#and asked for the manager quite forcefully which made me blank and then she thought i was lying and pretending to not know my manager

[snorlacroix]

why are customers so bad. why are they so mean. why do they assume the worst when I am literally just trying to get my $10 an hour

#a customer thought we were talking shit abt her in the drive thru (literally just talking about learning languages) #and asked for the manager quite forcefully which made me blank and then she thought i was lying and pretending to not know my manager #so then like a half hour later she came in to complain and get a refund and called me rude when I greet literally every customer nicely #and she might make a complaint about me and i literally didn’t fucking do anything #I had an airpod in and she might add that to the complaint which stresses me Out

[timelesslords]

surprise! Under Freezing Stars Chapter 31.5

Remember how on monday I said there might be a surprise with the regular update? Well this is it! I had a feeling people were going to want to see this particular scene play out and since Annabeth wasn’t conscious for it I gave writing from Percy’s perspective a go. It didn’t quite fit in the main narrative and I didn’t want to deviate from Annabeth’s perspective in the main fic, so I’m only posting it on tumblr as a bonus scene. 

This takes place immediately after chapter 29 but you should read it after you read chapter 31. The scene is below the cut to avoid accidental spoilers. Enjoy!

For a few horrifying moments, Perseus thought that he’d been too late. 

He should have never turned his head when the jar broke, never let Annabeth go off without him. By the time he’d realized she was gone, stumbling forward like some invisible force was compelling her, she was already too far to hear his broken warnings. 

He’d barely managed to grab her, to jolt her eye line from the worst of the goddess’s form, before she’d collapsed. 

Perseus caught her before she could hit the ground, but those scarce moments it took to lower her to the floor and check her pulse were some of the most terrifying of his life. 

His own heart seemed to skip several beats before he confirmed that hers was still beating, however weakly. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes closed. Perseus had gotten there in time, but she was going to slip away if he didn’t do something, and fast. 

He already knew what she needed. He’d known from the second she’d collapsed. 

The dust was still settling, but he could hear the desperate calls of the others from across the split he’d made in the floor. The earthquake had been an accident, and he still had no idea how the others had made it in the cavern at all, but right now he didn’t care about either of those things. 

“Fai!” he called out, coughing as falling dust caught in his lungs. 

Fai had the nectar. Fai could save her. 

It would come at a cost, a steep one. There was something unbearable in knowing he was taking the choice out of Annabeth’s hands, but there wasn’t a way around it, not if she wanted to live. He was fully aware that she might hate her for it, but right then, watching her life force slip away with each unsteady beat of her heart, Perseus didn’t care. 

She could hate him forever, never speak to him again, as long as she was alive. And if the others had a poor reaction… 

Perseus steeled himself. He had Riptide. There was no water nearby, but he could cause another earthquake if he had to. Gods knew he was desperate enough to, even after how much energy the last one had expended. 

Over the past week he’d come to consider these people his friends. He even cared for Piper, who he was fairly sure hated him. He didn’t want to fight them, and he prayed he wouldn’t have to— but he wouldn’t let Annabeth die over something so asinine as Roman law either. 

“Fai!” He called out again, his throat still burning from the dust he’d inhaled before. He was starting to panic now, terrified that Fai couldn’t hear him. He could carry Annabeth closer, but he couldn’t take her across the crevice he’d made in the ground, not by himself—

“Perseus!” 

Relief washed through him, closely followed by dread. It had been Jason’s voice that had responded, not Fai’s. But Jason could still get over the gash in the floor.  

“Help!” he screamed anyway, “Over here!” 

Every second that passed before Piper and Jason stumbled out of the dust and darkness into view felt like an eternity, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. There was barely even time for the shock to register on their faces before Fai and Hazel followed behind, Fai shifting back into his human form from some winged animal. 

“Annabeth!” 

Piper surged forward, but Perseus could only look at Fai, desperately searching for the leather pouch that Perseus knew he’d been carrying, that Fai had to be carrying. And it was there, strapped to Fai’s belt. Perseus almost cried in relief when he saw it. 

“What the hell happened?” Jason asked. He was kneeling beside Annabeth, across from Perseus, two fingers on her wrist. His expression looked the same as it always did, hardened and neutral, though he couldn’t hide the shake in his voice or in his fingers. 

“She looked, she looked when the jar shattered,” Perseus said, trying to ignore how his voice was shaking too, “She needs—“

“She looked?” Hazel cut in, horrified, “How is she still alive?” 

“I blocked it, right before the end, but she— she—”

Perseus felt bile rise in his throat. He swallowed it down. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but the words were sticking in his throat. Annabeth’s hand was starting to grow cold. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it.

“She what?” Piper asked, desperately. She was kneeling beside Jason. Perseus had no issue reading the fear that was spelled plainly across her face. 

“She needs nectar. Right now,” he said, preemptive dread pooling in his stomach. 

He knew he should be paying attention to Jason and Piper, that their reactions could make the difference in this moment, but Perseus found himself looking at Fai instead, silently begging him to understand.

Unlike Jason and Piper, Fai hadn’t kneeled down next to Annabeth. He was still standing, frozen almost, expression a mix of confusion and fear. He made no move to unfasten the nectar from his belt, and neither did Hazel, still standing next to him. She looked just as shocked.

“She can’t have nectar, she’ll die,” Piper said. Looking back down at her, Perseus was almost surprised to find bewilderment on her face. He’d expected anger, but maybe that would come once she understood. Jason didn’t react at all, or if he had Perseus hadn’t seen it. 

“No, she won’t,” Perseus said. The words were coming easier now, maybe fueled by desperation, or maybe just because the initial seal had been broken. There was no going back now. 

“She’s a half-blood. She’ll survive it— she needs it.” 

“She’s mortal,” Jason said, somewhat forcefully. 

“No, she’s not—” Perseus started, but he never got the chance to finish. 

“Of course she is,” Piper insisted, “She is mortal, she’s said so a hundred times, why— why would you say that?” 

Tears were starting to pool in Piper’s eyes. Jason was finally starting to look scared, or at least Perseus thought so. He’d never had much luck reading Jason’s emotions before, but he could at least tell that something in his expression had changed. 

Perseus looked back down at Annabeth. Her chest seemed to rise less with each passing breath, and his own felt like it was shortening with it. He could sit here and argue with Jason and Piper all day and they still wouldn’t believe him— not without her word. 

Or not without the whole truth.

There was no time to be delicate about it. He was going to have to tell them everything, explain everything.

He made a silent apology to Annabeth before speaking again. 

“Because she lied to you,” he said, looking back up, “She thought her mother was Minerva, she didn’t see another choice. Can I have the nectar now, please.” 

Perseus reached out desperately, ignoring the shock on Jason and Piper’s faces, but Fai still didn’t move. He was frowning, confused. 

“But Minerva—” Fai started, hesitating like he wanted to take a step back. 

“That’s not possible,” Jason cut it, shaking his head, “Minerva, she can’t—”

Perseus bit back a curse. That had been the wrong move, the wrong calculation. They all clearly understood the implication of what Perseus had just said, and it seemed to be bothering them exactly as much as Annabeth had predicted. He wished more than anything that Annabeth was here and awake— she would have known exactly what to say, which risks to take and which secrets to hold back. But if she were awake, Perseus wouldn’t be in this gods forsaken mess in the first place.

He felt his hand not holding Annabeth’s tighten around Riptide. 

“No,” Piper said, shaking her head violently, “No, she can’t be, that’s— that’s insane. You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Perseus said, finally standing, Annabeth’s limp hand falling out of his. It almost physically hurt to let it go, but they were out of time. He held out his free hand to Fai, the other still gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Give me the nectar. Now.” 

Something in Perseus’s expression must have been convincing, because Fai gulped, his hand shakily moving towards the pouch still fastened to his belt. Hazel just watched, her expression blank and unreadable, though her eyes followed the movement of Fai’s hand, her sword steady by her side. 

“No,” Piper said, standing now too, putting herself between Perseus and Fai. Her knife was in her hand, still bloodied from the previous battle, “You can’t give that to her, she’ll die.” 

Fai stood, paralyzed, the pouch of nectar still in his hand. Perseus couldn’t bear to look down at Annabeth again, to know if he was already out of time. 

Perseus considered telling Piper that Annabeth had already had it, but he had a feeling that would just make matters worse, add more confusion to the already chaotic scene. Instead he took a deep breath, trying to push down the insistent panic in his throat. 

He didn’t know what to say to Piper, but he didn’t have to. Jason said it for him, standing up just like the rest of them.

“She’ll die without it, Piper,” Jason said. His voice was tight, expression unreadable once more, but he seemed to have made his own calculation, and he’d decided that trusting Perseus was their only hope of getting Annabeth out of here alive. 

“Not like that, though,” Piper said, her voice wavering. She was looking back down at Annabeth, tears finally streaming down her cheeks. “You said mortals can’t drink it, you said they’d— they’d burn, she can’t die like that, she can’t—”

“Or she won’t die at all,” Jason countered. He was looking at Perseus, like he was trying to search for something. Perseus suddenly got the feeling that this was not as much news to Jason as it was to Piper. 

“She’ll live. She needs it to live,” Perseus said, holding out his hand yet again.

Piper gave Perseus one last look, like she was still considering stabbing him right in the stomach. Then she allowed herself to be pulled away by Jason, her knife subtly confiscated seconds later. She almost seemed not to notice, still staring at Perseus.  

Fai, still statue-like, suddenly came to life, handing the pouch to Perseus, who took it carefully and quickly. He lowered it to her mouth, cradling her head against his knees as he poured the golden liquid into her mouth, letting it trickle down her throat. There was still a mouthful left in the pouch when he finished, but he used more than maybe he should have. It was hard not to when she was so weak— so close to not breathing at all.

For a couple of agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Then Annabeth gave a shuddering gasp, color flooding back into her cheeks. Her eyes didn’t open, but Perseus could already see her breath returning more fully, could feel her heartbeat growing stronger beneath his fingertips.  

Perseus almost choked on his relief. He half wanted to burst into tears— he could feel them rising in his throat, an uncomfortable lump forming there. But he couldn’t afford to lose control, not yet. 

He looked up at Jason and Piper, still standing over the scene, still with Jason half-holding Piper back. Jason had a grim look of understanding on his face, Piper looked like something had broken inside of her. 

“I don’t understand,” she muttered, tears shining in her eyes. They looked darker than Perseus had ever seen them, irises almost as black as her pupils. 

“What did you mean before, when she said she thought her mother was Minerva?” Jason asked, his eyes finding Perseus again. They were steely blue as always, though something in them now felt more intense, like lightning about to strike. 

Perseus considered lying, making something up to explain the discrepancy. But he had a feeling Jason wouldn’t take well to mistruths, and he had an even worse feeling that Jason would know if he was lying.

“She… she believed that for a long time. That’s why she didn’t tell you. But her mother isn’t Minerva at all, it’s— it’s Athena.”

Piper didn’t seem to comprehend his words at all, just stared at him with the same broken disbelief as before. But Perseus could see the subtle flashes of understanding in Jason’s expression. 

“So she’s Greek-born. Like you,” he said. 

“Yes,” Perseus confirmed, “Athena was different. The way she had children with mortals, it was different. No oath was broken.” 

Greece was different too, Perseus thought to himself, bitterly. Even if it had been broken, they wouldn’t have killed Annabeth over it.

Jason gave him a strange look at Perseus’s words, one Perseus couldn’t quite decipher. But then it straightened, hardened. Formed back to the blank one Perseus couldn’t quite read, except that now he almost felt like he could see twinges of anger there, pressed beneath the surface.

“We need to get out of here,” Jason said, a clear indication that the conversation about Annabeth was over. Perseus couldn’t help but agree with the statement, even if Jason’s reaction worried him.

Piper still looked borderline catatonic. Hazel had a grim expression on, Fai still a shocked one. 

Perseus had a distinct feeling that Annabeth’s fate wasn’t set yet, and that it wouldn’t be until she woke up.  But for now, for right now, he didn’t care. She was alive, and he intended to keep her that way.

#percabeth #UFS

[ezrasarm]

Only You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demi fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Frankie stands up for you when Tom acts out of line.

Warnings: Conflict, Tom being a dick, swearing, ✨protective✨ Frankie, fluff

A/N: There seemed to be some interest in a continuation of More Than Friends and a thought popped into my head so here it is! This is set an undefined period of time after More Than Friends. If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious …or you have HC ideas ...or just want to scream.  AH! I almost forgot to thank @dishonouringmycow for beta reading, helping me with ideas and the ‘plot a murder’ line!

[Masterlist]

“You’re a woman, right?” Tom says abruptly from across the table a few moments after the conversation seemed to have lulled itself to a pause. Taking a few moments to notice you were in fact the only apparent woman at the table for him to be addressing, you nodded.

“Last I checked, yeah.” You laugh, as Tom hunches over a little more to look down at his drink. 

“Can I get an opinion on something?” He asks, glancing up at you as he resettled his grip on the bottle between his hands. You give Frankie, who was sat next to you in the booth with an arm looped around your shoulders a subtly confused glance to see if he knew what this was about only to get a shrug in return.

“I’ll try my best,” you say as he reaches for his phone and places it in front of you to swipe between two photos. You didn’t exactly know who they were of, but you recognized what was happening immediately. Tom had talked your ears off about his wife’s affair at this point. He was obsessed and while you, Frankie and the rest of the guys had tried to be supportive at first, it was becoming more and more of a concern to you all. You had thought you would bring it up with him tonight when you saw him but when you got to the bar and he seemed fine- cheerful even, you thought maybe he had made some progress. Maybe you didn’t need to intervene. That was until you looked down at the phone.

“Tom,” You sigh, looking between the pictures of two men you had never seen before. The ones you assumed he suspected his wife was cheating on him with. “I’m not Molly.” You say with a sympathetic look in your eye when you look up at him again.

“Yeah, yeah, but if you had to choose.“ He said, waving away your comment to swipe between the two photos for you again. To choose? Choose what? Which one seemed most likely to wear flip flops instead of sneakers? Which one you would lend a quarter for a shopping cart at the grocery store? Which one you’d choose to help you plot a murder? You knew what he meant but you didn’t see how your answer would help, or if you even had an answer to give.

“I don’t know, they’re both good-looking I guess.” You shrug. 

“Just pick one.” He insists a little more forcefully than before. You knew he wasn’t always the happiest drunk but you had never seen him this way before and you weren’t a fan.

“I think there’s a lot more that goes into your wife’s decision to sleep with another man than appearances.” You interjected. You didn’t know Molly particularly well and you weren’t defending her but you knew Tom hadn’t been acting like much of a husband in recent years and who were you to blame if she went looking for affection elsewhere.

“You’re overcomplicating the question.” He groans in frustration. “Don’t worry about Frankie, he’s got thick skin. He knows you’re looking.” Looking? Looking at what exactly? The ceiling? The ground? The bottom of your glass in hopes that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you and you might be able to drop the subject? You’d hardly noticed the way your hand squeezed Frankie’s a little tighter under the table much less if it was reassurance for him or yourself but you could feel your patience running thinner as what had started out as mild irritation morphed into sheer discomfort with the situation. 

“Tom, I know nothing about these people!” You scoff far more defensive than you had been before. You didn’t want to have to make up an answer but you were getting pretty darn close. You could understand aesthetically. Guy number one’s hair was nice to look at, guy number two had kind eyes, guy number one had a little bit of scruff that reminded you of Frankie, guy number two wore a Black Keys shirt that you liked. None of these things made you feel anything though. Not like Frankie did. But Frankie wasn’t the answer to the question Tom was pressing you with.

“No- Just at a glance, gut reaction, which one would you rather fuck?” He says and you’re not sure if your mouth drops from the shock of him asking you that point-blank or at the gall he would need to have had to ask you such a thing in front of your boyfriend but before you can even think to come up with an answer, Frankie steps in.

“Tom!” He snaps. “She doesn’t want to answer the question! Now back off.” He says quite firmly. Something you knew wasn’t easy for him given that he was a close friend and someone he looked up to. He thinks that should be the end of it but Tom is quick to try and wave it off as though Frankie was the one acting out of line.

“C’mon man! Let her speak for herself!“ He says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat a little more. 

“Tom, you’re drunk, you’re pissed off and you’re hurting but that does not give you the right to harass my girlfriend!” 

“Harass your girlfriend? All I did was ask her a question-”

“Her answer is not going to change what happened!” Frankie just shy of shouts, managing to turn a couple of heads from nearby tables. You realize now that the frustration that had been building up over Tom’s pity party for the past three months had been affecting Frankie as bad if not worse than it had you. “It’s not!” He reiterates a little quieter now as though trying to recover from his sudden outburst. “Your wife screwed another man. That fucking sucks but it’s not going to undo itself anytime soon. So I don’t know what you need to do to process that but you’ve gotta get this out of your system and figure out a game plan for what you’re gonna do next because you are making it harder and harder for us to feel sorry for you right now.” Frankie lets out a heavy sigh and a slight shake to his head when he brings the bottle that his grip had tightened on so much throughout the conversation that his knuckles had gone white, up to his lips.

You watch as Tom’s jaw ticks to the side and he smooths a hand over his face, a minuscule nod as his gaze drops to the table. The silence hangs thick in the air for what feels like an eon until Benny shoulders into the booth on the other side of you just about squishing you against Frankie who has since adopted a similar posture to Tom. 

“Who died?” He asks, tossing you a goofy look that makes a smile tempt your lips as you shake your head and Will slides in across the table from you. 

“No one.” You assure him as you graciously accept the fresh drink Will places in front of you. “Speaking of not dead... Anyone heard from Santiago recently? It’s been a while, he’s got me worried.” You say in an attempt to change the topic despite you and Frankie both knowing you had spoken to him hardly 24 hours ago. Your attention seems to slip away from the response though when Frankie’s hand squeezes your knee in a silent thank you and you let your face tug into a soft smile when you look up at him, content that you’ve successfully changed the topic and made it stick.

***

“I’m sorry,” You hear Frankie say from next to you as you make your way out the door armed with the excuse of having to work in the morning when in reality you could sense that you and Frankie both were getting a little tired of being social tonight. 

“For what?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as the cool air hits you and you plunge your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you in there.” Frankie clarifies and you find yourself stopping halfway across the slowly emptying paring lot to turn and face him.

“He’s going through a lot right now.” You reply carefully, your exasperation from earlier having worn off by now only to leave the pity you had felt when he let his gaze drop after Frankie had told him off. 

“That’s not an excuse for his behaviour though.” Frankie insists and you nod. 

“Maybe not.” You muse. “But I know how much he means to you and I don’t want to get between that.” You shrug. “He needs you.” You say. “He needed to hear that from you.” You clarify, reaching your hand out to lock your fingers in his. Knowing Frankie he’s likely beating himself up over snapping at him like that already when you’re sure his conscience should be clear. He did everything right. “Thank you for standing up for me.” You smile on a lighter note and watch as a similar expression brightens up his features.

“You know I’ve always got your back, right?” He asks and you nod in return, hardly realizing the way your feet have managed to shuffle you closer to him as he dips his head down to kiss you. You can just about feel his breath fanning your upper lip when-

Bonk

The bill of his cap collides with your eyebrow and you both break out laughing, your hand bracing you on his arm as you hunch over in hysterics and you wind up stumbling slightly with the few drinks in you before you bump into his chest which still shakes as he holds you to him in an attempt to keep you both from toppling over. You’ve hardly recovered before he musters a “Is this better?” and you glance up to see the salt-stained cap placed backwards on his head instead which only makes you burst out laughing again as you flip it around to place it backwards on your own head. 

“I far prefer being able to do this anyway.” You hum through your persisting smile when you slide your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. 

“This is a good look for you.” He teases, eyelids lazy with contentment as his hands grip your hips and tug you just a little closer to him. 

“You’re a dork.” You beam with an amiable shake of your head “Let me kiss you.” You plea and he obliges. 

You pick Frankie.

[Masterlist]

Permanent Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @dreamgirl-67 @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia @cryptkeepersoul @prxtty-boah @aliciaxglasgow @elena-myth @theocatkov @bioticgoddess @edencherries @kandomeresbitch @mrsparknuts @hayley-the-comet @rachelxwayne @thirstworldproblemss

Pedro Boys Taglist: @theravenreads @mrschiltoncat @seasonschange-butpeopledont @dishonouringmycow @deafspaceperson

Frankie “Catfish” Morales Taglist: @rebelhan @thepjofanqueen

#frankie morales x demi!reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #ace!reader #demi!reader #demisexual!reader #asexual!reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction

[harrysweasleys]

speechless // h.p

Summary: Can you do a Harry Potter x reader where reader is exactly like Richie Tozier and she defends him from Draco and his Slytherins? And Harry falls in love with her from then and everyone is teasing him?

Warnings: language ofc!!!

Word Count: 6k 

A/N: ok first off I cannot express my love for Richie Tozier enough. he’s a precious baby and I love him. also I’m so close to my next hundred! thank you all! (gif isn’t mine) xxxx

—

“Oi, mum sent me a package!”

Ron peeled open the box in front of him, repeatedly hitting Hermione in the ribs as he ripped the paper off the box, his face lighting up like a child on Christmas morning.

“I hope it’s a wig,” you piped up, “Because something really has to change about your hair.”

Ron glared at you, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor and kicking it under the table, “Ha, hilarious.”

He continued to rip at the box, eventually managing to tear it open. His eyes widened, his smile falling shortly after.

“Oh, is it a picture of yourself?” you pursed your lips and nodded condescendingly, “That’s the only thing that could have made you look so depressed.”

Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, however Ron kept a solemn expression as he took out the contents of the box, which happened to be a very old pair of dress robes — the collar was off-white and frilly and the thick sleeves were clearly moth-eaten. You put a hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, not wanting to make Ron’s mood any more sour than it was at that moment.

“Mum sent me...a dress?” Ron’s voice was defeated as he stood up, holding the dress robes at their full length.

“Wow,” you struggled to hold your laughter back, “I didn’t think anything could get worse than your hair but that’s awful.”

“Is there a bonnet?” Harry joined in on the teasing and reached into the package, taking out what appeared to just be a frilly mess, “Aha!” You grinned at Harry’s pleaser reaction.

Ron scowled at the two of you, walking away from the table and approaching his younger sister, “Ginny, these must be for you.”

Hermione started giggling, catching Ron’s attention. He peered back at her, silently asking what her problem was.

“They’re not for Ginny, they’re for you, they’re dress robes.”

Ron’s face lost all colour, making the situation a million times more amusing for you. Harry continued teasing his friend, Ron becoming more agitated by the minute. You tuned out the conversation where Hermione explained to Ron that they were dress robes, and focused on the breakfast plate in front of you, loving how every now and then Harry would nudge you and make another joke.

Ron stuffed the robes back in the box, wanting to hide them from the eyes of fellow students. Most of the Gryffindor table had seen them by now, everyone had a good laugh, but the last thing Ron wanted was to catch anyone else’s attention.

So, naturally, that’s exactly what happened.

“Weasel, what was that?”

The four of you turned your attention towards Draco Malfoy, who sauntered over to your section of the Gryffindor table with his goonies by his side.

You immediately fought the urge to stand up and punch him in the face — a natural urge when around Malfoy.

“I guess considering how poor your family is, those awful dress robes are all you could afford,” Malfoy smirked at Ron’s flushed face, which was now facing the floor.

You stood up, “Oi, we didn’t ask for a conversation with an arrogant asshole today.”

Malfoy’s eyes shot daggers at you, Crabbe and Goyle flexing their ‘muscles’ as if trying to warn you, “How dare you—”

“—talk to me, yeah, I’ve heard the speech before,” you cut him off, crossing your arms across your chest, “Now, leave, thanks. Seeing your face made me lose my appetite.”

As if rendered speechless, Malfoy rolled his eyes and stormed off, followed by his two shadows. You smirked and sat back down, continuing to pick at your breakfast silently while Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled at you.

“What’re you all staring at?” you asked, not bothering to look up.

Ron shook his head, “I reckon I’ve never seen Malfoy speechless before.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “It’s a gift, I leave people speechless.”

The three of them laughed, the conversation going back to normal as you finished off your breakfast, mentally preparing for another loooong day of classes.

— —

“There’s gonna be a ball?” you scoffed, turning to Hermione wide a bewildered expression, “We’re expected to dress up? Oh, the nightmare.”

She tried to stifle her smile so McGonagall wouldn’t call the two of you out, “It’s not horrible, is it? I think it’s about time we do something fancier here.” She glanced quickly over at Ron before turning her attention back to you. But, being as attentive as always, you caught her not-so-subtle glance.

You widened your eyes, faking a gasp, “You already know who you want to go with, don’t you?”

