

He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her. “I don’t want you to regret what happens here… between us. I don’t want you to get back to LA, have a bad run-in with the paparazzi and hate me because we fucked when you were vulnerable and I was technically your boss in a weird way and you felt pressured o-”

“I know. I understand. That’s fine. I can wait but you should know that I don’t feel pressured and I don’t feel like there’s a power imbalance or some weird mojo or something. I feel like we’re friends-”

“We are friends… more’n friends, really. I adore you.”

She smiled and Harry felt like the sun was coming out at midnight. She pressed a soft kiss to his nose and cuddled him closer. “I adore you too. I don’t want you angsting over where we stand or feeling like you’re taking advantage of me, ‘cause you’re not, okay? You’re not.”

He nodded and quieted, admiring her bone structure and the tan she had developed in the past month. The sun had added color to her skin but stripped it from her hair, lightening her eyebrows in a way that made her look ethereal and even more angelic than she had previously.

“Yeh’re so beautiful, darling.”

She shied away a bit, but her grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeh are, yeah?”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

**

He stepped out of the SUV and straightened his silk button-up before handing Jamie out of the car, making sure she was steady in her sky-high sequined Louboutins before dropping her hand and wrapping an arm around her waist, hand landing squarely on her ass.

Normally he’d be keen to keep his hands in appropriate places but he frankly didn’t care tonight. She had been driving him crazy all day, wearing little more than his shirt and a pair of knickers for most of the day as she worked on new music for her band.

Or when she’d been getting ready for their night out, sitting at her vanity in a strapless bra (which did little to contain the loveliness of his girlfriend’s cleavage) and a frankly none-existent scrap of lace (“no panty lines, baby”) as she applied what little make-up she normally wore.

Or when she had turned her back to him, requesting help with the zip or allowed him to help buckle aforementioned sky-high Louboutins that arched her foot in the most delectable way-

“You seem tense, Baby.”

He grunted and swatted lightly at her bum before smoothing his thumb over the buttery, navy suede of her Alice + Olivia dress. “Behave yourself or we won’t make it long at this party.”

She grinned, deep crimson lips wicked. “Yes, Daddy.”

He paused and sighed, before pretending to turn them back towards that car.

“Haz!” She laughed.

“I’m serious, love. Behave.” He started back toward the door to the Viper Room.

She pouted up at him and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “You’re no fun.”

He stopped again and leaned down to speak directly in her ear, not caring in the slightest that this would be plastered all over every tabloid tomorrow- Let them see what she does to me, they’d never question this relationship again. “I have been patient all day, even though yeh know damn well that yeh were doin’ more teasin’ than workin’ today. Test me, love, and I’ll have yeh bent over in a bathroom stall before we can say hello t’anyone.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed. “Sounds like more fun than this party if ya ask me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“But it’s so much fun.” She batted her eyelashes up at him. “Besides… you’re already being bad, why not have even more fun?” She ran her thumb over a wing of the butterfly on his stomach. “They’ve already got an eyeful, yeah? Already broke the internet most likely… It can’t hurt.”

He grinned, leaning forward to press his forehead to hers. “Yer beautiful an’ sexy an’ so very, very mine an’ I love yeh.”

“Right back atcha, stud.”

**

“I don’t know what to wear…” She shifted through her clothes, lip caught between her teeth. Pulling a dress off the rail, she turned toward him. “Is this elopement appropriate?”

He shook his head and came to stand behind her, joining in the search. “Too fancy, they’ll know something is up.”

She sighed and nodded. “Right.”

He grabbed a white chiffon tank dress from the rail and smiled. “This’ll do nicely.”

“Baby, I know we live in LA, but it’s March and it’s still pretty chilly.”

“Right.” He tugged at his lip. “You can wear leggings?”

“Not with chiffon.” She cast an aimless look around the closet.

He shrugged. “It’s not that chilly, wear hose and then you can put something on over it.”

“That’ll work.” She grabbed the hanger from him and marched back into the bedroom. Quickly she took off his ‘Styles’ shirt and laid it on the bed before digging a strapless bra and nude hose out of her underwear drawer.

