#- enough that they bleed so I genuinely didn’t feel anything and was prepared to assist. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

103 notes · View notes

theelvenhaven · 3 years

Text

Elves Reacting To Your Period

Imladris

Elrond

Elrond is an ellon expert knowledge of healing, humans and had a sibling who chose a mortal life. Let alone making Imladris a haven for all races and walks of life- that were peaceful, of course. So you wouldn’t be the first menstruating human he’s been around. He is completely and utterly supportive yet subtle and discreet knowing that this is a delicate time for you. As well as possibly embarrassing to make a tremendous fuss over it.

Elrond discreetly brings you pain relievers, has soothing teas prepared for you, checks in on you when he has the time available. The Healer in him brings him to fret over you some, and should your pain be severe, he is quick to alleviate it. He’s had thousands of years to assist with such things, and you being his partner, he will more than happily help you. He will also make sure any menstrual products are there at your immediate disposal.

Elrond is very gentle with you, being sure to provide you with the emotional and mental comfort that you might need during the day. Making himself far more available through your period if he can help it, wanting to make sure you have the proper support you need. Saving any physical comforts for later when you two can be alone properly and uninterrupted.

Glorfindel

This warm ball of sunshine isn’t entirely clueless about humans and their menstruation cycles. He has spent little of his time around it or reading about it. While logically he knows you menstruate, it surprises Glorfindel the first time he encounters it with you. Glorfindel is worried he has hurt you somehow or another, even if the placing of blood on your clothes and sheets show that he couldn’t possibly have hurt you.

Glorfindel is quick to try to get you to a healer or a healer to you, wanting to make sure you are in fact okay. Though when you explain to him that partially, you are okay and that the bleeding is normal; he is quick to simmer down. The ease with which you speak of it is what brings him to trust you on it, and he attentively listens to you. Glorfindel also asks you a lot of questions about it, as it is human men he is used to being around, so his knowledge about your reproductive health is not extensive. He is also quick to help you clean up any sheets or clothes that need to be taken care of, or take over gathering the items while you clean and situate yourself.

Glorfindel will do what he can to take some time off during your worst days of menstruation and is unfortunately not exactly tactful about it at first. You will have to tell him if it bothers you, in the event you find it embarrassing, as he has no shame in announcing it. Because he will straightforwardly tell them “Y/N is menstruating I am afraid I am unavailable until further notice.”. Once you tell him, Glorfindel will keep that talk between you, him and the Healers if need be. When he can’t be there with you, he instead sends a healer in to check on you and bring you the things you need.

Erestor

Erestor is extremely knowledgeable and has spent a copious amount of time absorbing everything there is too in the library. Even on healing subjects, no matter how gruesome or unusual they may seem to him. But with dealing with menstruation... Well, that is a completely different story. Erestor won’t make a massive fuss over you being on your period, but he is entirely flustered by what you are going through.

At first he genuinely doesn’t know what to do. He never imagined he would have to deal with a menstruating human. Even when he started courting you. But Erestor is very technical and by the book- literally here. So he does what he thinks anyone should do, and goes to reference his books quietly and away from prying eyes.Erestor is extremely discreet about helping you, keeping the matter very private. Don’t mistake this for him being ashamed of you, he is far from ashamed of your bodily function. Erestor is just a very private ellon.

He places a few orders for a dozen or more every month, for pain relievers to be kept in your shared chambers at all times. Stashed away in your desk drawers too so they are readily available and you or him aren’t having to haul off to the Healing Halls all the time. Quietly he will consult Elrond- the only other elf he will tell about it- if he feels like he isn’t doing enough until he gets the hang of helping you. If your pain and discomfort is severe, Erestor- while one for privacy- will go with you to the Healing Halls and explain the matter to them. Diligently sticking by your side and listening intently for care instructions and how to help you further.

Lindir

Lindir is completely and utterly flustered when he discovers that you are menstruating. It is not that he is doing it to make you feel bad- which only makes him feel worse when he sees his embarrassment is distressing you- it’s that he just doesn’t know what to do. Seeing the blood on the sheets and on your clothes makes him feel faint as are you hurt? But then you explain its your period?

Of course he knows what a period is from what he has overheard when coming to see Elrond in the Healing Halls. But that doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable about it. He is stammers and stutters asking questions and is bright cherry red trying to figure out what to do next. Despite all this fuss he has stirred up, Lindir is really supportive. Just the first few times this is what you will encounter. With him profusely apologizing for embarrassing you or distressing you.

Trying to help somehow, nervously going down to the healers or Elrond for the things you need while you tidy up. Elrond swore the first time he came to him and had to talk to him about it, that he was going to faint over the ordeal. Elrond made him sit an extra ten minutes until he could calm down and send him back to you. On his way back, Lindir sends for someone to fix you your favorite meal and may grab a flower or two as an overly sweet gesture to apologize with the pain reliever in hand. In time, every time you have your period, he gives you a flower with your first meal after he sees how happy it makes you the first time.

Elrohir

While Elrohir is used to being around humans, them being menstruating humans is a completely different subject. As it is, he is already pretty protective over you and your well being, especially since you’re human and considers you to be more fragile. So when you wake up and are bleeding or have bled through your clothes and maybe even on him, worried is a very simple way of putting it. He certainly makes a fuss over it between you both!

While being such a great healer himself, he is ready to give you an exam from head to toe and figure out why and where you are bleeding. When you tell him what your period is, and its purpose, Elrohir’s visibly relieved that no, it is not life threatening. And grateful that no he didn’t sleep through you getting hurt- as he is a heavy sleeper. Though he voices his concerns that you are now physically uncomfortable. But like his father, Elrohir is quick to use his skills in healing to good use to help ease your pains and discomforts. Making and bringing you tonics and pain relievers and anything you need to ease the nuisance of your menstruation.

Elrohir will prefer that you take time off from any work and take time off his own duties to be with you when he’s in Imladris. Like this goes without question and there is no making him change his mind, every single month. Without fail Elrohir takes that week off to be with you. Even if you tell him you will be fine, Elrohir is taking the time off regardless and will absolutely even go as far as to delay his leavings with the Rangers until the time has passed. He’s happy to hold you and kiss all over you and lounge around with you if that makes you feel better. He’ll read softly to you, or comfort you through such tough emotional difficulties, and most definitely not skip over any whims you may have for food.

Elladan

Like Elrohir, he isn’t used to be around menstruating humans at all. Though he is far more laid back compared to his brother. So rather than making a huge fuss about your menstruation, Elladan will ask you seriously if you are okay and carry on as if it were not really a big deal. Making a few light hearted jokes to keep your mood up if he can tell it is negatively affecting you.

Elladan will help you clean things up without question. The sheets are dirty and you’re embarrassed? No big deal, you can’t help it. Elladan just carries on normalizing these instances for you entirely, as he just wants you to be comfortable with him. I headcanon that while Elladan does and can heal, making tonics/pain relievers aren’t his strong suit and he will definitely ask his brother to do so for you.

Elladan is laid back, so if you need anything from him you can most certainly tell him and he will do it without question. You want alone time because you’re furious? No big deal, he will back in an hour or two. You want him all to yourself all day? You’ve got it. It embarrasses you to go to the healing halls for menstruation products? Say no more, Elladan is already halfway down the hall to get it for you.

Bonus:

Haldir

Haldir is no stranger to blood or humans and their customs and bodily functions. So when you menstruate the first time while together, he completely and totally expected it to happen. It was inevitable, but that doesn’t mean that he knows everything you need. Haldir knows that pain is something that generally seems to be an issue for menstruating humans and is at least prepared for that much.

He asks you what all you need while bringing you a vial of pain reliever he has stored in talan or on his person specifically for you. Telling you not to fuss with anything other than yourself, if it's like a bedroll or comforter you’ve bled over. The ellon knows how to get blood out of fabric and will first handle the list of things you need and then tend to the stained fabric. Haldir will go and fetch the things you need without batting an eyelash, and he just brushes any of the healer's concerns aside.

Even if they offer to help, he just shrugs away their words, knowing you’ll go to them if you need it and that there is no sense and making a big deal over something so normal for you. Haldir will listen to all of your woes about it, comforting you even in his more subtle ways however he can. Holding your hand, rubbing your back, and in private holding you close. Haldir though will just tell you flat out to do something that will help you if he knows you are putting it off or have forgotten. Unperturbed by the conversation or needing to help you when he’s around and not on patrol.

* * *

tags:

@saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @icarus-fell-in-spring @iwenttomordor @red-riding @elarinya-nailo

150 notes · View notes

cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Now, Forever, and Always

Summary: She was perfect—intelligent, entertaining, kind, beautiful... but mortal. Loki was determined not to lose her.

Word Count: 7,031

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: So this idea came from a made-up fic title sent to me by @the-emo-asgardian for an ask game a few weeks ago and has been living rent free in my mind ever since. I don't know why that out of all the nice, happy fic ideas I got out of that game, it was the depressing one I decided I had to write. Oh well. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask :)

Read it on Ao3!

He knew better.

He hadn’t planned on remaining on Earth for any extended period of time. His forced servitude to the Avengers, his punishment—it was a nuisance that he would have to endure for a bit, but like everything else on the planet, it was temporary. Human lives passed with the beat of a heart. They would not hold him for long. Loki only needed to keep his head down and wait.

He knew better than to get involved with a mortal.

In his defense, it hadn’t been something he could have prepared for. At first glance, Madelyn Robbins was hardly anything remarkable. Her role as Stark’s personal assistant kept her in the periphery, the type of person one didn’t notice was in the room until she stepped forward with the answer to their question mere moments after it left their tongue. She was forgettable, unexceptional, a background figure that you weren’t supposed to notice.

But Loki noticed her.

He noticed her intelligence, how easily she picked up on concepts most mortals could never even begin to understand, how she seemed to remember anything and everything she heard and saw. He noticed her focus, how she was able to filter through the chaos of the Tower and retrieve the information she needed without ever having to raise her voice. And he noticed her boldness.

The first time he spoke with her was a week or two after he had first joined the Avengers, back when it seemed there was not one employee in the whole building with enough backbone to look him in the eye. Loki told himself it was fine with him. It wasn’t as if he was interested in making friends with any of them. He had been reading in one of the common areas when he noticed her standing over his chair, waiting expectantly.

He frowned. “Pardon?”

Madelyn’s smile didn’t waver. “I said Mr. Stark’s sending me out on a coffee run,” she said, clutching her tablet to her gray blazer. “I was wondering if you wanted anything.”

Loki glared up at her coldly, out of instinct more than anything else. “I do not drink coffee.” He had expected her to cower, but she only laughed.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” she nodded as she turned to leave. “But I just wanted to make sure.” Loki had watched as she made her way across the room to where Thor was talking with two agents he didn’t recognize. He didn’t hear what they said, but her musical laugh carried over his brother’s booming voice. When he turned back to his book, he found himself reading the same page over and over again.

She didn’t ask him for his coffee order again. Loki should have been pleased with that—she got the hint, she wasn’t trying to bother him—but as he watched her make the rounds with the other Avengers, joking together as she balanced the plastic cups on her tray, he felt only disappointment.

He started watching her from afar without really realizing he was doing it: during briefings, in the lab, at Stark’s godforsaken “teambuilding exercises”—she was always there, standing in the background, waiting to jump into action the moment someone needed something. She was quiet, but not a shy sort of quiet—she’d dive into conversation with anyone who gave her the opportunity to do so. No, Madelyn was a professional quiet. Loki found himself wondering what she was like outside the Tower, beyond the boundaries of her employment.

She was notoriously private about her personal life. Stark would tease her about it often, asking her loaded questions everyone knew she wouldn’t answer.

“You don’t mind staying late tonight, do you?” he’d smirk. “You won’t be keeping anyone waiting up, right?”

Loki would have been driven mad by such interrogation, but Madelyn always laughed it off. “I’ll worry about that, Mr. Stark. You just stick to your robots.”

Perhaps this was why it was treated as such a shocking turn of events when Thor announced that he had seen Madelyn’s boyfriend.

“It was in front of the building, on the street. They were embracing.” His brother seemed unreasonably proud to be the one to break the news to everyone. “He was tall, light-haired. Very handsome. I’d say they looked to be very much in love!”

As the others tittered over this gossip, Loki slunk from the room. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Madelyn was clever, kind, attractive—of course she had a lover. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if it affected him. Still, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

What kind of man would she love, he wondered? Someone gentle, probably. Someone who she could sit down and talk to knowing he was genuinely listening. Someone who would respect her choices and trust her decisions. Someone who could make her laugh—Madelyn loved to laugh. It seemed she was always giggling at something someone said, hiding her mouth behind her palm as her eyes sparkled with mirth. It was rather adorable. He had made her laugh before, once when Stark and Rodgers were arguing over some inconsequential thing. Loki didn’t even remember what it was he said; he had just rolled his eyes and made some dry remark, and Madelyn ducked her head into her hands as she chortled. When he turned towards her, she was smiling brightly at him. He found he was smiling too.

It was stupid, but Loki didn’t like the idea of anyone else making her smile like that.

The other Avengers didn’t seem to mind, and to Loki’s chagrin the mystery man remained a hot topic of conversation for the next several months. He couldn’t look at her without Thor’s words bleeding through his ears like poison in his mind: “I’d say they looked to be very much in love!”

Loki was thinking about it the day before New Year’s Eve, when Madelyn joined him in the elevator as he was returning to his rooms with her usual cheerful greeting. He nodded his hello. For a moment, they only stood in silence, but soon enough she turned to him.

“Are you going to Mr. Stark’s party tomorrow?” she asked.

Ah, yes. Stark’s infamous New Year’s celebration. Loki thought that he would prefer the scorching heat of a Muspelheim prison to spending the night with a skyscraper full of drunken mortals who despised his very existence, but Thor had made it clear that he had little choice in the matter.

“I’ve been told that I will be in attendance, whether I like it or not.” Madelyn chuckled, and Loki felt that familiar warmth rising in his chest. He cleared his throat. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, I guess. It would look bad if I didn’t,” she sighed wistfully. “I don’t know, I just always feel like such a loser showing up to these things alone.”

Loki frowned. Surely, attending alone was not her only option. “Your boyfriend is not accompanying you?”

Madelyn cocked her head, giving him a strange look. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said slowly.

For a moment Loki thought he was hearing things. “You don’t?” he repeated.

She shook her head, frowning. “Why did you think that?”

His mind was racing. “Thor—he said he saw you embracing someone in front of the building.”

“What!” she cried. “When?”

He told her the whole story, repeating his brother’s tale practically word for word in bewildered confusion. By the end, she was laughing incredulously.

“That was Dave!” she choked. “My brother-in-law, Dave! I left my purse in my apartment, and I needed my ID to get into the Tower. He was just dropping it off for me. Did everyone think we were a thing? Oh, that’s hilarious!”

She dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve as Loki stared in disbelief. For so long, he had buried his thoughts under the belief that she was taken, that even if he allowed himself to want her she could never be his. This revelation seemed unthinkable.

“You’re not seeing anyone?” he asked.

“No!” She was still laughing as she shook her head. “I’ve been single for the past two years.”

“Oh.” Loki swallowed. He knew he should have left it there. She was mortal. She was temporary. Indulging the wild longing in his chest would only lead to more suffering. He knew better.

And yet he didn’t.

“Well, in that case,” Loki inhaled. There was a tremble in his voice—where had that come from?—that he hoped she didn’t notice. “Perhaps you would honor me with your company at the party tomorrow night?”

Madelyn turned back towards him “Are—are you asking me out?”

He burned. “I believe that’s the proper phrase.” This was a terrible idea.

But she didn’t appear to be offended. Rather, she sounded … confused. “Really?” she asked. “I just—I didn’t think you liked anybody here.”

“I like you.” He did, he realized, although it was strange to admit out loud. The simple truth was that the room lit up whenever she entered, and he lit up with it.

“Really?” Madelyn whispered. He nodded. “Well,” she said, a soft smile breaking out across her lips, “I like you too. And I’d love to go with you tomorrow night.”

Something bloomed in his chest, something lovely and wonderful and warm. He loved the way she smiled.

“Excellent,” he said, fighting to keep his elated grin from seeming too over-eager. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

It was scandalous, to be sure, when they walked onto the penthouse floor arm in arm on New Year’s Eve. It seemed the whole room fell quiet for a moment. In the back, Stark nearly choked on his drink.

Madelyn didn’t seem to mind. She pulled him through the hordes of people, the voluminous skirt of her dress swirling around her in an emerald sea. He didn’t know where she had managed to find a gown that so flawlessly matched his colors on such short notice, or how she had even known to look for one in that shade, but it was perfect.

She was perfect.

Stark’s holiday celebrations were always an adventure—they weren’t quite up to par with the unhinged chaos of Asgardian feasts, but they usually were hectic enough to keep Loki looking over his shoulder the entire time, half expecting to find some demon from his past lurking amidst the drunken partygoers. That night though, there was only Madelyn. She pulled him through the madness with the easy assurance of an expert, gliding with him across the dance floor as if they owned it. She knew all the nooks and crannies, all the little alcoves to which they could retreat when they wished to break from the noise to talk.

They talked a lot. She told him about her family, about her mother who went around telling all her brunch friends that her daughter worked alongside the Avengers for a living (“she leaves out the fact that I’m basically a glorified intern”), about her older sister who gave up her dreams of Hollywood to settle down with her high school sweetheart.

“He’s the one who dropped off your purse?” Loki interrupted as they sat at a bench against the wall on the balcony, overlooking the festivities below.

Madelyn laughed. “Yeah, Dave. He is a sweetheart.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “I can’t believe you guys thought he was my boyfriend. That’s so funny to me.”

“Well, my brother does have a tendency to jump to conclusions,” Loki sighed, watching Thor and his crowd of inebriated fools attempting to take shots off of Mjolnir’s handle. He turned back to his lady. “But you can’t place all the blame on him. We all knew next to nothing about your personal life. How was he to know better?”

“True,” she mused. “I like to keep an air of mystery at work. It keeps people interested.”

“Oh?” Loki raised his eyebrows. “If that’s the case, then why have you dropped the mystery with me?”

She scowled at him with mock outrage. “Am I not interesting enough for you, Asgardian?”

Laughing, he pulled back on to the dance floor.

It was fitting that the party marked the beginning of the New Year, because afterwards everything changed. It had been a while since Loki had courted anyone, and of course Midgardian “dating” was a bit different, but it brough a levity to his life that he hadn’t realized he needed. On the surface, it didn’t even seem that drastic a shift. Sometimes, it was as simple as a glance from her across a crowded room, that warm smile meant just for him, and suddenly the whole world lit up. Stark groaned that the two of them making heart eyes at each other all day made him sick, but Loki couldn’t care less. For once, life didn’t seem quite so wretched.

At first, they only spent time together within the Tower—after all, Loki was confined to SHIELD’s surveillance. He was rather ashamed of it, ashamed that he wasn’t able to take her out and show her a good time the way she deserved, but Madelyn insisted that she didn’t mind. She’d pick up sandwiches at a bakery down the street and they’d have dinner in his rooms while watching a movie.

He had to laugh—Madelyn had a list of film she claimed were a critical part of Midgardian culture that he just had to see, but inevitably they’d turn it on and spend the entire time talking over it about a subject only tangentially related. He didn’t mind though, and Madelyn didn’t seem to either—she’d rest her head on his shoulder and tell him all the differences between the film and the book which it was inspired by, and he’d wrap his arm around her shoulder and hang on to every word.

The first time she stayed the night had actually been an accident. It seemed that they both had miscalculated how tired they were after a week of wild missions and had fallen asleep together whilst cuddling on the couch. Loki woke up with the gentle pressure of her head on his chest and the warmth of her in his arms. He was smiling before he was even fully awake.

After a while, he began finding ways to sneak out of the Tower and meet her elsewhere. Her tiny apartment became the center of his world. He’d meet her for coffee or for dinner or just for a walk, and she’d take him home with her, so often that she stopped asking him if he wanted to come in. It was a peaceful kind of domestic that Loki had never thought to dream about. Madelyn was perfect—intelligent, entertaining, kind, beautiful, everything he could ever want. Sometimes, he almost forgot that she wasn’t Asgardian.

Her mortality would rear its head in other ways, though. One day, she tripped walking down the stairs as they were leaving her apartment building, tumbling to the ground before Loki could catch her. It wasn’t a bad fall, and Madelyn had scrambled back to her feet in seconds insisting she was fine, but her ankle had swollen up almost immediately. When she tried to take another step, she almost fell over again.

This time, Loki scooped her up into his arms. “Fragile little thing,” he teased, carrying her down the steps to a nearby bench.

They had laughed about it, but a week later Madelyn was still walking with a limp.

One night, he awoke with a start, sweating and shaking and gasping for air as Madelyn hovered over him anxiously.

“It’s a dream!” she was crying. “Loki, it’s not real!”