She shushed you quickly, trying to make sure no one heard your outburst. You could see the blush rise to her cheeks, already giving you the answer you needed. You knew damn well she had feelings for Ron, but she really did try her hardest to hide them.

“Y/N! Don’t just be blurting out stuff like that,” she forced a neutral expression, “And no. I don’t know who I want to go with. Nor does it matter.”

You nodded, not believing her, “Whatever answer floats your boat, I guess.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Well, who do you want to go with then?”

You turned away from her, eyes subconsciously darting towards Harry — who was so zoned out he didn’t even notice your glance — and turned back to Hermione, “No one. No one’s good enough, of course.”

She rolled her eyes, “I call your bluff.”

“Well call whatever bluff you want,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and turning away from her to face McGonagall, “Can’t fight the truth.”

She didn’t press the subject any further, but continued to peer at you through the corner of her eye, thankfully missing every time you looked over at Harry.

You couldn’t deny, Harry Potter was a catch. He was cute, fun to be around, and had recently fought off a dragon. I mean, the whole package, right? It wasn’t hard for you to develop a crush, the feelings came so naturally.

However, you were fairly certain the dark haired boy didn’t feel at all the same about you. He never showed interest, nor did he go out of his way to be with you. It stung a little when you’d catch him watching the perfect little Cho Chang make her way through the Great Hall, but you weren’t going to let it bring you down. He wasn’t yours, after all.

“Now, next time we meet I will be giving you dance lessons—”

You had finally tuned back in to what McGonagall was saying, trying your best to seem as if you hadn’t just floated off.

“—So, the rest of your class is a free period.”

You stood up hastily, grabbing Hermione’s wrist and walking over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, the two of them standing up and grumbling about dancing.

“Boy, oh, boy,” you let go of Hermione’s wrist and placed your hands on your waist, “A dance, huh? What’d ya think about that, Ronald? You gonna ask anyone?”

Ron’s face went blank and Hermione stomped discreetly on your foot, telling you that you had overstepped your boundaries. You hoped she’d forgive you for this.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Ron shrugged, looking between you and Hermione. You were destined to set those two up, nothing was going to stop you.

“You sure? C’mon, handsome lad like you’s gotta find a date. And you Hermione, you’re, ya know, smart and fun, don’t you want to bring a date as well?” you grinned, knowing damn well how uncomfortable you were making them. They both shifted awkwardly, stealing glances back and forth, none of them knowing what to say next. Ron’s feelings for Hermione were just as obvious, really.

“Well, I’ve made things weird, haven’t I?” you smirked, placing your arm around Harry’s neck. You ignored the way goosebumps formed at the contact, choosing to believe it was from how warm his skin was.

“Yes, you have, thanks,” Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at you.

“Apologies,” you bowed slightly, “Let’s leave them be, Harry.”

Harry, laughing and sharing a confused expression with Ron, followed you out. You took your arm away from him, stealing a glance back to see that Ron and Hermione were still standing in awkward silence, and turned into the hallway.

“Nice work, maybe they’ll finally work up their courage,” Harry grinned at you, nodding approvingly at your set up, “You’re a natural matchmaker, Y/N.”

“See, they just needed a push, is all—oof,” you were cut off, bumping forcefully into a body of someone much larger than you. Your sight went dark, the only thing you knew was that the person tended immediately upon impact.

You pulled away, noticing the deathly glare Crabbe was now sending you.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you sighed in relief, “It went dark for a second, I thought I saw the end.”

Harry coughed to hide his laughter, pulling lightly on your sleeve to tell to you walk away. His tugging only became more aggressive once Malfoy stepped out from behind Crabbe, the same pissed off expression as always laced into his features.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy,” Harry glared at him, the tension between the two of them rising significantly in a short amount of time. He let go of your sleeve, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders.

“It was unfortunate, you know, that the dragon didn’t kill you,” Malfoy said lowly, clearly loving the fact that his friends laughed at his comment. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure what they had found funny. Was it a joke? What had he said that was so funny?

Harry rolled his eyes, motioning his head for you to follow him, and so you did so without question.

“You know, I was mistaken,” Malfoy’s voice echoed down the corridor, making both of you turn around once more. You were feeling both bored and angry — it was quite a strange mix. You were used to Malfoy’s taunts, having sat by while all of your friends — you included — fell victim, but a part of you particularly hated the way he spoke to Harry.

“Oh, yeah? About what? Please, for Merlin’s sake, enlighten us,” you snapped back, “We’re just dying to know.”

Malfoy’s eyes scanned your face before approaching the the both of you one more. Harry’s shoulder was pressed up against yours and you could feel his ragged his breathing had become. Malfoy always found a way under his skin and it bothered you a great deal.

“About Potter, I actually hope you do make it to the end, it’ll make your death that much more bittersweet,” Malfoy sneered, “For those who care, that is.”

“Gee, I always believed we Gryffindors were petty but that’s a whole new low,” you smirked, taking a step forward after pushing Harry back, telling him to let you handle the situations, “You know, I’ve come to a conclusion about you, Malfoy. The reason you’ve never said anything logical in your life is because you waste your breath insulting the people that you think care about your opinion.”

“Excuse me?” you had never seen Malfoy looked more appalled than in that moment. It was rather amusing.

“Was my English not easy enough for you to understand? Point proven,” you sighed dramatically, turning away from him and nudging Harry in the shoulder, “Oh, one more thing, Malfoy.”

You turned back to face him, “suck my dick.”

And with that, you turned back and walked away with Harry by your side, neither of you wanting to turn and gauge what Malfoy’s reaction would be.

Once you two were around the corner, Harry turned to you with wide eyes and his mouth broken into a wide smile. If this was the reaction you’d get for shutting down Malfoy, you’d gladly do it any day.

“That was epic, Y/N!” his hands grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly, “I’ve never actually had anyone stand up for me like that before, what made you do it?”

“Oh — I dunno,” you shrugged, feeling quite proud of yourself, “I stick up for my friends, I guess.” Friends. How you wished Harry could be more than just your friend.

“You’re incredible,” he grinned, taking his hands off of your shoulders and shaking his head in disbelief, “You know, I think I found the perfect friend in you. I love Ron and all but that was something else...”

As he trailed off, you noticed the way his eyes darted between your lips and your eyes. Although that should make you weak in the knees, a part of you instinctively pulled away, flushing brightly at the encounter. You told yourself it was probably just the heat of the moment, the thrill of the comeback.

“Eh, no biggie,” you shrugged, “Asshole needs to be put in his place sometimes.”

You nodded awkwardly and began to continue in the path you were headed, until you noticed Harry was no longer by your side, still standing rooted where you two were not five seconds ago.

“Harry, you—,”

“I’m good, yeah,” he cut you off quietly, a light smile on his lips, “You’re the best.”

“I’ve been told,” you grinned, trying not to let his words get to you. He chuckled, walking forwards and standing next to you, eyes still staring into yours with intensity you didn’t think you could bear.

Awkwardly looking away, your cheeks heating up, you motioned your head down the hall, “We should get going before Hermione and Ron come after me like an angry mob.”

Harry nodded, eyes wide and turning away from you, shaking his head like he was clearing his thoughts, “Good point.”

And so the two of you walked off towards the common room, the silence tense and unsure, but not comfortable. Did Harry really mean what he said? Calling you ‘the best’ and all? It was flattering, especially coming from him, but did he mean it the way that you wanted to take it?

Fighting a mental battle, you stayed quiet until you reached the common room. You flopped down on the couch, nearly being hit by a firework that Fred and George were trying out in the corner of the room.

“How long do you think it’ll be before—,”

The portrait door swung open and a very flustered Ron and Hermione stumbled in, both looking tremendously irritated and uncomfortable.

Hermione stormed up to you, dragging you up by your collar, “You and I need to talk. Right now.”

Shocked by her outburst, you nodded, “If you wanted to get me alone you could have just asked—,” noticing her expression, she wasn’t in the joking mood, “Yikes, sorry, okay, let’s go upstairs.”

She continued to drag you up, the anger fueling her sudden burst of strength. You did feel kind of bad about leaving her and Ron, but it wasn’t like you openly said anything about her feelings towards him.

Upon reaching your dorm room and noticing it was empty, she shut the door and pointed a finger at you accusingly, “You. Why would you do that? That was humiliating!”

“Oh come on,” you sat on the edge of you bed and brought your legs up, sitting criss-crossed, “It couldn’t have been that bad. Did he ask you to the ball?”

“No!” she seethed, sitting down on hers as well, “All he said was that he indeed noticed I am a girl.”

Your eyebrows shot up, “Four years in and he finally notices? I knew he wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the chandelier, but wow.”

As if she agreed with your comment, the anger seemed to disappear from her face. She rushed off her bed and sat next to you, shoving you over slightly so she had space on the tiny bed.

“I think he’s already got his eye on someone. It’s not fun.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumbled before you could stop yourself. Hermione’s eyes shot up, giving you a quizzing look as you clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Oh! You like someone!” she grinned, lifting her hand to poke you in the shoulder, “You know about my feelings, I need to know about yours.”

“I don’t have feelings,” you defended, fighting back a blush and taking your hand away from your mouth, “Don’t turn this on me.”

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” she smirked. You scolded yourself for having been obvious. Of course, the ever-so intuitive Hermione would catch onto who your crush was. It was an embarrassing attempt to hide it on your part.

“Listen, Hermione,” you pointed a finger at her, “Tell anyone and during the next dinner, they’ll be serving your head on a silver platter.”

She giggled, ignoring your threat and crossing her fingers over your heart, “I won’t tell a soul.”

Squinting at her, you figured you’d be able to trust her. She had been your friend for years and kept all your previous secrets. She might be able to keep this one as well.

“Fine,” you gave in, throwing your head back in frustration, “You’re right. It’s Harry.”

She gave you a toothy grin, wiggling her eyebrows, “Now, I have to set you two up.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you shot back, pointing your finger and shaking your head, “You’re gonna take his deep-rooted love for Cho away and, well, that’s just plain rude.”

“Oh, shut up, he’s barely ever spoken to her. It’s just an appearance thing,” she waved her hand, brushing off your comment, “Besides, I heard Lavender Brown say that Cho and Cedric Diggory are hanging out.”

Not overly shocked by the information, you leaned back onto your pillows, “Good for her. Diggory is a right catch if I say so myself.”

Hermione smacked your knee, “Sit up! Listen to me, you don’t need to pout, let’s just go down there and I’ll work my magic.”

You glared at her, not utterly convinced she was able to do much, but you followed her back downstairs nonetheless, figuring it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen was that Harry would not feel the same, distance himself from you, then you’d lose Ron and Hermione as well because they were his friends first and then you’d be left alone to suffer in self despair while they galavanted in friendship—

“Hey, Harry!” Hermione greeted a little too cheerfully once you two entered the seating area of the common room. Already embarrassed by her attempt, you didn’t notice the way Ron and Harry immediately stopped talking upon your entrance, sharing a look that could only mean ‘don’t say anything.’

“Er — hi, Hermione,” Harry smiled awkwardly.

You sat down on the couch next to Ron, who was eyeing Hermione with awe. He was so smitten, it was a miracle no one else noticed the way he looked at her.

“Ron, you’re pathetic,” you leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Ask her. Don’t make me threaten you into doing it.”

Ron shot you a look, “Not bloody likely.”

You turned away, shrugging, and stared into the fireplace. Harry was seated on your other side, not saying much, but the way he kept looking over at you made you think that he did actually have something he wanted to say.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, Cho is going to go to the ball with Cedric,” Hermione said, pretending it was no biggie but checking over repeatedly to see Harry’s reaction.

Upon noticed he didn’t say anything, she leaned closer to him, “Did you hear me Harry? Cho’s taken.”

Harry looked at her, eyes darting back and forth between you, Ron and her, “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Guess that means you can ask someone else,” Hermione grinned, leaning back.

You scolded yourself for telling her. She was being ridiculously obvious and it pained you to see her efforts. Did she think this was going to anywhere?

“Er — I guess,” Harry shrugged, glancing over at you for a millisecond before turning back towards the fire, “I guess I’ll wait and see how things go.”

Your heart did a slight flip. He didn’t mention having any other girl in mind, maybe that meant he didn’t. Which still gave you a shot, technically. Even if he didn’t see you that way just yet, maybe you’d have to turn on the charm. Flirt, make him see that you were actually interested.

Granted, flirting was never really your area of expertise. You weren’t good at it, nor did you really have any experience. But maybe, just maybe, with Hermione’s strange help, you’d be able to find a way to get him to notice you.

Plan Flirt with Harry was now in action.

— —

Over the next two weeks, things had been going relatively well. Hermione had toned down her strategy and was making you seem like much more of a natural.

You and Harry had even shared a few lingering touches, whether they be your hands touching at the table during dinner, or his elbow touching yours when you were sat in the common room. Nothing overly intimate, but enough to send sparks flying through your body at the feeling.

You had also noticed the way Ron and Harry seemed to drop whatever conversation they were having when you entered the room. Sure, they could have been discussing Hermione and Ron’s feeble attempts at his own flirting, but the way Harry would glance at you during meals and classes sent your head spiralling with the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were talking about you.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but it was hard not to when the ball was getting closer by the day and neither you, nor Harry, had a date and he still hadn’t shown interest in anyone else.

“He asked me!” Hermione stumbled into the dorm room in excitement, causing you to jump out of your skin and nearly drop the book you were reading.

“Ron?” you grinned, sitting up, “Oh, that’s great, Hermione! I knew—,”

“Not Ron,” she rolled her eyes, flopping down on your bed, on top of your legs, “Viktor Krum.”

“Ohhhh,” your eyes widened, “You go, girl. Have you seen his jawline? I’d let him cut me with it, hot ass—”

Hermione laughed, pretending to shoot you a glare, “That’s my date you’re talking about.”

“Right, sorry,” you joined in on her laughter, closing your book and placing it on your night table, “But I really am happy for you.”

“Thanks,” her cheeks went pink as she turned to face you, “Can we go sit in the common room? It’s just Ron and Harry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you sighed, flicking the warm blanket off of you and following her downstairs. She was radiating joy, and even though it wasn’t Ron that had ended up asking her, you could tell she was really looking forward to this date.

“Just ask her,” you heard Ron snap quietly once you two started making your way down the stairs, “I see the way she looks at you.”

“I can’t!” Harry snapped back, trying to keep his voice down, “She can do better anyways.”

“Yeah, bloody right,” Ron scoffed, “You fought a dragon.”

“It’s not the same, Ron, I— shush, I hear footsteps.”

The two of you walked into the room, noticing once again how Harry and Ron dropped their conversation upon landing sight on you two. So, Harry already had plans on asking someone to go to the ball. It hurt, you weren’t going to deny it. Of course he had someone else. He was Harry Potter, for goodness sake. Charming, funny, loyal, and brave. All the qualities to make a girl swoon.

“What are you two ladies gossiping about?” you pretended to be fine as you sat down on the opposite couch, placing your hands in your lap and trying to steady your now irregular heartbeat. Jealousy was slowly coursing through your veins and you hated it.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, a fake look of innocence on his face. Ron nodded along, neither of them being very convincing.

“Oh, hey Y/N,” Ron smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging Harry in the ribs. Harry, glaring at his friend, gave him a nudge right back. You chose to ignore the comment, focusing more on the look Hermione was giving you.

“Hi, Ron,” you replied back, not sure why he was grinning while glancing back and forth between you and Harry. He was always very strange.

Hermione sat down on the armrest of your chair, crossing her arms and nudging you in the side, telling you to start doing something.

“Harry, are you trying to figure out the second task?” you blurted out, not sure what you could have said that wouldn’t make the situation weird.

“Of course,” Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, his eyes avoiding yours, “I think I’ve almost got it.”

You grinned, “Oh, that’s great. I knew you’d be able to figure it out.”

Hermione seemed more pleased by your comment, leaning back and letting the situation unfold.

“Harry’s real smart, you know,” Ron nudged Harry in the side again, a teasing expression on his face, “One of the smartest.”

“Thanks,” Harry glared at Ron, speaking with gritted teeth before turning back to you, his face softening, “I had help, though.”

“Modesty isn’t gonna make you win, y’know,” you smirked, admiring his honesty, “Take credit. Be proud of yourself.”

Harry’s cheeks were pink and he brushed the hair out of his forehead, “Thanks, Y/N.”

You could tell he was flustered, but you figured it was probably because of the compliments. Harry never really knew how to reply to them — you had noticed that over the years. For someone who was the bravest person you had ever met, he sure didn’t know how to deal with people.

“Oh, Ron, Ginny wanted to talk to us,” Hermione sat up quickly, clapping her hands together. Ron raised an eyebrow, questioning her silently, before standing up.

“She did?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yes! She did,” Hermione sent a discreet wink in your direction before turning to Harry, “We’ll be back shortly!”

“Well, Y/N, Harry, be safe you two,” Ron picked up on what Hermione was doing, smirking as he made his way to exit the room, “Have fun!”

Harry glanced at Ron, his eyes wide. The two boys shared a look before Hermione dragged the ginger boy out the portrait hole behind her.

“Head on a silver platter, Hermione!” you called after her, your heart beating violently, “Head on a silver platter!”

The portrait swung shut and the room went dead silent. The only thing you could hear was the thump of your heart and the sudden nervousness that spread throughout your body at being alone with Harry.

You wanted to seize the chance and make a move, but you had just heard him talk about asking a girl to the ball, so was it a good idea? Probably not.

But as you looked at him, watching the way the flames flickered across his face and the way his messy hair stuck out in different directions, it took everything you had in you to not rush over there and tell him everything.

“Can I tell you something? Don’t tell Ron and Hermione,” he piped up quietly, turning to face you, the blue of his eyes making you weak. You were thankful he spoke first, it prevented you from spilling your guts and making a fool out of yourself.

“Sure,” you replied, getting up and walking towards the couch he was sitting on, making yourself comfortable on the opposite end.

He sighed deeply, “I haven’t figured out the egg.”

“You haven’t?” you spoke, shock evident on your face. You felt bad for acting so surprised, but you couldn’t help it. He had seemed so confident when he told you he had.

He shook his head silently, shrugging, “I don’t know what to do with it.”

You blinked rapidly, turning over to face the golden egg that was sitting on the table, “Why didn’t you want to tell the others? Hermione could probably figure it out.”

He turned to you, face pale, “No, don’t tell them. I just thought I’d tell you, I don’t know, I trust you.”

You fought back a grin, hiding your smile behind your hair so you didn’t look like an idiot. He probably didn’t mean it as a compliment but you took it as such.

“Well, I’ll help you, then,” you nodded, holding out your pinky, “I know we’re not children, but I pinky promise.”

He grinned, linking your pinky with his. For someone who had been through so much, he really did have soft skin. It was annoying. Pleasant, but annoying.

“I’m glad I have you around, Y/N.”

His gaze was so intense and wholesome that you struggled to hold back.

“The sappiness is gross, but I’m glad to be around,” you beamed, pulling your pinky away and turning back to your corner of the couch, leaning your head back and enjoying the softness of the cushion, your mind going back to the conversation you had heard between him and Ron. Who was he planning on asking?

Now was your chance — now or never.

“So — uh — who are you asking to the ball?” you asked, so silently Harry had to lean closer to you to hear it.

He stammered, “Oh — er — I dunno, yet. There’s a girl I have in mind but I don’t think she sees me that way.”

Your heart sank, but you turned to face him with a neutral expression, “I call bullshit. Who wouldn’t want to go with you?”

He seemed to think over your words for a second, a glimpse of fondness on his features, but he turned away and shook his head, “She’s different.”

“How so?” you regretted it as soon as you asked, knowing Harry was about to gush about some girl when you wished more than anything it was you he’d be gushing about.

“She’s bold,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Not afraid to stick up for herself or the people she cares about. She’s smart, too, always has an answer for everything. A good friend — the best, really. And I know she’d be better off with someone who wasn’t me.”

You nodded, processing his words and trying to think of the girl he could be talking about. It completely crushed you, hearing him speak so highly of someone, but you knew that if anything, he’d be the one better off without you.

“Why’d you think that?” you began twiddling with your thumbs, avoiding his eyes, “Did she tell you or is it an assumption?”

“She didn’t tell me,” he quickly replied, shaking his head, “But she’s got such an incredible spirit, I’m worried I’d ruin it. You know, it’s funny. I always looked at her like she was just a friend, just someone that I’d got lucky to have around, but then one day, she did something, and it kind of clicked. After that, I couldn’t look at her the same. She was so much more beautiful, so much more radiant and lovely and I knew from then on that she was just... different to me. And I tried to tell myself she was never going to see me that way but the more I was around her, the harder it was.”

You bit your cheek, trying your best to hold back your oncoming emotions.

“Well, she’s lucky,” your voice was weak, shaky even, as you turned to face him.

His smile was clear as day and the love struck expression was still on his face as he turned to look at you, causing you to speak up one more, “What did she do that made you change your mind about her?”

The smile vanished from his face and the awkward expression returned. He raised his hand, rubbing the back of his neck and then through his hair, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.

He dropped his hand and faced you, all traces of amusement gone from his face, “She stuck up for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words echoing in your mind. You nearly missed his hand reaching across the couch and grabbing yours, linking his fingers and running his thumb across your skin.

Had he been talking about you? It would make sense, you had stuck up for him against Malfoy a few weeks back, but had it really impacted him to the point where he was falling for you?

You didn’t want to complain, but you couldn’t believe it. You thought back to what he said, about seeing you as a friend and then as something more, that you were different and beautiful, even. It was nearly impossible to believe him just off of his words, you had embarrassingly dreamt of him admitting his feelings and it felt too good to be true, but his gentle tough and soft gaze grounded you to reality. He was telling you the truth.

“I’m talking about you, if you hadn’t caught on,” he tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace, his nerves evident in his shaking hand and pale complexion.

You still couldn’t forumulate the words to say. For years you had always been the one to make a comeback, leaving others speechless — but now, you were the one speechless.

“Me?” you stared at him with wide eyes, heart violently thumping against your rib cage, trying to burst out and reach his, “Me?”

He retracted his hand rather quickly, “Unless — you know, unless you don’t feel the same.”

“No, wait,” you reached across and grabbed his hand, finally finding the courage to flash him a smile, “I do actually. I do feel the same.”

Relief flooded over him, his face regaining colour and his shoulders slouching back, “Oh, thank Merlin.”

The joy that had spread through you was indescribable. You didn’t think there could be a better feeling. Your heart seemed to swell and the tingling sensation in your fingers was everlasting. It was like a high you didn’t want to come down from. God bless Hermione and her intuition of leaving you two alone.

Plan Flirt with Harry had been a success.

— —

Hermione and Ron had quickly been informed of the confession between you two, both of them saying they had called it years back. Which didn’t make sense considering you didn’t have feelings for each other years back, but you let them enjoy their moment.

You had helped Harry try and figure out his second task, as promised, spending many a nights up late in the common room and telling each other things you wouldn’t tell someone if you were ‘just friends.’ You were having the time of your life, really. He had grown comfortable being intimate — holding your hand on the way to class or pecking your cheek in the Great Hall. (Hermione and Ron teased you two to no ends about it.)

Eventually, Harry had asked you to be his date to the Yule Ball — which you responded with ‘well, duh.’ So, as the night of the dance came around — you were actually looking forward to it now — you had gotten ready with Hermione and strolled down to the Great Hall, ready to finally dance the night away with the boy you had fallen for.

Reaching the stairs, you noticed him and Ron standing at the bottom, both looking out of place. Ron — donning his ugly dress robes — had worked up the courage to ask one of the Patil twins. Which one, you didn’t remember. He had asked her out of desperation, it was rather sad.

“It’s embarrassing to be seen next to you, Ronald,” you tapped him on the shoulder once you arrived at the bottom. He spun around, his face laced with humiliation.

“They’re ancient,” he groaned, lifting his arms to show you the frills.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you,” you winked and ruffled his hair, turning to face Harry.

His eyes scanned you up and down in your dress, but you were too focused on how good he looked to feel at all self conscious. You had only ever really seen him in sweaters and his Gryffindor robes. This was a whole new level of glo-up.

“You look gorgeous,” he grinned, linking his hand with yours and pulling you closer to him, “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You tossed your hair over your shoulder, grinning, “Well, what can I say? I’m a catch.”

“That you are,” he nodded, sticking out his arm for you to take, “We have first dance since I’m Champion.”

You nodded, linking your arm in his and standing by his side. You weren’t exactly a good dancer, but if you had Harry by your side you’d be too focused on him as opposed to the crowd around you.

“Shall we go in then, Champion?” you turned to face him, chin held high.

“We shall,” he replied in the same noble manner, chin up, and began leading you into the ball.

He was well worth the wait.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter one shots #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfics #harry potter x reader #harry potter reader insert

[rhmg-au]

Prequel part 1.