When she was dressed, she considered herself in the mirror and pulled him over to her side. Satisfied that they ‘went’, she nodded and moved to put on makeup. “What am I wearing over this… jean jacket?”

He shook his head and grabbed his shirt from where she had abandoned it on the bed. “Wear this.”

She turned to him and sucked in a breath. “Ya think?”

He grinned. “It’s gonna be as true for you as it is for me soon, future wife.”

She blinked away tears and smiled. “Shit! We’re getting married.”

“Yeah we are.” He leaned over to kiss her and dropped the shirt in her lap. “Hurry up, Monster. Through waitin’ for ye t’wear me name. Let’s go.”

She took a deep breath and smiled brilliantly and Harry was floored by just how beautiful his future wife was.

As he hoped he would be when she was his wife and the mother of his children.

As he hoped he always would be.

**

“’ello, yuuchube…” Mickie grinned at the camera, dimples on full display. “That’s how my dad says it… anyways, I have a treat for you today!” The camera panned as he turned it, losing focus for a short moment and then focused in on Harry sitting on the couch, the sound of piano scales being played in the background.

“Mum is teaching Georgie how to play the piano and Dad has been staring at her- probably without blinking! -for like… an hour.”

Video-Harry had his chin propped up on his fist, a notebook of presumably lyrics left open and forgotten in his lap. The smile on his face was soft as he stared just off camera.

“Hey, Baby?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you come teach this scale? My hands are too small.”

He grinned and stood, strolling rather leisurely to the piano that came into focus as Mickie followed at a distance. “Of course, anything for my gorgeous wife and my stupendous son.”

Video-Jamie squinted up at Video-Harry as he reached the bench. “Are you buttering me up for a particular reason or just cause?”

“Just ‘cause I love yeh.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and motioned for her to stand. He slipped onto the bench and patted his thigh, smiling up at Jamie. She settled in his lap with an indulgent smile, brushing hair off his forehead as Harry cuddled Georgie against his side with his other arm. “Okay, Georgie, this is how it goes.”

The camera turned back to Mickie who smiled. “Like… I know that I’m supposed to be grossed out or somethin’... but like that’s how they always are and I’m glad that my dad loves my mum like that.”

“Mickie… baby, what’re you doing?”

“Oops…” He grinned sheepishly and turned the camera back at his parents and younger brother, who had all turned away from the piano. “I’m filmin’, Mum!”

Jaime chuckled, confused. “Filmin’ what?”

The camera jostled, almost like a shrug, as he walked to his parents. “You and Dad…”

“Why?”

Video-Jamie held out a hand for his and Mickie’s hand appeared in frame. “Just… dunno… like the way you and Dad are. Wanted people to see it.”

Harry smiled like he knew where this was going. “How do yeh mean, son?”

“Ya know… like in love and crap. It’s nice.” There was a long pause. “Not everyone’s parents are like that, but I like that you are.”

Jamie turned away from the camera for second to wipe at her eyes.

“Mumma… didn’t mean to make ya cry.” The camera dropped a bit.

“It’s okay, baby. That’s very sweet.”

Georgie nodded. “I like it too.”

Harry grinned and cuddled him closer. “Yeah?”

“‘Cause Mumma’s the prettiest and why wouldn’t you love her, right, Daddy?”

“Exactly, m’boy. Yer mum is the prettiest woman I’ve ever met… and the kindest and the smartest-”

“And the best mum!”

Harry turned back to Mickie and gathered him into a family hug. “That’s right.”

Jamie wiped at her eyes again. “Y’all…”

A Relationship

#harry styles/reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles/oc

[xyliane]

not selling any alibis: chapter 1

summary: killua is an assassin, but he has a pest. a cockroach. and it’s making his normal non-assassin life hell. not least because his family insists on making it all his fault.

notes: I’ve been working on this thing for. gosh. I think the initial idea for this au came back in january (on minimal sleep, probably), and it’s been percolating and simmering until it’s finally boiled over. anyways it’s a spy/assassin au. T, killua zoldyck, zoldyck family shenanigans (read: illumi is awful and the rest aren’t much better). killugon. 3400 words. 

fic will update...probably not til the holidays tbh, the next few weeks are eeeeeeeeeeeevil. I just wanted to see if there was any interest in this mess.