The bed was too hot. Loki ripped himself from the covers, hunching over the side as he struggled to catch his breath. Madelyn followed, rubbing his back soothingly as he fought to control the trembling in his hands. For a moment, the room was silent but for his labored breathing.

“Are you okay?” she finally whispered.

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

“You were crying in your sleep.”

Must have woken her up then. He tried to swallow, but his mouth tasted like sandpaper. “I’m sorry.”

Madelyn shook her head. “No, it’s fine! I was just worried.” She squeezed his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Loki inhaled. “It was just a dream. No matter.” Even in the dark, he could feel her eyes on him, studying him in concern. When he moved to lie back down, she laid next to him, a protective arm around his torso.

“You’re safe here, okay?” she whispered. “Nothing can happen to us here.” Loki didn’t answer, only staring at the ceiling.

For once, it hadn’t been about him.

No, he had dreamed of Madelyn, stiff in a hospital bed, her cheeks hollowed and gaunt, her once vibrant hair now a thinned and faded halo on the pillow beneath her head. Her wrinkled skin sagged with the weight of infirmity. Her clasped hands rose and fell with her chest as the death rattle stained her wilted lips.

Loki tried to forget about it, but the image was seared into his memory. He couldn’t look at Madelyn without picturing her face caving into a haggard old woman choking on her last breath. It would happen soon, he realized, horrifically soon. Mortals had a hundred years if they were lucky, less if they weren’t. He spent sleepless nights lying awake in bed, listening to Madelyn’s steady breathing in the dark. 100 years—that was nothing. That was a blink of an eye, a beat of his heart, and then she’d be gone.

He couldn’t bear to think of it.

There was a story, he remembered suddenly on one such torturous night, a story his mother used to tell to him and his brother when they were small, about a goddess with magical apples that could grant immortality to those who tasted them. It was probably nothing, just a childish bedtime tale, but once it flitted into his mind Loki couldn’t get it out. After all, didn’t most legends have some basis in fact?

It was a myth on Midgard, too. He found it within moments when he looked it up—the story of Idunn’s apples. Of course, that didn’t mean anything. The human versions of Asgardian history had a tendency to be quite muddled. But … it was an idea. There had to be something, some way to extend a mortal lifespan. Without telling anyone, Loki began devoting his free time to research.

They had been together for several months when Loki decided to take Madelyn to Asgard for the first time. Frigga had extended her invitation to her a bit prior, but accepting hadn’t been an easy decision. He had watched Thor take Jane home many times over since he began his stint with the Avengers. He had seen firsthand how Asgardians looked upon mortals in their midst, even when the mortal in question were on the arm of their golden prince. He couldn’t imagine that Madelyn could expect any better treatment— in fact, given his reputation, it seemed safe to assume that she could expect worse.

But in the end, they decided to go. Madelyn was excited—her first time traveling off world— and Loki was eager to introduce her to his mother, who he knew would just absolutely adore her.

Secretly, he was also hoping that she would be able to help him with granting Madelyn immortality.

His mortal lover was a bit overwhelmed at first by their trip to the Golden City.

“I think I’m going to be sick” she whispered, clutching his wrist so tightly it almost hurt as they stepped off the Bifrost, and for a moment Loki feared that the visit had been a mistake. But she recovered quickly, and soon curiosity bubbled over her anxiety.

“What’s this made of?” she asked, wide eyes staring at the bridge beneath their feet as he helped her mount his horse. “Is it some kind of crystal? How does it work?” He couldn’t help but laugh as he climbed on behind her, pressing a kiss to her neck before spurring on his stead.

As to be expected, his mother took Madelyn under her wing immediately, greeting her with an embrace before swooping her away to help her unpack and dress for dinner.

Unfortunately, she was less helpful when Loki approached her later about his search.

“Oh Loki,” she sighed when he asked if she knew of any way to extend a human lifespan. “That’s the quandary of becoming entangled with mortals. Their lives are fleeting. You have to be able to accept that.”

No. Loki shook his head fiercely. “There must be some way,” he insisted. “The stories you’d tell us as children, Idunn’s apples—“

“Those were stories, my son.” He hated the pity in her eyes as she studied him. “She is mortal. She will grow old, and she will die. It’s the way of things.” Frigga took his hand in hers. “Enjoy the time you have with her. Don’t waste her life trying to save it.”

He ripped his arm from her. “That’s not good enough!”

She inhaled, holding the bridge of her nose. “You could ask your father,” she finally offered. “He may know something I don’t.”

Loki huffed in resignation.

When he brought forth his question before the AllFather, he had known Odin would never take it seriously. Still, he found himself tasting blood as his father’s ragged laughter echoed across the empty throne room.

“Is this the reason why you brought her here, then?” he asked. “You seek a cure for inferiority?”

“I seek to expand my lady’s lifespan,” he said, struggling to maintain his even tone. “She has no inferiority to cure.”

“Your lady,” he mocked. “Your lady, who you might snap in half with a wayward flick of your wrist. Would you not call that inferiority?”

Loki held his tongue. Try as he might to ignore it, there was truth to Odin’s words and he hated him for it.

“I seek to expand her lifespan,” he repeated. “Do you know of any method do do so?”

His father raised his eyebrows. “Unlike my sons, I’m not in the habit of keeping mortal pets.”

Loki seethed. “She is not a pet!”

“Your time on Midgard has made you as childish as your brother.” Odin shook his head, leaning back in his golden throne. “The mortal’s life is fleeting, insignificant. You would waste your time and mine trying to raise a dog to godhood.”

“She’s not a dog!” he snapped. “She’s not a dog, she’s not a pet, she’s my love and her name is Madelyn.”

“And in a century, she’ll be dust!” the king retorted. “Will it matter then what name marks her headstone?”

Loki stormed out.

It was pathetic, pathetic, that his father’s words still cut him so deeply, that his inconsequential views could still send him running with tears burning in his eyes like a slighted child. He stomped through the palace halls with no real destination in mind, heaving like some kind of animal.

He’d show him. He’d show them both. He’d find a way to save her. Somehow, he’d find a way to make her immortal, and then they’d see. They’d see.

He was shaking uncontrollably by the time he found Madelyn in the gardens, gathered in the middle of the brick pathways with Frigga and several of her ladies. It was strange— swathed in an Asgardian gown, with her hair done up in the latest fashion, one would never have known she was of Midgard.

She turned as Loki approached, her eyes lighting up as they always did whenever they landed on his. However, her gaze turned to a frown as he got closer.

“Loki, what’s wro—“ he planted his lips on hers before she could finish, cradling her face in his palms as he drank in her smell. Madelyn stiffened at first, but in moments she had melted into the kiss even as the court ladies tittered around them.

When they finally pulled away, she let out a flustered giggle. “What was that for?”

He studied her face, her sparkling eyes that seemed to hold whole galaxies, entranced. “I love you.”

Loki had never said the words before, not to her or any other woman, and yet they flowed from his lips as easily as a downhill stream. Madelyn’s breath hitched.

“What?” she breathed.

“I love you,” he repeated, his heart glowing with all the confidence in the universe, and he kissed her again.

When they returned to Earth, Loki threw himself back into his research with a new ferocity. He scoured the history of the Nine Realms, seeking just the slightest hint that what he was searching for existed. The myth of Idunn’s apples was a recurring subject, and he tried frantically to trace it to reality, but unfortunately, his mother’s assertion that it was naught but a child’s bedtime story appeared to be true. He couldn’t find any proof of them actually existing. Still, he spent nights at his desk, hunched over the scrolls Frigga sent him from the palace library, praying for something that continued to elude him.

Madelyn, unconcerned with her impending mortality, fretted he wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“Just come to bed,” she pleaded with him one night. “Whatever it is, it can wait until the morning.”

He laughed softly. “I don’t need as much rest as you do, love. I think I’ll be fine.”

“But you stay up all night, and then they send you into the field in the morning!” she insisted, rubbing his shoulder. “That can’t be safe.”

He covered her hand with his own, gently stroking her knuckles. It never ceased to amaze him how soft her skin was. “You don’t need to worry about me, darling.”

But Madelyn was right, as always. He wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, and it was beginning to affect his reflexes. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

In Loki’s defense, it wasn’t entirely his fault. The mission had been flawed to begin with, everything that could have possibly gone wrong went wrong, and Loki had ended up trapped in an underground Hydra base with no backup, no escape plan, and hordes of enemy agents closing in. Still, it was manageable—far from ideal, but manageable— until he miscalculated a dagger throw and hit one of their Tesseract-powered devices.

Shit—

He felt the blast more than he saw it, felt the burst of scorching heat that flooded the hall and ripped the air from his lungs. His vision burned bright white.

Huh, he remembered thinking, perhaps Madelyn and I will have closer lifespans after all.

She was the first thing he saw when he awoke, head buzzing and limbs too leaden to move. He opened his aching eyes and she was there, glowing in the light of the hospital room, his guardian angel watching over him through the night. When he croaked her name, her eyes swam with relief. She reached out to stroke his cheek, the chill of her fingers soothing against his feverish skin. He melted against her touch. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

“Madelyn,” he gasped. “Madelyn, marry me.”

He passed out before he could hear her answer.

They were wed on Alfheim, atop a picturesque cove overlooking the gardens of Ljosalfgard. Madelyn was absolutely radiant, her silver gown bathing her in a pearly glow as she practically sang her vows to him. Loki drowned in her eyes, drowned in the desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until they were both out of breath. He could have almost ignored the vow "til death do us part" had it not been for the pitied glance the Elvish officiants exchanged as she said them.

"I'm going to find a way to save you," he whispered against her hair that night as he held her to his bare chest.

Madelyn shifted, craning her neck so that she could fix him with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

A wayward strand of hair clung to her forehead. Loki pushed it away absentmindedly.

"Death will not part us, my love. I swear it."

She sighed. "Don't think about stuff like that. Not tonight." She leaned back against him, covering his hand with hers as she drifted off to sleep.

Loki didn't say anything.

Stark bought them a house in Upstate New York as a wedding present—a sweet, cozy little place not too far away from the new Avengers base. It was quiet, secluded, peaceful, everything he could have ever asked for.

If only he hadn’t known it was temporary.

Madelyn didn’t understand. She’d get up in the morning to find Loki pouring over his scrolls at the kitchen table, having never come to bed at all, and scold him for not taking better care of himself.

“This is ridiculous!” she snapped. “You’re going to kill yourself over this wild goose chase!”

“I have to!” he insisted. “I have to find a way to save you!”

She sighed. “You don’t need to save me.” Kneeling besides him, she took his face in her hands. “Don’t you see? I don’t care how long my life is, as long as I get to spend it with you.” Loki closed his eyes as he leaned into her palm, covering the back of her hand with his own. It was so simple for her. She didn’t understand how the image of her decaying features haunted his every waking moment.

They had been husband and wife for quite some time when he finally found something—a lead that might have the capability to save her from her ephemerality. Loki was ecstatic, more hopeful than he had been in years as he prepared to make the journey across the galaxy. Madelyn was less so.

“Look,” she worried as she watched race about the house packing a bag. “I’m glad that you’re so happy, but is this really worth the trip?”

“How could it not be?” he asked. “Once I return, you will finally be immortal, as you deserve. We will be able to live out our lives together forever.” Loki glanced up at her. “Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I want that, Loki!” Madelyn cried. “But more than that, I want you, here, safe. You don’t know what you’re walking into. You can’t even know how long you’ll be gone! What if something happens to you?”

He laughed softly. “You need not fear for me, my love. I will always return to you.”

Still, she remained unsoothed. “Please,” she said. “If you have to go, let me come with you. We’ll stay together!”

“No. It’s far too dangerous for you.” The very thought sent a shiver down his spine. “I’ll not allow the Norns to take you from me as I attempt to save you.”

“Loki …”

“Darling.” He kissed her, relishing the way she melted against him. “All will be well. I swear it.”

But all was not well. Months of searching in the very corners of deep space brought him nowhere, his false hopes dashed across the barren landscape of the planet her salvation. The scrolls had been wrong. There was nothing.

At first, Loki stayed out there, still frantically searching for something that could save her. He had promised, sworn, to her that he would find a way. He couldn’t return home empty handed. And so for a while longer he remained on the edges of space, traveling from planet to remote planet as he fought to find even the slightest hint of the solution he sought. But the time away weighed heavily on his soul. He missed Madelyn—he missed the curve of her smile, the melody of her laugh, the way she never seemed to tire of listening to what he had to say. He missed waking up to the comforting pressure of her head on his chest. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He had barely made it up the driveway before Madelyn had thrown her arms around him, clinging him so tightly that he almost couldn’t breathe even as her tiny body shook with her tears. Loki tugged her closer, burying his face in her neck. She smelled like home.

Still, something held him from smiling when they finally pulled away.

“I failed,” he whispered, hanging his head. “I failed you, Madelyn.”

She shook her head, cupping his face with her hands. “You’re back,” she said sternly, “You’re back and you’re safe and that’s all I will ever care about.”

Loki hadn’t realized how long he had been gone until he returned. Madelyn was the same gorgeous creature he had always known, but he began to pick up on miniscule differences within her. She was thinner, her face more worn than when he remembered. He found himself repeating the same tales to her over and over again—she’d ask him questions about his journey, he would answer them, they’d talk about his answers until she was satisfied … and then she’d ask the same question a few days later as if she had never spoken it before. It frightened him.

At first, he would point it out to her, his fear manifesting in frustrated questions: “Didn’t I already tell you all this?” But he hated the way she flinched, how her face would fall as she murmured apologetically that she must have forgotten. He hated feeling as if he was causing her pain. So, Loki repeated his anecdotes and kept his worries to himself.

He feared for her physical health as well. Her hands had become stiff and swollen since he had seen her last, painful to the point that she now took prescribed medication to help her cope. On some days, it seemed hardly noticeable, but on others she could barely bend her fingers. Still, Madelyn insisted that it was fine.

“It’s no big deal,” she told him. “My mom had arthritis, I knew I was probably going to get it eventually.” With a dry laugh, she added, “I’m probably lucky—she always had it much worse than this.”

Madelyn’s mother had passed away while he was gone, the victim of the horrible human disease known as cancer. Madelyn didn’t speak much about it, not even to him. Loki felt guilty—he had unknowingly her left alone and without support in a time when she had probably needed it the most. He was also increasingly anxious—if Madelyn had already inherited one disease from her mother, who’s to say she wouldn’t also develop the far more deadly one? Loki found himself returning to his research.

It wasn’t until he started on the texts Thor had gifted him from his own travels that he thought he found something. A necklace of myth, purported to be held deep within the twisted forests of Terma, enchanted to bring eternal life to those who wear it about their neck. Loki arranged to leave for it immediately.

However, his wife put her foot down. “You’re not going again.”

Loki sighed. “I have to. Madelyn, there’s a chance that this could work—”

“That’s what you said last time!”

“I know. But I have to try.”

“Why?” she demanded, tone verging on hysterical.

He turned around incredulously. Why? “Because I love you!”

“No you don’t!” The walls rattled with the weight of her words. It was only then that Loki realized his wife was crying. His eyes widened in horror. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t keep leaving.” Her voice cracked, her breath coming in unsteady hiccups. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were okay, or if you were coming back—I was so scared—”

Loki pulled her into his arms, where she sobbed freely against his chest. It was as if someone had stuck a dagger in his gut. Everything he had done, every action he had taken—it had all been for Madelyn. That’s all he ever wanted, to protect Madelyn! And yet, it seemed he had caused her more pain than the forces of nature he sought to protect her from.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair as he held her to his chest. His vision prickled with tears of his own. “I won’t leave again, I promise. I’m so sorry, my love.”

He resolved to be strong. He would not think of what the future held; he would keep his mind in the here and now, safe and warm with his perfect wife at his side. And so he did, for a time. He’d read poetry to her out loud as she rested her head on his lap, telling himself that he was only imagining that the creases in her face seemed to be deepening with every passing day. Some nights, they’d join the others for dinner at the Avengers base, where the conversation would inevitably devolve into Barton and Stark arguing over who had the more accomplished grandchildren and Madelyn would doze off against his shoulder on the way home. There was a steady sort of domesticity to it, and Loki enjoyed it—he enjoyed every moment with her—but he could only ignore time’s dark specter for so long.

It reared its ugly head in the form of a bottle under the sink. When Loki had first found it, he had only been confused, but when he presented it to Madelyn, she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“It’s hair dye,” she finally admitted. “I’ve been using it for a few years now.”

Loki didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? Your hair color hasn’t changed.”

Her laugh was soft and tinged with sadness. “I went gray a while ago, sweetheart. I’ve been dying it my natural color.”

It was as if someone had ripped the air from his lungs. “Wh—” A few years? He gulped. “Why would you do that?”

“I—” Madelyn seemed ashamed. “I was afraid it would upset you. You’ve always been so worried about me, you know—” she inhaled sharply. “I was afraid you’d leave again.”

The heartbreak in her voice was killing him.

“I’m not going anywhere, darling,” he assured her, reaching out to pull her closer. “I promised, remember?”

She nodded, resting her cheek against his chest. “I do remember that, at least.” Loki laughed as he held her close, but inwardly his mind was racing.

He was running out of time.

This time, when he returned to his research, he did so in secret. Madelyn was suffering enough—he didn’t want to contribute to her pain. At one point, keeping her in the dark about his activities would have been difficult, back when she caught every little shift in his personality, but these days she didn’t seem to notice as much. Still, Loki couldn’t spend whole nights at his work the way he used to. Madelyn slept lightly, often waking up in the darkness to a fit of hacking and gasping for air. He’d be at her side in a second, glass of water in hand and notes abandoned.

“Sorry … for waking you up,” she’d wheeze. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” he’d choke.

But one night, she caught him. It was chillier than usual, and he had moved from his desk to the living room and the fireplace. The crackling of the flames masked the padding of her feet down the hall.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped. Madelyn was standing in the hallway, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against the doorframe for support. Her eyes seemed to glow in the light of the fire.

“I—” He didn’t know how to respond. Perhaps that was enough of a response. She sighed, hobbling forward on unsteady legs. Loki rushed forward to support her. “Darling, you shouldn’t be up.”

“No.” She gripped his wrist, nodding towards the couch. “Sit with me. Hold me.” Her expression left no room for argument. He wasn’t certain he wanted to argue with her anyway. Loki scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the room, surprised by how little effort it took him. Madelyn had always been light, but it seemed she had become even more so since he had last picked her up. He found himself thinking about the first time he had carried her, when she twisted her ankle on the steps of her apartment. It felt like just yesterday that he had held her in his arms as he teased her for her mortal fragility. For Madelyn, he realized with a start, it had been a lifetime ago.

He sat on the couch before the fire, still holding her in his lap. She fixed him with a stern glare.

“You said you were done with this.”

As words failed him, Loki let out a pained breath. “It’s you,” he whispered finally. “I can’t—I can’t just give up on you.”

“It’s not giving up.” She reached out to stroke his cheek with wrinkled fingers. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Loki, I’m old. I’m going to die, soon rather than later. That’s not something anybody can change. Not even you.”

He wished he could accuse her of lying, that he could stand up and prove how she was wrong, how he could stop time’s work. Instead, tears blurred his vision when he opened his eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You’re not losing me! I’m right here. With you. Now, forever, and always.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, leaning her head against his. “I love you, Loki.”

He pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you too. So much.”

The fire had gone out when he awoke in the morning. She was still in his lap, at rest and peaceful.

“Madelyn?”

She didn’t move.

Loki brushed his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was cold.

His voice broke. “Madelyn.”

But Madelyn only lay against him, still and silent and perfect as could be.

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #now forever and always

108 notes · View notes

tact-and-impulse · 3 years

Text

Shinkane Week 2021 Day 5

For the “arranged marriage” prompt, I went for the Sengoku era.

In Place

Akane hoped that at the very least, he would be kind.

She set her mirror down, unable to look at her reflection any longer. The heavy embroidered robes, the cosmetics on her face, her hair hidden away under white silk. The guilt in her eyes.

Yuki had been the charming one, the one who was supposed to marry a general aligned with their closest neighbor. She had cheerfully shown her wedding garments to Akane during her last visit, that she had only met her betrothed once but liked him immensely and he had been pleased with her in turn. It seemed a fitting fate for Yuki, who wanted nothing more than to have a happy marriage.

Then, Sasayama Mitsuru had died on the battlefield.

The news had been delivered, along with the fact that the engagement would now be with a different general instead. Yuki had fainted and then grew feverish. It was believed that she had been weakened by the sudden upheaval of events, it was too much for her frail spirit to bear. But whatever the truth was, it would forever remain a mystery. Her dear cousin was gone too quickly, in the span of a night that left Akane numb and paralyzed.

At the funeral, she learned that the wedding would be occurring anyway. With her, in place of Yuki. She barely registered anything after that. The sewing alterations, the packing of her belongings, the trousseau moved to her room, that would only remain so for another two weeks.