Thinking of some endings for the final confrontation, would try to get them out once I complete the prequel first.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Torture, blood, gore, restraints

(Mod Swanno: Edited with the read more option due to length and content!)

Eyes fluttered rapidly in the dark, the aching pain ran rampant throughout his entire body, the tears in his uniform exposing his skin to the coldness in the room from the lack of heat inside. Two figures seem to be in front of him, chatting with one another.

He let out an involuntary groan of pain, causing the two to turn to them. They look familiar.

“Awake already, Price? Thought you’d be knocked out for at least for few more hours.”

At that statement, the memories flooded back to him, as if he was in the sea in the middle of a big storm, only he was alone on a boat, the lighting and crashing waves wanting to throw him off the only thing keeping him from drowning.

The fighting, the snapping, the discovery.

———

A knock was heard on his door, he was in one of the rooms made for soldiers who needed to rest after a tiring mission or just stay for a break from their duties. His mind was wandering in its own little world, trying to think of ways to get rid of that monster he calls his general, he’s not noble anymore, after what he witnessed him doing to a Toppat, though he is a criminal, it was still so cruel to strip him of his memories and forcefully turn them to their side, and how it was carried out was…too brutal to watch or even hear for that matter. How could he live with himself after such a heinous act?

Those thoughts were carried to the back of his mind when that sound caused by a hand repeatedly hitting the door from the other side to get someone else’s attention inside.

“Rupert? May I come in?”

It’s him, it’s time to play the role of the actor again.

“You may, general.”

Galeforce entered the room as soon as the request to come inside was approved by the soldier, closing it behind him. His smile looked so normal that no one would ever guess that he did so many terrible acts behind that mask.

“What is it you need, sir?” Rupert asked, straightening his posture, and making sure to wipe his face clean from any form of an expression full of hatred. He cannot reveal his true feelings towards the man, or anyone for that matter. They can be loyalists to him, blinded by their duties to ever consider siding with him. No one is safe to talk to about his issues.

“Are you…actually loyal to the government, Mr. Price? I was informed by Dr. V that you were acting quite strange these past few days, and she has a suspicion that you’re a traitor.”

These words caught Rupert off-guard. They knew? How…how could they know? He thought he hid it so well, concealed it from everyone, how, just how?! Did someone snitch on him? “I, I am loyal sir. I was just thinking about my next missions those past days is all.” He was praying that he would buy it, he couldn’t risk to be found out of his resent. He knew it wouldn’t be anything but bad.

“Then tell me…do you know about the latest piece of technology we developed?” What was that supposed to mean? Naively, he shook his head, realizing too late that he made a crucial mistake by doing that.

Galeforce’s smile contorted into a smirk, one that is full of malice. That never meant good, at all. “A device that allows us to know who is lying by just hearing their words and their tone. Think of it like a lie detector, but a better version.” He took out the little gadget, the design was rather basic, just a square shaped piece of metal with antennas sticking out, a screen was visible with lines rapidly going up and down. Such a simple yet complex device. And it’ll be used for an occasion like this. “It’s still in the alpha stages, consider yourself honoured since you’re the first one we’re using to test it.” He took a good look at the lines. “And would you look at that, judging by the way the lines are moving, it detected that you’re lying.”

“No, no sir, are you sure it’s just a misinterpretation? An error?” Rupert knew that he was screwed, yet he still tries to deny it. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything.

“Sorry to say, Price, but Dr. V told me these lines represent when someone is lying. It is no bug for sure.”

That was the answer he was dreading to hear.

“Now, do you remember what happens to those who are traitors? Or, for you, a potential traitor? You have quite the disdain for me, and that leads to backstabbing.” Galeforce pocketed the device, that grin turning sadistic now.

There was nothing left to hide. He saw through his facade, and now he has the information that he harbours distaste for him.

“You really think I would let something like that slide? What you did was absolute torture! How could you consider yourself to be human after what’d you done?! He may have been a Toppat, but you didn’t have to go to the extreme! What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you even think about how the Toppats feel?! That you took away someone who was so valuable to them, both personally and usefully, did you ever consider that?! Tell me, was there a time you even felt some sympathy?!” He couldn’t contain his rage anymore, he had to snap. It was in there for too long for him to ever hold it back, he may hate the Toppat Clan, but even he couldn’t deny that what Galeforce did crossed the line.

Galeforce didn’t responded, instead he took a step forward. Then another one. His face blank, showing no emotion, no care, no concern, no astonishment, no happiness, only apathy. Before he eventually leapt out and attacked him, like a wild animal would when it sees potential prey.

Rupert didn’t hesitate to fight back, both of them knocked to the ground. He raised his hand to counteract the opposing one ready to strike, catching it in time before it could land a hit on his face. Immediately afterwards, he caught the other hand that threatened to finish what the other arm wanted to begin.

“You could’ve been a valuable soldier here, had you not raise this hatred inside of you.” Galeforce taunted, ripping his hand out of his grasp and grabbed his hair that still stuck out from his hat, pushing his head forward.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch you turn someone into a relentless slaughtering puppet to do your dirty work? That isn’t how anything should go!” Rupert gave him a hard punch, directly on the nose. He wasn’t sure if he broke it, but blood poured out from the openings, a good indicator to confirm his suspicions.

Galeforce didn’t get knocked out, though the sudden punch to the face disoriented him for a few seconds, giving the resentful soldier enough time to rip himself out of his grasp and push him off, making a break for it to the door.

He didn’t make it, because of course he didn’t.

He was yanked back by his uniform, the grasp so tight and so harsh that he felt the cloth made to create this suit tear, and before he knew it, he was thrown against the wall, black starting to tease around the edges of his eyes from how hard his head hit the concrete.

“It’s the least I could do, trust me, I would do much worse.” Blood dripped down from his nose, staining the floor with the crimson substance.

“I don’t need to see them to know you’re a horrible person. I’ll beat the shit out of you and I’ll expose you and your heinous deeds.” Rupert shakily got up, it was rather hard when you’re close to blacking out from a strong hit on the head, but it was manageable.

“Still being cocky as ever? That’s biggest downside to you, always so certain you can do everything no matter how impossible it may seem. How cute.” Galeforce’s smirk increased in size as he approached him, taking him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, feet barely touching the floor. The soldier threw his hands onto the wrist of the general, suffocation is very likely if he was not released soon.

“It’s…not impossible…to get you…dismissed…” With his windpipe blocked, air couldn’t get inside to his lungs, affecting his breathing and speaking abilities.

“Dismissed? Why, so many ridiculous ideas run through your mind these past few days huh?” Galeforce released his grip on Rupert, letting him fall to the floor gasping for breath for a moment.

“They’re…logical…not ridicu…lous…” Regaining his strength albeit a bit slowly, he threw his fist at the general, aiming for his chest. The sleeve on the arm of his clenched hand was caught, yanking him to his feet so violently that another tear was made in his uniform, as well as causing pain to his arm due to how hard it was pulled, almost out of its socket. It took all of his willpower and gritting his teeth to not scream from the pain travelling up the limb.

“You must be forgetting that I’m a general, the public believes me as a good-intentioned nobleman who brings criminals to justice. Nothing can ever convince them otherwise.” Galeforce brought his face close to the soldier’s, letting him see that wicked grin close up, which only succeeded in letting his glare darken. He took ahold of his arm, tightening the grip instantly, as an attempt to prevent escape.

“Not if I get evidence, your acts are inhumane, no one deserves a fate like that.” Rupert spat, bringing his knee up and kicking him right in the stomach, using all of his strength in that one blow.

This action caused Galeforce to stumble back, releasing his grip on his arm in the process. Taking this opportunity, the soldier opened up the door, running out of the room. He needed to get out of here, now.

The attempt at escape didn’t work, as the general caught up with him easily, sending him crashing to the floor as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body, He looked up, the black around his eyes more prominent.

Before his irises could see who was there, even though he already knew who, a fist collided with his head, causing the void in his eyes to finally take over.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were these words:

“Really thought you could get away? Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

———

Everything was made clear now.

“What is this place?” His voice sounded weak, probably from the lack of water. “Are you going to robotize me like Green? Is that it?”

“No, something much worse. But now that you mentioned it, it would be a great idea. For now though, we have something else planned.” Galeforce answered, that grin so sinister it might as well be considered taking a spot on the most evil smiles list, if one was created that is.

“I would like to turn you into walking weapon, but I still need to monitor Green for the time being. Consider yourself lucky.” Dr. V added, sharing the same smirk as the one on Galeforce.

Rupert tried to throw a fist in either of their faces, but when he did, his hand never moved. Instead, he was greeted with the coldness of a metal cuff holding his hand down on one of the arms of the chair he was sitting in. It’s likely his other wrist was also in the same state as his left one. Though it should’ve been expected, it still shocked him. He was being restrained.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you aren’t going to be able to leave. You’ll spend the rest of your days here rotting away while we make you realize just how stupid you are to doubt my acts of protection.” Galeforce informed, as if the feeling of the bindings on his wrists weren’t made clear to him enough.

“Protection?! You call that protection?! You hurt someone beyond the point of acceptance and you call that protection?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Despite his throat hurting after such an outburst, Rupert called him out on that statement of absurdity. Still thinking he’s a hero after everything? Even criminals don’t deserve that happening to them.

“It’s for the greater good. Besides, would you want a cyborg to be roaming free with those crooks?”

“He’s still human!”

“Criminals aren’t humans if they don’t have morals.”

“And you aren’t human if you feel no sympathy for them! Think about the hardships they went through that forced them to turn to crime and we never noticed! If anything, it’s the government’s fault!”

“…Dr. V, do your work.”

“Yes, sir.”

The blonde took out a pair of surgical scissors from her lab coat, walking over to the soldier, who is now struggling in the cuffs that held him in a one spot.

“Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” Dr. V said, holding the surgical scissors over his face for a moment before snipping a part of his skin with them, blood immediately dripping out from where she made the cut.

Rupert grounded his teeth together, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain. He knew it would only bring more trouble if he gave them the reaction they wanted to hear, so no screaming. Just endure the pain all enough for something else to occur that causes them to leave. Like boredom or duties.

When no strong reaction came from the soldier, Dr. V dug the blades of the scissors deeper into his flesh, sliding it along slowly and painfully, intending to stop at his cheek if no signs of a scream comes soon. This was only the beginning. The next stages are much, much worse.

Despite the fiery pain growing inside of him from the scissors digging into his skin, Rupert still didn’t give them what they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted so tightly together to suppress it the best he could. Blood started to leak into his mouth, that metallic taste made clear from the get go. He has to stay strong, this wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him. Seeing Dave getting fired and him going missing were much worse than experiencing torture…

Nothing, no reaction. “You’re stronger than you look. Impressive, but not too impressive.” The doctor pocketed the now bloodied scissors back into her lab coat, the remains of the crimson substance staining the white colour of the garment. She then took out a scalpel, this time instead of his face, she targeted his arm, plunging the sharp edge of the blade onto his shoulder.

The soldier bit down on his bottom lip as to let his teeth rest from the pressure they were under from grinding against each other for so long. Blood slipped out from the bottom lip due to how hard he was biting down on it, the metallic taste more prominent now.

Dr. V’s face contorted into frustration. “Don’t bother trying to hide your pain.” She advised, taking the scalpel out from his shoulder, that crimson substance affecting colour of the metal to make this surgical tool, now just like the scissors sitting inside of her lab coat. She clenched her hand into a fist and made it collide with his cheek, the one that isn’t soaking with blood from the cut. The force in the punch was hard, bound to create a bruise.

Rupert felt his head snap to the side momentarily, causing him to quickly look back to the woman in front of him. “How do you call this revenge if you only really want the Toppats?”

“Anyone who sides with Toppat Clan is called revenge.” Dr. V answered, making an incision on both of his wrists as he spoke, acting and speaking nonchalant about it. “I told you, masking your pain would make things worse. Cooperate with us.”

“You just need to give him a little push in the right direction. As I said before, he’s as stubborn as Green when he was a Toppat.” Galeforce said, his first words in a while.

“And how do you suppose we shove him where we want him to go?”

“Allow me to handle it. I’ve known him for quite a while now.”

The general stood in front of Rupert after Dr. V backed away. He leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, his breath causing a shiver to run down his spine. Surprisingly, his eyes widened at what was said, horror written all over his expression.

“Y-you, no you couldn’t-”

“Don’t worry, I trust him enough. But if I find out he’s been going behind my back…”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! It’s me who you’re mad at, so just do whatever the hell you want with me but leave him alone!”

“I will take action if that’s the case, and what can you do in your current state?”

“This.” Rupert lifted his legs up and slammed them into Galeforce’s chest, the general taking a few steps back due to the impact. Man that hurt…

He looked up after a few seconds, Dr. V coming by his side to check if he had any injuries, pocketing the scalpel beforehand. “Chain his legs too. I’m not letting this happen a second time.” He checked his belt and took a pair of handcuffs from them, handing them out to her.

Dr. V nodded hastily, snatching the restraints quickly and cuffed the soldier’s ankles to the legs of the chair, despite his trashing interrupting some of the progress. “There we go.”

“Someone will find me here, and you’ll regret all of your actions.” Rupert promised, the glare so dark you could probably see a shadow brooding across his face. He’d struggled for a little bit more before giving up, the burning pain playing a part in why he stopped.

“You are in basement of lab, no one knows of this.” Dr. V said, immediately crushing any hope that he may have. Green most likely doesn’t know of this too. “Let’s continue now, shall we?”

Before she could pull out the blood covered scalpel however, Dr. V was stopped by the sound of beeping. “One sec.” She took out the communicator she brought down here, in case of the event someone made a call to her while they were doing what they were doing.

“Hello, this is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien speaking, how could I be of service?”

Rupert saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get outside help. It doesn’t matter who it is, the Twins, Victoria, Hayden, Charles or even Green, he can get out of here if he just yells at the communicator. He hated asking for assistance for anything, if he had to be honest, but at this moment, he needed help, he can’t escape by himself.

He was about to shout, to scream, to cause a scene to get the attention of whoever is there, but at the last second, his mouth was harshly covered by Galeforce, both hands were on him to block out his cries for help. Still, he called out anyway, muffled by the hands on his mouth, barely creating any noise.

“…Ah yes, I will be at the lab Green, just come along and I’ll attend to you.” The line cut off soon after Dr. V finished her call with the cyborg.

The opportunity passed…gone.

Galeforce released his hands from Rupert’s mouth as soon as the call was finished, allowing him to take in deep breaths and finally talk properly. “I’ll…I’ll scream down here and…Green will hear me. It doesn’t matter that he’s rewired, he will notice that something’s wrong with me down here.”

“And that is why you shouldn’t speak so soon.” Dr. V said, taking a piece of cloth out from her lab coat, using it as a gag as she wrapped it around his mouth, muffling his words once again. As soon as she finished tying the knot, she and Galeforce left for the door, opening it up to reveal stairs, his only way to freedom if he can get out from this stupid chair. Light temporarily pouring into the room as it was opened up, but soon it was closed, denying any  light from projecting itself into the room, leaving him in the darkness again.

What now?

———

Every passing day was torturous.

Literally.

Beating after beating, his blood spilling out from his system, eventually creating blood stains on the floor, chair and his uniform. The smell of the dried up crimson substance still lingered.

Any cry for help was muffled from the gag, guaranteeing that no one could ever find him here while Galeforce and Dr. V continued to teach him the lesson.

Every gash, every bruise, he even got some broken bones some days.

Whenever they went away, he cried and cried to himself, tears mixing in with the dried blood that stains his face. His spirit breaking down everyday. He still held onto hope, but it seems his grasp on it is fading away slowly.

“Someone…please…find me…I can’t hold out for much longer…”

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ] #[ NON CANON ] #tw blood #tw torture #tw gore #hoooHHH BOY!!! HOLY SHIT - MOD - [ SWANNO ] #submission

[athenril-of-kirkwall]

More Solavellan smut, because you all love it, babe!

Solavellan, “Healthy Disagreements” (AO3) [Explicit]

Solas was in his study, set on the lowest floor of the library rotunda that was adjacent to the main hall in Skyhold, poring over some sketches he’d made of the frescoes he’d observed at that lost temple of Dirthamen which he, Rivka, and the others had explored not a week past following his research into the glyphs they’d found amongst scattered ruins in the Exalted Plains whilst they were clearing out the Freemen there.

He in particular was fascinated by the fact that many of the murals had in fact been not of Dirthamen but of Falon’Din, that guardian and friend of the dead. He let himself have a smirk, marvelling that the old secret-keeper would choose to hide himself behind another’s guise, even unto the very end…and beyond. He looked over their form and design carefully, looking for any variations from what he knew Falon’Din normally looked like to see if the God of Secrets’ handiwork was visible.

Casting a gaze at the oil lamp on his table, he idly wondered how long he’d been at work. Certainly it was long past the time where more sensible men retired to their quarters. But then again, he hardly felt like dreaming tonight, and Rivka had assured him, in fact multiple times, that neither he nor she would be needed for much important the next day.

So focused was he upon his task that he barely noticed her coming in, only glancing up to acknowledge Rivka’s presence as he heard the door closing behind her.

Looking back down at his sketches, he said, “Evening, vhenan. Or is it morning? I hadn’t thought you’d be up at this unearthly hour, to be quite honest. I…”

Slamming her palms on the table, Rivka violently interrupted him, saying, “It’s an hour past midnight, Solas, and I well know that because I’ve been sitting around for a full hour in my room waiting for you to come up.”

Barely even reacting to the jolt which had shaken his desk and merely noting that the oil lamp hadn’t been upset, Solas said, giving a cursory look to Rivka, “Ah, yes! Pardon me, vhenan, but I was so caught on a detail I found in my last sketch that—”

“Dread Wolf take your sketches and your murals!”, Rivka shouted, yanking them off the desk and scattering them on the floor, where they gently fluttered to land around her slippered feet. “And the least you could do is look at me when you talk to me, as well!”

Having no choice but to do so, Solas turned his gaze upwards at Rivka, noting that her usually coiffed hair was now hanging in strands around her face, and that she didn’t seem to be wearing much beyond a silken robe with a Chantry insignia on it and her slippers.

Finally, he asked, “Forgive me, Rivka. Is there something I have done to warrant…”

“I don’t think I will, and I think you have, or more accurately haven’t, Solas,” she scolded. “When I ask you to come up to my quarters for a…private meeting…I expect you to at least tell me if you’re not going to beforehand instead of wasting my time.”

Looking more closely at her, Solas noted that despite the chill of the night and her rather scant attire, she was flushed partly with anger and partly with…something else.

Comprehending some of the subtext, he said, “I am truly sorry, Rivka. I must still have failed to grasp your meaning when you did say that, and I swear that I was far too engrossed with my work to note the passing of the hour.”

Walking around the table to draw herself up to him, Rivka said, “I’m not going to accept your apology, and I’m certainly not going to say sorry for knocking all your precious drawings to the floor either, seeing as you clearly care about them far more than you do me. So, are you going to do something about that?”

“Whatever do you mean?”, he asked innocently.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Creators help me if you truly don’t get it, and may they help you if you’re just playing dumb. This is what I mean.”

Demonstrating her intent, she reached out for the back of Solas’ neck and head and pinned her lips to his, forcefully kissing him repeatedly and breaking away only to catch a breath.

“There,” she said. “That’s what I was expecting a full hour ago, in the comfort of my own room, and not in the chilly recesses of—”

She never finished her sentence as he now took the initiative, forcing her to seat upon the now-empty desk as he took his turn to land his own kisses upon her. Before she could lay back upon it or adjust her position, he grasped his beloved by her arms, his own eyes flashing lustfully.

“I think I am about to ‘do something about it’, as you’ve so nicely put it,” he hissed. “But before that, a word?”

“A word?”, Rivka asked, essentially thinking aloud before realising what he meant. “‘Ocularum’, then.”

His question was silently asked by the raise of an eyebrow.

“It’s the least sexy thing I know,” she explained. “Now, I suppose you’re going to take your anger out on me for scattering your beloved sketches?”

Answering her in husky breaths, he said, “And more. It’s remarkable—and distressing for your people as a whole—that you lived your entire life in a clan with essentially a dozen mothers and fathers and none of them taught you any manners.”

“Manners?”

“What sort of person petulantly storms into another’s study and throws their work to the ground when they think they’re not being given enough attention?”, he asked. “Imagine the insolence were you to do that anywhere else, to anyone else!”

Locking her gaze into his, she breathily said, “Ooh, say ‘insolence’ again, Solas. I like the sound of the word on your lips.”

“Amongst so many things about them. Time to work this insolence out of your system then, vhenan,” he growled, next commanding, “Turn around.”

Looking at Solas with a blank expression, Rivka saw his turn from impatience to offence.

“Did you not hear me, Rivka?”, he said. “Turn around and put your hands on the table. If I have to ask again I can’t promise you I’ll do so patiently.”

Nodding meekly, she turned to face the table and gently placed her palms on the tabletop. With a sudden jerk, one hand on the small of her back and another at her nape, Solas forced her down on the table, her nipples squashing against her breasts as her cheek firmly landed on it too. The bottom of her robe hiked up a little as she bent forward, and she felt a chill draught around her thighs, shivering as she did so.

Solas then glided along the insides of her legs with his knuckles, curving away from her quim to round her buttocks as he gathered the loose end of her robe, bunching its folds and gathering them around her waist, exposing her to the elements and noting with some amusement that firstly, she had indeed not been wearing anything under that robe, and next that she was already slick with anticipation.

Rivka gasped as he spread her arousal along the length of her folds with his fingertips, moaning as the momentary contact faded just as soon as he’d made it.

“Shush,” he said. “This is meant to be a reprimand, not an outlet for your lasciviousness. Lie still whilst I administer some corrections.”

“Corrections?” was all she was able to manage as she thought about what he meant before she felt the sudden sting of his palm on her buttock, releasing a loud groan of pleasure as its coursed through her body.

“Enough!”, he cried, smacking the other one in an attempt to silence her but only making her moan even louder, alternating between the two savagely.

Gasping shallowly, Rivka felt her slick running down her thigh, glancing upwards and hoping nobody was watching or hearing this depraved scene.

“You really are something else,” he said, “Wantonly crying out so that everybody in this rotunda can hear your arousal. I wonder if…”

She’d barely even started pondering his trailed-off sentence before the next slap struck her full on her lips, causing her to quiver in pleasure, with the next one and the following one after that making her buck against the empty air where Solas’ palm had been, and she felt herself on the brink of coming when he reached out and grabbed her entire mound with his hand, closing her lips against each other.

What pleasure there was turned to pain as he gripped it tighter, the force of his fingertips overriding any urge or ability for her to come there and then, and she felt tears from both agony and joy run down her face as he leant over her back, whispering into her ear.

“Don’t presume to come now, not without permission. Do so and I’ll leave your hands bound to this table and bring you to the edge of orgasm again and again, unable to relieve yourself until I decide you’re worthy of doing so,” he promised, asking, “Do you understand me, vhenan?”

She nodded as best she could, her cheek scraping a little as she did so against the table.

“Good,” he said, seemingly satisfied with that. After some silence, she heard some noises behind her, like cloth falling from a place, then the sound of Solas’ footsteps again.

“I do wonder now,” she heard him ponder, “If you’ve ever given this over to anyone.”

At this, she felt what had to be the tip of his phallus briefly touch…briefly touch her rear end? No! Not there! She shook violently against the notion, feeling fresh tears run down her face as she did so.

“Shush,” he said gently. “Calm yourself. I was merely asking. And…here?”

Warmth pulsed through her body as he made contact with her pussy, and she nodded enthusiastically, biting her lip to restrain herself from moaning lustfully at the touch’s promise.

Her self-control was brought to the edge of her limits as she felt his tip slide in whilst his thumbs sought out the little dimples on the back of her waistline and his fingers grasped the skin around her hips, rolling the flesh of her curves between them. Just as she sensed all those touches on her skin, his shaft fully slid into her, Rivka groaning as he did so, with his grip on her hips tightening as he pumped in and out of her body.

Although not quite as long and as…girthy…as she’d imagined or fantasised, it was hitting all the right spots, the head in particular coming to rest against a tight bundle of nerves that caused her to gasp as he slowly, agonisingly, massaged it with his cock. She tried to work her pussy around him to stimulate that spot, but that was only met with anger, as he withdrew his penis entirely, leaving her aching for him to thrust it in again.

“Are simple instructions beyond you, Rivka?”, he hissed, reaching for her wrists one at a time and pinning them to the small of her back with one hand as he slid back into her, stating, “I’ll be taking my pleasure first before you’re allowed to do anything. Understood?”