[ETA] fic is now updating on ao3! link is here. 

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chapter 1: eyes in your pockets, nose on the ground

-----

“Do you have the target?”

Killua adjusts his sights, the comfortable weight of his sniper rifle keeping him steady even on this rickety perch. Across the wide street, typing away at her desk with the blissfully ignorance of someone trying to finish their paperwork at the end of the day. Killua doesn’t know who she is, and frankly, tells himself he couldn’t care less. It’s not in his job description.

Assassin means quick, clean, and quiet. Killua may be the best in the business, but that doesn’t mean he has to know about the lives of the people he kills.

“Target locked,” he says over the comm.

His brother’s voice hums an affirmative. “No sign of your cockroach?”

“None so far.”

“And what about in the street entrances? You cannot afford another loss, Kil.”

“Don’t have to tell me that twice. Or twenty times,” Killua mutters. Illumi is a pain in the ass to have on comms. His oldest brother might be a great assassin, but when he plays spotter for Killua, he can’t stop backseat driving. If Illumi’s going to insist Killua stay in the family business, to the point that he takes spotter whenever possible, he can stay out of Killua’s personal life.

So far, it’s worked out okay that way. Killua has his life, a normal life with classes and video games and friends and a years-long crush on his best friend, and he has his family’s work. They do not cross paths.

It had been going well for years. He’d moved out of the mansion to attend high school, having finally proved to Father that he could be in a “normal” school and stay at the top of the game. It was there he met Gon Freecss, a cannonball of sunshine and chaos who wormed his way into Killua’s heart, the best friend he could have ever asked for, even if Killua doesn’t know what he did to deserve Gon. Five years later, their mess of a two-bedroom apartment is nothing like Aunt Mito’s house or the Zoldyck mansion, but it’s theirs. It’s Killua’s space to not be a Zoldyck, to not worry about being perfect at what his family wants. To be best friends with Gon even if that means spending too much brainpower stomping down on the urge to burst into his best friend’s room and kiss him senseless.

Gon, of course, doesn’t suspect a thing. He’s used to Killua’s odd hours at this point, and with his job at Kite’s clinic doing some bizarre combination of paperwork and site visits for whatever it is Kite does, it’s not like Gon keeps normal hours either. He’s also too damn oblivious to realize anything involving kissing or desires to kiss or anything else that makes Killua lie awake at night debating the merits of screaming into his pillows.

But the last year or so, the jobs Killua’s taken have run into…a pest. His cockroach. A spy almost as good at their job as Killua is at his, with the tendency to snatch Killua’s best finds right out from under him. Can’t kill anyone if they vanish into the system, or protective custody, or hell, maybe the cockroach kills them.

How they vanish isn’t the problem, it’s that they do. It pisses Killua the hell off that he’s lost five separate targets in the last nine months, and neither he nor his family can figure out how. It’s not uncommon to run into rivals in their game, but it is rare for anyone to get a leg up on a Zoldyck, least of all one so good that Killua hasn’t even seen them for himself. For every botched job he has, he has to complete another three for even a fraction of his reputation to return. He does them, and he does them damn well, but then this asshole cockroach gets under his feet again and screws everything back to hell.

Which is how he ends up with Illumi resuming his role as Killua’s handler and backseat driver, like he’s twelve again and off on assassin’s first contract. That pisses Killua off almost as much as the cockroach themself.

He checks his backup cameras just in case anything’s crawled in while he was scoped. Nothing at all. “I’m clear. You see anything, Illumi? Since you’re the one with the security cams and all.” And has nothing better to do than be a pain in the ass, but Killua doesn’t say that out loud.

“There is nothing on my scans.” Killua is about to make fun of how easily Illumi is mixing up “checked the cameras” with “intensive scanning” when his brother makes a noise almost like a hum of recognition. It’s the sort of noise Illumi made when Killua was about to eat the unpoisoned fruit, or step on the sturdy boards while training, instantly signaling that something is not going according to plan. Come to think of it, maybe that was more of the point of the training beyond mere poison resistance or surviving four story falls: the ability to notice even the smallest details, even from someone familiar.