Most of the ceremony passed in a blur. She kept her eyes downcast, sensing that her new husband was taller than she was and catching the aroma of kizami when he moved. He must have smoked the shredded tobacco, and she racked her mind for what else she knew about him. He was a little younger than Sasayama had been, but he had already cultivated a favorable reputation. Had he ever met with Yuki?

She glanced up at him, and though she didn’t recognize his handsome features, she couldn’t complain. His expression was stoic, serious. Then, his gaze slid to her, and she immediately turned back to the proceedings. She was much more aware of her surroundings, than she had been since Yuki’s death.

She actually tasted her food at the celebratory dinner, though her appetite hadn’t fully returned yet. Her husband wasn’t faring any better, and in her periphery, he was frowning. As the guests descended into merrymaking and she sipped her sake, he spoke for the first time.

“Do you want to leave?”

Oh. Well, there was that part to a wedding, and she hurriedly downed the rest of her drink. Swallowing the burn, she agreed. “Y-yes.”

His hand was larger than hers, callused and strong, but he touched her gently and she appreciated that. Her face flamed at the cheering and his grip tightened. The hallway was quieter, the party’s sounds muffled, and she felt like she could breathe.

“I hope everyone will behave.” She said aloud, as he presumably led the way to the chamber. Their chamber.

“They’re only pleased about the alliance. It would have been the same, whether it was us or your cousin and my friend. We’re a couple of shogi pieces, that’s all.” His voice was dark with resentment, but it wasn’t bad to listen to.

“I’m sorry about your friend. General Sasayama was kind enough, from what I remember. He and Yuki could have been happy together. Not that it matters now…” The grief opened up again, the cloudiness returning.

“No, it doesn’t. He was too reckless, he got himself killed because he wasn’t satisfied, and his death took your cousin with him.” Outwardly, he sounded angry, and he slammed the door a little too hard. Inside the room, a lantern illuminated the sparse interior. One futon, with two pillows. He pulled her inside, before taking hold of the sliding door again. She wasn’t sure where to look, what to do. Of course, the basic instructions had been provided, but she was too nervous to start anything. She flinched as his sleeve brushed hers, and he must have noticed.

He walked around her, taking one of the pillows and tucking it under his arm. “Are you tired?”

“A little. It’s been a long day.” She let out a shaky laugh.

“Then, get some rest.” He blew out the lantern, the room plunging into darkness. She clutched her embroidered outer kimono, trying to still her trembling fingers. But he never approached, his footsteps drifting away. “That’s your side. This is mine.” A pause. “Good night.”

“…Good night?”

The silence crept up, and when she realized nothing would happen tonight, she smiled.

***

They still hadn’t consummated the marriage, when she traveled with him. He explained that until winter, they would be residing with his lord’s family and she would be assisting the lady, while he was on campaign.

“Do you know how to use a naginata?”

“I have some training.”

“Rely on it. We get attacked on a regular basis.”

“Eh?” She hadn’t heard of that before. “What about the castle’s defenses?”

“They’re adequate, but you should be prepared, in case there’s a spy. Don’t trust anyone easily.”

“Not even you?”

“If I act dishonorably, you shouldn’t hesitate.”

“I don’t think you will.”

His gaze might have softened, but he never responded.

Within the castle town, she was introduced to a variety of people. The lord, who seemed rather easygoing, and his demure, proper wife accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting. The metsuke, Ginoza. The seasoned general, Masaoka, and the recently promoted Kagari. There was even a warrior woman, Kunizuka. They all seemed pleasant, addressing her as the wife of General Kougami. It was strange at first, but she did her best to be just as kind.

Meanwhile, she and her husband slept apart from each other, as much as they could with one bed. He hadn’t made a move yet. She considered that he had a mistress, but from what Kagari told her, he only trained in his spare time. And although it was commonplace, she didn’t like the idea that there was another woman. He always came back to her anyway.

He had seen the books she brought with her and skimmed through each one. He genuinely seemed interested in her tastes and didn’t belittle her opinions. His questions were direct, calculating, and purposeful. He shared his books too, marked with his notes. Her husband had neat handwriting, she thought. In the evenings, he smoked his pipe as he read his own papers, and she found the sight comforting.

Not long after her arrival, an enemy clan drew too close. The entire household mobilized, and she saw him off. Along with his armor, he had a mask to resemble a wolf’s open mouth, but she didn’t feel any terror. It was only her husband, who was resolute and intelligent. She had faith in him.

“Be careful. I hope you’ll win.”

“Ah.” His hand lifted and for a moment, she thought he was going to touch her face. Instead, he ruffled her hair. “I’ll return soon.”

She watched him leave, feeling oddly empty.

It was a harder fight than expected, and the news came that they had been breached. The lady was newly pregnant, and after ensuring her safety, Akane took up her naginata and headed for the battlements. She could barely see past the drizzling rain, and the clamor was deafening. An arrow whizzed past her hair, and she felt pain and a warm trickle past her temple. But she kept going, searching for any unfamiliar faces.

At one corner, there were two figures, one readying to finish off his prone opponent. It was hard to discern who they were, but the man who was down seemed to have a mask. In the dim torchlight, she spotted the painted fangs on porcelain. She lunged forward and drove her naginata into the stranger, who tumbled over the wall.

“Akane!” Her husband was surprised to see her, and he struggled to rise. With her aid, he was able to stand. He’d suffered a few minor wounds, but he was still speaking and breathing. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I couldn’t stand by and wait.”

He blinked, the rain in his eyes. “Where’s the lady?”

“She’s in hiding. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So are you.” He gripped her shoulder, and he gave a strained smile. “Stay safe!” Before she could reply, he was running off. She sincerely prayed he wouldn’t die, and she lifted her spear with renewed determination.

By dawn, the enemy had been subjugated. She had returned to their room, examining her head wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped and it wasn’t very deep. She had finished bandaging it again, when the door opened.

“Shinya-san!” She rushed to him. He looked tired, but the dried blood had been cleaned off, and strips of white cloth covered his chest. She pulled him to the futon, urging him to sit and rest. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“No.” He seemed distracted, not quite meeting her eyes.

“If you need to sleep, I’ll leave you alone.” She was about to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He stared at his own grasp, his thumb slowly bending. She ignored the heat overcoming her, lowering her voice. “Please, tell me what you need. I’m your wife, I want to help you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t regret saying that.” And he kissed her, with unrestrained ferocity. She was too stunned to react, and when he parted from her, his eyes were completely dark. “Did you not like it?”

“I don’t know. One more time?”

He leaned towards her again, and she tried to meet him. Gentler than before, but his fingers twining through hers demonstrated that the passion hadn’t subsided. Breaking for air, he asked. “So? Should we stop?”

“No. Never.” And she initiated, claiming his mouth. He pulled her down and for a while, there was no need for words.

Neither of them were intended to be in this marriage at first, but they were now and the life that stretched ahead wasn’t terrible at all.

#shinkaneweek #shinkane #i just keep going back in time with the historical aus huh #psycho pass

58 notes · View notes

let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes

"In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero. I am strong and wise, and I know no fear. But the truth is plain to see: she was sent to rescue me. I see who I want to be. In my daughter's eyes...And when she wraps her hand around my finger, how it puts a smile in my heart. Everything becomes a little clearer; I realize what life is all about. It's hanging on when your heart has had enough. It's giving more when you feel like giving up I've seen the light: It's in my daughter's eyes."

Claire’s husband has abandoned her and their daughter, Faith, because he is unable to handle her diagnosis of nonverbal autism. In order to start a new life, Claire has taken Faith to New York. Desperate for some kind of breakthrough in Faith’s treatment, she decides to try horse therapy, where she meets Jamie Fraser, Faith’s assigned hippotherapist. Claire is overwhelmed and touched by Jamie’s dedication to his work, and his particular dedication to her daughter.

Chapter 1: Four Incidents

Read on AO3

Claire’s nerves were positively shot. The past ten or so hours had been hell for her poor daughter, and, subsequently, for her as well. The first incident had arisen from the fact that four-year-old Faith had never been in such a crowded setting before. Immediately upon stepping through the doors of the airport and seeing the bustling hoards of people, she had begun yanking on her mother’s hand, digging her stubborn heels into the tile, and screaming her head off. Claire had come prepared; she had her noise-canceling headphones for the flight, but she hadn’t anticipated needing them for the airport itself. In actuality, it wasn’t really that loud, and so this tantrum had her absolutely dreading the upcoming flight.

Claire was used to the stares, the disapproval, the tuts of sympathy. She’d even heard her fair share of blatant, verbal criticism of her parenting. So, she let that roll off her back. What she wasn’t used to was Airport Police coming up to her and questioning what her intentions were with her own child. She’d had to stammer to them while her face and neck flushed red, tears of embarrassment stinging her eyes.

“Yes, I am her mother—You don’t understand; she has autism. She’s never been somewhere so crowded before. She’s just overwhelmed.”

Have you never bloody seen a child throw a tantrum before?

Well, perhaps they had, but they certainly hadn’t been privy to a Faith tantrum.

Panic began clenching her gut, remembering the time she’d been asked to leave a grocery store because Faith had wet herself, then proceeded to roll around on the floor, inconsolable. That had been the worst one to date.

This one was quickly rivaling it, however.

They asked her to provide proof that Faith was her child; proof that she was not kidnapping her.

“I can’t let go of her hand—please, she’ll run outside and right into traffic.”

“I’ll hold onto her, ma’am.”

“No—”

It was too late. The man put a hand on Faith’s shoulder, and all hell broke loose. Claire had to tighten her grip on her hand to the point of her knuckles whitening. If Faith was screaming before, now she was howling. The Airport Police were in a frenzy; they had no idea what to do.

“Faith! Darling, please, it’s alright.”

Claire let their suitcases go, dropped her purse and fell to her knees to wrap her arms around Faith’s middle from behind. It wasn’t long before a little fist collided with her lip. At some point in the proceedings, Claire had managed to say: “Look for our passports your fucking self if you really must have proof that she’s mine.”

They did.

“Faith! Faith Julia Randall, if you don’t stop this right now, there will be no dessert tonight.”

Another loud wail.

“Do you hear me? I’m going to count to ten, Faith. By ten, if you are not quiet, no dessert.”

Another cry.

“One. Two.”

Claire tasted blood in her mouth. Seemed that her daughter had given her another fat lip.

“Three. Four.”

By some bloody miracle, her thrashing was finally starting to calm.

“Five. Six.”

The screaming stopped.

“Seven. Eight.”

Faith’s full bodyweight collapsed into Claire, and Claire let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. There you go. Good girl…good girl.”

She rocked her gently, kissed her head. “Good girl, Faith. It’s alright now.”

The Airport Police were still standing there, stunned into silence.

“Uh…ma’am…your lip is bleeding.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” Claire snapped before returning her attention to Faith. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I’m, uh…sorry for making it worse, ma’am,” the other officer said softly. “Would, uh…this help?”

He held something down to her, pointedly reaching for Claire and not Faith. Claire looked up to see him holding out a set of little plastic wings, clearly some “junior assistant pilot” badge they occasionally gave out to children.

“It might. Thank you.”

“I’m Officer Hansen, ma’am. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“Just…just watch my bags until I’ve gotten her calm. Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Hey…Faithie…” Claire crooned, stroking her tear soaked cheek. “Look what Mummy has.” She held the little wings in her palm in front of Faith’s eyes. “Do you want to be a pilot, Faith? What about that?”

Hiccuping and coughing through her tears, she reached out for the wings and held them in her hands, examining them closely.

“Do you like it?”

Faith nodded ever-so-slightly.

“Shall we put it on?” She gently turned Faith around and took the pin in her hand, fastening it to a belt loop. Faith did not wear pins or wristbands in a conventional manner. The feeling of something poking her skin through her shirt or something rubbing her wrist caused her sensory overload, so the belt loop is where such things ended up.

“Good girl.”

Claire took her hand and made to stand up, but Faith uttered an indignant noise that froze her in her spot. She sighed in surrender.

“I’m afraid she’s going to make me carry her, or else we’ll all be privy to another tantrum…” Claire said, scooping her up and settling her on her hip. “Could you…would it be terribly inconvenient if you were to help with our luggage?”

“We’re police, ma’am, not busboys — ”

“I’d be happy to help, ma’am.” Officer Hansen cut the other officer off.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Claire practically burst into tears, overwhelmed with gratefulness.

She’d underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with a child as special as Faith alone.

Claire shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Frank right now.

Keeping Faith calm by making criss-cross patterns on her back with her fingertips and making a rushing “shh” noise in her ear for white noise, Claire and the officer made their way to the check-in counter. He handled her purse,credit card, and ID as well, and Claire could have gotten on her knees and kissed his feet. She could tell he was genuinely sorry for what had happened as a result of his and his partner’s ignorance, and he was determined to see that they got on their flight in one piece.

He also got them through pre-check, using his privileges to escort them through the faster line. Once they were through, he handed her back her purse and Faith’s carry-on Frozen backpack.

“I’ve put the boarding passes at the top so you can get to them easier. In case you never get to put her down.” He smiled apologetically. “I really am sorry — ”

“Please, it’s alright,” Claire said. “I really, really appreciate all you’ve done for us. You have no idea how hard it is to do this…”

“Alone,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.” Claire nodded.

“If there’s anything else you need, you can ask anybody with a walkie-talkie to page Officer Hansen. Alright?”

She smiled warmly. “Thank you. Truly.”

He nodded curtly and then went off.

The second incident had arisen when they’d come across a kiosk selling mini cereal boxes, and Faith’s eye had been caught by a box of Fruit-Loops that had Elsa on it. Claire had been loath to buy more cereal, being that she already had plain cheerios in Faith’s carry-on that had been much cheaper than the robbery for which the Fruit Loops were selling. She tried to resist, but fearing prompting another tantrum, she yielded. She bought the box and stealthily managed to switch the bag of Fruit Loops inside the box with the bag of Cheerios, knowing full well that the sugar content of the Fruit Loops would make the upcoming flight unbearable.

So there they sat, waiting at the terminal, Faith kicking her legs and bouncing while clutching her tablet, watching Frozen with her noise-cancelling headphones on with Claire occasionally popping a Cheerio into her open mouth.

The third incident had arisen when it was time to board and Claire tried to put Faith’s pink sequined sleep-mask over her eyes to prevent her from seeing how close-quarters the aircraft was. She’d immediately moaned in protest, unwilling to tear her eyes away from the movie. Claire knew she was taking a leap of faith (and she laughed to herself at the pun), but with bated breath she allowed Faith to simply walk onto the boarding bridge with her nose stuck in her tablet.

Before long, she was seated and buckled, tablet in her lap, her eyes never having left the screen.

It bloody worked.

Claire could have cried with relief.

Claire had to plead with the stewardess to convince her that Faith’s tablet was not a “large electronic device,” and the stewardess had conceded; as long as it stayed in her lap and the tray remained in the upright position, Faith could keep watching her movie.

The fourth incident, of course, occurred when the plane started to take off. Even with noise-cancelling headphones, the rushing mechanical noise and the feeling of the vibration everywhere was too much for her. She clamped her hands over her headphones, and she immediately began squirming, trying to unbuckle her seatbelt. Then, of course, the sensation of the take-off itself did not help at all. Claire had given herself a pep-talk every morning leading up to this flight for weeks: “It’s not your fault. The people judging you have no idea what you deal with every day. You can’t help her sensory overload. Ignore them.”

But she still couldn’t help the rush of embarrassed heat on her neck as the familiar side-eyes and conspicuous whispers began.

After literally clamping her hands down on Faith’s shoulders to keep her seated for about an hour, Faith finally became engrossed in the movie again. Claire had also prepared in that she knew getting Faith to use the bathroom on the aircraft would be a disaster. Since being potty-trained was still relatively new--even though she was four, potty-training an autistic child was a whole different animal--Claire had put a fresh pull-up on her right before they boarded to prevent as many trips as possible.

Finally, ten or so hours since the initial meltdown, Claire was standing at baggage claim, holding her sleeping daughter. She’d fallen asleep with about two hours left in the flight and slept straight through the descent and the landing, thank God. Claire had never been particularly religious, but she’d had the urge to cross herself upon realizing she’d be avoiding a fifth incident.

When the blaring alarm sounded, signaling that the baggage claim carousel was beginning, Faith jolted awake in her arms.

Fuck.

She began wailing again, clamping her hands over the headphones.

Do those bloody things cancel any noise?

Admittedly, it could have been worse. It seemed that she was just alarmed to be woken so suddenly, because, after about twenty seconds, she was calm again. Claire had to put her down to collect their baggage, and she struggled greatly to get the suitcase off the moving carousel with one hand. Letting go of Faith’s hand was simply not an option.

She was eternally grateful, then, to the stranger who helped her with both bags.

Bloody ironic that you’ve met two strange men today that have done more for you and your daughter than her own father.

Pushing that dark thought aside once more, Claire made her way to the taxi pick up area and strapped Faith into the rental car seat. Their 11:20 departure from Heathrow International had landed them at MacArthur Airport at 2:07 on the dot. After a seven hour and forty-five minute flight, there was only a twenty-two minute taxi drive and then they’d finally be in their new home: an apartment complex only a few miles away from Stony Brook University Hospital, where Claire would be doing her residency.

She’d never particularly imagined herself living in (or on, as they say here) Long Island of all places. After her unconventional and rather rugged upbringing, thinking of herself living in suburbia, only about an hour from those Hamptons she’d heard so much about, was enough to make her chuckle to herself. Gillian had assured her that the entire island wasn’t like the stereotype she’d imagined, which had slightly put her mind at ease. That wasn’t what had drawn her there, of course.

She’d been drawn to the area by a great many things. She wanted to be away from the cluttered, cramped feeling of Europe; away from Frank, quite honestly, as far as possible. She didn’t want to be in a city; she knew the noise would be far too much for Faith. The quiet suburbs of Long Island seemed to fit, and she’d heard excellent things about Stony Brook. Lastly, and most importantly were the amazing things she’d heard about equine therapy for special needs children. There were such places in England, but none had as many glowing reviews as the one that was only an eighteen minute drive from their new home: Harmony Stables.

Faith had always had an affinity for animals, and Claire felt guilty that she couldn’t commit to taking care of a dog so that she could have a service dog. It wasn’t the finances, per se, just the thought of having two lives to look after on her own was an overwhelming thought. Perhaps someday when they were settled. Faith’s psychiatrist in Oxfordshire had suggested some sort of animal therapy, and she spoke of the wonders equine therapy had done for a previous patient. At this point, Claire would try anything. Anything to calm the horrible anxiety that she knew plagued her daughter every second of any given day. The Risperdal was not doing much on its own. As much as the meltdowns fried Claire’s nerves and caused her much embarrassment, she was certain they fried Faith’s nerves about ten times as much. If learning to ride and forming a connection with a horse could take away even a fraction of that crippling anxiety, Claire would pay any amount of money to make that happen.

She’d also, of course, done research regarding her education. She was aware of the specific needs of her non-verbal autistic daughter; knew she needed to learn to communicate, either find someone to coax words out of her or learn sign language, knew she needed to learn how to read and how to behave in a public setting. She’d already made arrangements for a private tutor to come to the house like she’d done in Oxfordshire. She’d been in contact with a Mrs. Lickett, a lovely woman. Together, they would decide if Faith would be ready for a special needs kindergarten class come next fall, or if they should wait another year. Mrs. Lickett had assured her that it was common for children like Faith to continue with private instruction and wait to start real school until six or seven.

Claire’s reverie was broken when she felt the taxi stop and she looked up with wide eyes at the building before her. The buildings in the complex were only two stories high, the grass was neatly trimmed, and the doors were all stark white with shimmering gold numbers.

Well, it’s not a cul-de-sac housing development, but it sure still feels like suburbia.

Number eleven was theirs, on the second floor. The cab driver helped with the luggage as Claire tugged Faith up the stairs, eyes still glued to her tablet, which was now playing Sesame Street. Claire’s fingers shook as she pushed the key into the lock, and she exhaled sharply when she took in the sight of the living room. She’d had most of the things she didn’t want to replace sent over about a week and a half ago, along with ordering new essentials like furniture and mattresses. But the movers and delivery men hadn’t bothered to keep anything separated by room like she’d requested, except for the furniture itself. Sighing deeply, she sat Faith on the couch beside a stack of boxes and paid the taxi driver, thanking him profusely.

God…where do I even begin?

Claire supposed she should start with finding and unpacking bedroom items, preferring to have both of their beds made before they crashed tonight. Kitchen stuff could wait; they’d most definitely be getting takeout tonight…and probably every night for the foreseeable future.