She nodded again, trying to relax and stand still despite the myriad of sensations coursing through her as he resumed fucking her over his worktable, the obscene sounds of slapping skin echoing through the tower. His pace, steady at first, became more and more fervent, only slowing down long enough for him to lean over to her ear again, shifting his body weight on her wrists as his grip tightened to a vice.

“I think I’m about to reach…that point,” he growled, asking, “Are you ready as well?”

She nodded, and started quivering and trembling impatiently under and around him as the wait for the promise in his words dragged on, until he reached under her chin with his free hand, tilting her head up at him so he could make sure she saw his stern glare. Rivka slowed her breath, exhaling fully as she attempted to calm down. As Solas released her chin, she also felt his grip around her wrists vanish.

“Hands on the table again, vhenan,” Solas ordered, further commanding, “Let’s not have any distractions, shall we?”

Grasping her hips again, he ploughed into her savagely, grunting and groaning in ancient elvhen as he brought himself to his climax, flushing her insides with his release. Rivka heard his voice, as though from a vast distance, saying, “Now, vhenan. Be with me here and now.”

The floodgates tore open there and then, as she screamed to the high heavens, her palms digging into the table as she ignored the last of his commands, slamming her rear into his hips to drive herself over the top, feeling her own fluids flood her pussy, mixing with his as they dripped out of her and along her thighs, trickling downwards to stain her slippers and, ultimately, the floor of Solas’ study.

Rivka flopped bonelessly onto the surface of his desk, breathing hard and quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm, even as she felt him withdraw at last, the final strands connecting the two breaking in the middle and falling upon the ground.

Long moments passed before, in the blink of an eye, she found herself transported back into her own bed, all offending fluids cleaned up, and naked under her sheets. Rivka gasped, sitting up and turning around to find Solas next to her under the bedcovers, also similarly undressed.

Smiling, he asked her, “Was that everything you expected it to be?”

Her cheeks flushed, Rivka nodded wordlessly as she slowly regained her composure, finally managing to answer, “Yes. I…didn’t know if it’d all work out but…you were so commanding, and it felt so right.”

“I’m glad you appreciated it,” he said, asking, “Although I do wonder if all of your fantasies are this…vivid?”

“What do you mean?”, she asked, it apparently being her turn.

“Simply that there are few whom I have known or met would so willingly…let themselves be used, as such,” he said.

Rivka asked in equal parts hesitance and defensiveness, “You’re not judging me, are you?”

“Not in the least,” Solas answered quickly. “I just was curious as to whether your own romances in the physical world ever took such turns as our times together here have.”

She shook her head, explaining, “No, the last time I was…with someone…was shortly before the Conclave. We’d both been dispatched by our clan to attend the Conclave, and we both knew it’d be the last time we’d see each other for a while, if at all. He was a nice lad, and we spent the night beforehand gently and tenderly.”

“I see,” he said, then coming to a realisation. “If you were both at the Conclave then…”

Rivka nodded her head slowly and sadly, confirming his deductions. “Ismael didn’t make it. Neither did his brother Esaias.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Solas said. “Forgive me for dredging that pain up again.”

She now shook her head curtly. “It’s alright. It hurts less nowadays. But you’re right, I think. I’m only this…adventurous…in the Fade. I don’t know if it’s the Fade itself inducing this, or…”

“…your thoughts about me?”, he asked.

“You know me too well,” Rivka said with a laugh. “Still, thanks for bringing me somewhere warmer and cozier after all of that. Have we time to just…lie here a while?”

Solas smiled, saying, “We have all the time we want or need, vhenan. Come over here.”

Taking him up on his invitation, Rivka slid down the bed and rolled over until she was close enough to put her arms around him, and him hers, burying her face in her shoulder and relaxing into his body as the minutes before the sunrise, and the inevitable return to their responsibilities in the daytime, slowed to eternity.

-

@dadrunkwriting

#rivka lavellan #Solas #solavellan #f!lavellan/Solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #aether effect #smut #ao3 #prompt fic #fanfic #athenril-of-kirkwall #dadrunkwriting #da drunk writing circle

[mksc77]

Thanks so much for the prompt, @love-letters-x-cardigan-sweaters!  I’m sorry this took so long.  This is a little “Sex sent me to the ER,” Shandy style fic :)

I did something wrong with my first post, so I had to repost and lost the “ask” part--the prompt was for Shandy + afternoon naps from a summertime prompt list.

One Thursday in June, Sharon took advantage of the lengthening daylight hours and cooler evening temperature to work in the yard after dinner.  Andy still wasn’t home from his meeting, so when the sunset’s hues of red and purple started to streak over the yard, she exchanged her gardening gloves for her swimsuit and a glass of wine.  After swimming a few laps, she settled on the wide pool steps to watch the sun go down.  

A little while later, she got out of the pool and dried off.  She squeezed excess water out of her hair and pulled it back with a hair tie before wrapping her towel around her shoulders and going inside.  She shivered as the air conditioning hit the lingering moisture on her skin, but smiled when she saw Andy come through the door from the garage.  Getting him in the mood for sex hadn’t been her intention when she decided to go for a swim, but she was reminded of that added benefit when he was staring at her with his eyes nowhere near eye-level with her own and his mouth shamelessly hanging open.  

Sharon rolled her eyes.  “Let me hop in the shower, and then I’m all yours.”  She barely had her hair lathered with shampoo when she felt a small burst of cold air, meaning the shower door had been opened.  “Andy!  I meant after my shower.”

“Yeah, well, things just can’t wait sometimes.”

Sharon worked her shampoo through her hair before starting to rinse it out.  “I’ve been in the flowerbeds and the pool tonight.  I’m gross, at least let me bathe first.”

“Let me help you with that.”  Andy reached for his own soap out of habit before changing direction and squeezing some of her lilac-scented body wash onto a loofah.  When he thought he’d covered enough ground to appease her, he tossed the loofah to the floor and pulled her close to him.

“Andy—oh, well, you got the important parts.”  Sharon giggled against his lips at the relief on his face.  

As they got going, Sharon did what she had done in similar past encounters before and trusted Andy to avoid the shower door as they inevitably moved along the shower walls.  That faith turned out to be a little misplaced this time, unfortunately, as Andy got too caught up to pay attention to where they were.  He was startled when Sharon started to give way under him and he felt himself falling forward.  In his panic to regain his footing, he stepped on the earlier-discarded loofah with one foot before his other foot slipped on the wet surface and they both crashed through the shower door.  The back of Sharon’s head hit the edge of the bathroom counter with a sickening thud, and they bounced a little as they fell against the counter and slid toward the floor, causing Andy to thrust into her a lot more forcefully than normal as they went down.  Sharon gasped in pain at the added force, and they both heard a loud crackling sound as they hit the floor.  Andy yelped as pain seared between his legs.  He’d experienced a couple of blows to the balls a couple of times in his lifetime, but this was worse.  He didn’t know what the hell had happened.  It was utter chaos.  They’d both managed to collide with the counter and the wall as they fell, but neither could quite remember what exactly happened.

Andy pulled himself away from Sharon as gently as he could, both for her sake and his own.  “You—okay?” He managed to gasp out, clenching his legs as he writhed in pain.

Sharon was in shock, and it took her a few moments to speak.  “I—my head—“ She shifted on the floor and winced at the pain between her own legs.  “I’m—I don’t know—ouch.”

Andy grimaced.  “That’s an understatement.”

They looked each other over for a few moments, taking stock of one another’s injuries.  Sharon finally spoke up.  “Hospital.  I’m—can’t think of word—“ She held her hand to the side of her forehead, trying to clear the fog that was overtaking her brain. “Penis—think broken.”

Andy looked at her in disbelief.  “A broken penis? Is that even a thing?!”

Sharon nodded.  “Heard it crack.  Have to go—now—can get worse if you wait.”

Andy looked at her suspiciously.  “You sure seem to know a lot about this.”

Sharon shrugged.  “Jack—same thing…”

Both were having trouble speaking and thinking straight, Andy from the pain, and Sharon both from pain and her dwindling mental clarity.  Sharon managed to keep her wits about her long enough to get herself dried off and dressed before helping Andy do the same.  His ability to move was highly limited, and she was starting to wonder how she and Rusty were going to get him to the car and then inside the ER.  “Can’t drive—Rick—Rusty take us,” Sharon said as she helped Andy into his clothes.  

“Oh, god, this will be fun,” Andy muttered.

“No ambulance—don’t want neighbors.  You can’t drive, I shouldn’t, either.  Be right back.”  Sharon made her way to Rusty’s room, dreading having to explain what happened.  He was on his bed with his computer in his lap and looked up when she lightly knocked on the side of his doorway.

“Hey, Mom—what happened?!  Are you okay?”

“I will be—Andy and I, uh—little accident.  Take us to ER.”

“Mom!”  Rusty scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking his computer to the floor in the process.  “What the hell happened?!”

“Explain in car.  Come help with Andy.”

Sharon’s seeming inability to string full sentences together unnerved Rusty, so he followed her to the other side of the house without asking anymore questions.  The mystery was immediately solved, anyway, when Sharon’s wet hair, the steam still coming from the bathroom, the fact that Andy had obviously also recently gotten out of the shower, and the evident location of his injury came together for him.  “Oh, my god, are you guys fucking serious?!”

“Stop, Rusty, help,” Sharon interrupted, her hand going back to her face with a grimace.  A bruise seemed to be forming on the side of her face, which she didn’t remember hitting, but the collision was a little fuzzy to her.

A little while later, Sharon was in a hospital gown in a small room, trying to vaguely explain to a nurse what happened.  A couple of bruises were starting to form on her arms and legs, and the inside of one of her thighs was badly bruised.  The nurse asked a few probing questions, trying to get some answers Sharon wasn’t wanting to give, and gave her a concerned look before telling her that a doctor would be in soon.

Sharon rested her head against her sorry excuse for a pillow, trying to come up with something more plausible.  She had a feeling the doctor wouldn’t be as forgiving with her unwillingness to give details as the nurse had been, but she couldn’t think clearly.  She was starting to doze off when a tall, auburn-haired woman came in.  “I’m Dr. Hunter,” she greeted with a smile, although her face had the same concerned expression that had come over the nurse who had initially examined Sharon.  Her voice was a mix of concern and sympathy.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a clear picture of what exactly happened.  What you told the nurse doesn’t exactly match up with the injuries he reported.”  She gave Sharon a reassuring smile.  “I just wanted to remind you that whatever you tell me is completely confidential.”

“I…” Sharon started.  She was feeling overwhelmed, and she still wasn’t thinking very clearly.

The concern on the doctor’s face mounted as Sharon’s voice trailed off.  “Okay.  Why don’t I examine you, and maybe you can help me out as we go.”  She checked over Sharon’s face and head first, as that seemed to be where the most pressing injuries were.  Sharon relaxed slightly as the doctor’s hands gently and carefully brushed through her hair, which was still a little damp.  “You have a bit of a knot back here, and I’m afraid you might have a slight concussion.”  She continued to look Sharon over, and she paused when she spotted the bruise on the inside of her left thigh.  “What happened there?” She asked, softly running her fingers over the bruise.

“Umm…Don’t remember,” Sharon answered honestly.  “Maybe hit it on something.”

“Do you have any pelvic pain?” Dr. Hunter asked, as Sharon’s pained posture and tensed thighs were starting to make sense.

Sharon nodded before she could think about her answer.

“All right.  Let me do a quick exam….”

Sharon didn’t respond as the doctor helped her get into position and examined her.  It was hard to focus on anything besides the throbbing pain in her head until Dr. Hunter spoke again, and her words definitely caused her to focus a little better.  “You have a little bleeding, and I’m concerned about the tearing I’m seeing.  Physically, it’s not serious, but…”

Sharon finally understood what the situation looked like.  “No!  No.  Nothing…Not bad,” she started, struggling to get her mind and her mouth to cooperate with one another.  “Not abuse.  Son in waiting room, he’ll tell you….Husband’s here.  Hurt, too.”  

The doctor still didn’t look convinced.  “We have a psychiatrist and a social worker on call.  If I need to—“

“No, I promise,” Sharon interrupted.

“Okay.  I’ll find your husband in a minute to verify some facts, but I need you to tell me everything you’re comfortable with telling me.  I’ve seen it all, I promise.  I don’t want to miss any possible problems because I didn’t have the whole story.”

Sharon’s cheeks were flaming from embarrassment, but she finally started to recount the story.  She had to give the doctor credit for maintaining a straight face and managing not to laugh.  Instead, she was very matter-of-fact with her response, which Sharon greatly appreciated.  “Okay, that definitely fills in the blanks.  I know that wasn’t easy, but it’s important for me to know.  We’ll run some tests to make sure there’s no swelling or bleeding in your brain, and then I’d like to keep you overnight for observation.  It’s good that you didn’t lose consciousness, but I’d like to keep an eye on you tonight.”

Sharon nodded.  “Husband?  See him?”

“I’d like to see him first, if you don’t mind.  It’ll help me if I can also see what happened from his perspective, and I’ll find out for you how he’s doing.”

“‘Kay….Son?”

“Now that I can do.  What’s his name?”

Rick—Rusty.  Beck.”  

Rusty appeared a few minutes later.  “Mom?  You okay? What’s going on?”

Sharon reached her arm out to grasp his hand.  “I’m okay.  Maybe a light concussion.  Doing tests to make sure nothing else.”  She paused for a moment.  “Stay overnight, Andy probably, too.  Doctor be right back.”  Rusty grimaced, not wanting to think about what kind of injury there would require a hospital stay.  He was positive he didn’t want to know.

“Okay…Do you need anything?”

Sharon shook her head.  “Thanks, honey.”

“Okay…Emily and Ricky said to tell you they’re glad you’re okay and will call you in the morning, and also what the fuck.”  Of course, Rusty had given them every detail.

“I’ll deal with them later,” Sharon mumbled.

Dr. Hunter returned a few minutes later with the news that Andy needed surgery, so Sharon sent Rusty home and promised to call him the next morning.  

“Someone will be here in a few minutes to take you for a CT scan,” Dr. Hunter told Sharon.  “Your husband is just down the hall, so you can stop and see him for a few minutes beforehand.”

“Thank you.”

The next afternoon, Sharon was resting on the sofa in Andy’s room while he drifted in and out of sleep, still drowsy from surgery.  She’d been discharged that morning, and Rusty had taken her home long enough to nap a little bit and gather some things for herself and Andy.  He’d taken her back in time to be there when Andy got out of surgery.  She was about to doze off herself when a nurse came in to check on Andy.  She paid just enough attention to make sure Andy was answering her questions accurately, but she looked over at him when he was asked whether he’d be able to avoid an erection for a month.  She hoped he was out of it enough to just say “yes” and move on.

Don’t do it, Andy, don’t do it, Andy…

No such luck.  Andy looked in Sharon’s direction with a dopey smile on his face.  “Have you seen my wife?  Good luck with that.”  He hadn’t put a coherent sentence together since waking up, but that he could say?  Nice.

The nurse chuckled.  “Well, if you think it’ll be a problem, I’ll let the doctor know, and she’ll prescribe you something to help.  All jokes aside, avoiding stimulation for at least a month is important for your recovery.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sharon spoke up, trying to give Andy a chiding look.  She failed and couldn’t help but smile at the innocent “what?” look he was giving her.

When the nurse was gone, Sharon got up and gently settled beside Andy.  She still had a bit of a headache and was sore, but the pad dampened with witch hazel the doctor had recommended for relieving discomfort was helping.  She didn’t know what state Andy was in under the covers, but if she had to guess, stitches and bandages were probably involved.  “We’re a pathetic duo,” she murmured, lying against his shoulder.

Andy softly kissed her forehead, careful to avoid her bruises.  “I know.  I’ve never had so many hands on my penis in a 12 hour period in my life.”

Sharon heard her phone ding with a text message, so she reached over to retrieve it from the table.  She smiled when she saw that it was Emily, expecting a picture or video of two-year-old Marie, but she was greeted with her daughter’s usual sarcasm, instead.  

Is it too soon for penis jokes?

Andy’s injuries were mild, so he was discharged from the hospital around lunchtime the next day.  Rusty escaped to his room after lunch, and Andy was still sitting at the table, looking through the guide he’d received regarding at-home care and possible side effects of the surgery.  “Wait a minute, they didn’t tell me about this one!” He exclaimed, his voice raising.

Sharon looked up from the stack of mail she was sorting through.  “What?”

“This says I could lose, uh, a little length because of the surgery.”

Sharon rolled her eyes.  “I think you’ll be all right.” He would have a catheter for the next couple of days, and there was the possibility of him having trouble with bladder control and achieving erections, and this is what he was worried about?  The doctor said his outlook was favorable and that he would likely return to normal, but it would take some time for them to know for sure.  “I’m going to sit outside for a little while.”

Sharon took some Tylenol for her lingering headache and went to sit by the pool.  She dragged one of the larger, comfortable lounge chairs to a shady spot and got comfortable, enjoying the soft breeze, the vibrant smell of her flowers, and the birds chirping.  It was pleasantly warm and not too hot, and she hadn’t slept very well for the last couple of nights, so she adjusted the chair to lie back a little more, anticipating a nap.

Andy joined her a few minutes later and easily fit beside her in the chair.  Sharon curled into his side and lay on his chest, her eyes already drooping.  He rested his chin on top of her head and glided his fingers through her hair, careful to avoid the knot that he was sure was still bothering her.  She was soon sleeping heavily against his chest, and Andy was right behind her.

Sharon woke up almost two hours later, confused at first and not sure where she was.  The shade had shifted with the sun as the afternoon went by, and the sudden sunlight against her eyes had roused her.  She wiped her mouth, a little embarrassed when she realized she’d drooled a little bit on Andy.  Damn, she really was out for her to have done that.

“You drooled on me,” Andy mumbled, seeming to read her mind.  He slowly opened his eyes as he tightened his arms around Sharon.

“Sorry, honey.”  Sharon leaned up and kissed him right below his jawline.

“Whoa, now, you heard the doctor.  Avoid stimulation.”

“It was a kiss, Andy—“

Andy grinned down at her.  “You should know by now that it doesn’t take much with you…While we’re on that, this, uh, injury is supposedly pretty rare, yet you��ve seen it happen twice.  I know I’ve joked about you being dangerously sexy, but I never thought I’d mean that literally.”

Sharon pinched his side and gave him a look.  “Andy!”

“I just call’em like I see’em, babe.”  He sighed dramatically.  “This is going to be a long ass month.”

#Major Crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy #mikuscfanfic

[foreheadtouch]

i don’t want your memory. (i want you here with me).

Why do you want to learn Russian? With that question I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed.

*3k words of pure angst* 

———

It was an eerily frigid January night—black and silent—like drifting out in the middle of space. People doing everything in their power to escape it. The wind chill burned against my cheeks and the freezing air seemed to shrink my lungs to the size of lemons. Each breath I drew was sharp and labored.

Inside Hobie’s apartment wasn’t much better. My blood felt hot and thick underneath my skin—the heat was turned up slightly too high, so as to make me sweat underneath the itchy sweater that I couldn’t take off, because then of course, I'd be cold again.

The sky was deep and dark and not a single star was visible. I felt that if I stared too long, its vastness would swallow me whole. Only the bright white headlights of whirring cars seeped through the window and bounced across the walls of my bedroom in a series of dizzying flashes.

I sat on my bed with a half empty bottle of vodka, feeling claustrophobic in an empty room.

The heat made me hyperaware of any nagging discomfort that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Every itch and ache was pulled out of me, like a magnet with scraps of metal.

I tried readjusting the neckline of my wool sweater, but it would not stop scratching and clawing against my skin, almost choking me. Had it somehow gotten tighter during the day? Why couldn’t I breathe?

I was just drunk enough that my movements were sloppy and my fingertips felt slightly numb.

I looked over at my desk, where a brand new copy of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot was resting, the lamp shining directly on it, like an ironic spotlight, and I felt the walls close in on me.

I didn’t want to, but I thought back to the conversation I had that afternoon.

It happened in the campus bookstore. Dozens of hasty university students were furiously barreling through the narrow passageways between shelves filled with books like Guide to Financial Markets, Plato’s The Symposium, Multivariable Calculus Volume 1, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

How was your break? Did you get the classes you wanted? Oh, I’m actually working at this bank. Doing research in this laboratory.

Their obnoxiously eager attitudes and bright eyes bore a sharp contrast to my own. I couldn’t remember the last night I had gone to bed sober. My eyes were sunken and glassy. Plum-colored patches formed under them and had not gone away. My skin had developed a grayish, sickly looking tinge that caused Hobie to insist I take a multivitamin in the morning. And how many days in a row had I worn this sweater?

I moved, begrudgingly, against the grain of the crowd, and slumped through the shelves while people forcefully shoved against my shoulder and scoffed at me under their breath for going the wrong way. But who cared what these crappy trust-fund kids and pompous brainiacs thought of me. I drowned out their complaints and dragged my fingers across the spines of the books, until I had successfully collected all the necessary novels for the upcoming term.

“Wow! That’s a lot of Dostoevsky! Let me guess… Based on your reading list I’d say… Intro to Russian Lit and… maybe Conversational Russian with Professor Khachanov?” the bubbly girl at the checkout asked as she scanned my stack of books. I wasn’t expecting her to actually pay attention to them.

I wondered how many espresso shots went into her morning coffee or if she was this energetic naturally. She seemed like the kind of girl who kept her customer service smile on 24/7. I could not bring myself to muster up enough energy to match her excitement.

“You guessed it.” I replied with a stiff, lifeless smile and apparently, less enthusiasm than she had hoped for, judging by the little twist her mouth did. She began transferring the books into an ugly canvas tote bag with the university logo on it that I knew cost extra money. I didn’t ask for it, but I also didn’t care enough to tell her to stop, so i just watched her silently and adjusted my glasses.

I thought my curt reply would signal that I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she started up again: “You now, that’s not very common. I see a lot of Slavic Studies and International Relations students take Conversational Russian, but not English majors. You guys usually just take Intro to Russian Lit. Why do you want to learn Russian? Is your family Russian or something?” She stuck her hand out for my student ID card.

Immediately after she stopped speaking, my palms grew sweaty and my pulse thumped throughout my body and I felt its rhythm pound in my ears. My mouth went dry and I felt a lump form in my throat. I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the store glared and pierced my brain.

I cleared my throat, which felt like sandpaper, unable to force any words out, so I stood there, like a dumbstruck idiot, blank-faced and silent, for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally I managed to stammer, “I uh, I want to be able to read the original translations. At some point, I guess.”

With my head down, avoiding eye contact, I quickly snatched the receipt from the girl, shoved it into the canvas bag, and hurried out the door. God, she probably thinks I’m a psycho. But it didn’t matter. I desperately needed to get away from there. Away from that question.

Now, hours later, in my stuffy bedroom, I sat confronted with my crime, suffocated by the truth. Why had I really signed up for conversational Russian?

———

It was the same reason I found myself buying the cheap brand of vodka that we used to drink together, even though I could afford better stuff now. It tasted like jet fuel and burned my throat, but it was familiar and reminded me of the countless, blurry days we spent in a state of drunken stupor.

It was the same reason that on my way home, I would hesitate and then walk to the gas station around the corner for a pack of Marlboros, even though Hobie had taught me how to hand roll my own cigarettes. “They’re much better this way, Theo. It’s all about the craft. About paying attention.” And it was true, they were better, way better actually, but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t want better, I wanted him.

It was the same reason I took the subway down to Brighton Beach and the Lower East Side on weekends and wandered through the Russian neighborhoods, pretending like I was meant to be there. Because maybe, just maybe I was.

It was the same reason I would lie down with Popchik on my chest and close my eyes, feeling the weight against my lungs as I inhaled and imagined the warmth of him pressed up next to me, boney arm draped over me, holding me.

It was the same reason I curled up in bed at night with my earphones in—the Velvet Underground’s entire discography lulling me to sleep. Except for “I Found a Reason.” I recognized it by the first note and would immediately skip it. I couldn’t listen to it.

The habit we had of maintaining a constant level of drunkenness and snorting whatever we could find up our noses had unfortunately stuck with me. When I removed myself from my own depressing turmoil and looked at my life like a stranger would, I knew it was a problem. Without me realizing, it had spiraled from being a vice to a legitimate addiction.

But I didn’t have a reason to stop.

I tried so hard to forget him. I really did. Every time that feeling started to creep up, to gnaw at me, I would try to press it as far down as it could go. I would crumple it up into a tiny ball and throw it far far away. I would hold it underwater until it hung limp and lifeless.

I had no choice, because if I let it linger, just for one moment, it would consume me entirely.

It was a dull ache that never went away. The sting of tears welling up in my eyes. A lump in my throat. A knot in my stomach. Weak knees, like right before you’re about to faint. Heartache.