Killua snaps his attention back to the scope. The woman is still in her office, still typing away. “What is it?” Killua bites off.

“Oh, well. Perhaps there is something.”

If Killua keeps grinding his teeth, he’ll probably have nothing but stubs by the time he’s thirty. If he lives that long without either killing his brother or having a heart attack from one of Gon’s stupid ideas.

Killua’s just as stupid and infinitely more selfish, though, because now he finds himself wanting more from Gon. The sort of more that is a massive distraction when trying to line up a kill shot and his spotter is not doing his damn job of spotting problems before they become issues.

“Illumi. What did you see.”

“Hear, little brother. You must use all your senses.”

Sniper rifles are heavy, and Killua is increasingly considering the value of abandoning his position to bludgeon his brother to death. “What did you hear, then?”

“The sound of clampers attempting to scale the alley side of the building.”

Killua swears. That’s outside of his view and his cameras, supposedly under Illumi’s watch. That’s the point of having a backup and a spotter—someone to keep an eye on things he shouldn’t have to worry about. If he’d been on his own, like he should be, Killua would have spent the extra time to set up additional surveillance. Being even partially blind is horrible, especially at times like these. Killua is the best because he knows what he might miss. Relying on Illumi is a terrible blindspot, even in the best circumstances.

“Hook me into the audio while you figure out where the fuck this cockroach is,” Killua says. Illumi hums in acknowledgment and Killua’s headphones crackle with static, making him wince. Whatever frequency Illumi has been on, it’s next to impossible to hear anything. He fiddles with his receiver, trying to clear the sound.

He’s almost got it when the noise clears abruptly, Illumi’s voice returning. “Kil. Take out the target now.”

“It’s not the right time—”

“Your cockroach is taking the chance, so we must take ours. Shoot her.”

“On your head,” Killua mutters, and cuts the comms to focus in on the window. He steadies, aims—

And almost fires at an empty office, vacant except for a gently spinning office chair and a piece of paper with an enormous smiley face taped to the computer screen. Better luck next time! it says.

Killua swears again and slams his headset on the floor hard enough to make it crack.

—

If he hadn’t promised Father he’d stop by the mansion after the job—the failed attempt at his fucking job—Killua would have followed through on earlier plans to clobber his brother with the business end of his rifle and gone straight home. Gon has a way of making even the worst days palatable, just by being himself. He also seems to be having trouble at work lately, but what complaints are left to commiserating over a handle of cheap whiskey. Hopefully he’ll still be awake by the time Killua gets back.

Instead, he spends the forty five minutes it takes to fly to Kukuroo Mountain and the Zoldyck helipad filling out paperwork and wishing he could be with his best friend instead of within punching distance of Illumi’s blank face.

The Zoldyck mansion and grounds around Kukuroo Mountain used to be one of Killua’s favorite places growing up, full of mystery and danger even with all of the training he went through. Now, it’s okay sometimes—Mother is still overprotective, Father still expects Killua to become a carbon copy of himself, and Grandpa Zeno always looks like he’s trying to test Killua on something. Milluki’s always working on some super secret hacking project, and Kalluto’s been loaned to a colleague indefinitely. But Alluka’s not even at the main mansion anymore, so what little joy Killua had left in the house he grew up in is also gone. Some bullshit about Mother and Father wanting to keep her projects “safe,” but more likely it’s to keep her apart from Killua. Her and Nanika both.

And there’s Illumi, who should stay on the other side of the moon as long as he stays out of Killua’s business. Something he is deliberately failing to do.

The corridor to Father’s office gapes and yawns, the stretches between wrought iron lamps seeming to elongate with every step Killua takes. He’s dreading this conversation more than almost any other. Not helping are the prim steps of Illumi, just behind him and far enough to the side to reverberate in slightly disjointed echoes down the hall.

By the time the door arrives, Killua is half-jittery with the need to do something, anything to get out of this house. Instead, he pushes the door open and slips into the room, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Welcome home, Kil,” Father says. He’s shucked his bespoke suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, blue eyes unreadable from behind the desk. People always say Killua takes after him, his height and his white hair and his blue eyes if not his bulk. How Silva ever managed to build a reputation as an assassin is less to do with stealth and more to do with brutal efficiency. But Father’s presence is grounded and weighty where Killua’s is electric and sharp, perhaps from age but just as likely from experience, even if Killua’s completed almost double the amount of contracts as when Silva was his age. There’s a reason Killua is heir to the Zoldyck dynasty, not because he wants to be but because he’s damn good at it.