She started to rifle through boxes and then she smiled and turned to Faith, intending to let her know how very exciting it was to be in their new home, but she bit her tongue. It would perhaps be better to leave her, for now, completely engrossed in the tablet. If Claire interrupted her now, who knows when she’d be able to get anything done? Sadness tugged at her heart briefly as she watched her daughter, a vague, absent smile on her face. She wondered if she had any idea at all what was going on, if she’d be anxious in a new environment, if it wouldn’t phase her at all, if she was excited. She had no way of communicating her thoughts and emotions, even to her own mother, and it was times like this where that thought pained Claire the most.

She wanted nothing more than to blast her Disney playlist and christen the new living room with their dancing, to revel in this new beginning with her daughter. But for the sake of productivity, that would have to wait.

With a heavy sigh, Claire returned to her boxes, intent on finding bedsheets and blankets. She wanted to turn on music, knowing that she worked better that way, but she didn’t want anything to distract Faith from her, well, distraction. She settled on humming “Let it Go,” of all things, to herself while she worked to find what they’d need to carry out the rest of the day with some semblance of normalcy.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander modern au #outlander au #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #jamie fraser #faith fraser

123 notes · View notes

whitewitchdani · 4 years

Text

Laters, Baby: Chapter 7

Read Chapter 6 Here

Word Count: 2248

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: language, angst, canon typical violence, fluff

A/N: I hope you guys like chapter 7! As always let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged! :)

Laters, Baby Masterlist

“This is a horrible idea.” Dean deadpanned.

“Do you have any better ideas, Dean? Because I don’t, Cas doesn’t, and I only told Bobby to look up anything he could about soulmates; we don’t need him freaking out over this. Anyways we’re human and can’t just waltz into Hell without either being dead or with some form of demonic assistance. This is our only option.” Sam gave his brother a sympathetic look and continued to gather the summoning supplies.

“How do we know he’ll even help us?”

“Well Crowley wants Lucifer gone and if we retrieve Y/N it may throw him off balance enough for him to make a mistake. Also, from my observations it seemed Crowley always did tend to favor Y/N out of all of you which may make him more inclined to retrieve her from Hell.” Cas stated nonchalantly as he supervised Sam preparing the summoning ritual.

“Okay, it’s ready.” Sam placed the bowl of ingredients on top of the sigil and used a knife to cut his hand, bleeding into the bowl, “Et ad congregandum... eos corum me.” He completed the ritual by dropping a lit match into the bowl, igniting the ingredients. The men looked around, awaiting the arrival of the crossroads demon.

“You know, demons do carry cellphones these days. Summoning is so 14th century.” The hunters and the angel spun around, finding a man clad in all black standing behind them.

“Crowley.” Dean grumbled.

“Moose, Squirrel, and your pet angel; lovely. Well, what is it that was so important that it required a summoning? And where’s Moosette? Never seen her too far from you lot.”

All the men cast their eyes downward as they were reminded that Y/N was, in fact, not there. Sam was the one to reply, “Well, Crowley, that’s the reason we called.”

“What? Little sister run away? I’m not a babysitter in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Will you shut up for two minutes Crowley? This is important.” Dean growled.

“Testy, testy. All right, get on with it.”

Dean sighed, “She’s gone. Taken actually.”

“And why do you need me? Isn’t that what you two do? Guns blazing to save the damsel in distress?”

“Because we can’t go where they took her. But you can.” Sam informed the demon.

“I don’t...” The men waited for the dots to connect in Crowley’s head. “Wait, Hell? Y/N’s in Hell? Why the hell is your sister in Hell?”

“That is... complicated.” Sam explained.

“If you are wanting me to go into Hell to retrieve her when I’m currently public enemy #1 you bloody well better uncomplicate it.”

“Lucifer has her Crowley. Meg grabbed her from a park and took her to him in Hell. We have no idea where in Hell she’s being kept but it won’t be too far from wherever Lucifer is and is probably pretty well guarded.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

“But why, Moose? You or Squirrel I’d understand but your sister has been relatively quiet in most of this apocalypse business.”

“Y/N is,” Cas began but was cut off with dirty looks from both Winchester brothers. “The whole of perdition already knows most likely, he should too if he’s going to attempt to retrieve her.” Dean still looked skeptical but Sam nodded. Crowley looked genuinely curious, what could be so important? “Y/N was crafted by God to be a soulmate; something incredibly rare in itself. However, even more rare, she was crafted for an angel, more specifically an archangel. She is meant to be the soulmate to Lucifer.”

Crowley’s eyes looked as if they were going to explode from his head. The boys didn’t blame him; their reactions were similar. “Lucifer has a sodding soulmate? And it’s a Winchester? And I thought nothing could surprise me anymore. So, you want me to go into Hell and get her. I have an inkling of where she’s most likely being kept if he’s being civil towards her. Why should I do this?”

“Because if we take Lucifer’s soulmate from him it should throw his general bearing off, making him weak until he recalibrates from being in her presence. The longer they are together, the weaker they will be when they are apart; at least until the soul connection is completed.” Castiel almost whispered the last sentence, not wanting the brothers to overreact. Too late.

“Completed? What do you mean by the soul connection being completed Cas?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Consummated, Dean. Lucifer and Y/N must consummate the connection for them to be actually bound and connected by the soul. However, neither party can forcefully complete the bond. So Lucifer cannot force her by magic or any other manner to complete it, it has to be completely consensual,” Cas informed the group. Sam’s face went white while Crowley smirked and Dean looked confused.

“Consummate. You mean...”

“Horizontal tango, squirrel.” Crowley laughed.

“Yes. Crowley put it rather crudely, but yes. Your sister would have to have intercourse with Lucifer to complete the bond.”

“Cas, please don’t say intercourse. Especially when you’re talking about my sister.” Dean rubbed a hand down his face. This angel was going to kill him. Again. “Well Crowley, will you do it or not?” Crowley looked skeptical. Why would he go to the number one place he should avoid for the Winchesters?

“I understand your hesitation. But you said you might know where she is being kept which gives you an advantage. You should do this because it’s an opportunity to weaken Lucifer, which is one step closer to defeating him. Also because, why I am unaware, you seem to have a soft spot for Y/N and she is currently in Hell. With Lucifer. Those two things together are not good.” Cas deadpanned to the crossroads demon.

“Don’t read my mind, wings. Makes me feel violated.” Crowley paused, “Bloody hell, alright. I’ll go. But I make no guarantees. I will save my own hide if it comes down to getting her out or staying alive. Deal?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other and had one of their silent conversations. They were both skeptical and Crowley’s last statement didn’t help that. “Fine, deal. Just please, Crowley. Try to get her out.” Sam pleaded with the demon as they shook hands.

“I’m a man of my word Sam. I will do everything in my power to retrieve her. Like the angel said, for some reason I actually like the female version of you.” With that, Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared and all Sam, Dean, and Castiel could do was wait. Wait for a demon to rescue their sister from the devil.

They were screwed.

It had been a day since you had woken up in Hell, and you hadn’t seen hide or hair of Lucifer since he brought you to this room. You were utterly confused. For being the devil, Lucifer was being awfully nice to you. He healed you, treated you well, and gave you these nice chambers; it made no sense. You expected wrath and rudeness, not kindness and a bit of domesticity. What was it exactly that Lucifer wanted from you?

Your stomach growled. Oh yeah, while Lucifer had healed you, you still hadn’t eaten in over a day. You made your way into the kitchen of the small... apartment? You still weren’t sure what to call this place. You checked the cabinets: empty. Then the fridge: also empty. You rolled your eyes, what happened to this place having everything I needed? you thought to yourself. This meant you had to deal with one of the demons standing outside the door. Marvelous.

You walked to the ornate door and took a deep breath. You were completely unarmed and had to ask a demon to get food for you, this was ridiculous. You opened the door to see the back of a large man with dark skin in a suit on the other side. He turned to face you and flashed his already dark eyes onyx when they met yours. “What are you doing? You know you can’t leave these chambers.”

“Yes I’m aware but your boss neglected to put food in this place. I’m human and have to eat every once in a while to, ya know, live. So, can you get me some?”

The man rolled his eyes. He was obviously less than thrilled with his job assignment. “Seriously? Why should I do anything for you, Winchester? Wait until the King returns and I’m sure he’d do it for you.”

Your already thin patience was becoming nonexistent. “Look, its not like I have much of a choice in this. I haven’t eaten in over a day and Lucifer told me to come to you for anything I need...”

“James.” He sighed.

“James. So do your damn job. You know, I wonder, if I exorcised you while in Hell, would it work? Would it force you from your vessel and to a different part of Hell or would it just be unpleasant? Shall we find out?”

He flashed his eyes black at the huntress once more, “Don’t even think about it, Winchester. I’m here to make sure you don’t leave, not be your errand boy.”

You shrugged and began chanting, “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spirtus, omnis satanica-” That was as far as you got in the exorcism before the demon lunged into the room, grabbing you by the throat and pinning you to the wall. You attempted to buck the demon off, but he punched you in the face once, twice, three times and stalled your struggle.

“You know, when I first saw Meg bring you down here I was excited. Finally, another Winchester after big bro made the big angelic escape; it should be fun. But no, Lucifer brings you down here and treats you like royalty. Why? You’re human, a hunter, and a Winchester. Maybe he isn’t the leader we thought he was. Oh well, at least I get to kill you. I’ll be a goddamn hero to most for it.”

Your vision was beginning to darken at the edges. You weren’t going to be conscious much longer, and dead not long after that. As you were beginning to teeter into unconsciousness, the pressure was suddenly gone and you fell to the ground. After a few seconds, you gasped a big breath and began to cough. You looked up at your savior and through your blurred vision saw an interesting sight: Lucifer holding the demon off the ground by the throat and looking pissed.

“Now James, this is not what I assigned you to do. Last time I checked I said to guard the door and get her the things she needed, not to choke the life out of her against the wall. Do you know why she’s down here James?” The demon shook his head and Lucifer flashed his eyes red, “That’s because you are insignificant and not privy to such information. You’re a demon, I’m the devil, and I’m tired of this conversation.” Lucifer snapped the fingers of his free hand and the demon turned to dust. He fanned away the remnants of the demon floating in his face and turned to the coughing woman on the floor, “Are you alright?”

You attempted to stand but fell to your knees, that demon did a number on you. “Peachy,” you were able to rasp out, flashing him a sarcastic “OK” sign with your hand.

Lucifer rolled his eyes as you continued to cough, reaching his hand out to you. “C’mon kid, let’s get you up.” He grabbed your left hand and pulled you to your feet, leading you to the bed in the other room. “Go on, get in.”

You looked at the devil quizzically but climbed into the king size bed, sitting up against the headboard. The mattress was unlike anything you had ever felt before; a lifetime of squeezing onto uncomfortable motel beds with Sam made this feel like an actual cloud. You sighed and closed your eyes as you sunk down into the bed, feeling Lucifer sit next to you. “Are you alright?” he repeated.

“I’m fine, Lucifer. I’ve had worse.” You sat in silence for a moment as you picked at a loose stitch on the comforter. You looked back up at the devil, unable to keep your questions to yourself any longer. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why do you care? Why am I here? Why are you being so nice to me?”

Lucifer sighed, “I will tell you everything, Y/N. I promise. But not right now. Right now, you need to sleep and I need to deal with my demon problems. It’s so hard to find good help these days.” You let out a small laugh, which made the devil smile, something he’d noticed himself doing a lot since you arrived in Hell. He pushed a stray hair behind your ear, “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” Kissing your forehead, he stood and headed for the throne room.

You watched as Lucifer left your chambers, a part of you wishing he would stay. Your eyes widened at your own realization. You were beginning to see him differently. In the day you’d been in Hell Lucifer had been great to you, healing you, saving you, and now he was pushing hair behind your ears and kissing your forehead and calling you angel. He was becoming less like the devil, and more like your soulmate.

Read Chapter 8 Here

Tag List:

@lovesamwinchester @tomhiddleston-is-mischief @loco-latte @stuckinsaudi1 @sugar-nico

87 notes · View notes

animemeg27 · 3 years

Text

I feel like I complain a lot about work on twitter so I’ma rant here for a change so I’m not so negative in one space, but honestly depending on how my work’s new owners deal with this situation, I’m genuinely considering looking for a new job next month..

I was just on the phone with one of the new owners and I actually broke down crying a bit...

lemme explain the situation

It’s a friday, it’s lunch time, it’s hot out, that morning a fight broke out between dogs because dog A wants to fence fight with dog B whenever he walks by, dog B is chill but will defend himself so he fence fights back. Dog C is in the same yard as Dog A and because dog A is reacting aggressively, dog C wants to join in and the only dog he can get to is dog A. All 3 dogs are of large strong breeds so obviously sometimes they can be a handful if they get out of control. Asshole coworker is in the yard with the fighting dogs and luckily had them on leash so he had them both at arms length and dragged them away from the fence. Doggy Day Kamp manager in my yard with dog B goes over to Asshole’s yard to help keep them two apart as the Asshole’s hand got bit and is bleeding. The dogs are never put away, but are kept on leash until they’re calm enough the Asshole finally goes to wash his hand. The Manager keeps the leash on the instigator, dog A, and soon the dogs in that yard are moved away into the backyard so they don’t see dog B and start another fight.

I personally don’t know why the hell dogs A and B were in yards next to each other when I’m pretty sure it was established awhile ago that dog A hates dog B. But the Asshole has a superiority/dog trainer complex when he is neither of those things so I wouldn’t put it past him if it was his idea.

Couple hours later Assistant manager comes in for her shift and hears about the fight. She tells the Asshole “hey next time put the dogs away when they fight so they can calm down” cuz ya know, that’s standard protocol. It’s dangerous to have em still out because the aggressive energy can build up again with other reactive dogs still in the yard that could still be anxious from the fight that just happened. A fight broke out literally a week prior and SHE had her hand bitten and that same dog C was involved and he was put away. That time all dogs were going after one in the yard and many of the dogs were ok in doing so because dog C was in on it and riling everyone up. Ya know what the asshole says? “that’s not gonna do anything they’re not children putting them in time out won’t teach them anything” completely ignoring her who’s been here at least as long as I have aka 7 years while he’s hardly been here more than half a year. Like um they ain’t human either they’re dogs aka animals so they can be kind of unpredictable when they are in such a reactive state. The assistant manager is just as sick of him as I am and scoffs but doesn’t have the energy to argue. The asshole had really been pissing her off lately by kind of bossing her around out of nowhere when the manager had been on vacation earlier in the month.

few hours later it’s lunch time, and this is where shit goes down... kinda literally. Asshole leaves for lunch. Or so I thought. We were in the same yard and he left through one of the side pens, but he found a missed pile of dog poop in there so he decides to pick it up himself. Ok whatever. He leaves the gate open a bit and a little dog slips through. he picks him up and puts him back in the main yard, I come over and close the gate over so he can hurry and pick up the poop and head to lunch. He tells me to leave it open because the dogs won’t learn anything if I close it. like dude it’s just poop, so I kept the gate shut. granted I didn’t say anything, but my logic was who the hell wants to spend and extra 5-10 minutes dealing with dogs trying to slip through a gate depending on which dogs come over just to pick up poop instead of wanting to head to lunch as soon as possible. So he says something along the lines of “what is wrong with you” or “what is your problem” to which I simply responded with “Just go to lunch, I’ll take care of it.” My patience with him was thin already but at this point it was just gone. This asshole is so obsessed with teaching dogs in general but also not to slip through gates that he always get so angry, or at least really annoyed and pissed off at me whenever I try to help holding dogs back, like I was taught to do, especially ones that are more difficult - ones that are strong or speedy and don’t sit still and take every opportunity to slip through the gate. like it’s understandable to try and teach them, but it can be a long process, especially with the more difficult ones. No one really has time for that when we’re busy or need to be someplace. In the end he just picked up the poop while I had the gate shut. When he left for lunch for real he said “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” to which all I had to say to him was “really?????” like he hadn’t been on my bad side for at least the past 6 months. I can’t remember if he mumbled something under his breath but my last words to him as he left were “you’re not the manager”

now up until this point, I didn’t realize my heart was racing. like “I’d suggest you don’t get on my bad side” like what the fuck is that supposed to mean???? Honestly he’s got such a shit personality I wouldn’t put it past him to actually do something threatening. So I put in a request from July onward to never work with him ever again. I never mentioned anything that happened because I had actually grown nervous of having him confronted and I wanted to wait for things to theoretically cool down before I said anything. I wrote a solid list of 10 reasons why I can’t stand him anymore if I was ever asked about my request in preparation.

Unknown to me at the time, the Assistant manager who had been in the next yard over had heard the threat he said to me and confronted him with one of the new owners about it and he actually got a serious scolding. So a couple days later when my request was received and the Kennel manager wanted to talk to me, I was surprised to learn they already knew the story and wanted to confirm that that was why I had made such a request as the kennel manager knew I’d never do something like that unless it was serious. We talked a bit and the owner that had scolded the ass was there and was reassuring me that they were on my side and even THEY didn’t really like him and there was talk of potentially firing him and the owner asked if I wanted an apology and I said “sure” but I doubt it would ever be serious or genuine and it’s not like I’d forgive him or be ok working with him again.

I was hoping he’d be fired, but unfortunately we’re only hiring teenagers with no work experience atm instead of people who know what they’re doing in the kennels or around dogs so if he were to be let go it’d be a while before he can be officially replaced. And the owners have made it clear as much as they don’t like him or his methods, there is a sense of a little more control in the day kamp yards. Anyway, because people’s shifts are all over the place it’s difficult to properly set aside a time to really discuss things. They’re trying their best to “knock him down a peg or two” to get him to better respect his coworkers and what not. I dunno how that’s going cuz I do my best to not engage with him and be in a separate yard as much as possible.

Anyway, it’s been like a week, it’s the last week of the scheduled month, next months schedule will be coming out in a day or so, and the other new owner called me to talk about how we’re gonna deal with next month. On monday we briefly talked... while the asshole was still in the other yard?? about the situation and whether or not I was comfortable talking with him to work things out so there’s no miscommunication because the assistant manager and the ass were I guess able to work something out. Whether or not he actually listens to her from now on would be interesting to see, but I’m standing my ground on the fact that I’m putting up with him for the last assigned week of the month, then I want nothing to do with him ever again. I gave a quick “no” to talking with him. The new owner said we can continue the talk about the situation the next day. Yesterday rolls around and obviously we’re busy and there’s no time for that.

So today the new owner called. Reiterating how much of an asset I am up in day kamp, and how much they still need the asshole, and if there’s any chance I might still work up there and talk it out with him. This is were I start tearing up and choking up. I told her “it’s just been slowly building up over the past several months and that was the last straw” and “sorry, no”. She reassured me she didn’t want to make me uncomfortable or upset or force me to do something I didn’t feel comfortable doing, and understood the ass was, well, an ass to me and had no respect for me or my other coworkers. She revealed that apparently the ass interpreted me holding the gate closed was an “act of disrespect” towards him when she understood that was ridiculous as she knew closing a gate so dogs don’t escape is what you’re supposed to do. as if and “act of disrespect” gives him the right to casually threaten someone. Like I don’t even care if he was having a bad day getting his hand bitten, you’re bringing that bs on yourself. She said he wants to apologize and I dunno how true that actually is or if he’s just been guilted into it, but again I said an apology would be nice but it won’t change the way I feel about him. Anyway she said she’d like to talk to me again tomorrow when I’m in work cuz I forgot to mention I had off today and that’s why I received a call, cuz by that time I’ve got tears and snot running down my face like a fool lol I’m glad it wasn’t in person.

But also I never told my parents about this and my work doesn’t have my cell number only my home number so it was my dad who answered and handed me the phone and I talked to the owner in my room so no one would hear. But with my face as it was it was clear I’d been crying, but I hadn’t scrubbed my face or gotten dressed yet so I took that as the perfect excuse to hide my red eyes before returning the phone downstairs and taking my own dog for a walk.

But yeah they really want me in day kamp. And I really don’t wanna work with the ass. and the ass only works in day kamp. There was a time where I actually almost prefered day kamp to kennel work, but since the ass was hired that’s quickly reversed. I want to be in the kennel. I’ll do the annoying chores I don’t care. I cannot be anywhere near him. I refuse. The tension and awkwardness is too great, I’ll be too stressed out in day kamp. If they put me in day kamp most of the month, or more than twice a week which even that is a bit of a stretch, I need to look for another job because I cannot do that any more. I really don’t want to leave because I more or less have job security here, they need me, but I cannot come to work and deal with this shit anymore.

we’ll just have to see how next month’s schedule turns out.. :/

#um be prepared for an enormous rant if you actually bother to read #like a long post warning is probably an understatement lol #I basically just spilled the whole story instead of short vague bits and pieces #baby bat unmuted #I have nothing to destress......#i need somthing to watch.......

1 note · View note

kookitykook · 4 years

Text

Seven Soulmarks: Hoseok (”Can you even breathe in those pants?”)