Sometimes he would come to me in a dream or in a nauseating, intoxicated hallucination. It was like looking at a reflection of him on water or through a mirror. It was almost real and I could have pretended he was there until, looking at him wasn’t enough and I greedily reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the water around my hand would ripple in expanding orbits and he would vanish.

We existed on two different planes now. I was here, doomed to live in this reality, where at one point, we had faced the disorder of life together, but now he was reduced to a figment of my imagination, a cursed dream, a memory of what once was.

And so that night, I gave in. I surrendered.

While I stared at that book, I let the memories wash over me with a force like a wave, crashing violently against a cliff. The rock I was grabbing onto crumbled beneath my finers and I was ripped away from my pretense of safety and pulled back into the sea—back to Las Vegas. Back to Boris.

———

“Potter. You can’t ask me to read to you and then just… fall asleep.” Boris said, through laughter, as he flicked my head.

My dad and Xandra had gotten into a big fight. It wasn’t their usual bickering about him watching too much football and not paying enough attention to her. Or about her staying out too late after work with friends and forgetting to make him dinner.

I couldn’t quite make sense of the full argument, or even remember why they started yelling. From the broken shouts, I figured out that my dad had lost a lot of money. And he had used some of Xandra’s? Or was about to? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that when Boris and I came home that night, there was a dent in the drywall of our living room and they were shouting. Judging by the accumulation of beer bottles on the coffee table, my dad had been drinking. A lot. They hadn’t even noticed us walk in.

We grabbed Popchik, who was a shaking mess in the corner of the kitchen, and we went back to Boris’. His dad was away on “special business.” I knew enough by then not to question it.

“Is great, actually,” Boris said, “when he is gone, he leaves money. 30 bucks this time.” He looked at me with his wide, dark eyes, sparkling with childlike excitement, as if we had just won the lottery.

We got started on our usual routine when we had extra money. Getting fucking blasted and buying cigarettes and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

We were passing a cigarette back and forth in his bedroom, sitting shoulder to shoulder, faces inches apart. Boris was slouched next to me, in silence, but a comfortable silence.

The air was charged with something electric that I couldn’t find a word for. I turned my head and traced his profile with my eyes. I didn’t realize how long I had been staring, but when he slowly turned and looked up at me, softly, my stomach jolted.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting upright, still maintaining his gaze. I liked how he could read me so well. It was a mark of how close we had gotten, how we moved in and out of each other’s minds with little effort.

“Yeah. I think I’m too wasted” I said, looking away abruptly and taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it to him, our fingers brushing, as he took it from me and brought it up to his lips.

“Stay here, Potter. I have great idea. You’ll love this, promise. Will cheer you up right away.” He got up quickly and handed the cigarette back to me.

“Where the fuck would I go?” I laughed and watched him slip into a room down the hallway.

He came back smiling and holding something behind his back.

“Please don’t tell me that’s more vodka.”

“Is not vodka. Guess again.”

“Boris, I have no fucking clue.”

He rolled his eyes and held out a thick book. The title was in Russian but fortunately, it was one of the words Boris had taught me. Идиот.

I was a little confused. What did this mean. Where was he going with this. I scrunched up my nose and said, “I don’t know enough Russian to read a whole novel.”

He sat down next to me and shoved me a little.

“No, идиот. I read. You listen.”

So I did. I slid down the wall and rested my head in his lap. Boris put one arm over mine, held the book in his other hand, and began to read the opening chapter.

I always appreciated how he was so forthright and unapologetic with his movements. He didn’t hesitate when resting his hand on mine. Or playing with my hair. Or stroking my arm.

He didn’t leave room for me to resist, not that I wanted to, although my first instinct was usually to pull away.

“This book. My favorite.” He started reading: “В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу…”

I couldn’t understand a single word, but I didn’t care. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Russian. The way his mouth shaped the letters was firmer and smoother in Russian than in English—it was sultry, almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and felt the soft vibrations of his voice wash over me.

I also liked the way I felt in his arms. Safe, cared for, loved, even.

———

That was, after all, why I signed up for Conversational Russian. Because of Boris. Because I might not ever see him again, and the thought of that was too unbearable, so I did everything in my power to feel close to him. To stay connected to him in some way. Any way.

Because I was in love with Boris but somehow I had lost him, caught up in the tangled tragedy that was my life.

I didn’t know if it was for good, but how would I ever find him in this great big world? It had been years since I last saw him and months since I last heard from him.

One day, I realized his face was becoming fragmented. I tried to construct and image of what he might look like now, like I was collecting scraps of torn up newspapers and piecing them together with glue.

Dark wavey hair against translucent ivory skin, a sharp contrast like an old film photograph taken in black and white. I could see the blue and purple veins underneath his skin. I could see his ribs poking out. I remembered his striking but soft eyes, always filled with a glimmer of curiosity—an inextinguishable thirst for life and all its excitement. The way they could communicate thousand of phrases in just one glance. His full lips that were often chapped and bleeding. But I miss them. The way the felt against my own that night. And the many nights before.

The image of the fourteen year old Boris I knew would forever be seared into my memory, in the way cattle were branded with molten hot metal. But what was he like now?

Sometimes I would pull out my old phone and read back through our conversations, then close my phone, and hold it over my chest while tried to hold in tears and catch my breath.

Other times I would look up at the moon and wonder where in the world he was. And if he ever looked up at the moon and thought of me.

Did Boris think of me? Did Boris miss me? Was Boris breaking apart and tearing up inside too?

Oh, the countless nights I would type out long messages with no intention of ever sending them. Are you okay? Where are you? I miss you.

I knew what loss felt like. That’s wasn’t unknown to me. I had lost my mother. For good. But the thing about Boris is that I didn’t know if it was for good. And that small chance is what was killing me and eating me away, but it was also the only thing keeping me alive. Because there was still a chance and I wanted to believe in it. I needed to. Things fall apart. But things come together too. But how many times? Had our time come and gone?

Maybe I would go the rest of his life wondering what could have been. That would be a death sentence I was sure of it. Because it was torture not knowing.

How would I ever be able to know peace when there was that small chance—that infinitely small chance we could meet again.

I wanted so badly to get a text one day from an unknown number. Potter. Is me.

I wanted to shout across the world. Here I am. Here I am. I won’t ever stop looking for you. I love you.

So I would continue hoping. I would keep going to Brighton Beach. I would keep searching the ends of the earth, forever.

But as for now, I had to learn how be content with the memory of him.

#the goldfinch #boreo #theo x boris #my writing

[lunafeather]

Brio + 11, 39, 76

11.

“I know you, and this isn’t you.”

“Oh, you know me now, huh?”

“Yeah.” She freezes, realizes what she’s said and stares at him, the gears in her head grinding. And then something clicks. “Yeah, I do know you.”

He snorts, shakes his head and turns away. Beth grabs his sleeve and spins him back, her fingers clenching forcefully against his arm, and then she’s in his space, chest to chest, her mouth a thin sharp line when she leans up into his face. She watches as fury is smothered into blankness, and her frustration only mounts. He looks down his nose at her through thick lashes, and she does know him, she does, because when his nostrils flare she knows he’s fighting not to rise to her bait. She knows that he is carefully keeping himself in check by the way his arm tenses beneath her grip, held taut like a bow, the way he looms very slightly over her despite her heels giving her some leverage.

She doesn’t back down, doesn’t flinch, holds his gaze while he glares down at her.

And she thinks that maybe she sees his eyes dart down to her mouth, and it’s too fast, she must have imagined it – but then he’s kissing her, hard, a brutal crash of his mouth against hers and she’s so startled that her mouth opens on a gasp and then his tongue is in her mouth, deepening it. She is knocked off balance by it, stumbling back, but his hands are there to catch her, rough on her hips and then her ass, yanking her against him as he walks her backwards until she’s pressed against the nearest wall. She manages to get the nails of one hand scraping against his scalp, is rewarded with a groan – her other hand scrabbles against his shoulder in a futile attempt at regaining some control.

He shoves a thigh between hers at the same moment that she bites down on his lower lip. They break apart, panting, and Rio presses his forehead against hers while they catch their breath. Her eyes flutter closed even as her hand strokes gently through the hair at the nape of his neck, urging him closer, closer still, and a bizarre image unfurls in her mind of crawling into him and just letting go – of this tension, of this fight, of this exhaustion. His hand at her lower back presses her more firmly to him, and maybe he’s having the same thought because the rigidity in his body seems to melt away.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Her voice is hoarse and small, just for him in this small space they share.

Rio shrugs, so slightly, and then leans back to look at her. He waits until she opens her eyes to say, “Then let’s stop.”

Panic surges through her and her mouth falls open to argue – and then his fingers are at her temple, stroking down her face in that familiar gesture that haunts her dreams. But he doesn’t let his hand fall away, like usual. Instead he gently cups her jaw, fingers spread against her throat, thumb tracing her kiss bruised lower lip. He watches the movement, watches as she licks at the skin there, then his gaze flicks up to hers and she understands.

39.

His phone pings, that familiar tone he set to her number only startling him awake from a light doze. He doesn’t move for a moment, breathing sharply through his nose, and then he rakes his palm roughly over his face and scratches at his beard. When he rolls on to his side and lifts his phone, his eyebrow arches at the message staring back at him.

Can you meet me?

1:47AM hovers in the top corner of his phone’s screen. It’s not like her to be up this late let alone messaging him, and he pauses before he responds, flicking over the possible reasons she could have for wanting to meet. Their partnership is tentatively back on, though decidedly secret, which adds that much more mystery to her request.

He briefly mulls over the idea that it might be a booty call, then quickly discards the thought.

He’s not quite back in that good of graces.

Yet.

His curiosity gets the better of him, and – if he’s being honest – his concern. Though she remains tight lipped and infuriatingly vague about her home life, he gets the feeling that it’s not all sunshine and roses (and how could it be, if car man was up and swiping their kids out of her reach?). This thought spurs him up and onto his feet, tugging on a pair of jeans and shooting her a clipped response.

15.

She doesn’t reply, but he knows she’ll be there. When he rolls up to the park in his black Cadillac, her mama van is already parked at the curb. He tugs up on the zipper of his hoodie while his eyes canvas the playground, tracing over familiar twisted metal shapes, searching – there, nestled into a swing, swaying softly in the darkness. He watches her a moment, drinking her in; her copper curls are smothered by a thick black beanie much like his own, her shoulders curled inwards against the Autumn chill. She kicks idly with one boot, but otherwise seems still.

Her head doesn’t lift until he’s ten feet away, and when it does it strikes him somewhere deep, somewhere he struggles every day to smother. Tear tracks glide down her cheeks, the skin rosy with cold and shimmering in the street light that barely reaches them. She sniffles, but otherwise just watches him warily. When the silence stretches on, he shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the swing set support bar, eyes fluttering closed, sleep hanging like a hazy weight on the edge of his vision.

They sit like that, in silence, and somehow it’s comfortable and calm. Even standing this far from her he feels that undeniable tug, that thread that binds them together, dragging him towards her, always. It’s becoming harder and harder to stay away from her, to not gravitate into her space and let their energies collide and meld into one. He had thought it was difficult not to touch her constantly after their encounter in that bar bathroom, but now? After tasting her in every sense of the word, after drinking directly from the source, swallowing her moans and her whimpers, and knowing what every delicious curve felt like, heavy in his palms…

The urge to have his hands on her, always, buzzes like lightning beneath his skin, making him jittery and tense and agitated. She often takes it the wrong way, believes its something she did – and it is, it is, but not in the way she thinks.

Even now, he wants to crowd into her space and nudge her chin up with his thumb, meet those blue, blue eyes and draw out every thought and every desire, wants to catch each one and bottle it up and hide it in that place he keeps shoving way down.

She sniffles again, and he opens his eyes to find her staring. The openness of her expression, the vulnerability, knocks him in the chest like a horse kick. He’s frozen, afraid to move and scare her off, his face a calm mask of neutrality.

“He found some of my notes.”

The corners of his mouth curl downwards, and his brows furrow just so, but he doesn’t speak. He knows her well enough to know that her words will come in time.

“He got suspicious, and we fought – it woke the kids, they were crying. They didn’t… they didn’t want me to…” She huffs, finally breaking their eye contact. She lifts a hand to rub at her nose and tilts her head back until her face welcomes the stars. When she meets his gaze again, her expression is carefully blank, though even from his position he can see the tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes.

“I need a place to stay.”

He doesn’t ask why she doesn’t call her friend or her sister, doesn’t really want to. It’s a rare gift for her to let him see this far inside her, and despite the fact that it sometimes feels like there’s a gulf they’ll never be able to cross between them, he can’t deny how warm it makes him feel.

He can do this for her.

He jerks his head in the direction of his car and starts off. He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know she’s following – he feels that thread taught and thrumming between them and keeps walking.

76.

Everything happened so fast. They had been on the couch, talking then touching then kissing, because when have they ever been able to keep their hands off one another? And then Dean was there, yelling, red faced and spitting, waving a gun. Rio hadn’t jumped up or shown any emotion, rising calmly and standing between Dean and Beth. And then she had been on her feet, too, and everything was tense and loaded and she didn’t think he would do it, didn’t think he had it in him – she had seen the hard line of Rio’s shoulders, ready to strike, voice laced with the threat of danger and she isn’t sure who said what that made Dean raise the gun and pull the trigger, but she is sure that her instincts took over and she shoved Rio sideways, slotting her body into the bullet’s path.

Everything thereafter was a blur – screaming, crying, hands everywhere on her body then nowhere and she was alone and then not, eyes snapping open to meet Rio’s as he gingerly shifted her and then pain, unbearable and agonizing, and it felt like her side had split open and her guts had spilled out, and maybe they had, maybe they had.

Her last snapshot of consciousness is the look on Rio’s face – guarded, cool, murmuring softly to her, but the pain at the corners of his eyes stands out the most, the tiny pull of a frown at the edge of his mouth.

She wakes to sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains of her bedroom, bathing her bed in warmth. She’s on her back, laid carefully out and straight as board. When she tries to sit up, pain ricochets from her right side across her belly and her chest and her hip, and she yells, the sound hollow and tinny.

“Beth!” Annie surges out of the bathroom, her hands insistent on Beth’s shoulders, pushing her back down. “Jesus, I turn away for like 10 seconds and you’re trying to escape.” Her little sister tries to inject some levity in her tone, but they both know it’s a thin facade.

Beth trembles with the pain throbbing in her side, nausea washing through her. Annie keeps a hand pressed to Beth’s shoulder, the other gently brushing Beth’s sweat soaked hair from her face. She sits on the edge of the bed, and when Beth can finally manage to open her eyes, she is struck by the worry and panic hanging heavy on Annie’s face.

“Don’t move, okay? It could rip open the sutures.”

Beth nods, and they sit quietly. Then, “What happened?”

Annie’s brows pucker together. “You don’t remember?” At Beth’s small head shake, Annie sighs, glancing distractedly down to Beth’s lap. “Dean shot you.”

Beth doesn’t mean to, but the words startle her into another attempt to sit up and another shove back down to the bed and an annoyed growl from Annie. “He what?” she pants, swallowing thickly against another wave of pain and nausea.

“Well, I think he meant to shoot Rio, but…”

Beth’s eyes pop open and she moves again, panicked. “Rio! Where is he? Is he okay?”

Annie is prepared this time, holding her down with a palm on her shoulder, and watches her curiously, almost surprised. Her mouth falls open to answer–

“I’m fine.”

Both women turn to see Rio leaning against the door frame, hands buried in his pockets. His expression is closed, guarded, but rough. He and Beth lock eyes and she feels her breath leave her in a whoosh at the intensity in those black depths.

Annie looks between them, put out at being so obviously forgotten. “Yeah, he’s just fine,” she retorts. She watches them for a long moment, and when no one says anything else, she helpfully provides, “he actually refused to leave your side. Dug the bullet out himself and sewed you up. Held your hand all night. It was, like, kind of sickeningly sweet.”

Two pairs of eyes flick to her, and she knows a dismissal when it’s staring right at her. She throws her hands up and scoffs. “I’m going.” If she notices that they immediately go back to gazing at one another, she doesn’t mention it.

With Annie gone, Beth takes her time in absorbing the man before her. His face is cracked and red, dried blood crusting over a wound or two – eerily reminiscent of the last time the two of them and her husband had found themselves in a room with a gun. Blood stains his dark blue t shirt – his blood? Her blood? Dean’s? Maybe all three? There’s marks on his tanned arms, marring the smoothness there. Dark circles cushion his eyes, his skin is pallid – but god, she still finds him so devastatingly beautiful.

“You look awful,” she says, and smiles when he smirks.

“Yeah, I was about to say the same thing about you.”

He’s lying, and not even hiding it. His smirk briefly swells into a grin – a warm, affectionate, dare-she-say loving grin – and then it deflates and ebbs away, dragging her own smile with it. Suddenly he is oh so very serious, and her heart drops. They stay like that, the tension so thick that she’s afraid it may smother her and something painful and thick is rising like a tidal wave up from her toes through her belly through her chest and then there are tears in her eyes and she’s not entirely sure why.

That’s what breaks the moment, her tears. He swallows audibly, and she would swear that his breathing hitched, and then he’s ambling over and sitting next to her, hands still shoved in his pockets like he’s afraid if he has them free he’ll shake her.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, you done some real dumb shit during the time I’ve known you, but this is a new record.”

She shrugs. “I think that depends on who you ask.”

The memories are jagged and blurred, swirling together in a colorful mess in her mind, but she knows, without a doubt, that she saved Rio’s life. And even though barely moving any part of her body feels like someone is stabbing her in the gut with a dull knife, she doesn’t regret it. She’ll never regret it.

And she says as much.

Rio just shakes his head, but when his eyes meet hers, his expression is open and vulnerable. It takes her breath away all over again.

“Elizabeth.”

How can he fit so much into just her name? It comes out as a sigh, a plea, a prayer. She can hear the annoyance, the pride, the fear in it, the judgement and the forgiveness. He speaks her name like a caress, and she feels it as a ghost of his fingers trailing down her face, pushing her hair back.

She wants to ask about what happened after she jumped in front of him, about Dean, about where they go from here, but she knows it’s not the time. This gentleness, this softness, is too fragile and for once she allows herself the selfishness of indulging in it without guilt. She just wants to be close to him, to soak up his realness, his vitality. She wants to revel in this thing between them, and the fact that they somehow managed to cheat their way out of another bad situation.

“Rio.” It’s a murmur, and it’s laced with just as much emotion as her name on his lips.

He gets it, though, he always gets it, get her, reads her like an open book, and she’s glad for it now. He stands and sheds his sneakers, then climbs onto the bed next to her, stretching languidly along her side on his back, careful not to jostle her too much. Her eyes flutter closed, suddenly exhausted. When his fingers intertwine with hers, she smiles, warm and content. She is halfway submerged in sleep when she feels the brush of his lips against her forehead, and she knows better than to hope it’s real and not her imagination – but she lets herself believe it anyway.

(thank you to @cpt-falcon​ for the inspiration and idea for this one – she has this amazing theory about how the final episode is gonna go down and I love it. This may become an entire fic cause I was feeling inspired.)

Please send me prompts from this list!

#brio #beth x rio #nbc good girls #johnisntevendead #god this uhhh #turned out not to be so drabble-y #lmfao #as usual #my writing style is more prose than dialogue #hopefully it doesn't disappoint! #also i legit was like #rio is so hard to write i dunno if i can do this #*immediately writes her very first fic of brio from rio's pov* #sure jan #luna writes #f*ck i haven't written in so long that i don't remember my tag #mine #my writing #cpt falcon #really owe it to her for the idea for 76 #my fic

[kazkazoozoo]

No Promises Ch2

Pairing: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Felicia Hardy/Michelle Jones (one-night stand), Michelle Jones/Harry Osborn (unhappily married)

(warning: this story contains angst and extramarital affairs.)

Inspired by Izmeny (TV Mini-Series 2015)

Read on AO3

Michelle has heard enough lies to tell them apart from the truths.

For example, many people would say that they believe marriage is the epitome of romance. That people get married because they’re oh-so in love.

Which she knows is not always the case, to say the least. She herself can attest to that.

She didn’t marry her husband because of love. In fact, she doesn’t think she has ever loved anyone.

She said yes when Harry proposed to her because she wanted a family.

And he did give her one. He’d even given up his own family to make that happen.

He was willing to do anything for her, so she thought she’d be a fool to not take advantage of that and let the opportunity slip away.

She would have felt guilty about her impure motive if the “I love you” that he said to her in his proposal didn’t turn out to be another blatant lie.

Michelle knows next to nothing of love, but she’s pretty sure that if you love someone, you’d at least care about them.

He never asks how her day went, whether she’s hungry or not, or what book she’s reading.

She has never once orgasmed during sex with her husband.

But she doesn’t mind all that much about his indifference. She’s incapable of loving and caring so why should she want those things from anyone, anyway?

Besides, she’s got Peter, who knows how to make her scream using his tongue only. Peter’s enough to make up for what she doesn’t get from Harry, to keep her sexually satiated.

And that’s exactly why she has once again found herself waiting for him in his empty apartment.

She’s been breaking her own rule quite a lot lately—probably has something to do with Harry’s increasing rate of absence from home.

She made the rule of not staying outside overnight because she’s afraid that Harry wouldn’t even care to ask where she had been. She figures that won’t matter if he’s not even at home to begin with.

It’s almost midnight. Peter’s still out there somewhere patrolling. It’s been three hours since their last text exchange.

The little grey bubble on the left side of the screen of her phone reads:

I’ll be back soon

So far, she can’t tell whether it’s a lie or not. Three hours isn’t long at all by Peter’s standards.

She puts down her phone after checking it for the sixth time tonight, then huddles under the blanket on the couch in front of the huge flat screen that’s glowing eerily with blue light in the dark living room.

She has already watched a whole bunch of murder documentaries in the past few hours, so she turns on the news just to switch things up a bit.

Nothing particularly interesting appears on the news. Not that she’s looking for a certain superhero who dons a red full-body spandex suit swinging between the buildings and saving people, no.

She just wants something—or someone—that can keep her mind busy so she doesn’t start contemplating how stagnant her life has been.

So she waits.

For one hour.

Then two hours.

And three hours have passed, but Peter’s still nowhere to be found.

You alright?

The message she sent an hour ago is still unread.

Her intense glare can burn holes through her phone if she were able to channel her irritation into actual laser beams.

The calming and relaxing effects of the apartment have faded by now. She’s getting crankier by the second and her desire to get laid is almost completely replaced by her desire to get a restful sleep.

If she’s not getting any tonight, then she might as well go home and sleep in her own bed, alone.

Because her motive for coming back to this apartment well after her job of interior designing was done is pure.

She doesn’t come to Peter again and again because she’s always worried that he might hurt himself fighting some supervillain. She didn’t learn how to stitch up a wound nicely just because of that one time he came back all bloody and it really scared her. She’s not trying to be a haven of peace for him or secretly hoping he’d trust her enough to confide in her.

All she wants from him is sex, and nothing more.

She wants to believe that these are all the truths. Because the alternative is that she loves other people more than they’ll ever love her, and that feeling really, really sucks.

§

The engine is rumbling and the headlights are on. Her car is all set and ready to take her home.

But Michelle’s been sitting behind the wheel for a good ten minutes, her body unmoving yet her mind unsettled. Every part of her body is buzzing with an unknown fear for an unanticipated future.

Somehow, it feels like the universe is trying to warn her against a storm that’s coming after her.

She’s afraid to make a move, but she doesn’t want to go back to where she was, either.

She’s drowned in her own thoughts until a sudden, loud bump startles her, followed by her car door being forcefully opened and an unfamiliar figure sliding into the passenger seat.

“What the-!? Get out of my car!” Michelle shouts at the person while discreetly reaching for the pepper spray she has in her bag.

That person turns to look straight into her face. Half of their face is covered in a mask and she can barely see in the dark, but she manages to make out the shape of their red lips twisting into a smirk.

“You mind if I borrow your car for a day or two? It’s kind of an emergency.” The woman’s voice is husky and breathy, sort of like a combination of whispering and panting.

“Actually I do mind,” Michelle’s voice is trembling due to the surging adrenaline, “and don’t make me say this again: get out.”

Her assertive statement is still hanging in the air when the woman’s arm moves at a surprising speed and agility, aiming at her airway.

Luckily, Michelle has seen that coming. She blocks the attack before locking the woman’s arm with one hand and pointing the spray at her face with the other.

The skills she learned from Peter does have some use, it seems.

The aggressor appears to be impressed, musingly laughed at herself.

Meanwhile, Michelle registers a scent of blood and she notices the black full-body suit that the woman’s wearing is torn at her thigh. A dribble of dark red liquid is slowly oozing from the wound.