It’s unusual to see Father out of his work clothes while in the office, even long after the end of the day. Propriety is vital in this business, he’d explained once, when Killua was too small to really know what the word meant. Mom, a slim black-haired shadow perched in her high backed chair at Father’s right hand, remains in her best work kimono, thick glasses glimmering in the red light.

Grandpa nods, his normal grin gone. “I hear there were complications again.”

Killua tries not to whip his head back to glare at Illumi. “I have my report here,” he says. “I had hoped to go over it myself, not have it fed through some incompetent third party.”

Illumi plucks the papers from his fist and gives them to Mom. “I believe, as your observer, I am neither a third party nor incompetent,” he says.

“Your screw ups cost me my job tonight, brother,” Killua snarls.

“Perhaps you should have checked your own tools rather than relying on what you perceived to be lacking in the first place.”

“I did set them up, you took them from me!”

“Boys,” Mom says, her voice dripping with misplaced emotions. “Don’t fight, not here. Kil, your report is flawless, but it does support what Illu reported already.”

“It’s not my fault.”

Grandpa Zeno at least looks a little sympathetic when he says, “Fault doesn’t matter, kid. Results do. And yours don’t look good.”

Killua does not growl or pace. He doesn’t allow his family the satisfaction of seeing his frustration manifest here. Instead, he pulls his hands out of his pockets and unrolls his copy of the paperwork. “I have the best record in this house, except for yours, Grandpa,” Killua says. “My only failed assignments have all occurred within the last eight months, and even taking those into account, I am succeeding well above Kalluto or Illumi’s expected averages. And all of them are related to that fucking cockroach.”

Father props his chin up on his fist. “Yet compared to your standards, you lack, Kil. That is unacceptable.”

“I still believe this is to do with his current living situation,” Illumi says softly, black eyes not showing a hint of emotion, not even satisfaction or success he’s obviously luxuriating in. “He has taken fewer and fewer contracts in the past few years. Perhaps it is time for the heir to come home.”

That is not negotiable. Killua is not leaving his apartment, his home, his friends. He’s worked too hard to keep that part of his life safe, locked away from his family and the blood on his hands. But he swallows the fear right back where it came from. “That’s besides the point. What I need to know is how my missions keep getting leaked.”

Father glances at Mom, who shrugs melodramatically. “There have been no words on leaks, Kil.”

Killua rolls his eyes. “I don’t screw up. Not like this. You know there’s something going on, or you wouldn’t have me under surveillance again. Either Milluki’s losing his touch or you’re getting lazy, Illumi.”

A brief flash of a grin passes across Zeno’s face, more for Killua’s benefit than anyone else in the room. “Told you he’d find them,” he mutters loud enough to echo. Father glares deadpan, the same look Illumi gives but with the strength and age to back it up. Unfortunately, when it’s targeted at Grandpa, it does about as much good as an water gun in a hurricane.

“Kil, no one else in the family is suffering from these losses,” Father says. “We suspect it’s coming from your end.”

Killua’s hackles rise defensively. “It definitely isn’t. I run sweeps every day, before and after missions, and whenever Gon’s in class. I made the protocols that allow me to stay out of this place, and you all approved them. Hell, you use them in all our safehouses now. Including Alluka’s systems—”

“Then the protocols need to be updated, darling,” Mom says. “As do those for field surveillance. Illumi, you will oversee Kil’s efforts at both of these.”

“Of course, Mother.”

“What? No! This was Illumi’s fault in the first place.” Working with Illumi out of the field is even worse than the backseat assassining that happens on the job. No way is this going to end without Killua tearing his hair out.

“Don’t argue, kid,” Zeno says. “Silva wanted to keep you at home until the aiai protocol is fixed. Consider this a compromise.”

“There’s a problem with Nanika?” Killua asks. “I thought Alluka finished last year. What has she said?”