~genre: soulmate au, fluff, humor, sfw, hoseok being an absolute chaotic mess

~word count: 2.8k (this is short but one of my fav things i’ve written pls give it a chance)

~pairing: dancer!hoseok x yn

~warnings: record store owner!yoongi (and his soulmate) make an appearance if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing

~summary: At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear in black ink on the inside of your left wrist. Seven boys meeting their soulmates is just more proof that the universe knows what it’s doing.

See how the other boys meet their soulmates (all interconnected)

Jungkook -- Taehyung -- Jimin -- Namjoon -- Yoongi -- Jin

~~~~~~~~~

Hoseok lived and breathed dance. Movement was in his bones, his blood, every muscle and ligament and tendon in his body. It was his one true love.

And you can’t have dance without music.

That was the initial reason why he had started setting up his street dance sessions in front of music stores. Surely if people loved music then they loved dance too and would be willing to drop some cash, right? And that had proved to be mostly true, but the only drawback was that the music store owners and managers tended to not like him all that much.

It made no sense to Hoseok. If people were coming to check out the music and saw him along the way, it’s a win. If people were coming to see him and decided to check out the music too, also a win.

Unfortunately, the four music store owners and managers that banned him from their sidewalks never did see his point of view.

Yoongi did, though.

It had been Hoseok’s junior year of college and he had invited his new buddy Jungkook, who was a freshman at the time, to come and street dance with him in front of a new music shop he had found, Agust D’s Records.

When Yoongi had come out after seeing the crowd watching the two dancers, Hoseok had been prepared to take another loss. To his surprise though, Yoongi had just offered to let them borrow better speakers since Hoseok’s were, in Yoongi’s words, “complete trash.”

And thus blossomed the oddest friendship. Hoseok, sunshine incarnate who could never stop dancing, and Yoongi, an old man trapped in a young man’s body who just wanted to sleep. Their biggest similarity though was their drive and work ethic.

Sure, Hoseok was silly and Yoongi was serious, but both of them worked their asses off for their dreams and that was the foundation of the mutual respect driving their now their years-long friendship.

And that very respect is what had Yoongi telling his friend:

“Get the fuck out of my store or I will beat your ass.”

“Hyung, it was an accident!”

“How many times have I told you not to take drinks into the aisles?”

“Not many—”

“Seventeen times. Get your ass out, you’re fired.”

“I am not fired.”

“You’re suspended.”

“That’s not even a thing.”

“Why did she have to find her soulmate?” Yoongi lamented dramatically, referring to his other best friend/employee, who had cut back to part time hours since getting together with her soulmate Namjoon, one of Hoseok’s best friends from college (yeah, small world, I know), who was also rich as hell so she didn’t need to work as much anymore.

“Why did I hire you?” Yoongi continued. “Why, God?”

“Shut up,” Hoseok said, laughing at Yoongi’s dramatics. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“What mess?”

Both men snapped their head over to where Yoongi’s very pregnant soulmate was waddling out of the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed in Hoseok’s direction and he winced.

“Did you spill a drink in the aisles?” she asked.

Normally, Yoongi’s soulmate was the sweetest, most calm and caring person ever. But pregnancy a week and a half past her due date had … changed her, to say the least.

“Hoseok!” she shouted at his guilty expression. “And it’s all over your pants!”

Hoseok looked down at himself and sighed. Sure enough, coffee was drying all over the right side of his pants leg — his very tight pants leg.

“Yeah, Hobi,” Yoongi taunted, going over to gingerly help his soulmate over to a chair behind the counter. “How are you ever going to attract your soulmate with dirty, tight pants?”

“Watch it,” Hoseok said with a point.

Soulmates were … a touchy subject for Hoseok.

When he was 20 his words had appeared like everyone else, no big deal, right?

Big deal.

While all of Hoseok’s friends had soulmarks that were interesting and exciting and vague in the coolest ways, his was … embarrassing, to say the least. And he didn’t get embarrassed easily, so that was saying something.

But for the last six years, the words “Can you even breathe in those pants?” were in bold, black letters right across his wrist.

Can you even breathe in those pants?

Seriously?

It didn’t even make sense when they appeared! Hoseok rarely wore tight pants at that age, opting for joggers or shorts so his dancing didn’t feel so … restricted.

But he sure started wearing them after that, even if his friends gave him hell for it on a daily basis.

“Yeah Hoseok,” Yoongi’s soulmate teased, grimacing briefly as she finally sat down and rested her hands on her swollen abdomen. “That coffee stain is awful distracting.”

“Are you really going to tease me about my soulmark Miss I-Silently-Stalked-My-Soulmate-For-A-Year?”

In a normal situation, Yoongi’s soulmate would have taken the gentle ribbing with grace, probably blushing in embarrassment briefly before looking over at Yoongi and deciding she didn’t care about the teasing.

But throw pregnancy hormones and lack of comfortable sleep in the mix? Not the same reaction.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry!” Hoseok said, rushing over to her and Yoongi as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m an idiot, don’t listen to anything I say, I’m sorry!”

Yoongi sighed, letting his soulmate turn her head into his shoulder and cry against him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fire him.”

“Promise?” she choked out.

“Promise.”

“Wait, what?” Hoseok balked.

“You,” Yoongi said lowly, meeting Hoseok’s eyes over his soulmate’s shoulder. “Go upstairs, change into a different pair of pants, then come back down and prepare to do expense reports until your fingers bleed.”

Hoseok didn’t even bother responding as he took off to the stairs leading up to Yoongi and his soulmate’s apartment above the store.

***

You were not a dancer.

Well — correction: you were not a good dancer. You accepted this about yourself and were completely content with it, had been all your life. And this small little detail did not keep you from dancing anytime and anywhere you wanted to. When the music touched your soul, you were going to move. You couldn’t help it! And if anyone had a problem with it they could get over it!

This is the attitude you tried to have all the time, and mostly succeeded in.

But your soulmark had to go and make things difficult for you.

“Nice moves.”

You just knew — you knew that the words were said sarcastically. No one in their right mind would look at your flailing about and say “nice moves” in a genuine fashion.

So your soulmate was a little sarcastic brat then. Fine by you! He would meet his match whenever you heard him say the words. Oh yes, you had practiced many a comeback in preparation of the day you met your soulmate. You couldn’t wait to shock him and make him fall in love with your startling wit.

So maybe you were a little bitter about your soulmark. But just a little, honestly. It’d been four years since the words had showed up and you had gotten used to them (and were well prepared to hear them of course).

You still danced so … joke’s on them.

“Now tell me again what kind of headphones she wants?” you asked your brother, holding your phone to your ear and trying to talk quietly so as not to disturb the other people in the store.

You were in a music shop you had never been to before called Agust D’s Records, and the owner had briefly introduced himself earlier while holding a very pregnant crying woman. Other than that odd moment, the store was really cool.

“The rose gold Beats,” your brother responded. You were shopping for a birthday present for his soulmate and because they lived on the other side of the country, you didn’t know her that well and had asked for gift advice. “But if they’re too expensive, it’s really fine.”

“No I can afford it!” you defended yourself. “I sold two paintings just yesterday thank you very much.”

“Woah, really?”

“Yeah, it’s actually going really well,” you said with pride. “I’ve got a few well-to-do clients that like my stuff. And the museum wants to promote me to full time next month since their other art curator’s assistant is retiring.”

“Y/N that’s awesome!”

You grinned. “Thanks. I’ve been saving up to fly out and see you guys, too. And I want to get to know my brother’s soulmate better, you know?”

“Hey, maybe when you can finally get out here you’ll have a soulmate of your own I can meet.”

“Ack, shutup,” you muttered. Your brother only laughed. “Anyways, I’m in a store so I should probably get off the phone. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“You got it. Bye, sis.”

“Bye, love you.”

After ending the call you pocketed your phone and wandered back over to the headphones. Sure enough, there were the rose gold Beats. You picked them up with a grin, then saw that the store had placed a blue pair out with a sign that said “Try Me!”

Might as well, you thought to yourself. You pulled your phone back out and opened Spotify, plugging in the headphones and pressing play. The last song that had been playing was from your “dance jams” playlist and damn you forgot how good this song was.

Soon enough, you were in your own little world, just you and the music. So much so that you didn’t notice the guy standing behind you.

***

“Oh wow,” Yoongi said, doing his best to bite back laughter as Hoseok walked down the stars — well, more like waddled. “Babe, babe look up, this is going to make you feel so much better.”

“Nothing can … oh my gosh.” Yoongi’s soulmate switched from crying to laughing in the blink of an eye as she looked up to see Hoseok wearing a pair of Yoongi’s skinny jeans, which were practically high waters on him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Hoseok said as he made it back to the store floor, pulling at the crotch of his — no, Yoongi’s pants without shame. Gosh he could hardly breathe in these pants.

… Wait a minute.

“If you don’t meet your soulmate today, nothing makes sense in the world,” Yoongi said with a laugh. His soulmate was still cackling.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Hoseok stuck his tongue out and grabbed a box of records that needed to be shelved from the countertop. “I’ll get to work.”

“Please do,” Yoongi responded, he and his soulmate still cackling like children. If Hoseok weren’t struggling to walk he would have taken a moment to appreciate how cute they were.

There were only a few customers in the store, and they all looked at him with amused expressions. Fortunately for Hoseok, he was the type to play up an embarrassing situation so he laughed right along with them.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

“Yoongi you skinny ass,” Hoseok muttered, dipping into the empty headphones aisle to pull at the pants once more. These jeans did not factor in his dancer thighs.

Movement to his left suddenly caught Hoseok’s eye and he froze, hoping he hadn’t just severely embarrassed himself even more, but …

Nope. Nope, this time he was not the one to be laughed at in this situation. Instead, the girl dancing like an absolute idiot was the embarrassing factor.

What was she doing? Hoseok didn’t know what song she was listening to but there’s no way she was dancing on beat because … well, because she wasn’t dancing to any beat. Her arms were flailing around and her hips were … gyrating? Not in the sexy way though, but in a … he didn’t know, but some odd kind of way.

And even though she looked like a total moron she was also … smiling so big? He couldn’t help but grin even though his dancer brain wanted to grimace. She just looked so happy. Her eyes were closed and she was just listening to the music and dancing. Dancing badly, but … dancing all the same.

“Nice moves!” he shouted loud enough to cut through the sound of the headphones.

The girl jumped, opening her eyes and looking over at him, surprise and shock in her eyes … but no shame. Hoseok liked that.

She blinked, scrunching her eyebrows in a way that said she hadn’t heard him at all.

While reaching to press pause on her phone and take off the headphones, Hoseok repeated himself.

“I said—”

***

Shit, shit, shit.

You pressed pause on the music, taking the headphones off in a motion that made your hair go everywhere, turning to the cute boy that was clearly amused by you and was trying to say something.

“—nice moves.”

Your heart dropped. Actually, your phone dropped, but the sentiment still remained.

It was time. Your moment had come. IT WAS TIME.

Finally, now was your chance — your one chance to say something snarky to your little asshole soulmate making fun of you.

But nothing had prepared you for how cute he was. A heart shaped mouth, hair that looked so soft it should be illegal, glowing, dewy skin, eyes twinkling with damn starlight, and —

The tightest highwater pants you had ever seen.

“You’re a,” he pursed his lips mid-sentence to stifle a chuckle, “a really great dancer. I like the arm flailing the best, very nice technique. Where did you train?”

Your mouth dropped.

What a brat!

“Can you even breathe in those pants?” you snapped without hesitation.

All of your memorized comebacks and that was way better than anything you had prepared. You wanted to pat yourself on the back. Hell yeah.

“Ha!”

“The world makes sense after all.”

You and the boy turned at the same time to look at the owner and his very pregnant soulmate (you guessed) laughing hysterically.

“Can I just say that I know you’re his soulmate,” the pregnant woman said to you, “and I already very much love and adore you. Please put this brat in his place daily for me.”

“What—”

“I think I get all the credit for this match,” the owner said.

Your soulmate pinched his nose in exasperation. “Hyung…”

“What? They’re my pants.”

“Why are you wearing his pants?” you asked incredulously.

“Because he spilt coffee in the aisle.”

“But there’s a no drinks sign.”

“See, Hoseok?” You take mental note of your soulmate’s name as the owner speaks. “Your soulmate is clearly smarter than you, like I always predicted.”

“Please stop talking,” your soulmate muttered, ears turning bright red much to your amusement.

“Sweetheart,” the pregnant woman said in between bouts of laughter. “We’re sorry, but this is very exciting for us. We’ll give you an item from the store for free, I—”

The woman froze suddenly, her eyes going wide as she…

“Oh and you yell at me for spilling coffee!” Hoseok shouted as her water broke all over the record store floor.

“Shit, shit,” the owner said, grabbing his wife’s forearms to hold her upright. “We’ve got to get to the hospital. Can you drive?”

You blink as you realize the owner is talking to you.

“Who, wh — me?”

“Yes, you! My car is almost out of gas and this idiot only has a skateboard, so can you drive?”

“I — y-yes. Yes, I can drive!”

“Well go get your car! Hoseok, go with her and meet us out front. Everybody! Shop’s closed, get out!”

“Come on,” Hoseok says as he grabs your hand and drags you toward the front door.

“Wh — I — what is going on?”

“I’m Hoseok, you can call me Hobi, I’m your soulmate, and my best friends are having a baby and you’re driving us to the hospital. Where’d you park? Where’s your keys?”

“I — across the street.” The bell jingles and you barely know which way is up. “My keys are—”

In your nervousness and confusion, you drop your keys to the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry I—”

The rip of Hoseok’s pants as he bends down to pick up your keys is the loudest, most hilarious noise you have ever heard.

A beat passes before you promptly burst into hysterical laughter. Hoseok takes one look at you as he stands back up to his full height, a slight breeze on his ass, before joining you in hysterics.

With a grin still plastered on your face, you throw your arms around his neck and plant a kiss on this stranger’s lips, both of you still smiling.

“I’m never going to let you live this down, I hope you know that, soulmate.”

“Yeah, yeah, when you embarrass yourself during our first dance when we get married the tables will turn.”

“Deal,” you say as you kiss him again.

“What are you idiots doing? My wife is having a baby, get in the car!”

#bts scenario #bts fanfiction #hoseok scenario #hoseok imagine #bts #my writing

32 notes · View notes

soartfullydone · 4 years

Note

Try not to... be so careless, Professor. The war effort... hgh, the war effort would be considerably more difficult without you. And Her Majesty... would be sad. Ha... don't worry, Professor. I'm not dead yet. And my magic... won't be slowed by any wound. Just because they've drawn blood... doesn't mean I can't let them taste their own.

Inferna knew she’d left her back turned a moment too long, but running a sword through the stomach of an enemy lieutenant had been worth it. The Knight of Seiros fell at her feet, already dead and one less threat to her students. She could take an arrow for that, could take a hundred arrows.

Instead, she felt a body collide with hers, knocking her to the ground, and heard a sharp intake of breath as the arrow impacted. Inferna felt no pain and twisted, fighting to get a weapon free to eliminate this foolish assailant.

Her eyes flew wide at the sight of disheveled dark hair and a gaunt face she knew so well. Her heart gave a lurch as she found the arrow jutting out through his warlock’s robes, the arrowhead embedded in his back.

“Hubert!” Her hands flew unthinkingly toward the arrow when they should have been going for a weapon instead. Not even thirty feet away, the archer was nocking a new arrow to fire straight at them, and this time, it would be fatal.

Over her, Hubert snarled and flung back a hand. Purple light burst like fire from his palm, and the archer screamed as she was surrounded and engulfed by a dark miasma. Her death was swift but painful.

Unadulterated hatred still gleamed in his eyes when he turned back to Inferna. They softened to a grim amusement, managing to mock and challenge her as they always had, but respect was there now, too.

“Try not to… be so careless, Professor. The war effort… Hgh.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden surge of pain. His voice, normally so smooth, dipped into ragged territory. “The war effort would be considerably more difficult without you.” His eyes found hers and held steady. “And Her Majesty… would be sad.”

He slanted forward, and Inferna sat up on her knees, quickly catching him by the shoulders. “Hubert!” His head fell to rest in the crook of her neck, where he just breathed, not responding, and that scared her more than anything. She shook him, stopping once it elicited another pained moan from him. She’d jostled his injury. “Hubert!”

“Ha… don’t worry, Professor. I’m not dead yet.” He lifted his head, a dry smile on his lips. Injured as he was, he looked far too satisfied about the whole thing. “And my magic… won’t be slowed by any wound. Just because they’ve drawn blood… doesn’t mean I can’t let them taste their own.”

“I think you’ve managed that, and more. You’re done in this fight,” she told him firmly. Her hands came around his back, inspecting, and as she feared, when she raised them, they were bright and slick with blood. That arrow had to come out, the bleeding staunched along with it.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course.” He sounded insulted that she’d even asked.

Inferna was strategizing how they would do this when she spied a familiar sight across the battlefield. Close but perhaps an impossible distance away.

“Linhardt!” she screamed in an unmistakable command.

“Ugh, what?” the green-haired bishop groaned. He set an armored knight on fire with a lazy flick of the wrist before turning toward her, his half-lidded eyes expressing acute boredom even in the heat of battle. He stopped and stared momentarily at their situation. “Oh.”

“Get over here! I need you!”

“Is he bleeding?” he called back. “Please don’t tell me he’s bleeding…”

“Lin!”

“Okay, okay.”

Linhardt’s progress was momentarily halted as a stray arrow flew across his path, but Dorothea was suddenly there, firing a bolt of white light straight back. “Go, Lin, I’ll cover you.”

“Me, too!” Caspar crowed, practically bounding over Lin to punch a charging paladin right off his horse.

“Much appreciated.”

Linhardt made it to them, mercifully unscathed, and grimaced down at the protruding arrow. “Ugh, Hubert, really? I expect this kind of careless behavior from Ferdinand, not you.”

“It was my fault,” Inferna admitted as a cacophony of feelings rose inside her.

Hubert knew she could’ve taken that hit—and much worse besides. Why had he done something so stupid? Was this some sort of ill-advised order from Edelgard, to protect her at all costs? Surely, he would’ve objected and defied it, viewing his emperor’s life as the priority, a decision Inferna agreed with. The war effort would be more difficult for the Black Eagle Strike Force without Inferna but not impossible. With his status as a strategist and an unexpected powerhouse on and off the battlefield, losing Hubert would be an equally hard loss but not unsalvageable. Without Edelgard, though, they would have nothing. No leader to rally behind, no successor, no cause. She wanted to shake Hubert some more and demand answers, but she dared not irritate his injury anymore than she already had.

“Professor,” Linhardt was complaining, “he’s bleeding everywhere.”

It was an exaggeration, but Inferna knew how much the sight of blood affected Lin. Any amount was too much, and no doubt he was fighting the urge to pass out or at least focus his attention somewhere else. But he was the only healer in their vicinity.

“I know you can do this,” she encouraged. “I need you to do this. I’m not going to lose a single one of you.”

Lin smiled. It was a little queasy, but genuine all the same. “No, you’re not. Not today anyway.” He examined Hubert more clinically. “I guess I’ll save him, since we’re friends. I think.”

Hubert laughed roughly. “Don’t start.”

Not in the mood for inside jokes, Inferna ordered, “Pull the arrow out while I brace him.”

Lin inhaled deeply. “Alright.”

As Linhardt rounded the two of them, Inferna wrapped an arm against Hubert’s lower back, the other braced against his chest. Her hand clenched the strap of his cape, and she locked her knees. Started as she felt his hands settle on her hips. She brushed off the feeling. He needed to hold onto her, too, didn’t he? Bracing him was the whole point. Once she felt suitably balanced, she nodded for Lin to grab the arrow.

Inferna was going to monitor Lin’s progress, give guidance if he faltered, but at that moment between Linhardt bracing himself and yanking out the arrow, Hubert raised his head. His green eyes trapped hers and refused to let go. Not a sound escaped him as Lin ripped out the arrow, though she felt his body jerk under her hands. That had to be painful, but he betrayed no hint of agony or irritation, not even at Lin’s fresh curses as he tossed the bloody thing away and prepared a healing spell. He just gazed at Inferna as if that alone was enough to anchor him. As if that was all he wanted to do forever.

She found herself returning that unflinching gaze, but she also found she wanted something more.

Before she could figure out what that something was, the sound of hooves had her tearing her eyes away. She sighed in relief at seeing Sylvain riding toward them instead of an enemy.

“Whoa, teach!” The redhead grinned as he guided his horse to a stop. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I think Lin took care of it.” At Hubert’s nod, Inferna disentangled herself, trying not to blush too obviously at the suggestive situation. Both of them on their knees, in the dirt, staring at each other like two touch-starved lovers. She got to her feet and at last sheathed her sword. “What news?”

“Area’s clear, so I thought I’d go help the girls. They went straight to the shoreline.”

Inferna did a quick headcount. Dorothea was heading their way, Ferdinand riding slowly beside her as their banter peppered the air. The rest of the boys were here. So that meant… “Bernie, Petra, and El are alone down there?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Where’s the enemy commander?”

“Uh…”

It was Hubert who answered. “The shoreline.”

“Fuck!”

Sylvain’s casual air faded at his commander’s obvious distress. “C’mon, professor, we’ll make it there fast.”

“For once, I’ll take your offer. If they haven’t finished the knights off, I will.” Inferna accepted Sylvain’s hand up and swung herself into the saddle behind him. “Wait,” she said before Sylvain could snap the reins. “You’re okay?” Not waiting for or trusting Hubert’s silent, narrow-eyed response, she turned to Linhardt. “Is he okay?”

Lin examined Hubert up and down with the precision of a dull scalpel.“I think he’ll make it, if just to torment us.”