Michelle winces at the sight. It reminds her of that time Peter came back in such bad shape that she was petrified for a good while.

“You’re bleeding. I think you should go to the ER.” Michelle says in a rather calm manner.

“No!” The woman hisses while putting pressure on her wound with her free hand.

Michelle sees how hard she’s trying to hide the discomfort from her expressionless yet ashen face and the droplets of sweat strolling down her forehead.

Then MJ says something that surprises the stranger as well as herself.

“Tell me where you want to go and I’ll drive you there.”

The woman’s whole body jolts as they look into each other’s eyes.

“How do I know if I can trust you?” The woman frowns.

MJ chuckles self-mockingly.

That’s one of the questions that she asks herself every now and then.

“Well, if you can’t trust me then my answer’s not gonna be very helpful, is it?”

The woman wars with herself until the sound of the siren can be heard from a distance. She then starts giving directions without further delay.

MJ drives her through the dark streets, mind blanking out and shivers crawling along her spine.

Driving a stranger who’s very possibly on the run to an unknown destination is dangerously thrilling.

And maybe that’s why she’s willingly doing this. Maybe that’s what she’s been longing for—the thrill.

That must be why she enjoys having sex with Peter so much. It gives her the strongest kind of thrill.

To MJ’s surprise, the woman leads them to an upscale apartment complex instead of some sketchy discarded warehouse that she imagined criminals would use as their evil lair. Given that the building has an intricately designed entrance upon entering the underground car park, she supposes the building does offer a great level of security and privacy a criminal needs.

The woman is hesitant when MJ gets off the car and offers to help her out.

But there’s something so confident and convincing about the way MJ carries herself that enables her to have her way almost all the time, including this time.

MJ supports her by her waist until they’re inside the woman’s apartment. She escapes MJ’s grasp and launches herself onto the U-shaped sectional sofa, then proceeds to fumble inside the drawer of the coffee table.

Being an interior designer herself, MJ’s interest is piqued more by the tasteful arrangement of the apartment’s living room than whatever the woman’s doing.

Her attention drifts away and she starts examining, analyzing and comparing the style with her own work. It’s more contemporary and polished compares to the industrial style of Peter’s apartment, but the artworks scattered around the space are raw and feral—reflecting the owner’s personality, she guesses.

“I don’t sleep with people on a first date, so this is your cue to leave. And don’t even think about paybacks, I don’t have cash.”

The woman’s flirty joke intrudes on her thoughts, bringing her attention back.

“I don’t want your money,” MJ says coolly.

“Then what do you want?” She sounds more defensive than earlier.

What do I want? Why am I even here?

MJ doesn’t know the answers. The only thing she’s certain is that this isn’t how the night was supposed to go.

Somehow her life always takes unexpected turns and leads her further astray.

MJ shrugs, “Nothing.” From her, at least.

“Then leave already.” The woman stands up and tries to shove her out the door, but stumbles in pain.

The way she’s limping reminds her of someone. MJ lurches forward to catch her out of instinct.

“Are you okay? Here, let me take a look at that.” MJ speaks softly.

“I’m fine. I can take care of myself.” The woman groaned, annoyed.

Still, she doesn’t push MJ away. MJ sits next to her on the sofa after helping her this time and takes a better look at the wound.

The cut isn’t too deep. She knows how to clean up the wound and close it with stitches.

“I can help.” MJ nods at her wound.

The woman’s frown deepens. She’s genuinely confused by MJ’s actions.

“Why are you helping a stranger?”

Why would anyone volunteer to help a stranger? MJ wonders that, too.

Is she trying to be a better person? Perhaps she’ll deserve better if she’s more like a certain friendly neighborhood superhero? Maybe, just maybe, for once in her life she wants to know what it feels like to be wanted and needed?

MJ doesn’t know the answer, so she only repeats:

“Let me help you.”

MJ’s persuasive eyes strike again. The assertive yet vulnerable quality of her tone makes it hard to resist her pleas.

She can make people fall under her spell easily, if she wants to.

Despite how defiant the woman has been, she does not prove that statement wrong.

She lets MJ clean up the dried blood, sterilize the adjacent area and suture the wound closed.

MJ’s maneuvers are skillful and precise, but her touches are gentle and careful, making the woman shivers involuntarily.

The treatment is completed, and that’s where MJ’s help is supposed to end.

But she doesn’t want to go back to that empty home just yet.

The woman’s about to remove her legs off of MJ’s thighs, but MJ holds her in place.

“You need help to get the spandex off?”

The woman arches her brow.

“You’re not seriously trying to get into my pants, are you?”

MJ stares at her. The woman’s face goes pinker the longer she holds her gaze.

It arouses her for some reason; she remembers how Peter gets easily flustered every time she teases him.

She was upset that her night didn’t go accordingly: she didn’t get what she wants from Peter tonight.

But who’s stopping her from having sex with someone else? Harry’s her husband, but he doesn’t care. Peter’s her favorite lay, but they don’t have contractual obligations to obey the monogamy.

“What if I am?”

MJ’s hand wanders around her thigh, carefully avoiding the wound. The woman squirms nervously under her touch, anticipating.

The texture of her spandex differs from Peter’s suit; her muscles are firm, but softer than Peter’s; the pitch of her quiet moans is higher than Peter’s.

But she’s here, and MJ can feel she wants her.

The woman gives in to her teasing, grabbing onto her shoulders and crashing her lips to MJ’s.

MJ kisses her back. Everything feels wrong, but it feels good to be wanted.

And that’s all she wants for now.

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter's not in this chapter #i'm sorry #my fic #petermj #peter x mj #peter x michelle #spiderman

[fictional-affliction]

Under Pressure, Chapter 2

Rating: T

Words: 2,400

You can find this story on AO3 and ff.net as well but here is the link to the first chapter if you missed it!  https://fictional-affliction.tumblr.com/post/185575372490/under-pressure-chapter-1 

Duncan was the absolute worst to tutor. She’d tried before. In second grade, when he had gotten sent to the principal’s office so many times that he’d missed most of the lessons on multiplication. In middle school, when he stopped writing papers for English and almost had to repeat seventh grade. Even freshman year, when he got sent to Juvie for the first time.

It wasn’t that Duncan was stupid, he just didn’t want to apply himself to school, which made tutoring him frustrating and pointless.

“But-” Courtney tried to reason with her teacher, but she didn’t budge.

“Do you want the extra credit?” Mrs. Hanover asked.

“I do but-”

“Then it’s settled.” Mrs. Hanover ended the conversation abruptly and left to use the copy machine before class started.

“Looks like we’re gonna get to spend more quality time together, Princess.” Duncan teased and put his arm around Courtney’s shoulders. She scoffed and shrugged him off. Frustrated, she stomped down the hallway in the direction of her first period class. He followed, much to her dismay.

“You better at least try to do better in this class Duncan, because if my Chemistry grade goes down because of you I’m going to murder you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Duncan looked off down the hallway. Courtney was going to berate him for not giving this important matter his undivided attention but then understood when she saw Geoff, Bridgette, and DJ coming towards them.

“Dude! You’re back!” Geoff took his arm from around Bridgette’s waist so that he and Duncan could pound fists. DJ was more enthusiastic with his affection and hugged Duncan, even going as far to lift him a foot off of the ground. Bridgette and Courtney exchanged a knowing look that came with years of knowing the three boys. They were inseparable, except for the times that Duncan got himself sent to Juvie.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to get out for another two weeks?” DJ asked when he put Duncan down.

“I was, but my mom made my dad pull a few strings.”

“That’s awesome dude, you know what this means?” Geoff hinted at, Duncan and the other teens already knew what Geoff was thinking.

“Party this weekend?” You could already see the mischief on Duncan’s face at the idea.

“Yes!” As Duncan and Geoff immediately began planning, with DJ brought into it without a choice; Bridgette kissed Geoff on the cheek, then headed down another hallway with Courtney.

“So...how does it feel?” Bridgette kept her voice down incase of eavesdroppers.

“How does what feel?” Courtney kept looking straight ahead with a blank expression on her face.

“You know...Duncan being back?”

“Am I supposed to feel a particular way?”  Bridgette almost rolled her eyes at Courtney’s denial.

“Really Court? Are you going do this every time?” Courtney didn’t respond, hoping that Bridgette would drop the subject. She didn’t.

“Just tell him alread-”

“Shh!” Courtney quieted her and looked around to make sure no one had heard. Courtney’s jaw clenched. Bridgette, the caring friend she was, always meant well but couldn’t she just leave her be? The pair of girls stopped where their paths divided.

“I’m sure he missed you as much as you missed him.” A corner of Courtney’s mouth twitched for just a split second. It wasn’t a lot, but they had been friends long enough that Bridgette noticed when she was fighting a smile.

“I plead the fifth.”  Then Courtney disappeared into her English class.

-

“In combination chemical reactions, two or more reactants form one product...Duncan are you even listening?”

“No.” Duncan continued to doodle in his notebook as they both sat at the desk in Courtney’s bedroom. She’d been trying to get Duncan back on track with the rest of his Chemistry 1 class for over an hour, but had made no progress. She tried a different approach and yanked him by his dog collar so that they were face to face.

“I’m not playing around with you Duncan, you might think this is stupid but I don’t, so could you please pull yourself together and be serious!” Instead of being bothered by her physical force, Duncan grinned.

“You’re lucky I’m into the kinky stuff.” Courtney huffed and pushed him back into his chair. “You wanna be serious?” He continued.

If Courtney’s raised eyebrows could speak they would say ‘obviously’.

“Then let’s get serious. Tell me why you hit yourself again.” Brown eyes widened at his blunt words. She was relieved that her parents weren’t home and that Cate was at a friend’s house. The last thing she needed was for them to overhear.

“We have a lot of work to get done.” Courtney turned away and flipped through the Chemistry textbook, closing herself off. He wouldn’t get it, no one would.

“You’re not changing the subject this time Princess.” He swiveled around her desk chair so that their knees were touching. She stared down at them and wouldn’t make eye contact.

“What’s going on?” He asked less forcefully this time. Courtney knew how this worked by now, until she told him, he wouldn’t leave her be.

“I got an B minus on my Chem test, if you need to know so badly.” She spit out and tried to turn herself back around but he held her chair steady.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it? Sure for you it’s nothing, you don’t give a damn about school, but some people care about their grades. Getting a B minus isn’t good enough.”  

“It’s not worth hurting yourself.” It wasn’t often that Duncan was this openly concerned and quite frankly it was making her nervous with the way he was looking at her. Besides, Courtney didn’t like to think of it as hurting herself, it was just something she did sometimes.

“Don’t try to tell me what to do!” She got defensive and raised her voice.

“It’s not like you’d listen. No one knows better than you Courtney.” He yelled back sarcastically.

“Don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to be me.”

“Then tell me! Oh, wait that’s right! You have to be fucking perfect all the time! Can’t let anyone know that you have feelings!”

“What’s the point of telling you! You’re just going to leave again!” She yelled across the small space between them. A moment too late Courtney realized what she’d said. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Duncan still kept her chair facing him but Courtney looked anywhere but at him. Duncan suddenly felt remorse for getting sent back to Juvie. To him it was more of a nuisance more than anything. A sentence that was a pain in the ass but it would pass, and then he’d go back to doing the same shit that got him sent there in the first place.

“Why can’t you just stay out of trouble...” Courtney sighed. “You don’t have to convince everyone that you’re a bad guy.”

“I am a bad guy.” Duncan insisted and Courtney gazed up from their laps to look at him skeptically.

“I am!”

“Sure you are.” Duncan sat up in his chair. Sometimes Courtney did this thing where she would throw it in his face that she knew who he really was. That she knew him better than anyone. In those moments Duncan always felt like he had to ruffle her feathers a little bit. Courtney sat back in her chair until there was no where else to go as Duncan caged her in.

“Want me to prove it.” He threatened, and lowered his voice, making it hard for her to find her’s. This wasn’t the first time they’d toed the line between just friends and more. This wasn’t the first time that the tension that was always there came to the forefront.

“Go ahead.” Courtney countered calling his bluff. She batted her eyelashes innocently and dared him to do something. Duncan kept his eyes fixated on her face, trying to tell if she meant it. She was right where he wanted her and yet, he couldn’t.

He slumped back into his chair and ran a hand threw his mohawk.

“You’re such a pain.” Courtney’s face glowed with victory and Duncan couldn’t find it in him to be mad because she was so beautiful when she smiled.

“Now, what’s it’s going to take for you to learn any of this.” She gestured to the textbook open on her desk.

Not only did Duncan have no interest in learning any more Chemistry for the day, but it was his first day back to school and he already couldn’t wait until the weekend; which gave him an idea.

“I have a proposition for you, I will be your star pupil for the rest of the week if...”

“I’m listening...” Courtney was wary of what his terms were, Duncan’s good behavior never came free.

“If you go to Geoff’s party.”

“No.”

“I thought you wanted that extra credit?” One thing that Courtney didn’t count on was that Duncan knew her just as well as she knew him. He could see her weighing what was at stake.

“You have to get an A on your Chem quiz on Friday.” She gave him her terms.

“C.” He countered.

“A minus.”

“B plus.”

“Deal.” Courtney solidified the wager and put her hand out. Duncan gladly shook it and smirked. She should really know by now not to underestimate him.

-

It was turning out to be a good day. The stress that had started on Monday, from how poorly she had done on her exam, had mostly dissipated. In addition to tutoring Duncan, Courtney had done an extensive amount of studying for her own Chemistry class, making Mrs. Hanover’s usual Friday quiz an easy A. Everything was starting to feel like it was falling back into place. As she took the appropriate books out of her locker, she planned how to manage her time this weekend so that she could finish her English paper, study for the SATs and still catch that documentary on cold cases. Courtney almost had it all pre-scheduled in her head when something that was dangled in front of her face interrupted her.

“Take a good look, Princess.” She grabbed the paper out of Duncan’s hand, confused for a moment at what she was looking at, then saw the big numbers written on top of the page in red ink.

“No...” She said with dread. Eighty-eight percent. Shit.

“How?” Courtney looked over the quiz in disbelief and doubled checked that there wasn’t a mistake.

“Guess I have a pretty good tutor.” Duncan leaned his shoulder against the lockers and watched Courtney soak it up.

“Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“But, but-”

“But what?” Duncan taunted her, a giant smile on his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be able to do it!”

“Wow, I’m hurt Courtney, have you no faith in me at all.” Courtney ignored his act and finished acquiring the books she needed and shoved them into her backpack. She slammed the door hard, the metal shaking with its force.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Bridgette and Geoff, like the matched set they were, stopped in front of Duncan and Courtney. Duncan was the one to answer Bridgette.

“Princess and I made a bet and now she doesn’t want to pay up.”

“What was the bet?” Geoff asked, amused to what Duncan had gotten Courtney to agree to. Courtney’s jaw was clenched so hard that she couldn’t speak.

“If I did good on my Chem quiz-”

“Done well!” Courtney corrected, Duncan gave her the side eye and continued.

“Then she had to go to your party.”

“Court, you’re coming to the party?” Geoff was thrilled, Courtney hadn’t gone to one of his parties since eighth grade and now they were into the spring of their junior year of High School.

“It’s not fair! I was tricked!”

“C’mon Court it will be fun!” Bridgette interjected and put a hand on Courtney’s shoulder to calm her down.

“She’s just afraid she’ll like it and it will ruin her good-girl image.”

“No, I’m not! I just don’t want to. It’s immature.”

“Sure.”  Bridgette knew exactly what Duncan was doing. If he challenged Courtney that she wouldn’t do something, then she would be hell bent on proving she could. It had been this way since they were in daycare.

“Please, like it’s hard to go get drunk and act like Neanderthals.”

“Hard for you.” Courtney couldn’t back down from the challenge.

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll be there, but I’m only staying for an hour!” Geoff held up his fist and Duncan bumped it.

“Where are you going?” Cate asked a she approached the juniors. Usually Courtney would be waiting for her by the car by now and when she wasn’t there she wondered if she had some club meeting Cate had forgotten about.

“She’s going to Geoff’s party.” Duncan answered smugly. Cate’s face lit up.

“You are? Now I have a ride!”

“You’re not going.” Courtney hissed at her.

“What? Yes, I am! Geoff invited me!”

“Yeah, of course little sis is allowed to come.” Geoff assured.

“Last time I checked she’s MY little sister, and she’s only fourteen.”

“I’ll be fifteen in like a month!” Cate argued.

“I don’t care. You’re not going. End of story.” Courtney was used to discipling Cate, with how much their parents worked, she often took on the job of being a third parent.

“Are you kidding me?” Cate all but stomped her feet.

“Maybe I should run it by Mom and Dad that you want to go to a party where there will be drugs and alcohol.”

“And I’ll tell them that you’re going!” Cate had her there and she knew it.

“Please Coco?” Cate pouted and used the nickname she made for her when she was a baby and couldn’t say Courtney. A few moments passed where Courtney weighed the pros and cons.

“We’ll talk about it in the car.” Courtney ended the conversation, but Cate knew that meant that she’d get her way. Courtney pulled her younger sister down the hall, knowing that her perfect plans for weekend were ruined.

“I’ll call you later Court!” Bridgette yelled down the hall then turned to Duncan.

“You’re the worst.” She joked, grateful that for once her best friend would act her own age.

“I know.” Duncan replied triumphantly. Suddenly, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

#duncney #fanfic #under pressure #whats a high school au without a party scene #total drama

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Blind Au

DRABBLE FOUR

Demencia had been called into Black Hat's office wondering what he could possibly want with her...

(After all if you recall in drabble one he tried to take her eyes and in drabble three Flug had hit his head on Demencia's amp...which had been Black Hat's fault.)

Knocking on the door, she was a little more cautious since after the last incident and peeked her head in after she heard him giving permission to enter.

His chair was facing the window, odd for someone who couldn't see and of course she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Enjoying the view sir?"

"Oh yes, this opaque world is really quite fetching, it is wonderful to find you feel this situation is so amusing."

Black Hat ground out as his chair turned so fast it would make anyone's head spin, he'd been trying to enjoy the sensation of the sun on his skin, after all the four senses he had left certainly seemed different now , there would always be a worry in the back of his mind that what if one day the rest would go to.

The old demon was trying to keep himself calm something he already struggled with but when inane jokes were made at his expense he was on the absolute brink of snapping, his forced grin was so demented that even Demencia had gone quiet.

"Do you know why Acylius is currently laying in bed with a Doctor at his side?"

"The one I kidnapped for you...I dunno perhaps you thought he needed to get laid?"

She returned managing a chuckle which faded as the room dropped a few degrees.

Crap he usually put up with her behavior, her heart began to race as his eye turned black and blue.

"He is currently being looked after by a professional doctor because you left your blasted amp in the lab again, you are always making a mess of things, your singular purpose is to kill and if you were not the most sufficient candidate for the job I would have done away with you long ago! "

Slamming his hands down on the desk he paused realising one hat been impaled on the note spike, it was strange to be so aware of how the metal felt sliding through his palm, pupil returning to normal, still with its now forever blue outline signifying his condition.

Lifting his hand, listening to the papers shifting as he flexed his fingers, focused now on this as he took hold of the base and slowly pulled, the slight patting sound of blood clearer than ever.

"Just get out you ridiculous creature."

Black Hat hissed, digging a claw into the open wound, something he could have easily healed but this new heightened awareness of everything was something he wanted to experience more of.

"But sir, he has never tripped on it once or the wiring and I am more than just an assassin you know damn well I'm qualified enough to be Flugs lab partner...if it was anyone's fault it's yours!"

"Do you care to repeat that again you little insect?"

(Do remember I don't hate Demencia and usually Hat doesn't but he's actually not dealing with this that well and isn't good at admitting he's messed up.)

"Well it is your fault, you throw him around, slam his head into your desk when you lose your shit then I see you later pining wondering 'why doesn't he like me!' "

She stood her ground, fists clenched

"For someone so old you're really, really stupid!"

Picking up a vase Demencia threw it at him, it smashed on his face without a reaction to signify it had struck him at all...until the room went even darker as he grew in size, the lizard girls breath could be seen as she looked up at him.

The monster within was tearing through again that facade of being a gentleman.

"Unlike you he can take it, it is said a gentleman does not strike one of the fairer sex...but you are neither woman nor girl, just a little project Flug worked on in a tube."

That stung her, she knew he was angry...upset and just being this way cause of his blindness...he, he didn't mean that right?

"Doesn't matter if he can take it, the only reason he won't put in his resignation now is because he's gonna feel sorry for you!"

The old demon was livid, rage taking over his senses, claws outstretched an inhuman screeching as he lunged forward, he found himself crashing into the wall as she just about dodged him, Demencia barely made it out the door as it splintered, wood bursting out into the hall.

Crimson carpets were torn as Black Hat went crashing into corners, running on all fours a giant beast in an utter frenzy with one thought.

KILL

It was her fault Flug had been hurt and now she was lying telling him that he was hurting Acylius, that Flug had been planning to resign.

Never...he wouldn't dare!

He swiped at 505 as he'd tried to stand between him and Demencia, that damn thing was like him in one way, possessing the unfortunate inability to die, so it didn't bother him when he heard the yelp, Black Hat had known he was there due to the sickly sweet scent of cakes and urgh good intentions, absolutely vile.

"Flug's gonna be mad at you for that!"

She called out still running, turning a corner, there was only one place she knew she'd be safe.

Going into the room and slamming the door shut, his claws could be heard scraping along the walls plaster cracking as debris fell.

Of course he couldn't see so now it required patience, he had to listen...where was she...

His nostrils flared and head twitched, saliva hanging from his maw, slowly walking forward, each footstep a dull heavy thud.

His predatory growl could be through the wall, absolute nightmare fuel.

Demencia was afraid this time...but she wasn't going to run, Flug was with her now, the scientist didn't know what was going on but for Black Hat to act like this, he could handle it but she sure as hell didn't deserve the old demons wrath to this extent.

He petted her hair as she held onto him, her cheek on Acylius's chest

"How's your head nerd?"

The lizard girl whispered then realised her mistake as a giant hand came crashing through the wall, Acylius's wings bursting from his back shielding them from the pieces of wall... Great there went the art piece he'd been working on.

Black Hat's monstrous voice rumbled throughout the hall as he laughed

"Ah there you..."

His eye widened as he caught Flug's scent and pupil thinned even more.

“Get away from him!”

The moment Acylius realised he was going to use his powers to forcefully remove her he stood in front of her.

“Stop this immediately Black Hat, she does not deserve this! Demencia can be infuriating but not enough for you to act like a savage!”

That made Black Hat hesitate, he sat back on his haunches while returning defiantly

"She hurt you, I am going to hurt her!"

Flug couldn't help but think it was so eerie in the way his Jefe's gaze seemed to be staring out into the void but considering the endless dark void was all he could see...

Acylius though after that statement just gaped before pinching the bridge of his nose

"Demencia take our guest to a place he'll be more comfortable and make sure be stays."

The lizard girl nodded and was about to knock their guest doctor out when she discovered he'd fainted from the sight of Black Hat and hoisted him over her shoulder ready to start off.

"I did not say you could go anywhere!"

Hat snarled ready to stop her.

Acylius pushed through his bedroom door which had ended up hanging off its hinges, of course it fell off.

"About right."

He muttered to himself before slapping the face of his boss's lowered head

"Let us get facts straight, she is not the one who pushed me, you are, you are the one that lost their temper and considering your last outburst nearly killed me..."

Hat winced, letting out a whine, leaning into nuzzle him he felt his heart clench as Flug moved away.

Arms folded the doctor glared at him, Hat could sense it, that scathing look only reserved for when Flug had truly had enough.

"Now let Demencia take care of our guest..."

Acylius was waiting a few moments before the demon grunted and motioned her to leave.

Demencia left hastily and was also going to check in on 505 for Flug and well...the blue bear had tried to help...so it was only fair.

Another piece of wall fell off with a thud making the doctor turn, quietly looking over his room, a complete mess, why did he bother trying to have anything nice for himself.

"Acylius?"

Hat asked quietly as he started returning to his smaller size, sunlight pouring through the windows causing their shadows to stretch out along the torn carpeting where Hat's talons had made their mark.

Reaching out he found Acylius's back, he'd been aiming for his shoulder, working his way up Flug shrugged his hand off of him.

Black Hat of course did not get the message even if his senses were sharp enough to know the moment Acylius was turning, what he had not expected was for him to grab his lapels and slam him into a wall.

"Oh ho foreplay? Well if going blind was all it took-“

"Shut up! Will you for once get it into your thick head that you will never have me like you have had your graduating university students!"