“It’s nothing Milluki can’t fix,” Father says.

Mom looks more upset about this than Father, but she wants him back under the Zoldyck thumb almost as much as Illumi. Father’s always emphasized, if Killua can maintain his success and his secrecy, he can “expand his horizons” or whatever he says to excuse Killua’s flights of whimsy. Not that they are whimsical at all. Killua simply wanted to have a little corner of life for his own. Father seemed alright with even that, just so long as Killua never tested his leash.

At least, until now. The risk of losing what little independence he has looms large in Killua’s mind, and he shudders at the thought. He can’t lose all the time he’s put into stupid classes and stupid university credits just to lose them now. More importantly, he can’t lose his friendships. It’s bad enough he doesn’t get to see Alluka. Losing Gon…

Killua straightens, pulling his shoulders back and meeting Father eye for eye. “Fine,” he says. “If I get an extra visitation day.”

“Done. And you’ll install the new modifications in your apartment,” Father says.

“In the complex’s public spaces, not in my apartment,” Killua says.

“Today.”

“Tomorrow. I have to wait for Gon to go to class, since coming all the way out here means I’m not getting home til after dinner.”

His best friend’s name makes a flicker of emotion pass across Illumi’s face, sour and unamused. Killua marks a point in his favor, a tiny spot of hope in this mess.

“Agreed,” Father says.

Killua lets out a breath slowly, not letting his relief show on his face. “Great. So can we get to sorting out the leak now? Since I’m here, and not going to class tomorrow.”

Kikyo shakes her head, tapping her long nails on her husband’s desk. “We will take care of that, I think,” she says.

“If it’s centered on my contracts and no one else’s, I should be involved.”

“We have it under control,” Father says.

He’d said the same thing before all but exiling Alluka from the family, like she was a problem to be solved rather than Killua’s sister. He’d said it when the protocol—when Nanika was moved to the main mansion once its immediate success didn’t take hold. It takes every single spotless job to earn even a fraction of time with her, and losing that… It’s not a comforting thought. “Obviously not as much as you think, or I wouldn’t be missing another contract,” Killua says.

“You are the only unaccounted-for element in this search,” Illumi says. “Perhaps you should not be involved at all.”

“I—”

Grandpa nods somberly. “We’ve been discussing this privately for some time now, Kil. If you are the target of this subterfuge, you should not be involved in the search. It would only draw more attention. And your performance during this time has been an issue as well.”

Killua’s eyes narrow. If they’re talking about a break, he’d take it gladly. He’s never had one, not while applying for university, not when Gon came down with some terrible upper respiratory infection, not even the first time one of Professor Krueger’s hell tests descended upon his grades. But if they’re talking locking him out of his own problems, just because he’s not following their plans…

“Are you seriously accusing me of leaking my own contracts?” Killua asks incredulously. He can’t stand his family most of the time, but they’re his family. Even Illumi. He can’t betray them to someone else. The very thought is anathema.

But no one responds. It’s worse than if someone said to his face they thought he was a traitor, because at least that way Killua would know who to punch. Instead, Father says, “Kil, you know the suspension protocols. No contact with the family, no access to the grounds, no further contracts. No access to family resources. Use the time to triple check your protocols and install any updates in the apartment complex.”

Killua balls his hands into fists. “You can’t suspend me now,” he says. “You need my help with this!”

“Check ins are once every twenty four hours with Illu,” Mom adds as though she doesn’t hear him. “Do not miss them, or all visitation rights will be revoked.”

“And if we cannot determine the cause, or decide it is too dangerous, you will return home and your visitation privileges to the secondary compound will be permanently revoked,” Father says. “It is too much of a risk to leave my heir in harm’s way, especially at a time like this.”

Illumi doesn’t smile. Illumi never smiles. But his blank black eyes seem to glimmer all the same. “You know how to reach me, Kil,” he says.

It takes every hard-won fiber of control in Killua’s body to keep himself from breaking the door on the way out.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh fic #my writing #killua zoldyck #killugon #illumi zoldyck #silva zoldyck #kikyo zoldyck #please do not play a trope drinking game with this fic #you will Die #gonna post this on ao3 later this week #who's the cockroach??? #spymance au