“Go and assist Lady Edelgard,” Hubert told her, that familiar smirk and smooth tone back in place. That convinced her. “I’ll catch up.”

She lingered a little too long on the sight of the warlock, still on his knees, with her elevated considerably above him.

“Not me,” quipped Linhardt a hint too loudly. Face burning, Inferna nudged Sylvain. It was time to go.

Lin sat down and folded his hands behind his head as he reclined on the grass. “I’m staying right here. Just let me know when it’s over,” he yelled after them as the horse trotted away. “And someone tell Caspar to shut up.”

“Hey! Shut this up, Linhardt!”

“He tackle ‘im?” Sylvain asked her.

Inferna glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “Yep.”

“Let’s get back, then, before von Vestra makes our teammates disappear. Y’know.” He managed to send her a wink. “Since you nursed him so well back to health and all.”

“What’s that? You want me to tell Mercedes about the time you got drunk and—”

“Wow, would you look at that, we’re already here! On your left, Petra!”

#COOL YEAH THIS IS..... GREAT #I WROTE TOO MUCH BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT AND IT'S DUMB BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT #not seen is the next lecturing session where hubert claims he wants to be a dark knight #'why do you suddenly want to ride a horse?'#'to protect lady edelgard of course. what use is my magic if i cannot get to her side in a crisis?'#[eyes emoji]#otp: as you wish #ca: observe my sins #Anonymous

3 notes · View notes

oh-its-souichi · 5 years

Text

Ultra- Violence

Part 4

Overhaul X Reader

Yo!

l--o-n-g---a-n-g-s-t-y--f-a-n-f-i-c--a-h-e-a-d.

Yeah I gave myself to much credit this series should be finished in a few days.

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, physical abuse, drugs, Overhaul’s a bit ooc but eh, LEMON (which I am absolute trash at writing so I kept it EMBARRASSINGLY short) , this part is long and the grammar is shite. Sorry.

You stood prim and proper as always a kind and loving smile on your face completely void of any thought or emotion. At this point you didn’t even fell human anymore. You felt like an empty vessel. None of your senses worked anymore like they had been zapped away.

Your arms and legs were numb

Your head foggy

Your ears unable to hear what was going on around you

Hell you couldn’t even understand word he was saying like you had completely forgotten how to comprehend your native tongue. Well that was until he uttered his last sentence. Six words you would never imagined HE would string along, forming them purposefully in a sentence. “You what?” you stuttered dropping your hands at your size, your mouth agape.

He raised an eyebrow at your boldness repeating himself, giving you the benefit of the doubt. “I want to start a family.” He repeated. All the language skills you had built up over the years abandoned you leaving you to stare blankly at him, your mouth trying to from some semblance of a ineligible pronouncement. ‘A family!’ you screamed in your head. To bring a kid into this, no, his world would be nothing short of cruel.

The likely hood of him wanting to bring the kid into the world for the pleasure of being a father was slim to none. If anything he would probably use it in an experiment as he had your parents. You didn’t know why though. He could barely handle being around adults let alone some germ bag kid. You paused your words your brain ticking at the word. Germ. That’s it.

“Children are so dirty my dear” you said snaking your way across the room and to his side. Mimicking the same moves he pulled on you when attempting to be charismatic. “Can you imagine the sickness they would track home and infect everything with?” You allowed your voice to seethe as you bent down practically whispering the last part into his ear.

Your voice made goosebumps raise up on his shin and he was reminded of the sensation of your lips against his. Playing along with your game he pulled you down onto his lap, running a gloved finger along you jaw, making you shiver at it’s tenderness. “But it would be from you my darling. They would be pure” his voice was plain as usual but you could hear what could only be.. adoration?

You looked into his eyes watching them sparkle with something. Did he mean what he was saying? or was there something motivating him. A shadow of a plan that lurked beneath his coy words. “No” you said feeling the danger of your utterance. The twinkle in his eye you saw seconds ago faded away his eyes hardening in it’s place.

The room around you went completely silent.

He stared into your eyes making you shift uncomfortably on his lap, tempting you go hop off and run for the door, escaping out of his confines but he cleared his throat before you could work up the nerve. “Well that’s to bad my dear” he said.

Painstakingly slow he drug his hand up the back of your neck and into your hair, his touch like a million little kisses, like the feeling of feathers on your skin. It made you woozy, it made you want him. He continued up, making sure you felt how could he could feel against you until he got the the middle of your head and stopped. He toyed with the idea your obstinance was due to the the loss of your mother and that he should pardon your bad behavior but immediately shoved the idea away. He was never one for forgiveness anyhow. Suddenly he slammed your head into the arm of the coach, his masked face void of any emotion.

You gasped at the pain that engulfed your face, blood flowing out of your nose.

Tears begged to leave your eyes but you didn’t let them.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Why would I want the father of my children to be someone like you.” you spit your voice muffled by the coach. He ran his fingers calmly through your hair staring blankly in front of him.

“Someone like me?” he questioned pressing your face harder into the coach causing more blood to gush out of your nose. “Someone who can’t love.” you said calming your nerves. He sounded genuinely curious. “You’re fucking sick. What kind of child wants a father who can’t even love their mother.”

He went silence for a moment seeming to mull what you said around in his head. “On the contrary my angel.” he said shoving you off of his lap and onto the floor, your body thudding harshly on the carpet. “I adore you” he said his voice laced with sadness and disgust. You let your head hang allowing the blood to drip onto the ground, staining the creme carpet. You knew how much your dearly beloved hated blood. You scoffed looking up to him only to see him turn his head away refusing to look at you. ‘Typical’ you thought bringing your hands onto his knees. “Why won’t you look at me? Am I to dirty for you" you breathed extending his name. His eyes hardened, fury growing evident on his face.

Harshly he grabbed you by your hair yanking you to your feet.

He wanted to kill you. He wanted to watch your blood splatter your body exploding before him, popping like a water balloon for being such a pretentious bitch and bleeding all over his floor. He didn’t act on that desire though. You were to rare to kill. Instead he studied your face loathing the blood that streamed out of your nose the bruise that was forming on the bridge of your nose. He had done it again. He was staining you.

“I adore you” he said letting go of your hair, allowing your body to fall back to the ground. You blinked in amazement. Watching him walk away. “Go to your room and bath. Be sure you are ready for me when I come to visit you.” You sighed giving up. You would never win. He waited by the door holding it open for you, waiting for a response. “Yes dear” you said weakly standing up and walking past him and out into the hallway. He hummed pleased “Now go into your room. I will bring your noon meds. soon.”

You nodded solemnly walking down the hallway and into your room.

....

A few hours later, the meds. given having warn off, you sat sobbing quietly in your room. Your swollen eyes watched rain drops streak down your bedroom window.

You had been focusing on a specific pink flower that seemed to be getting berated by the heavy drops, the tender little plant rocked clumsily with each impact. It looked like the pedals would fall from the stem and rot on the ground below but you suddenly remembered how resilient flowers were. You had no reason to worry.

To the right of you- you heard your door slam into the dresser you had used to barricade yourself in your room with, in an attempt to keep people, well, him out.

“Y/N” he stated obviously unamused “Remove your dresser from the door now.” Ignoring him you continued to stare out the window wishing so badly that you had been born that pink flower. So you could have been planted in Overhaul’s garden, close enough to know who he was and for him to acknowledge you but far enough away he could never hurt you again. Part of you wanted to laugh at the thought.

You sounded pathetic.

Maybe you were

Having been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t hear Overhaul demand you to open the door once again. At your silence he sighed going nd fetching Chrono and Nemoto who were awaiting his instruction in his office. They heeded to his request and left to deal with you. Overhaul on the other having predicted what your reaction would be when the two men busted down your door stopped by is lab to retrieve a more potent tranquilizer. The medication required an injection so patiently he prepared the necessary supplies he would need to preform the shot. Methodically he retrieved a clean syringe and pushed the tip into the bottle of Midazolam he head placed on one of the counters.

As he slipped the needle in he heard the door crack open followed by a weak scream. He pumped the liquid inside of the syringe cringing as he heard you continue to protest. “Let go of me!” he heard you sob your voice muffled.

He wished you would have been reasonable and opened your door so he wouldn’t have had to go to these lengths but you forced his hand. He didn’t want to allow Nemoto and Chrono to lay their filthy hands on you but you were so goddamn stubborn. It pissed him off that you would disrespect him after everything he had done for you.’Ungrateful’ he thought walking down the long corridor until he reached your room.

The sight he walked in on disgusted him. Chrono and Nemoto had you roughly pinned to the bed, your hair was strewn around wildly while your extremities were shaking. “Continue to hold her tightly” he said his words feeling like acid in his mouth. “I’m going to be giving her an injection.” At his words you thrashed around until Nemoto shoved his knee into your back causing you to cry out in pain. “Nemoto Be gentle with her please” Overhaul said circling around the bed until he was at your side. Feeling his presence you let out a defeated sigh and relaxed under the grasps that held you. “It will be okay my angel” he said stroking your hair before calmly injecting the serum into your arm. After the liquid was dispelled into your veins, you relaxed.

Your precious body going limp.

“Release her” he told the two men, catching you in his arms before you slipped off of the bed and hit the ground after they let go. Lovingly he lifted you onto the bed, he knew your skin was crawling with his assistants filth but that could be dealt with after you got some rest.

...

When you woke up your head was throbbing, a pain like knives plunging into your skull. Weakly you groaned slapping your hand to your forehead. “Oh my gosh” you sighed at the pain at the pain finding it hard to focus your eyes. Desperately you looked around your, from what you could tell, dimly lit room. All the furniture that you normally would have been able to see was blurry almost like there was a thick fog surrounding you. “What did he give me’ you thought sadly hoping this wasn’t permanent.

There was a cool breeze hitting your face filling your nose with the scent of rain. Involuntarily you felt your body take a deep breathe in reveling in the freshness of the air. Now that you thought about it you couldn’t remember the last time you had a breathe of fresh air. Overhaul didn’t let you outside and the window in your room was barred shut prohibiting you from opening it. ‘How is the air getting in?” you thought attempting to sit up but collapsed back into your pillows. A groan escaped your lips and you tried again to no avail.

“Are you awake angel?” you heard Overhaul say his voice like medication to your throbbing head. “Yes dear” you said swiftly not having heard him come in and attempted to sit up but stopped when your body began to shake.Overhaul watched you struggle his blank face covered by a thin black mask. He wore black pants and black button up shirt with the sleeves still rolled up from giving you a bath as well as dealing with his other experiment.

He placed your meds as well as a cup of water onto your bedside table and helped you sit up, positioning your body against your head board. “Are you experiencing any discomfort?” he asked taking his hands off of your body, satisfied with your position. “My head hurts a bit and I can’t see. My vision is blurry” He hummed figuring the tranquilizer hadn’t worn off yet, nothing to be concerned about. “Take these. I included a pain medication to assist with the pain”

Compliantly you downed whatever ever was in the cup desperate for some relief and took a swig of water feeling the pills trickle down your throat. There was definitely more than usual but you didn’t care. After swallowing the last pill you sigh softly and blindly placed the cups onto the nearest hard wood surface.

The coolness of the liquid seemed to bring you back to your senses.

.As your eyes cleared you could see a new white door hanging off the hinges where your old one used to, your dresser tucked neatly against the wall. Embarrassment seeped into you cheeks, turning them red. “Thank you” you said to him hoping he would gloss over your mental breakdown, not that he was one to do that. “Anything for you” he sighed making you cringe. Here is comes you thought casting your eyes away from him to the window expecting his hand to latch onto your scalp and ripe you off the bed and hurt you until he thought he had punished you enough.

Overhaul’s eyes lingered down on you taking in your face. You looked different than before almost... sickly. Your eyes were hallow with sadness, your skin sunken with the amount of chemicals he had forced into your system. Not that you were repulsive. Far from it. Even drugged up you were ethereal.

Curtly he cleared his throat. “I had to do that to your parents angel. You know that right?” he said. You exhaled sadly once he pronounced the ‘S’ at the end of parents. ‘I’m sorry dad’ you thought picturing his face. “Please not now” you sighed. He sat down beside you grasping your hand “No, you need to tell me you understand” he said a bit of desperation in his voice.

You didn’t answer, not knowing what to say and let a silence fall over the two of you. Outside you could hear the rain continuing to thump off of the roof and you wished you were out there to feel it. He scooted your head closer to his mouth, his touch inciting a fire in you. ‘I love him’ you thought your eyes rolling back at the silkiness of his voice. “I did it for you” he said tucking some of your hair behind your right ear. “Because of them I am one step closer to riding society of it’s sickness and making it safe for you to live in, safe for our children to live in.” he said placing a render hand on you stomach making you flinch.

He had never touched you like that.

Before you knew it you found yourself leaning into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart beat soothing you as another wave of drowsiness hit your body. “if you refuse me though angel, like you did earlier, their deaths would mean nothing” he whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened in horror.

In the distance you could hear you conscientiousness screaming, begging you to reject the poison (bullshit) but you ignored it being drug back by his voice. “The sacrifice they made was for you. They wanted us to be happy in a healthy world. Your not going to disrespect them by throwing that all away are you?” he said pushing you lightly away.

‘How could I have been so selfish?’ you thought feeling guilt rock your body, tears welling up in your eyes. “Of course not!” you said embracing him in a tight hug, sweetly surrendering to him. He jumped slightly at your touch but calmed and smiled underneath his mask.

He knew you would understand.

“Save your tears angel” he said raising your head from his chest. Gently with his thumbs he brushed away your pesky tears, seeing the helplessness in your face. He had you in his trap. becoming completely dependent on him as he always wanted. You nodded and he could see your eyes wrinkle telling him you were smiling at him from underneath your mask. Gingerly he discarded his mask setting it on the bedside table then repeated the action and took off yours placing it next to his.

Remaining still you watched his movements feeling a cool gust of wind run up your exposed back. You turned you head to the window only to have it brought back by his ungloved hands. He cupped your face carefully kissing you.

Goosebumps erupted on your arms, spreading across your chest and legs. Without giving you time to adjust to this sudden display of affection he caressed you down onto the bed, his body hovering over you. Your head hit the soft blankets, his lips never leaving yours. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip making you moan softly.

Cautiously you tangled your hand into his brown hair loving how soft it felt intertwined with your fingers. He responded by trailing soft kisses down your jaw and neck lingering on your collarbone before nipping at the skin.

You moaned at the sensation feeling himself lift his body off of your and begin to strip off your nightgown. “Overhau-” you went to say before he cut you off. “it’s Kai” he stated sitting you up so he was able to pull the gown over your head. “Kai” you repeated back.

He almost shivered at how beautiful his name sounded when leaving your lips. It almost made him want to bring it back so he could hear you say it all the time. You made it sound so clean. “Yes that’s my first name. Please use it wisely.” he warned. Whether it be the medicine he had given you or the rush you got from his skin against yours. but you found yourself giggling cutely at him. “Kai” you repeated. “I like it”

He leaned over and kissed you tenderly on the forehead before standing up and removing his clothes. Neatly folding each article of clothing and setting it on your dresser.

You stared in awe at his exposed chest, the skin had always been hidden away from you. A gentle smile spread across your face and you motioned for him to come back. With a shaky breathe he did so. Crawling back onto the bed he separated your thighs with each one of his knees positioning himself between them. You could already feel the wetness of your core and looking down at Kai you saw he was plenty ready as well. He shot you a cautious glance as he lined himself up with your entrance. Seeing his hesitance you nodded and smiled lightly seeming to give him the confidence he needed.

Pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead he pushed himself inside of you shivering at the sensation. “Kai” you moaned feeling him pump himself steadily in and out of you his eyes never once leaving your face. He was so beautiful. You felt your cheeks flush under his charming gaze small moans leaving your mouth.

Silently he worshiped the little sounds you made, revering the way you moaned his name quickening his pace so he could hear more.

The two of you continued on well into the night until he met his release and collapsed on top of you breathing heavily. You ran your fingers through his hair appreciating the small moment between the two of you. “I adore you” he said lowly, relaxing under the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #my hero acadamy #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

64 notes · View notes

trashmagines · 5 years

Text

When The Lights Are Off: Matt Murdock x Reader One-shot

Request: Love, love, love your Matt Murdock Drabble! If you're taking requests, would it be ok to request some fluff with Matt? Maybe based either at the start/end of season 3 (if you're caught up) or wherever you're up to and including this lyric prompt 'I know you want someone you can trust. Someone you can love, someone you can touch. Feel the warmth from when the lights are off'. But if it's a rubbish idea, you can totally ignore it!

TrAshy Says: After that shit I pulled this morning, we could all use a little fluff, yeah? Thank you so, so much for you kind words. I’m really happy you liked the drabble and so this goes out to you, nonnie! This is an amazing request and coincides perfectly with an idea I already had can we also talk about how great the song is? here listen to it. I hope you like it!

Warnings: There’s a little bit of angst sprinkled throughout call me angstbae but it’s fluffy I sWEAR, Daredevil and Defenders spoilers!, Season 3 spoilers! (takes place at the start of s3), Character death mention, mentions of blood, one blind joke

Matt Murdock had woken up a different man. In addition to his body being badly broken, there was a heaviness in his chest that not even the crushing weight of a building could compare to. He had been fully prepared to die that night The Hand was defeated, buried with Elektra under god knows how much debris. Yet here he sat, unintentionally given he’d tripped over a bench he couldn’t sense in his worn state. His thoughts are bitter and angry, but a muffled sound catches his attention before he can allow himself to wallow in his despair.

Standing and grabbing the cane he’d left on one of the statues littered about the room, he follows the sound, snapping his fingers to get his bearings. It’s your voice he hears, the sound garbled but soft and melodic with the subtle hint of individuality that was all you. You’re humming a song he’s never heard before, but from the changes in tone he’s aware that it’s not a church hymn. You don’t notice him right away, but the feeling of being watched causes you to glance up and meet his gaze. You’d heard about the blind man the sisters were treating, and about how much of a hassle he was being, but you had never seen him until this moment.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he breaks the silence, his statement echoing your thoughts. “You haven’t really ‘seen’ much of anyone.”

Your words are quick and sharp, a stark contrast to the voice that speaks them. He detects an undertone of playfulness in your voice, and for the first time since he’d woken up, a genuine smile graces his features.

“Really? A blind joke?”

You don’t answer, but the small laugh you give lets him know you aren’t sorry in the slightest. He hears the diluted sounds of rustling and assumes correctly that you’re moving to stand. He may have been faithless at the moment, but he was still well mannered, and so the hand not resting on his cane raises of its own accord and extends toward you.

“I’m Matt.” “Y/N.”

‘I know you want someone you can trust.’

The next time you see Matthew, he’s nursing a few new wounds and holding a now warm ice pack to his head. You sit on the bed and hand him a fresh one, his fingers brushing against your skin just a millisecond too long before he takes the cold pack and gratefully presses it against his skin.

“Drop by just to see me?” “Nope, what gave you that impression?”

Matt’s lips turn up in a half smile as you take the old cold compress from him. He likes your quick-witted answers and the way the sass in your voice slightly elevates its tone. He’s sure he likes it a little too much, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Y/N.. You’re not a nun, are you?”

It’s not a question as much as it is a realization, and you chuckle softly before replying ‘No’. You tell him that you’re kind of a volunteer; you like helping with the kids and the sisters appreciate any and all assistance they can get. Before he has a chance to ask, you also mention that you’re not really sure what you believe in, if you believe in anything at all. He nods understandingly, his eyes unfocused and staring past you.

‘Someone you can love. Someone you can touch.’

You knew Matt and Daredevil were the same person. The sisters, though sworn to secrecy, weren’t very quiet inside the church. So you’re only mildly surprised when you return to your apartment and see him sitting outside your door, beaten and bloodied and clutching his mask in his hand. You carefully step over him and unlock your door before walking in and setting down your groceries. He takes the still-open door as an invite, limping inside and shutting it quietly before having to lean against it for support. He can make out the faint sound of bags crinkling as you put away the items you bought.

“Drop by just to see me?”