Even though he could not see it, Hat knew his doctor was struggling to keep his true form from breaking out, it was clawing beneath the surface of his skin, no doubt fangs were bared at him in this very moment, what beautiful sight that would have been to behold.

"I am the one who has to deal with the whispering, the accusations I only acquired this position by sleeping with you, your actions have tarnished my career before it even began, I wanted to leave, I will not be doing anything of the sort now...not now."

Well that was just ridiculous, Acylius had gotten his position because he was the best...but Demencia had been telling the truth, Flug really had intended to resign.

"Why, I didn't know you cared."

Hat sneered, head turned upward, just a little too much so he was facing Acylius's brow, his demeanour changed though as Flug gently moved his head to make his blank gaze level with his, shivering, lips parted, the doctors hands were so warm, what was he thinking, was his doctor hiding some little secret?

"Enjoying the view doctorrr?"

The old demon purred licking his teeth.

"No...I was trying to gather my thoughts, I am not staying for you."

"Oh, what for then?"

"Demencia, if I leave, I cannot trust you not to blame and murder her for my leaving, I could easily take 505 with me...so you want me to stay you leave her alone."

Black Hat started growling, so he cared about her not him, is that what he was trying to tell him he was quickly slapped out of his thoughts

"Not like that you miserable old bastard, though you have no right to tell me who I can and cannot share my life with."

He moved in just a little closer making Hat press into the wall, that tone of disappointment making him want to shrink

"You have destroyed my room been a shameful monster to Demencia and while I sympathise with you, it is your actions that nearly killed both of your employees."

"But I-"

"No...just leave me alone, I do not want to see you right now."

Acylius was tired, fingers lingering along the demons lapels before letting go.

"I am sure you can find your way back sir."

He said coldly before turning a corner in search of a new bedroom.

"I wish I had that option...to see your face for but a moment, then gladly I could accept my eternal darkness."

Sighing heavily Hat followed the wall, working to find his way back to his office.

Flug however had not gone too far...his ears had picked up those bitter sweet words but he only frowned, he was not going to let Hat get to him.

"I wager you will use that on the next university graduate you want to bed."

Before storming off.

A/N

Winces uhhh part four >.O;

#villainous au #blind au #villainous #paperhat #you think flug rly hates hat ?

[cath-with-a-c]

Nothing and Everything, 4/7

in which the rules are broken

Wordcount: ~3,1k words

TW: underage drinking, physical and emotional abuse

part 1 part 2 part 3

2002

This thing was bound to go to shit, but it was too late to quit. You don’t quit drinking after you’ve already taken a few swigs, right?

“It could use some spice, to be honest,” Desmond drawled, swirling his drink in the water bottle and taking another measured sip. “Cinnamon would work, I guess.”

Rob gave him an unimpressed look. “Since when are you a cocktail expert?” he blurted out, leaning on the tree behind him. The world was slightly askew around the edges, but the feeling would pass soon.

At least he hoped so. They had maybe a few minutes left before they’d have to get back.

Desmond gave him crooked, one-sided grin and grabbed a piece of candied fruit from the packet between them. He had a little blush high up on his cheeks. “Since I have taste, dude,” he scoffed and dropped fruit into his mouth.

Rob rolled his eyes giving his friend a little shove. What Desmond tasted he didn’t know, for him, this was just a weird mix of apple juice and booze burning its way down the throat, that was becoming gradually less awful with every swig, just as Rob's head was getting lighter and lighter.

It had all started when Maisie told them she'd managed to steal a bottle of whiskey from her father’s secret cabinet, and she had been ready to go all communist and distribute it equally to every kid over the age of fourteen. The distribution itself had been the main problem - because one, it had to be evenly measured and two, alcohol was off limits on the Farm, meaning they needed to somehow cover their tracks.

The way around getting caught in the act had taken a few more days, until today they were finally tasting and toasting their victory, 2.8 ounces per water bottle, with apple juice on top to hide the smell.

“There goes another rule,” Desmond said, letting his head fall against the tree, eyes closed. Rob watched, all but hypnotized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with another swig. “We’ve been drinking for fifteen minutes and the world didn’t end. How surprising.”

“And how many left?” Rob asked, taking one more sip too.

“Four,” Desmond drawled, eyes still closed, and then amended. “Well, three, you can’t really break fourth while still being here, so. Three, I guess.”

He took a big sip and grimaced. “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” he said in a mocking tone. “More like “everything we say is true, and nothing is permitted unless we say so”, for fuck's sake.”

Rob didn't answer, taking another swig instead. He didn't really want to argue with Desmond on this again. The rising level of spite and edge in Desmond’s argument was getting uncomfortable, The Creed was there to protect and guide them, why try to tear it down so much, especially when using it?

To his relief, Desmond wasn’t really in a fighting mood too. He huffed a sigh, swirling his drink absently, and glanced down on his watch. “Ten minutes before break ends, guess we better head out,” he said, taking one more gulp, putting the bottle down under the log they were sitting on and getting up.

Rob nodded, setting down his own drink and gingerly getting up too. He still had enough sobriety left to realize that, even if his feet were steady enough, any and all acrobatics were out of the question.

Desmond, who seemed surprisingly better at holding his liquor, put a steadying hand over Rob’s shoulders. “Let’s take a long way back, okay?”

They’ve crossed the woods, heading back along the running track that surrounded the Farm as some sort of old fortifications, red stripes on the trees marking every hundred feet. The walk through familiar woods cleared Rob’s head a little, and, by the time they’ve reached the Farm, he was pretty sure no one could tell he was tipsy.

He turned his head to Desmond to say as much when all of a sudden Desmond’s hand on his shoulder tensed and he took it off. “Mom,” he greeted in a forcefully light tone that nearly made Rob cringe.

He turned back to see Mrs. Miles briskly walking towards them with a deep frown on her face. She stopped just a few feet ahead, arms crossed over her chest, brown eyes hard. “Son,” she replied, mimicking his voice. “Be a dear, let me smell your breath.”

Rob’s stomach dropped. “That’s a weird request, mom,” Desmond said lightly, and Maria scowled at him.

“Now,” she demanded icily, and Desmond’s shoulders dropped. Mrs. Miles looked at both of their guilty faces for a few seconds and nodded. "With me."

She led them to the center of the Farm in dead silence. Rob sneaked a glanced at Desmond, who was looking straight ahead, and Rob wasn’t sure he was even blinking.

In front of the central hall, there was a group of teens surrounded by a group of adults. Rob counted the others hastily. Five. Apart from them, there were five others, meaning that two weren't caught, and, aside from clearly anxious Maisie and red-eyed Colin, everyone seemed more or less fine.

As if echoing Rob's thoughts, Desmond sighed in relief and, glancing at him, drew a letter S in the air.

Oh, that's right. Sammy wasn't there. And Daria. The two nerds must've been too busy for a drink. Or just sneaky enough, who cares, it was a relief either way.

"I think that's all of them," Maria said, joining other disgruntled adults. "Where's Bill?"

Ned, Maisie's father nodded at the central hall. "Said he'd be in a moment." he then gave the teens a sidelong glance. "The whole lot of them, eh? That's new. Do you know where they've got the stuff?"

Maisie visibly tensed at his words, and Desmond gently patted her on the back.

"It's gonna be fine," he whispered just loud enough for her and Rob to hear, a comforting lie. Rob could honestly appreciate his effort

"No, they wouldn't tell," Colin's mother, Theo, grumbled, eyeing her son.

“They will, eventually,” Maria assured her, and Rob shivered a little.

The chatter died, as William Miles emerged from the central hall with Rob's own dad in tow. His face was a particular kind of stormy, but compared to William, he was completely chill.

"Line up!" William barked and before Rob could even comprehend what was said, his legs moved, placing him between Desmond and Colin. Their shoulders brushed and Rob realized that Desmond was tense, as if ready for an attack.

William paced in front of them, looking every teen in the face, like he was trying to read their minds, but not sparing Desmond even a glance. "Which one of you did it?“ he asked in a chillingly even voice. "You better tell me, or you are all going to be punished as severely as whoever started it. Think about it.“

The only answer he got was silence. Rob carefully watched as the muscles of William’s face twitched, and felt a little wave of weird satisfaction. They weren't all best friends, but there was no way they would tattle. No one was going to throw Maisie under the bus, no one-

"I did it," Desmond said, in a monotone. He almost sounded bored. "It was my idea."

Rob turned to him, almost choking on air. Desmond was looking straight ahead, with the same blank stare that had been haunting Rob's dreams for years.

For a few moments the silence around them was deafening like everything has stopped until it was broken by a cry:

"Wait, no, it's not him, it's me!“ Maisie stepped forward, visibly trembling. "I stole the bottle, not Desmond!“

William pinned her to the spot with the same icy stare. "Ms. Snow, as commendable it is to stand up for your peers, you shouldn't try to take the blame for my son."

Maisie made a strangled sound. "But-" she started again only to be cut off by Desmond.

"Mais. Stop it," he said, turning to her. "You know you didn't do it."

He then turned again, calmly looking his father in the eyes. "I did it. I stole the bottle from Mr. Snow's cabinet."

He continued, explaining the steps he took, sounding so sure, Rob was deterred for a moment. Desmond was selling it like a good actor sells a role. As if nudged, Rob looked at adults, who were murmuring about themselves, nodding along.

“Why am I not surprised,” Maria sighed, looking tired.

It dawned on Rob that this was something expected, they were expecting Desmond to be the one behind this.

Suddenly Rob remembered, how lucky they seemed as kids, how a lot of problems and pranks, guaranteed to get them a whooping, would go unnoticed.

Had they really?

"Step forward, Desmond," William's voice cut through his thoughts. Desmond's shoulder, tense and hot under thin t-shirt brushed Rob's and he barely curbed the urge to grab his friend by the arm.

“You have disappointed me, son,” William said in a low, flat tone, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

“Big fucking news,” he said, spitefully, and William backhanded him in an instant, making his head whip to the side. The slap resonated, making Rob wince.

“What,” William all but growled, sounding like a big, angry dog. “Did I tell you about swearing, boy?”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Desmond murmured, gingerly touching his cheek, shoulders dropping, fight seemingly drained from him.

“Bill,” Maria reprimanded, glancing around. “Not in front of the others.”

William spared her a quick look and nodded. “You are right,” he said and turned to adults. “Everyone is dismissed. Desmond, with us.”

Without another word, he walked away and Desmond followed, like a puppet on strings, throwing Rob one last glance over the shoulder.

Rob wanted to run after him, to ask, why the hell he would do something so stupid, but his own father had already taken him by the shoulder and was leading him away, to their home.

Because his father was a virtual saint, Rob was let off the hook with minimal casualties - he just sighed, asked Rob to be more responsible in the future and shifted the curfew by a couple of hours. William wasn’t so lenient, though - the next day after mandatory morning training, he made all of those caught line up in front of the other kids for a public shunning, giving them an almost an hour lecture on why their actions are a disgrace to the community and the Brotherhood at large, most of which went completely over Rob’s head because he was too busy trying to find Desmond anywhere.

Desmond wasn’t there. Which, probably, shouldn’t have been that surprising - that happened before, he would disappear after they got busted, and then he’d be back later in the day, but something wasn’t sitting comfortably in Rob’s chest. They’d never, like, had been caught breaking an actual rule before, and Desmond’s confession certainly didn't give him any points too.

The lecture concluded with the punishment being dealt - they’d have to run ten miles instead of five every morning for the next four weeks, and they’re not allowed to have water bottles on them for the same period of time - and the teens were finally allowed to resume their daily routines, which Rob did, still being on a lookout for Desmond.

Desmond didn’t show up throughout the day, and the next day, and the day after that. Rob, dread settled comfortably in the pit of his stomach, asked around, but no one has seen him since the Whiskey Incident. As Maisie, who also noticed his absence and was visibly distraught by that, put it, this was like Desmond had disappeared from the face of the earth.

By the sixth day, Rob had almost worked up the courage to just go and ask Mrs. Miles about Desmond. He was sitting on their clearing, having just seen Sam and Penny off, sharpening the knives and rehearsing in his head what he was going to say, when-

“Rob,” he heard and his head whipped up. Desmond was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking at him with a half-smile.

“Desmond!” Rob dropped the knife and sprang on his feet, breathing freely for the first time in days, the knot in his chest dissipating.

He almost crushed Desmond with a hug, provoking a small laugh.

“Dude, I was gone for… for… for a few days, stop acting like I was in a war or something,” he said finally and lightly tapped Rob on the back. “Let go, I wanna sit.”

Rob did let go, with a momentary reluctance and got a good look on his friend. It was a habit of his since they were little and just getting into training and trouble - scan for injuries first. Desmond looked fine, more or less, maybe a little bit paler than usual, and his gaze wandered a little. As soon as Rob let go, he swayed a little before plopping on the ground with a wince.

“Dude, where’ve you been?” Rob asked, sitting down too. “It’s been days!”

“How many?” Desmond suddenly asked and Rob frowned.

“It’s Friday now, it’s been five full days since the whiskey,” he said slowly. “Desmond, what happened?”

Desmond shrugged, leaning against the tree with another wince and draping an arm over his eyes. “I was in the Box,” he finally answered.

Oh. Rob knew the place, was there with Desmond once, kinda long ago, when they got caught stealing cookies by Maria and were put there to wait for their fathers. It wasn’t really a box, just a small room with an equally small adjacent bathroom. It was eerie, dark, with the only light being the one coming from the small, grey-tinted bathroom window, nothing but a sleeping bag to sit on and pretty much no sound but his and Desmond’s breathing, because the walls were soundproofed. It has only been a couple of hours, but Rob was still uncomfortable remembering it.

“Wait, you’ve been there for the whole time?” he asked, incredulously. When Desmond didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Dude...That’s long. They didn’t let you out at all? What about food?”

“Nah, they didn’t,” Desmond replied in tired monotone. “They don’t talk to me when I’m in the Box. And I was fed, once a day, not that it helped a lot. They got me oats, you know I hate those. I ended up barfing most of them up anyway.”

Rob silently got up, trying and failing to imagine how it could feel - alone, in the dark, no sense of time, no food, just darkness, and walls and your own breathing. It felt nauseating, Moving over to his stash, he pulled out a couple of protein bars. When he turned back, Desmond was already lying on the ground, eyes still closed. Rob tossed the bars on his chest.

“Eat,” Rob said, settling down again.

“Thanks. Don’t worry, It’s fine,” Desmond said forcefully, starting to unwrap the first bar. “At least I didn’t need to train with the mess on my back, that’d be shitty.”

Rob stilled “What mess?” he asked slowly. Instead of answering, Desmond just sat upright with a wince and pulled at his t-shirt. making it ride up. His back was painted with welts, most of them already yellow, but some looking like they’d barely scabbed over. The nausea returned in full force.

“Your father did that?” he blurted out, and Desmond sighed, letting the thin cotton fall down again.

“Yep. Speaking of which, I should probably go,” he said with regret, looking at his watch. “He and mom are out of the house, but I think they’ll be back soon.”

Rob nodded and got up first, grabbing Desmond by the wrist and pulling him to his feet.

The short walk back to the Farm was filled with the crackling of the wrap, as Desmond devoured the bars and asked after others in-between the bites. Rob answered, giving him as much info as he knew, and suddenly realized, that others mostly got out as easy as him. Colin had it a little rough with his strict mom, but otherwise, everyone was… fine. Even Maisie's father decided it was a clever enough prank to be treated as such. Don't do it again, no dessert for a couple of weeks, and that's all.

Desmond hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Good," he said. "I probably won't be coming to our place in some time."

"What? Why?" Rob asked, frowning.

"Dad said if I have enough time to steal bottles and give my peers the alcohol poisoning, that means I have enough time for more training and chores,” Desmond shrugged. “So… Not really sure if I'd have long enough broken to come over."

Robert wanted to reply, but they have already stepped out of the woods behind Desmond’s house. His window on the second floor, looking out to the forest was wide open.

"Gimme a boost?" Desmond asked and Rob nodded, standing with his back to the wall and locking his hands. Desmond stopped and looked around again. Rob could only see a part of his face, but he could tell longing in Desmond’s eyes. Longing and anger.

"You know what?" Desmond said, turning back. He stepped into Rob's personal space, warm brown eyes shining feverishly. His mouth was twisted into an almost hateful sneer. "Fuck the rules."

He then stepped up and Rob boosted him without thinking, confused by this sudden change of attitude. When he glanced up, Desmond was already in, looking out of the window, face all hard lines, jaw set.

"Fuck. The. Rules," he repeated before disappearing into the house without a goodbye.

Rob stayed, frozen to the spot for a few moments, and then turned around and walked away. There was some new emptiness inside him, and he suddenly felt very tired. He could still see Desmond’s angry face in his mind.

William Miles passed him by, cold and confident as ever, and Rob stopped abruptly, every hair on his head standing up. He thought of yellow bruises and red welts, of a dark, empty room, how all he needed to do was be at home in 1900 hours instead of 2100.

Why was William so harsh on Desmond? Wasn’t beating and five days in the Box enough of a punishment?

“Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” a little voice in the back of his head reminded him. Rob scoffed and shook his head.

Maybe everything was permitted, he thought defiantly. But this shouldn't be.

part 5

ao3 link

#Assassin's Creed #Desmond Miles #Assassin's Creed Fanfic #assassin's creed oc #william miles #oh look maria miles is here #and she is fine with her son being beaten #i honestly feel dead #tw: child abuse #tw: torture #tw: alcohol #tw: abuse #tw: physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse

[rogue-barnes-16]

BLIND (part XXX/XXX)

Summary: Steve brought Bucky to the compound for him to join the Avengers. While some of them welcomed him with smiles, others prefer to judge him for his past. But, could that change?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Blind:

@goodnightmode @superhero2552 @thejourneyneverendsx @wishingforahome @thefandomzoneisdangerous @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @learisa @onespideyboi @afootnoteinyourhappiness @shirukitsune

Permanent taglist:

@notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @sinviix @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack

Warnings: language, angst, a bit chaotic

A/N: this is the last part yayyy! There's an epilogue left, but this is it. Omg it's so long. Enjoy <3.

Blind masterlist

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

I didn't know how I had been able to hold back the sobs during my whole way to the lab "Tony" I called him, clenching my jaw stronger with each step I took.

"Where have you been?" he asked confused, but mildly distracted. "Barnes wanted to say goodbye before going with Vision to Toronto."

"we've to talk" my voice cracked slightly with that sentence, and it caused Tony to finally look up at me.

He circled his table and took a couple of hesitant steps towards me "about what?" I had to bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Y/n, what happened?"

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and rested against one of the numerous tables "I received an email from Ross" I started to explain. "a few days ago. It was 'bout what happened during... My latest mission."

"the kids?" he quietly asked, making his way to sit on a desk in front of me.

"he read Steve's report" I kept going, my hands gripping the edge of the table while I did so. "but it's not just that, I got drunk a couple of weeks ago-"

"yeah" he confirmed "Barnes told us"

I nodded and opened my eyes before resuming my explanation "I went to see the two kids' families. I told them it was me."

"wait WHAT?!"

"they filed two law suits against me." Tony's eyes widened "I've just come back from a private trial"

There was a moment of silence before the millionaire spoke again. "what did they tell you" this time, his voice was much quieter, and it was obvious that he was afraid of what I could answer.

I intended to scoff, but it came out accompanied by a sob, which made it sound way worse. "karma's a bitch"

It hadn't been a regular trial.

It couldn't have been a regular trial, because this wasn't a regular crime, and I wasn't a regular person.

I was an Avenger.

An Avenger who —no matter what Bucky, Natasha, Tony, Wanda and Vision could say about it— had murdered two kids.

The trial had been quick, and now it was my time to talk with Ross in private.

So here we were, standing in front of each other with a desk in the middle. "it's a good deal, Y/l/n" he said, breaking the silence. "you know it can be way worse."

"worse?" I scoffed, shocked by his statement. "they are taking my life away from me. They are taking everything away from me."

"You'll probably be able to come back to the compound in a while" he replied, trying to convince me to accept that fucking deal "we'll figure out a way for you to-"

"I won't be able to-" my voice cracked at the mere thought of agreeing on it. "they're not only taking my job away from me, 'kay? My friends- my life- I just-"

"they'll visit you from time to time!" he yelled at me, exasperated.

"I'm not gonna give up my-" I took a deep breath, clenching my fists around the backrest of the chair. "what 'bout Barnes? 'from time to time' is not enough. Not for us."

"Listen, Y/l/n" he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose "either you retire, or you go to that prison you saw your friends in a couple of years ago."

"Fuck" Tony cursed under his breath. "fuck fuck fuck fuck" I could almost see the millions of alternative ways to solve this passing through his eyes while he started to pace before me.

"they gave me four days to decide" I interrupted him, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He stopped dead in his tracks, opening his eyes widely. "Barnes will be out for a week."

"it's okay" I lied, crossing my arms over my chest "it's better if he doesn't know just yet"

"Y/n-"

"it's better if he doesn't know just yet" I repeated with gritted teeth.

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but it rapidly shut again when he looked at the entrance of the lab "what are you two talking about?"

I slowly turned around to be met with Wanda's worried green eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had had to tell Wanda.

She promised she wouldn't say anything, but by the looks Natasha was giving me, I knew my forced retirement wasn't a secret anymore.

"what?" I bitterly barked, not bothering on looking up from my book at the redhead. "I know you know it already, so quit-"

"Everyone knows already" she cut me off, making me finally raise my gaze to her. "Everyone but Barnes" she made a pause before picking her phone from there pocket and sliding it over the table. "Tell him. He deserves to know."

I stared at the phone for a second, not daring to move. "Nat, I'm- I don't want him to-"

"he deserves it more than anyone." and with that, she got up and, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly, she left me there.

I did consider calling him, or at least sending a text. Then I realized there was only a day left, and that there was no point on doing it.

So I didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't realize it was my last day at the compound until late night, and it probably was because everyone kept acting like nothing happened for me not to think much about it.

It worked. That was the reason why the breakdown came at midnight instead of during the morning.

But it's alright, I thought while I opened my room's door, it's better to break down alone than- "what the hell d'you think you're doin'?" no, please. "answer, Y/n" Bucky demanded. "I think I deserve an answer."

I wanted to offer him some kind of reply, but no words came out.

I had frozen when I saw him standing there in the darkness of the room, still wearing his now dirty suit.

"Y/n." he called my name, shaking me off my brief trance. "Tell me you're not leaving." again, I didn't answer, but this time was because I didn't want to lie to him. "please, Y/n. Please tell me your not leaving, 'kay? Please"

His eyes were now slightly bloodshot due to the tears he was holding back. "it's not a choice" I finally spoke, clearing my throat while I stepped towards the bed, where my suitcase was already set up for me to pack my things. "I can't stay"

"not even for me?" I wanted to say 'no', but I felt a lump slowly forming in my throat while I began to put my clothes inside the suitcase. "Y/n, please" he held my wrists, stopping me from continuing my task. "not even for- for us?" He swallowed forcefully went he realized I had noticed the crack in his voice. "Don't go. They can't- I- please, don't." this time, he didn't even try to hide the way his voice tremble. "d-don't leave me"

"don't be so fucking selfish" my voice cracked too, but luckily, he was too shocked by my words to hear it. "you knew this wouldn't end well, so quit the childish behavior." I threw a couple more things into the suitcase before closing it. "this relationship made no sense anyways"

When I said that last sentence, I certainly wasn't expecting the reaction I got from him.

His eyes went darker, and tears finally fell down his cheeks, but accompanied by anger. "y'know what? You're right." If there was something left to break inside me, it for sure shattered with his words. "You've been taking bad decisions since I met you. But in this one," he ran his hand through his hair. "in this one you're on your own."

Right after he stalked out of the room, my legs gave in and I fell to the floor, unable to breath, unable to cry, unable to move.

He was right, I was on my own now, and it was my fault.

I stayed like that for a couple of hours before I was able to move. And the moment I was able to move, I left.

Two Weeks Later

The house wasn't bad at all. It was a kind of rustic bungalow besides the beach with plenty of commodities.

The first six days I had felt so alone. I didn't move from my bed until the beginning of the second week.

I started keep myself busy with anything and everything during the day, and during the night, if I couldn't sleep, I went to the beach.

That night felt like it was going to be one of those nights, so I put the bikini on and, after grabbing the towel, I made my way to the front door.

Before I got there, however, I heard a couple of weak knocks on it. Out of habit, first thing I did was to grab my gun.

Holding it with one hand, I approached the door and I used the free one to open it.

The hand grabbing my gun fell limply to my side. "how- what are you doing here?" I managed to ask, my eyes locked with his. "Bucky-"

He took a couple of steps towards me and pushed me back slightly. I couldn't remember what I was going to say, because as soon as his lips crashed with mines, my mind went blank. Without noticing, I was returned the kiss while my hands roamed over his chest.