Matt’s signature smirk appears on his face at the sound of your voice, laced with its usual intonation and a dash of unease. You make your way over to him and help him stand, somehow rationalizing that it would be better for him to bleed on your couch instead of the floor by your front door. Gingerly, you sit him down and grasp at the random first-aid items you keep stashed in your coffee table drawer. He removes his shirt before you ask him to, and you get the feeling he’s done this too many times before as he answers your question.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go and I wanted to hear your voice. I like it.”

He waits for a snarky remark, but it never comes as his words have caught you off-guard. You’re not really sure what you feel for the man sitting in front of you, but judging by the way your hand reaches out to lightly graze over his cheek, you can tell it’s something beyond friendship. He leans into the touch and sighs heavily, the muscles under his skin shifting painfully at the movement.

“I’m not a nurse, Matt.” “You’re pretty good with an ice pack.”

You scoff lightly and begin tending to the wounds you see, one of his hands coming to rest on the one you have placed on his face. A wet sensation on your thumb catches your attention, and you look up at him in time to watch a few stray tears fall. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, careful not to disturb any of the crude bandaging you’d managed to get done. He pulls you tighter against him, the weight of your body enough to ground him in the moment. You both stay like that for a while.

‘Feel the warmth from when the lights are off.’

Matt’s faith is still shaken, yet he can’t help but to think of you as an angel. His angel. Neither of you ever verbally affirm your relationship, but you find him waiting for you by your door more often and you always let him in, always comfort him. One night, he breaks down and tells you everything about him, all of the events that have led him to the new state of mind he’s adopted. You don’t agree or disagree, nor do you ask him to make any promises to you; you just listen to him and he’s never been so damned grateful.

Right now, you lay tucked against Matt neatly, an arm over his chest and a leg intertwined with his own. His fingertips lazily move against the skin of your side under your t-shirt, the sensation not enough to rouse you but enough to calm him down. He’s not out prowling the streets for his next lead on Fisk, but he can’t sleep because the smug bastard haunts his thoughts. Still, the sound of your even breathing is enough to drown out imaginary Fisk, and the warmth of your body inexplicably drives away the chill in his.

Matt kisses your forehead and you sigh softly, trying to snuggle closer to him as if there was any space left between the two of you. He shuts his eyes, sleep still out of his reach but he’s okay with it. Instead, he tunes into the sound of your heartbeat, slow and steady, and lets the rest of the world fade away.

‘And I'm folding into you, when I've got no right to.’ ‘I just want to make it right.’

#Matt Murdock x reader #Matt Murdock #marvel's daredevil #daredevil reader insert #daredevil x reader #tw: blood #spoilers #spoiler alert #So I'm actually pretty proud of this omg #HOPEFULLY THERE'S ENOUGH FLUFF IDK #requested

201 notes · View notes

shanny-tired · 6 years

Text

Duality: A Turning Point

[TW: Extreme Violence, Traumatic Experiences]

It was a good choice for Shanaris to rid herself of the chaotic wars in Azeroth and take to Pandaria. The beautiful, endless hills and valleys of green topped with the topless mountains of Kun’lai. Many a time did Shanaris take herself to those mountains to remind herself of a land she loved, a land that once was her true home. Shanaris ached with an invisible pain that her home was not her own any longer. Kalimdor had its right and name stricken by the barbaric and the ruthless. Shanaris didn’t enjoy this fact. in the air, even in Pandaria, she felt she could taste the blood of her brothers and sisters being shed and desecrated by a growing undead legion. Though Shanaris felt adamant in wanting peace for herself and her children, her loved ones, those she cared for she did not feel at peace. There was a restlessness inside of her crafted by thousands of years of strife. An era of peace crafted by Kaldorei and the people who ruled it? No, there wasn’t peace. There was domination-- subjugation of the enemy. When no one was left to oppose the Kaldorei only then was there a brief moment of peace. Shanaris slowly understands that she needs to become a necessity.

Within the confines of the jade Forest rested a home by the channel that lead river into ocean, spacious enough for several people but owned by one singular Pandaren. Apparently it was obtained by generous donations to her during a part time job. Who would have thought humans had such a small grasp on the value of a gold piece? Cobblestones lined the ground with well-cared for realms of green within the miniature kingdom. A house was built in the middle with the faintest smell of ink in the air along with the typical, warm meal. These scents were discerned easily by Shanaris. It came to a point that she could pick and specify exactly what was made. Yesterday, more black ink for inscriptions and scrolls. Dinner, mushan steak, thick, cooked with onions, mushrooms, pepper, silverleaf, honeysuckle, mageroyal, and nutmeg. The side was a bowl of rice to assist with digestion; ever thoughtful.

After dinner came rest, putting the children to rest at least. They slept so soundly it put a smile to Shanaris’ face-- a true, genuine smile. It came to a point where her twins were finally distinguishable. Syrandel seemed to be a far more hearty eater, stuffing herself and getting spoilt by such means. Lorelan took her share, but that was it. Never too much or too little, but just enough. Shanaris exhaled amusement from her nose as both hands equally caressed her children’s heads, stopping to place said hands upon their chests with a featherweight touch.

“My sweet little saplings, how mighty you will grow. Be the elf I never got the chance to be.” Her voice was so low that even she almost didn’t hear herself. If these children were anything like she was as a child they’d be incredibly light sleepers. With a final farewell Shanaris leaned into their proximity to place a single kiss onto their forms; one each. Shanaris left the small area in which they would be cared for, promptly closing the door behind her.This door was then set alight by a series of runes etched in the ancient Pandaren language. Shanaris looked onto these runes blankly from their bright shine to dimming, disappearance.

“I think you are a far better mother than I, Akemi...” Shanaris uttered these words aloud, which brought pause to thoughts to let these words echo within her mind-- to let it force her actions to a complete halt. The elf bite her lip, feeling this encroaching feeling of contempt and struggle within her body, mind, and soul. As if coming from a nauseous episode Shanaris shook her head, turning away from the door and leaving the home to stand outside-- embrace the nightfall and countless stars in the sky. She made her way to a perch-- a column on the corner of the stone fence.

Once she found herself settled, the elf stared upward, looking to the vast sky above. it was then she became expressionless. Shanaris let her mind dance into the sky, creating invisible images of the many countless thoughts that ran through her mind. More recently, troubles with the Collective and how to minimize the damage, passionate moments with partners gained and lost, and the occasional nostalgic episode. She missed her old life there was no denying that. The feeling of masterfully crafted silk upon your flesh is not something easily forgotten, even less so when it is made by the man you love...

Shanaris quickly snapped her head downward, eyes clenching with a noise of frustration leaving her lips. “Again with you-- let me rest! Let yourself rest...” Shanaris uttered with a voice almost pained. Seeing him immediately brought that vision of blunt force trauma into her mind, and the blood that splattered onto her face. She never wants to remember Al’mashan every step of the way, but when even the heartbeat within a man’s chest thrums in your mind there is not much you can do. Shanaris raised her gaze once more, sighing with relief and returning to her mindscaping. The image had vanished, but the pain remained.

Shanaris did her best to regain her stoicism, and her best was enough. Roaming her memories, thoughts, and enjoying the little things rather than larger, more important memories. This troublesome habit was interrupted by a series of rapid movement in the distance. In the silence of the forest, where only the nocturnal beasts sung, Shanaris memorized its dissonant tune, and could pick exactly when a beast was being silenced by its predator, or greeted by a necessary mate. This time was different. Her ears did not gain the sound of natural occurrence but the rapid movement of a tree’s residents leaving-- abandoning their home while leaving the flightless to cry out. Instinct prompted Shanaris to stand and face the direction of the noise. Anything warranting a change in the song around her was enough for investigation, be it Mogu or otherwise. Shanaris dropped from her perch to take her glaive in hand and take an unhindered, hastened march to the origin point. Tradition dictates that in Pandaria, Shado-pan handle disturbances within that threaten the land. Even Shado-pan sleep.

“The middle of the woods, what in the Gods’ names is out here...” As Shanaris came closer to the origin of what she deemed a disturbance, her sense of smell started to unravel the truth as if replaying the events before her. in a blurred fashion. A firearm as used to fire into something, followed by retaliation and failure to succeed. A blade was drawn, and then silence. Shanaris saw blood trails-- at least four in pairs of two. One headed west, the other headed south which was where Shanaris had come from. Shanaris rested her glaive onto her shoulder and closed her eyes. Once more she focused on her senses. To the west she heard the padding of increasingly distant steps, and to the south... heavy footfalls-- rapid, louder. Shanaris quickly turned around to find herself witnessing an Orc clad in black attire, in the air with bloodied dagger and axe in hand. This one was different from the rest she had faced-- no guttural warcry and scream, just an attempt for a clean kill.

Shanaris almost didn’t notice her, and for that she gained a blade plunging hilt deep into her shoulder. If she had not turned it may have gained a more critical target. Unlike this Orc, Shanaris roared immediately finding herself boiling with Ursoc’s rage. The unnamed, unknown Orc found herself thrown back. Shanaris stood up, taking the dagger in one hand and ripping it out. Shanaris roared once again. It was then that she dropped both weapons to the ground, opting for her bare hands. The orc landed on her feet well enough; agility was part of the job after all. The orc readied her axe in hand, preparing for her final charge. No final warcry, just an attempt at pure efficiency. Once again the orc lunge, clearly attempting to cleave open some part of Shanaris’ body. This was what the orc learned as an impossibility. In an instant the ground opened to introduce her to the roots underneath. They moved with such a velocity that instead of knocking the orc out of the air, they broke straight through her. Shanaris dropped down to pick up her weapon and move closer to the orc in its final death throes, gurgling its own fel-tainted blood. Shanaris rendered her completely immobile, pierced through several non-critical points, and one major artery within her leg. There was a smile on Shanaris’ face, one that held nothing but sadistic malice. The orc could barely keep her eyes on Shanaris, both rolling to the back of her head in the extremes of pain before she bled out.

“Do not worry. Death will come slow. These roots close your wounds, but drink you dry....” Shanaris leaned her lips right beside the Orc’s ear to speak in a rough, pained voice. “Lok’tar Ogar, little one. You have paid your price.” Shanaris backed away from the gruesome bloodletting to turn her sights to the west-- where the other blood trail lead.

Shanaris hounded slowly for her prey. If they were bleeding that meant they would not be able to get far. The bleeding stopped some short distance away, but the trail continued as an invisible, hunger-inducing fume. Shanaris grunted, looking to her shoulder to see just how much blood she was losing by leaving the wound open. Already her well-kept robes were stained: again. Some elven expletive was uttered before she worked on healing the wound. As she did, a ragged breath was heard. Healing would have to wait. Shanaris frowned, gripping weapon in hand to venture to its source. What she saw was not what she expected.

“Elf? Here? H-Help! I need--” The man uttered before a sharp pain struck through his body. His voice slowly dulled out in Shanaris’ ears as she focused on more important matters. Shanaris inspected the man to see he was, in fact, human. A human with a rather horrid slice in their side, as well as some bruising. Shanaris’ nose twitched. Within the scent of blood she tasted gunpowder in the air from a gun still warm from its shot. Shanaris went from piece to piece on the man’s body before focusing on his eyes. He held fear, while Shanaris slowly made herself seem like less and less of a friend. Without concern for the man’s words, she spoke.

“--nearby village, anything--” His words sharpened in Shanaris’ ears, but not without Shanaris’ interruption.

“You bring your war to a land that needs no place in it. You endanger the peace here and for that alone you need to die. Die knowing you have done nothing for your people, mankind, your loved ones. You will die a failure, nothing, forgotten as the world around you forces decomposition to turn you into mulch.” Shanaris did not give this man a chance to speak up or beg for his life. One, maybe two seconds of pleading before she stepped away, raised her glaive and gave the man a merciful, mortal strike. The scythe of her blade cut through his Adam’s Apple, opening the front half of his neck. The blood was generous, and not a bit of it got on Shanaris’ weapon. He fell lifeless within seconds, the last thing uttered from his lips incomprehensible and worthless just as Shanaris deemed him. Alliance, Horde, neither mattered to her. All were wrong in her eyes-- ruiners of peace.

Shanaris relaxed her stance and looked back to the south-- back home, then to the northeast, toward her true home. Shanaris heaved a heavy, distraught sigh as her steps headed back to her children. As she walked, the wild and predatory eyes were shifted into discomfort and conflict. She never found herself with a break it seems, not while the world existed in the state that it did. Once more during her trek she found herself roaming the past-- the peace the Kaldorei held and her own actions. What she did reminded her well of how she hunted down the Highborne that were exiled, killing off those that she knew in order to gain a sense of entertainment and vindication. Their deaths, their exile-- these things brought both Shanaris and her people peace. This peace was gained by two things: domination, and strength. Shanaris growled by the thought, anger and frustration rising within her. She held anger for the Alliance and Horde-- even her own people. What angered her most was herself, that she was going to go back on her word to do one thing: bring casualties to the war.

“I need a bath, and a nap...” First she would check to see if that Orc was still alive.

#night elf #kaldorei #warcraft #World of Warcraft #writing #story #character development #tw: death #tw: trauma

17 notes · View notes

pennybard · 6 years

Text

Prisoners With Jobs

((A bit of BfA ramp up, and my attempt at getting back into writing! I honestly didn’t think I’d be creating a Void Elf character at all, and I certainly never thought I’d RP a dragon in WoW. Void Elves seemed a bit silly, honestly, a bit dartboard in their creation. And roleplaying dragons was something I always thought was best left to the experts, because I’ve seen far too many examples of the god mode-est RPers ever, and it always left a pretty gross taste in my mouth. But someone pretty important to me convinced me that they can in fact be done well, and the moment she put the bug in my ear that she thought I could do a good rendition a de-powered black dragon, this guy’s story began to weave itself in front of me. So here it is! My bloody damn, stinking, void elf/black dragon rogue, that I absolutely love now.))

“Open the door, Grimstone. I will see him now.” Wrathion used his most authoritative voice. He didn’t need to. The Dark Iron dwarves of Blackrock Depths knew him and those connected to him well enough, and more importantly, knew the importance of his work. Nobody here would stand in his way, save maybe the one in the prison cell before him. The heavy dark iron door opened with much difficulty as bits of rust that had formed around the door jam had to be broken to allow it to swing inwards. Wrathion sighed and lowered his gaze.

“Have you even been feeding him?”

“Occasionally. When we remember.” Barvak Grimstone chuckled as he banged on the door. “Ye’ve a visitor!” He said as he stepped back from the doorway and gestured inside to the Black Prince.

Wrathion gave him a solemn nod and stepped inside the cell. He wondered how much Moira Thaurissan knew of the goings on in Blackrock Depths. Had he known, he may have picked a better place, though if one wanted to forget someone, this was where you’d put them.

“Whelpling...” He heard a low rumble from inside the lightless chamber, and saw two pale orange-glowing eyes look up at him from a dark corner of the rough-hewn stone walls of the cell. Wrathion stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath, Right and Left were at his sides in an instant, their hands on the hilts of their weapons. There was a tinkling of chains, and within a half second, the prisoner lunged from the shadows, long, slender fingers reaching for the Prince’s throat.

The chains went taut as Wrathion leapt back, Left and Right had drawn their blades and crossed them in front of him. Wrathion watched as the prisoner strained against his binding; a very thick metal collar held his neck fast. It was inscribed with a great number of runes, and comprised of an amalgam of ghost iron and titansteel. The middle of the band around the collar was set with thick screws, ending in sharp spikes that pointed inward.

As the prisoner lunged, his body attempted to change its form, causing the collar to flare with a dull blue light, and the screws to tighten themselves, piercing his neck. It was made very specifically for this sort of prisoner, for a black dragon. As fresh blood streamed down over the dried blood on his muscular chest, the prisoner stopped and sagged, dropping to the floor. He glared up at Wrathion, staring through his bodyguards as though they weren’t there.

Once he saw him, the Black Prince wanted to leave. Vakarion had been trapped in an elven form by the collar. He was handsome, with angular features, almond eyes, and an athletic form, though one would barely know that with the years worth of dirt, filth, and blood he was caked with. Wrathion was ashamed of the way he treated a member of his own flight, corrupted though he had been. He had to be here though.

“Vakarion, I have need of you, and your abilities.” Wrathion said, now forgetting every word he’d prepared for this scenario. The gaze of the elven form on the floor before him pierced him through.

“You needed me years ago. We needed you. But you wouldn’t be seen with us then. What has changed? What has you so frightened?” Vakaris grinned, the scales on his extremities fading back to pale skin as he stood to his full height. The screws in his collar loosened once again. Wrathion glared and lowered his gaze. Bloody arrogant dragons.

“The Legion has been vanquished.” Wrathion said.

“Do you need me to help you plan the celebration?” Vakarion snarled, a wicked smirk on his face.

“The victory was not without cost. Sargeras has potentially fatally wounded Azeroth.” As the Prince said this, Vakarion narrowed his eyes.

“I felt something, not long ago. The earth physically trembled, the mountain nearly fell in on itself, but since then, I’ve felt something else as well. A feeling like an injured and abandoned animal, sorrowful and terrified...” The prisoner said. Wrathion nodded.

“As a last act of malice, Sargeras drove his blade into Azeroth, and now she is bleeding... something. Whatever it is streams from her in abundance. The substance possesses great power, and the Alliance and Horde are already beginning to slaughter one another over it. Tensions are rising faster than they ever have before. I believe now that these two factions are a greater threat to Azeroth than any other force could be.” The Prince explained. Vakarion nodded, his look of genuine concern giving way to one of derision once he caught the Prince staring hopefully at him.

“You do need me now. That much is clear. But why would I assist you? Why should I assist anyone who would see me clapped in irons, and calcifying inside a volcano rather than assist me in battling the corruption imposed upon us by our Father?”

“Because I am so close to the world I envision. The Legion is out of the way, and the Alliance and Horde stand poised to finally end their struggle against one another. One may yet stand victorious over the other, but they must not achieve this over the corpse of our world. One will need help bringing the other down from the inside. This is why I need you. This is why I will set you free.” Wrathion explained.

“Free?...” Vakaris gasped, his voice catching in his throat. He gulped, almost tasting water again. Even hearing the word caused the air in his cell to feel cooler. Though as quickly as the relief came, it fled again. Hope was not an abundant resource in the Blackrock Depths. “You cannot mean that. Not in the way that I want it... If I was freed here and now, everyone in this mountain would die; you first of all.” The bitterness, the vitriol and loathing in his voice made Wrathion recoil slightly. Vakaris seemed to grow in height, and the room became unnaturally darker. The screws tightened slightly.

“No. I don’t.” Wrathion said. “The collar will remain, for as long as I need your services. But you will no longer remain here, under the mountain. You will walk free, but you will be in service to me until I no longer have need of you.”

“Until you no longer have need of me...” Vakaris spat. “How am I to know I won’t find my way back in here once your uses for me have been exhausted? You seem to like being an only child. You certainly seem to enjoy not being equated with your corrupted siblings.” The Black Prince glared at the elf, then exhaled and calmed himself.

“I have a peace offering. I’ve arranged for you to train among the Ren’Dorei”. Wrathion sighed.

“Ren’Dorei? Elves?” Vakaris inquired. His body visibly tensed. Wrathion grinned, knowing that to many dragons, the idea of a mortal training them to do anything was considered a most grievous insult.

“Void Elves, yes. They have managed to turn the corruption of the void into a most potent gift. I don’t doubt that among them, you could learn to do the same. I should have sought solutions to your corruption when you and the others first came to me. I have many mistakes to make right, Vakaris. I thought I knew so very much.” He said, his normally proud stance drooped somewhat. Vakarion narrowed his eyes.

“Whelps often do... There is much we both need to learn, it seems. What do you need me for, then?” the prisoner asked.

“I first want to find out which faction stands the greatest chance of victory. Who wants peace, and who is most prepared for war? Who would profit from it perpetuating, who has a mind twisted toward genocide, and who simply wants to fix our world? The Ren’Dorei have sided with the Alliance, so you will start your work there.”

“So I’ll be beheading snakes then... Well that does sound like a good deal of fun.”

“I thought you might say that. When dead bodies start showing up, make sure the opposing factions are implicated. We don’t want these deaths to look like accidents. Show them that war is upon them. Make them prepare. Show them the impotence of civility. When you find any who wish to unite for peace, and to heal Azeroth, report them to me. I will reach out to them personally.” Wrathion stated. Vakaris nodded.

“Understood. Now let me go.” Vakaris tugged at the chain attached to his collar.

“Do we have an agreement?” Wrathion asked. Vakaris turned to him and regarded the Prince for a moment. He then nodded.

“We do. I will do as you ask, I will learn with the Ren’Dorei, and then I will be free.” Vakaris spoke, his deep voice lowering at that last part, and he crouched to be eye-level with Wrathion, extending his hand. The Prince shook it, watching Vakaris’ eyes warily for a moment. Satisfied with what he saw in them, he turned to the door.

“Grimstone. I am freeing this one. Bring the keys.” There was an incredulous sound from outside the cell, followed by the jingling of keys. The dark iron dwarf came tromping into the cell and handed them to Right, who approached Vakaris slowly. The prisoner waited, his eyes closed until he felt the chain slip free from his collar. He swayed a moment, the lack of nourishment finally showing. Left made to catch him, but he raised a hand and shook his head. All watched the dragon a moment, and all but the Black Prince took a step back. Wrathion instead approached him, clapping him on the back.

“Come Vakaris. You need a bath, and I’m guessing, enough food and drink to fill a pandaren belly for a week.” He said with a wicked laugh. Vakaris glared at him a moment, the look in his eyes seemed to measure his options. Finally he sighed and nodded.

“Indeed I do.” He said, before being led from his cell. As he left the chamber, he looked down the corridor at all of the other cells. Each one was just like his own; locked and rusted shut.The Black Prince clearly didn’t have any use for any of his other siblings. Vakarion vowed to learn what he could from the Void Elves, to master his corruption, and to free himself. Once he was free, he would return here, free his family, and they would all delight in destroying the whelpling Prince.

#World of Warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord #Wyrmrest roleplay #wyrmrest rp #void elf #bfa spoilers #wow bfa #wrathion #black dragon #dark iron dwarf #fanfic #wowfanfic #battle for azeroth

15 notes · View notes

bigherosixfeels · 7 years

Note

Idk how you feel about Honeybi; Maybe just a fic where the team is on a mission w/ Wasabi and Honey paired in an area together, they're both crushing on eachother and are nervous but still try to focus at the task. It seems quiet and perfect actually for some time alone together, but a sudden attack has one of them slightly injured (Your choice of who). In a state of rush in which they have to take cover, one of them takes their own headband and uses that as a bandage for the other.a sweetmoment

Aww this is so cute!

A Mission To Remember

Fandom: Big Hero 6

Rating: K+ (blood mentions)

Characters: Wasabi, Honey Lemon, Hiro, Baymax, Gogo and Fred

Word Count: 1,706

Summary: @derpam makes it clear :)

Sometimes things didn’t align quite the way they should. Or moreso the way Wasabi hoped they would. Like the way assignments would overlap each other or when his tools had been unorganized because someone didn’t put them back in the proper spot. And more recently how he got interrupted right before he was about to confess his feelings for Honey Lemon.

What took weeks for him to accept were romantic feelings and over a month to work up the courage to ask her out all got put on pause. He managed to walk over to her area of the nerd lab, stuttering a hello before Hiro announced they had to go. A villain was loose in some abandoned building they had to put a stop to whatever they were up to. Of course it had to be now of all times.

To say that Wasabi was aggravated was an understatement. He didn’t get to finish his conversation with Honey Lemon and now they all had a villain to catch. In a creepy, vacant building. Great. Trying his best to focus for the sake of their mission, he decided the best idea was to not even think about Honey Lemon. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Meanwhile, Honey Lemon snuck glances at Wasabi while he wasn’t looking. She was beyond curious as to what he was going to talk about with her earlier and hoped they’d get to finish talking later. She assumed it had something to do with a project, but a part of her couldn’t help, but wonder if it was about something else.

There was no hiding the fact that she had been crushing on Wasabi for quite some time now. She had been trying to figure out a way to tell him for awhile, but she either got too shy or too caught up in her own work. Being on a mission wasn’t ideal, but it was part of their job as superheroes. And for the time being, that had to mean not thinking about how much she adored Wasabi.

“Alright, this is a three story building,” Hiro began. “Let’s split up into teams of two. I’ll stay here with Baymax on the first floor.” The youngest member paused for a moment. “Gogo and Fred, you take the second floor. That means Wasabi and Honey have the top floor.”

“Got it!”

“Alright, let’s do this!”

As Gogo and Fred quickly made their way up the second floor, Wasabi and Honey Lemon shared a quick glance with each other, before turning away. Both of them began to feel a sudden heat flowing on their cheeks. So much for ignoring each other.

Trying not to raise too much suspicion as to why they weren’t as eager, Wasabi made a beeline for the stairs. Honey Lemon trailed closely behind, following him up each step until they finally made their way to the third floor. They each surveyed the area, taking note of the amount of boxes laying around. Pieces of paper covered the tile flooring, some of which had letter and number coding printed on them. It took a moment for Wasabi to realize that it was freezing in this room. He looked over his shoulder at Honey Lemon, noticing that she was holding onto herself.

“So…is this place freaking you out too?” Wasabi asked, trying to be as casual as he could.

Honey Lemon nodded through the chills attacking her body. Both out of fear and from the cold. The lack of enthusiasm from the usually bubbly girl had Wasabi worried. As much as he was trying to get through this mission, he couldn’t just ignore her. They were friends. That was something he could always be certain about whether they shared mutual feelings or not.

Sighing, he walked over to Honey Lemon, wrapping an arm around her delicate shoulders. He was grateful for the room having such dimmed lighting so he could hide his flushing face. It was only when Honey Lemon leaned into his touch that he began to feel lightheaded. Looking down at her, his lips formed an unstoppable smile. He saw everything about her that he admired. Her beauty, her kindheartedness, her ability to make any moment brighter. Holding onto her felt so right even if the mission was more important.

Yet, maybe this was the right time. Wasabi had to admit that the setting wasn’t exactly the most romantic place of scenery to confess, but it felt right. They were alone and he had her full attention. This was definitely the perfect moment.

Wasabi cleared his throat. “Honey?” He asked in the most gentle, sincere voice he could muster.

Honey Lemon looked up at him, her big, green eyes sparkling as she caught the sight of Wasabi’s disarming smile. She loved that smile of his. “Yes, Wasabi?”

“I–”

Suddenly, everything went downhill. The duo had become so caught up in the moment together, that they didn’t hear the villain approach. They didn’t hear the footsteps coming from the stairs. However, they did hear a terrifying yell right before Wasabi was charged into. He didn’t have time to react; Wasabi instead crashed into the wall before falling over.

This unseen turn of events had Honey Lemon in action. Her fast fingers typed in elements on her purse, making chem-balls second by second to aim at her target. She continued to charge at the villain, throwing more balls, but sadly to no avail. The villain was too quick at dodging and made a hasty retreat back down the staircase. Before Honey Lemon could follow, she heard a concerning groan from behind her. Wasabi was still on the floor, doubled over in pain. “Wasabi!” She yelled. She had never seen him in so much agony.

Running over to him, she tried to examine just how bad he was. He was still conscious to her relief, but what had her worried was how he was holding his arm. She hoped it was nothing too bad, but gasped seeing the sight in front of her.

Wasabi was bleeding.

It was nothing that couldn’t be taken care of, but the cut on his arm was deep and the bleeding didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon. Thankfully, it wasn’t too big either, but the amount of blood still dripping undoubtedly had Honey Lemon’s heart racing. She took a look around the room, seeing if anything could be used as a temporary bandage. So far, nothing was around that could work, but then something clicked with her.

Taking off her helmet, Honey Lemon removed her headband, carefully wrapping it around Wasabi’s wound. She tied it tight enough to hopefully put enough pressure on the injury. “Wasabi?” She asked, hoping to get him to talk. “It’s going to be okay now. How are you?”

He groaned in response. His first attempt to sit up didn’t work so well, so Honey Lemon assisted him. “Doing great,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “This is so great. I’m injured and every time I try to tell you that I like you, something goes terribly wrong.”

Again, Honey Lemon gasped, but in a far more excited manner. Did she hear Wasabi correctly? “You like me?” She questioned, hoping she wasn’t hearing things.

Wasabi raised a brow, confused at first, but then he realized what he had said. As if things couldn’t get any worse. He finally told Honey Lemon how he truly felt for her, but this is not the way he wanted to do it at all. He pictured it in a far better place and he certainly didn’t imagine being injured on top of it. Was it too late to pretend that his injury was making him say things?

However, when he looked into Honey Lemon’s hopeful eyes, he knew he had to be honest with her. He had been wanting to tell her all day and now that he finally did, he couldn’t take it back just because the moment wasn’t perfect.

“…Yes,” Wasabi confirmed, forcing a smile through the aching pain surging around his arm. “I-I do.”

The smile on Honey Lemon’s face was unlike any other smile he had ever seen before. It was big, wide and honestly…insanely irresistible. It was enough to make him have a genuine smile and whatever amount of pain he was feeling he couldn’t. All he could focus on was that gorgeous smile of Honey Lemon’s which somehow grew as she giggled.

“Wasabi, that’s so sweet!” She tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear, becoming nervous thinking about her own feelings for him. Butterflies found their way into her stomach as she thought about what she wanted to say. “I have something I need to tell you too.” Slowly, she placed one hand on Wasabi’s shoulder and the other on his jawline. “I like you too.”

Wasabi was taken aback, surprised to say the least of this outcome. He had himself prepared for rejection. He was ready for her to say that she wanted them to stay friends. He expected nothing more than that. This…this was far better than he ever anticipated.

“Yeah?” He wondered, chuckling as Honey happily nodded. “Hey, I guess today’s not so bad after all.”

“I’d say so.” Honey Lemon’s smile faded into a small frown. “I really wanted to tell you before, but I didn’t know how to say it. I guess the moment wasn’t right.”

Wasabi chuckled a little louder this time around. “From what I’ve learned today, there isn’t a right moment.”

This brought back the smile on Honey Lemon’s face. She relaxed into the hold Wasabi managed to maintain with his one good arm. Although they had a mission to worry about, it was far more important for the others to get to them and help Wasabi. For the time being, a little alone time didn’t hurt.

“So…I guess this means we should go out sometime,” Wasabi stated, now feeling much more confident than he did a couple minutes ago. “Does Saturday evening work for you? I mean, that is if we don’t have to go on another mission.”

Honey Lemon laughed, lifting her head up towards Wasabi’s. She leaned in, planting a soft kiss against Wasabi’s cheek. “Works for me.”

Awww I think this turned out to be really sweet and cute and fluffy!!! I really hope you enjoyed reading it :D I hope I wrote a Honeybi fic well since this is my first time doing so. Thank you @derpam for the request! :)

#fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfiction #bh6 fanfiction #big hero 6 fanfic #bh6 fanfic #honeybi #wasabi x honey lemon #honey lemon x wasabi #wasabi #honey lemon #big hero 6 #bh6 #ship fic #derpam #blood tw

37 notes · View notes

feywildatheart · 6 years

Text

Nenîth,

I suppose it’s only fair, after bookending my last letter with all that fretting about Pika, that I let you know about the developments on that. Because there have been…developments. Rather surprising and startling developments.

Apparently Pika’s friend, Snapdragon, the one who swept into Mir and tidily dealt with the Yeruses, suggested to her that I could use some social graces. Well, the phrase Pika used was ‘daisy-chaining’, but I gather it means about the same thing. And all this scary talking and demanding of lists has been part and parcel of that, and also because she thinks people will see me being unsure of that and take it for weakness, and want to take advantage of me. And I mean I guess I can see her point, except that I’d think they’d be pretty quickly taught otherwise once I drew an arrow on them, or they found themselves facing down a growling Squirt. Also I still think that there’s something to be said for an enemy underestimating you, but— well, we’re still debating that one. We’re debating a lot of things, actually, but it’s good. She seems, if not glad for the debate, then at least accepting of it, and I for one am proud to have found that I’m able to stand up to her and say it (…write it) when I don’t agree with her, instead of just letting myself being intimidated into silent agreement. I think she’d be proud of it, too, if she were the kind of person who’d say so. She doesn’t seem the sort to think that swallowing one’s opinions is a virtue.

We were supposed to meet yesterday morning for some sparring practice, but when I sought her out after finding the gym empty she said she’d contracted a terrible cold and sent me away, as she intended to spend the day at Sumula Station’s day spa. I’m trying not to feel a little bit like maybe she changed her mind about mentoring me — colds can happen to anybody, after all, and I don’t think she’d lie to us. Not about something like this. I hope.

It was still very early, as we were meant to meet at dawn, and without the prospect of sparring practice before me, I wandered off to find some coffee and a place to sit with Squirt until we’d finished waking up. The viewport in the Legacy proved as quiet and peaceful as I might have hoped, and we stayed there, listing a bit against each other, until morning had come properly and Elyn found us there, having been turned away by Pika in a similar fashion, and then finding my room unexpectedly empty. We figured we might as well take care of some errands we had left unfinished from the day before, and started off with going to “I Don’t Give a Crepe” to check on Bizza and make sure he’d been able to get a decent night’s sleep at last.

He was glad to see us, and looked a far cry better than he had the day before, and fulfilled his promise of free crepes and assured us that the station security had the investigation well in hand, though then he asked if we might assist in their investigation into whether his horrible ex had given him the heartstone knowingly, or only accidentally. Elyn and I scarcely had to confer before agreeing — and promising to rough him up, too, if it turned out he deserved it.

(I think the only one of the three of us who set much stock in that ‘if’ was Bizza. Elyn looked as ready to punch this guy as I was.)

While we ate, Elyn identified the envelope of powder that we had left from the hag’s possessions, and said that it was dust of disappearance, and could make a group of us invisible for a time, which seems a very handy thing to have in our possession.

Once we’d finished breakfast, we took our leave of Bizza and headed out. We found a gemsmith to sell the hag’s moonstone and jasper to, and I let Elyn handle the negotiations on that, but we received a hefty sum for it and Elyn seemed pleased with the deal. After that, we set ourselves to disposing of that horrible soul bag. Elyn found a temple for the Undying Court, whatever that is, but she seemed to feel they could be trusted to take care of it appropriately, and so we left it with them, and then headed off to Pack and Tack to pick up Squirt’s barding, which is just as lovely as he deserves. He’s still a little unsettled by it, but I remember how strange it was myself, when I was first getting used to the stiffness and weight of armor. I think it’ll only take a little time before he’s grown accustomed to it, and I promised him I wouldn’t make him wear it all the time, only when there was a chance of danger. He seemed happy enough at that, and so we set off to follow up on the information Bizza had given us about his ex, and where to find him.

He’s an instructor in spaceflight mathematics, apparently, named Istoren Venarneth, and he was in his office when we knocked on the door. He seems somewhat older than Bizza (though of course, he’s an elf, so it’s hard to guess how much) and entirely too pretty, and I disliked him immediately on that much alone. But when Elyn started talking to him, telling him we were friends of Bizza’s and we were worried about him and his health, and making like we didn’t know anything about the necklace or the hag, Istoren was all sweetly regretful to hear that and musing that perhaps it was the stress of the break-up, and it was all I could do not to draw an arrow on him right there in the middle of his office, because it was so obvious it was all just lies. Obvious to me, even, and it’s not as though I’m the first to notice when someone’s being deceitful. Honestly, if he’s going to bother lying he should at least try to be good at it.

Elyn lost her temper, then, and stopped the charade that we didn’t know what was going on and cast Vicious Mockery and told him he was an incompetent asshole because the hag was dead and Bizza was going to be fine, and then started to stomp out.

But Istoren seemed taken a back and even genuinely surprised by that, and so we hesitated, suspicious, and Elyn hit him with another Vicious Mockery, which I can say I truly delight in seeing her wield. And that, finally, was enough to get him to start talking, and talking truly, and he said that he’d bought the necklace for Bizza thinking that it was only cursed (Only! Honestly, what a horrible man, and to someone as lovely as Bizza is), and had no knowledge of a hag.

Elyn was glorious in her anger, and told him that he could either call the station security himself, or we’d be happy to escort him to them and continue our conversation along the way, and he was scared enough of us that he chose the former, wisely. We waited outside his office to be sure he wouldn’t try to run before they got there, but before we left I told him I’d promised Bizza I’d do something, and I punched him square in the nose! I didn’t even expect to hit, it was just the point of the matter, but I made it bleed and everything. I wish Pika’d been there to see it.

The police didn’t take long to arrive, thankfully, and when they declined Elyn’s offer to cast Zone of Truth on Istoren, we took our leave and left him to them. It seemed a little early to go back to Bizza’s again, so instead we decided to go see a music festival we’d heard of the day before.

Elyn rather quickly found a group of musicians to play with and seemed to be enjoying herself very much. She apologized once that it wasn’t the right sort of environment for me to join in with my aedlira, being an enclosed space station with no breeze for accompaniment, and tried a few times to convince me to sing, but I assured her she and everyone else there would all enjoy themselves much better if I did not. Elyn and her gloves seemed to attract a fair amount of attention, and more than a few of the onlookers left some coins as a tip for her, and she seemed invigorated and well-pleased by the time she took her leave from them and we continued on back to Bizza to tell him about what had happened, and to pick up some lunch to take and eat in the station’s atrium.

It wasn’t easy news to deliver, and I think Bizza took it as well as could be expected, though of course he was distraught to learn that a person he’d cared for had knowingly tried to curse him. Even if he truly had been ignorant of the hag, what sort of a person does that? And to someone as lovely as Bizza is, no less. Elyn had the good sense to invite him to lunch with us, and to tour the atrium, and then suggested we follow it all up by getting very drunk, which we both quite readily agreed with, and we convinced Bizza to take some time off, as well.

The atrium was lovely, and Elyn and I kept Bizza distracted with all sorts of conversation, and it seemed to perk him up by the time we’d finished our meal. As we gathered our things and started out in search of somewhere to drink, I caught a flash of movement and realized that some of the trees we’d been walking through were moving. I caught my breath, and Elyn’s arm, and pointed them out to her, all filled with awe, which turned almost straightaway into horror when the one I was watching suddenly swung a branch at a passing man.

Elyn and I ran to help and found three trees around a fountain had all animated and were attacking passersby, with a fourth scorched and motionless. Of course, he jumped in straightaway to try to fight the trees off and protect those around who had been less prepared for a fight than we were. A few others who had been nearby and heard the ruckus came to help as well, and we managed to defeat them all, though it was a chaotic fight and Squirt took a blow that had him staggering, at least until Elyn healed him, may Cernunnos bless her and all her endeavors. To make things even more confusing, halfway through the fight one of the trees started shouting in Halfling. I tried to converse with it, but it was scarcely coherent, just going on about wanting to hurt and kill, which was alarming, to say the least.

It wasn’t long after we’d defeated the trees when the station police arrived, drawn no doubt by the shouting and screaming, and Elyn realized that the magic in the area felt like some sort of distorted attempt at an Awaken spell, which at least explained why the trees incongruously spoke Halfling — it must have been a halfling who’d cast the spell. When I said as much, one of the clerics who’d come to help in the aftermath got a look like she’d suddenly put things together, and spoke to a guard, and not long after a young halfling woman came running up to the group of us, falling all over herself with apologies.

It seems she’s a graduate student working on developing a form of Awaken that required less energy, and had forgotten that the music festival was happening, and the confluence of the two managed to warp the spell and make it go awry. I thought doing such an experiment during the day when there were people about to be injured was a foolish choice, festival notwithstanding, and I said as much to her. She seemed to feel terrible, if I’m honest, but I was still remembering how hard Squirt had been hit, and you know how there’s no controlling my temper where he’s concerned.

Still, with the threat gone and the police there to handle the issue, and clerics there to handle the healing, we all quite readily headed off for those drinks that we’d planned, and were now even more in need of than we had been. Elyn seemed horrified when she learned I’d never had fancy cocktails before, and simultaneously delighted to find herself with the opportunity to introduce me to them, and I will say, the ones I had were quite appealing, and we all drank far more than we probably ought to have, and got ourselves well and truly drunk.

I can’t remember much more than a blur after my second cocktail, but I do know that we had a fine time, the three of us together, and I taught Elyn to dance while I still had enough sobriety left to not trip over my own feet while showing her the steps. She taught me how tieflings dance in turn (though not, I’m afraid, before I made her cry by asking her to teach me how gnomes dance. It figures that that’s one memory the drinks didn’t manage to erase from my memory, when I rather wish it would have).

Bizza fell asleep on the bar early on, and we left him to it because he needs and deserves all the sleep he cares to get, the poor man. We eventually did have to wake him to get him home, and to propose that we spend the night on his couch rather than trying to return to our own rooms when neither of us were in any shape to make it. Squirt was very patient, letting us ride him in turns as we staggered off to Bizza’s quarters, and we all fell asleep straightaway, and woke this morning with terrible hangovers. Bizza opened the shop up long enough to make us breakfast crepes to bring back to Pika, which were more of a bribe than I think any of us would care to admit. We’re just waiting for her to wake now, so we can give them to her, and hopefully she will be feeling recovered from her cold, and charitable enough not to scold us too forcefully for our misadventures in her absence.

We’ll be leaving Sumula Station today, and continuing on our way towards Velid-Kerverion, and I think a day spent with nothing more pressing to do than stare out the Legacy’s viewport as the station fades away and space envelopes us is precisely the sort of thing we all need, after yesterday.

I’ll write you again when I can, and when there’s something worth writing about. In the meantime, be well.

All my love,

Maliah

#in character

1 note · View note