The kiss deepened quicker than expected, growing even more passionate, as well as desperate each passing second.

I needed to hold onto something, because I knew we would end up falling. I was losing strength and I felt Bucky’s body shaking as much as mine.

My back got slammed against the wall —I hadn't even noticed we were moving— and I gasped.

That was when I remembered we needed air, so I broke the kiss, pushing him back just enough for us to breath.

"You're not on your own" he mumbled with hooded eyes and swollen lips. "I'm sorry, I love you."

"I didn't mean what I said" I replied, wrapping my shaky arms around his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, you're right, I always make bad decisions. I'm sorry" I repeated, nuzzling my nose against his neck. "I'm so sorry, I love you more than anything, I'm sorry."

We stayed like that for a moment, hugging, in peaceful silence, until Bucky spoke. "I came to stay"

I frowned, pulling away to look at him "what?"

"I retired." he answered, giving me a genuine smile. "I'm staying with you." he brushed a strand of hair off my face. "If you want me here, of course"

I nodded, not being able to formule a proper sentence, bringing him closer for another kiss.

#marvel imagine #marvel miniseries #marvel one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #james barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #40's bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #bucky imagine #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes #reader insert #sebastian stan masterlist #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes miniseries #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky masterlist #white wolf x reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes smut masterlist #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #blind

[galfridus1]

Hey Ellie, CONGRATULATIONS!!! If it's ok with u, I'd love to request Escalin with n9 ^^

Berta! Thank you so much! You have given so much to the fandom this year and especially this last week - you are a wonderful artist. I wanted to give something back to you, and I hope you like this.

Here is some Escalin with “why are you crying”. I tried to write an actual poem for it and failed miserably (it’s harder than it looks, people need to cut Escanor some slack!) so I gave up. The poem used here is from the computer game King’s Quest VI. The dialogue above the cut you will recognise as coming from Vampires Of Edinburgh, Part 3.

Failure. That’s what he was: an utter and complete and total failure. Escanor steadied himself, taking great gulps of the slightly stale air to try and calm his increasingly frayed nerves, to sooth the almost unbearable ache in his chest. Why did he have to be so entirely useless? Why did he always have to lose control?

But it had felt so good. How he had relished the battle with the odious vampire king, the rich iron smell of his blood and the snug feel of Rhitta as it fit in his hand. But now the adrenaline with its rush of triumph was all gone, replaced by the anxious beat of his heart. It was after nightfall and so he had returned to the man he truly was, and all he could do was remember the way he had acted with horror as images which made him wince with regret flashed before his eyes. As he gazed at the blank stone walls of his cell, the ring of silence vibrating in his ear, he wished to goodness he had never been born.

The piece of paper he was holding crackled in his hands and he looked down in surprise at the crumpled page. It contained his latest attempts at poetry. He had been blessed with some confidence when he had begun, the golden rays of the setting sun as they streamed through his window casting a brilliant blaze over his glorified prison. But now the silver light of the moon mixed with the warm glow of the lanterns, and everything he had wanted to say fizzled away to an embarrassed nothing.

“I bet Merlin’s lost faith in me,” he whispered to himself as his shoulders slumped, and he felt the swathes of cloth which covered him sag over his limbs, a constant reminder of his lessened state. “Even if I write a poem like this it’s not good for anything…”

“Will you let me hear it?” The familiar voice made him start. His head snapped up, his mouth falling open as he stared at the woman who forever plagued his thoughts. On her arms hung a basket of food, two bottles of ale shining in welcome as Merlin gave him a rare, warm smile. At once, the desperate sadness which had gnawed at his insides settled down to simmer, his joy at seeing her looking so contented enough to give him some control over the tumult of emotion.

“It… it’s nothing special,” he stuttered as his fingers closed round the parchment, “and it needs more work. But I will read it to you when it’s ready if you would do me the honour.”

“I’d like to hear it now, at least what you have of it,” Merlin said kindly, her eyes seeking his across the cold, bare room. “Please,” she added and Escanor dropped his head, his stomach leaping into his mouth at the very prospect. But he knew he could not say no to Merlin, not even if the result was his own humiliation.

“Well, ahem, since you request it, my lady:

What was it when I looked at you?What power has chained me through and through?And binds my heart with links so tight,I can not live without the sight of you?What nameless thing has captured me?And made me powerless to flee?What thing is it without a name,That brings my mind ever back the same to thee?The name of ‘love’ cannot apply,Its commonness does not descry,The haunted, hunted, painful cry that my heart makes for you,That ever my soul eternal makes for you.”

Escanor’s mouth ran dry, the last of his words barely audible as he stammered. Why, oh why, did he ever try to write? It sounded well enough in his head but, once uttered, the words revealed themselves for the clumsy, clunky nonsense that they were. But, to his surprise and great relief, Merlin hummed appreciatively as she moved towards him, her hip swinging gracefully with her gait. “I like it,” she murmured quietly, the faint praise sending his heart soaring to the heavens.

He needed to change the subject, fast. “Did you not wish to join the others,” Escanor managed to squeak out past the lump that stubbornly remained in his throat. He coughed quickly before continuing, “I’m sure Sir Zaratras has put on quite a celebration.”

“He has, but no matter. I would rather be here with you.”

Escanor swallowed, his brows rising gratefully as Merlin handed him an opened bottle. He watched as she spread out the food she carried over a linen cloth evidently brought for the purpose, his mouth watering as he spied crusty bread, a round of cheese mottled with blue, some verdant apples and ripe, red tomatoes. He took a long draft of the ale, the smooth tang of malt providing a welcome distraction as he struggled to think of a suitable reply. “Oh,” he finally offered. “That’s… nice.”

He spluttered as Merlin chuckled, “I mean… it’s nice to spend time with you!”

“Well, here I am.” Merlin looked at him steadily then stooped, carefully selecting an apple before examining its surface with a critical eye. Escanor blushed as he too bent down to pick up one of the fruits, ashamed that the meal Merlin had so kindly provided was lying on the floor rather than a table. He had next to no furniture in his cell: just a bed and the single stone bench on which he now sat. He had been given bits and pieces which had decorated the room in the beginning, but of course the breakable additions had not lasted long.

Lost in his thoughts, self-loathing churning like bile in his stomach, he did not notice as Merlin continued to examine him, her eyes softening as they searched his face. He did not see her press her lips together, brow crinkling in concentration as she regarded him closely. All he could think about was that Merlin was next to him, that he loved her more than life itself and yet would never be worthy to lick her boots. Better to leave things as they were, whatever Meliodas advised about telling her how he felt. She would only laugh, or worse, he would lose her friendship.

Shaking his head slightly, he asked, “I still don’t understand why you are here. There are any number of better things you could be doing…”

“One more word of that sort and I will stop your tongue.” Escanor gasped, knowing the threat was no idle one. He had seen the Boar Sin use her magic in ways which should not have been possible. She was so powerful, so brilliant, so unique. He swallowed thickly, willing the tightening of his throat and the unmistakable prickle behind his eyes to go away and leave him alone. But it was no good. The more he tried, the more he struggled to breathe. What was wrong with him? Why was he incapable of having a conversation with Merlin without making an absolute fool of himself.

“Why are you crying?” Merlin peered into his face, her shoulder gently brushing against his own. “Escanor, tell me what’s wrong,” she commanded imperiously. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not,” he protested, even as he felt a telltale tear cascade down his burning cheek.

“My eyes are weak,” he attempted by way of explanation. “They’re fine in the day but at night… well, they’re like the rest of me. Not really up to the task.” This was at least partially true. He had found himself blinking, his eyes watering in the lantern light, his eyes unable to focus properly on the words he wrote.

Merlin barked out a laugh, resting a hand lightly on his knee. “Sounds like you need glasses…” Escanor looked up in surprise as the mage trailed off. It was extremely rare for Merlin not to finish her train of thought and he wondered what could have interrupted her flow.

“I have to go,” Merlin said as she stood abruptly, her long skirts rustling as she moved towards the door. “I’ll be back,” she added a little distractedly as Escanor’s face fell. “I just got an idea, one that can help your eyesight and mean you don’t have to remain in this room.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she said forcefully as she swept from the room. Escanor stared in silence at her retreating back as the mantle of loneliness once more closed around him.

#nnt #1000 follower challenge #escanor #merlin #escalin #fanfiction #merry christmas berta! #I sure hope you like this #you deserve a lot of presents

[i-writing-is-hard-i]

Faramir (Not like the others)

Faramir x Y/N 

[disclaimer] mentions of war, violence, and blood, 

“Hurry, Y/N, We must get to Gondor, quick” Gandalf called out to you.  You weren’t that far behind, but your horse was defiantly slowing, he was no Shadowfax, even carrying both Gandalf and Pippin, she was still swift.  You weren’t really sure why Gandalf had asked you to come, instead of staying, with Aragorn, but here you were.  Riding to Minas Tirith.  Which slowly came into view.  

Gandalf slowed down, turning to you.

“I want you to go to Osgiliath” He pointed to a city not too far from Minas Tirith, “There will no doubt be guardsmen stationed there, I suspect Faramir, will be leading them”

You sent your bird in that direction, in the hopes she would be able to spot any enemies near, then you headed in that direction yourself, while Gandalf and Pippin continued to Minas Tirith.  It was getting late when you finally came to their camp.  A soldier stopped you, quite forcefully.

“I wish to see Faramir, Gandalf the, Grey sent me” you almost said white, but guessed they were less likely to know him by that name.  The man looked at you suspiciously but sent you in.  Boromir had spoken often about his younger brother.  He held him in high regards.  

“Sir this is” the soldier went to introduce you, but he hadn’t even asked for your name.

“Gandalf sent me” you explained taking off your hood, looking up to Faramir, meeting his eyes. Something about them made your heart flutter.  His gaze lingered on you too.

“Gandalf?” Faramir questioned.

“Yes, he is on his way to Minas Tirith as we speak, he asked me to come here, and aid you any way I can, I am Y/N”

Faramir thought a moment, then explained the situation.  The orcs were stationed in the North, but it had been so quiet as of late.  The now darkened skies made it difficult to see anything, but you could not see your bird.

“Are you sure, Captain?” you asked, Faramir looked to you, questioningly, while you were looking around in the sky, finally spotting what you were looking for.  Your bird was circling,  over the waters.  

“Captain, I fear they may be coming from the river” you explained.  Faramir followed your gaze spotting the bird.

“That yours?” he asked, you explained you had sent or on to find the enemy.  

Faramir turned to Madril his Lieutenant, they discussed something under their breaths.  Then turned to you.

“I believe her, send the men to the river”

The men had stationed themselves just in time, the orcs pulled up on the shore.  You waited for Faramir to make his first.  Soon enough the fighting commenced, but there were so many, you were greatly outnumbered, there was nothing you could do.  

One by one the men fell.  You managed to make it to Faramir’s side, in time to save him from a blow of a sword in his back.  Faramir nodded in thanks.  As you two made your way through the horde, Faramir suddenly pulled you out the way.  Just in time too, as arrows whizzed past.  Hitting all that had followed you. Things just got worse, the Nazgul arrived.  It was all they needed.  Faramir decided that it was too many, that they could not win, and you had to agree, Osgiliath was lost.  Faramir called the retreat.   You were helping a wounded soldier, allowing him to take your horse.  You could still run, he couldn’t.

Faramir witnessed your kindness, he rushed to your side, insisting that you get on with him.  It would only slow the horse down, but Faramir refused to leave otherwise, so you agreed, but you faced the opposite direction, at least you would see them coming,  it wasn’t easy holding on though.  Using all the strength left in your legs to hold you in place, Shooting arrows in the hopes that you could put the fell beast off, but you were now in a wide open space, so far from the safety of the city, what were you going to do?.  

A bright light blinded you temporarily, Gandalf had come to their aid.  You were safe for now.  Once behind the gate, you jumped off the horse, aiding those who needed it.  Unbeknown to you Faramir’s eyes lingered on you until Gandalf had called to him.  

“This is not the first Hobbit you’ve seen?” that caught your attention. You turned round to them,

“You’ve seen Frodo?” Pippin questioned, Faramir nodded.

“And what of Sam, was he still with him?, were they okay?, How long ago, where?” you hadn’t intended on bombarding him with questions, but you had been so worried about Frodo and Sam since you separated.  

“Not two days ago” Faramir answered. “Tell me all you know, tell me everything” Gandalf demanded.

“Walk with me, I must report to my father” Faramir explained.  He held out a hand for you so you could ride on the back, after all, you were currently horseless.  Wrapping one arm around him, with a blush on your cheeks, the two horses made their way up.  Faramir explained everything he could including how he let the ring go, before heading inside to report to his father.  Your eyes followed him in unintentionally.  You had only just met but you could see where Boromir was coming from when he spoke of his brother.

“So, how did it go?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself from the staring.   Gandalf then explained everything to you.  

“Pippin” you sighed.

Later that evening you had decided to go for a walk, probably not the best idea, Denethor probably wouldn’t be too happy with you from what you had heard from Gandalf.  Your journey had taken you outside passed the tree.  To the edge of the cliff, where you could get a perfect view of Mordor, and the cloud that was growing closer by the minute.  You felt your heart sink at the sight.

Faramir had seen you walking, he watched you from a distance for a while, but it just wasn’t enough to quench his interest.  You were like no other he had seen, he wanted to know more.  With that in mind, he walked to you,

“Excuse me” he called out, Startling you a little, you turned around smiling,

“Captain” you returned.  Faramir stopped beside you, joining you as you gazed out to the darkness.  It was silent for a while, but not uncomfortable.

“You should be proud of yourself” You spoke first, you had been thinking it for a while, but you had not intended to share that.  Faramir turned to you confused,

“I mean with the ring, you sent it off, not many in your position would be able to say the same” you explained yourself.  

“I almost didn’t” Faramir admitted.  Too ashamed to look at you. You turned around completely.

“But you did, and that is something to be proud off, even if some say otherwise, hell, I am proud of you and we only just met” you were hinting at his father, from what Gandalf had said, you knew their relationship was barely there and how much he desired the ring.  

Faramir was at a loss for words, only Boromir had ever said something like that.  He didn’t know how to take it.  His eyes lingered on you again.  As you stared back, with a soft expression.

“You are not like anyone I have ever met” Faramir admitted warmly.

“Funny enough I get that a lot, though it is not usually said so nice” you Laughed back, it was contagious, he couldn’t help but join in.  He had only just met you but you were doing something to him, that he just couldn’t explain.the two of kept up a conversation into the night, it just flowed out of you, you had known of his love for lore and music, but hearing him speak of it really made it clear to you just how much. You admired him for that.  In sudden haste, Faramir quickly bid you goodnight, before rushing off.  Not long after you headed to your own room, settling down to sleep.

The next morning you decided you would see Pippin before he took his oath to serve Denethor, but he had already gone in.  you could sort of hear, what was going on.  Subtly you made your way closer, hoping to hear what was happening, it was wrong to do so, but you were such a curious person.  

You heard Pippin take his pledge, then you heard a conversation between Denethor and Faramir.  At first, you thought you were hearing it wrong, Denethor would never be dumb enough to send out men to fight the army of Orcs that had gathered in Osgiliath, would he? but that is exactly what you heard.  

“You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived” you heard Faramir asked.

“Yes, I wish that” Denethor replied.  You felt your blood boil, what kind of man could say something like that to their own son.  It took all you had not to barge in, you would have fought the guards if you had to.  You wanted to give that man a piece of your mind, but you were interrupted by Faramir leaving.

Stopping suddenly when he saw you.  His eyes were red as if he were holding back tears, but he didn’t stay long, bowing light at you he made his way down the hall.  

“Faramir, don’t do this” you had grabbed his arm.  Your body moved on its own, when you realised what you had done, you quickly let go.

“Your father doesn’t understand how bad it is out there, wait for Rohan” you reassured. But Faramir was having none of it.

“I have to do this” he expressed.

“But, Please, I fear you will not make it back” you begged.  Faramir turned to face you fully.  He grabbed hold of your arms, gently.

“I must defend Gondor” he explained.  Tears threatened to fall from your eyes, why would you be so scared now?.  Faramir quickly kissed your cheek, leaving you speechless before rushing off again.  For a moment your mind had gone blank, what were you to do, aside from locking him up.  Though that had crossed your mind.  Gandalf? Perhaps he could talk some sense into him.  

Gandalf met him on the path down to the gate, but there was no stopping him not now.  You rushed back up to the great hall, ready to give Denethor a piece of your mind, nothing was going to stop you, not even the guards if they tried.  Thankfully the didn’t

“How dare you!” you yelled you had barely opened the door when you did shout.  You froze.  Denethor was eating.  Eating while his only son raced of to his death.  This only made you angrier.  

Denethor had looked up to you, with a look that meant, if you were to speak again you would be cut down where you stood,  but right now you didn’t care.  You marched up to his table, standing beside him

“You heartless man, you have just sent”  Denethor interrupted you “Who do you think you are?!” he demanded. “Do not interrupt, you have just sent your last living son to his death you have left your city vulnerable, have..” Denethor interrupted you again,

“You are a friend of Gandalf, Speak to me like that again and I will have you arrested for treason” he stopped up, looking furious.  You went to open your mouth, his threat did not scare you but Gandalf had marched in and was now dragging you away.  He looked angry but when he saw the tears pool in your eyes again, he stopped himself from yelling.

“I know I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that, but he is a fool, he has left the people, they will not survive this, I saw how many there was, and more have come since then” you explained.

“I know” Gandalf sighed.  “All we can do now is wait for Rohan, and do what we can from here”

You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to hear it.  Storming off towards the gate.  By the time you had reached it, the gate was opening.  There was a horse coming, dragging a soldier behind him.  You rushed over, as another soldier bent down to him, it was Faramir. The soldier announced him as dead.   You felt sick, but you didn’t have time to dwell, the orc army was marching towards Minas Tirith.  You had to find Gandalf, make sure he knew. Running off to where you hoped he would be.  Finding him, you informed him on the current situation the death of Faramir.  Once done Gandalf raced off to see Denethor.  

Denethor was crying over Faramir, then he had the cheek to order the people to run if Gandalf didn't hit him with his stick, you sure would have punched him.  There was no time to wait, one last glance over to Faramir and you were off joining the fight.

As you were engaged in a one on one, Pippin caught your attention.  He was calling for Gandalf, he claimed Faramir wasn’t dead.  

“Are you sure Pippin?” you asked once it was safe to do so.  He was adamant about it.  Gandalf allowed you to use Shadowfax to get to him, with Pippin in front you rode up to the burial chamber the door was bared, but with Shadowfax’ help, the door flew open.  Denethor was standing over Faramir, in between the flames, you panicked.  Grabbing a spear off on the guards you smacked Denethor off.  Pippin, sprung over the flames, dragging Faramir off.  

Denethor tried to get to Pippin, but Shadowfax was having none of it, she stood up on her hind legs, nearly throwing you off, she knocked Denethor into the fire.  As you jumped off, rushing to Faramir’s side.  His eyes opened every so slightly, meeting yours, he was going to be okay, but you couldn’t stay.  Quickly returning back to the fighting.

Finally, when things were looking bleak, Rohan arrived, led by King Theoden.  The remainder of Gondor's army and you,  met them out on the battlefield.  You had won the battle, but not without plenty of casualties, and so many deaths.  King Theoden had fallen, Eowyn was badly injured.  You too had plenty of injuries, none that would prevent you from fighting though, because you knew that it wasn’t over.  Not yet.  

You met with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli briefly, on the battlefield, glad they were okay, but your thoughts were on Faramir, but why, why was he taking up so much of your mind,.  No, it was your heart he was preoccupying but you didn’t know him that well.  You had mostly heard things about him.  He was a great man of honor, strong and courageous, smart and loyal but gentle and merciful, that you had witnessed in the brief meetings.  These were on your mind as you made your way to the House of Healing.  With Aragorn beside you, he wanted to see Eowyn, he felt like he owed her that.  

Though you needed to be patched up, Aragorn could see there was another reason you were rushing there.  He was eyeing you with curiosity but never spoke.  You turned down the nurse that had come to you, in the hopes of tending to your wounds.  You wanted to make sure Faramir was okay first.   You found him in bed, with his eyes closed but he seemed to be okay, having been patched up.  You perched on the edge of the bed, placing your hand on his chest, just to make sure he was breathing.  Faramir’s eyes opened slowly, meeting yours.  When he saw it was you, he tried to sit up, happy to see you.

“Wow, easy” you soothed.  Faramir laid back down.

“You are hurt” he noted, you had a small cut on your forehead and a shallow slice on your shoulder.

“I’m fine” you reassured.  Faramir reached up, wiping the remaining blood that had dripped down the side your face, the wound itself had stopped already.   The touch made you blush, it matched the one he was wearing.

“Rest, I am going to go and get cleaned up, I will see you tomorrow” you decided, you smiled warmly at him before standing to find a nurse.   

After getting cleaned up, you met Aragorn in the great hall, the others hadn’t arrived just yet.  You noticed him smiling at you knowingly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned.  

“That was Faramir, Boromir’s brother?” Aragorn asked, instead.

“It is” you replied.  

“I hear good things about him” Aragorn continued.

“All true” you continued, eyeing him now. “Well, I am happy for you” you went to ask him what he had meant but Legolas and Gimli came in, followed by Gandalf.  

Once everyone was up to date with what had happened, a more serious topic was brought up.  Frodo would not be able to get to the fires, without help, not with all the Orcs in his path.  You would march to the Black Gates, one last battle, you didn’t have to win, just distract them.  The plan was to leave first thing, everyone needed their rest.  You wanted to go see Faramir again, but both of you needed sleep.  

So in the morning before everyone had woken, debating with yourself whether to go and see Faramir, he would most likely be sleeping, but even if he was would he want to see you?.  You tried to go back to sleep, but you just couldn’t, so instead, you got up, and begun preparing yourself.

You had just put on your clothing when there was knock on the door.  You opened it finding a nurse.

“Excuse me, but Captain Faramir wishes to see you”  she bowed.  You stared at her, Faramir, did want to see you.

“I will be right there” you replied.  Rushing to finish getting changed.  You walked as fast as you could to Faramir.

Faramir was sitting up today, when he saw you, he jumped to his feet.  You dove over to him, he was still injured, should he really be up?

“I’m fine, I heard you are marching off to the Black Gates” Faramir sooth.  

“We are” you nodded, “I know, I know it must be done, but I wish you weren’t going” Faramir shared.

“Don’t worry about me, I will be okay” you smiled hoping to ease his worries and your own.

The two of you walked over to the archways, looking at the rather terrifying view.  You were scared, not of dying but losing.  

“It’s so quiet and dark” you whispered

“In this hour, I do not believe the darkness will endure” he sounded so confident, you couldn’t help but look up to him,

“You know, I no longer have the desire to travel the world” you decided, you loved traveling of course but the thought of settling down, after everything was so appealing

“That is well” Faramir spoke “For I am not a traveler, Yet, I will wed with the lady if it is her will”

Faramir had just asked you to marry him, you were speechless and happy, you barely knew each other and never believed in love at first sight, but you said yes.

“That is her will, indeed” you replied.  There was a new light in Faramir’s eyes one that you hadn’t seen yet, but you desired to see it more.  

“Then Let us be wed, when you return, for I know you will” Faramir placed his hand on your cheek, affectionately, but you couldn’t stay any longer, everyone was gathering.

 You mounted your horse feeling more hopeful now.  Faramir was waiting for you.  

As you approached the gate, you were feeling less than confident now.  Even after Aragorn's speech you were worried, but then so was everyone else, but even after they surrounded you, you stood your ground and didn’t hesitate to follow Aragorn into battle.

This was much harder, there were just so many, big and small.  You were struggling and the wound on your shoulder burned, perhaps it was worse than you had thought.  You watched, Aragorn go down, with all your might you tried to get to him, in your desperation, you were hit with a hard blow, it was a blunt object but it knocked you down.  You were vulnerable now.  Sure enough, an orc had seen you go down, he was lifting his sword up ready to bring it down, when there was a rumble.  The orc stopped, they all did, there was another rumble.  

Everyone turned their attention to Mount Doom, it was going haywire, so was the Eye of Sauron.  Frodo had done it, he destroyed the ring.  The orcs fled.  Man had won.  It was time to go home.

You needed help on to your horse, but you made it home okay, where sure enough Faramir stood on the walls waiting for you.  By now you were a little dazed, but you could see Faramir rushing down the stairs towards you.  You were going to ask him what he was doing here, that he should be at the House of healing, but you were just happy to see him.  He had to help you off your horse,

“I never doubted your return” he smiled.  

“Please, it takes more than a few Orcs, though truthfully I think I would like to lay down for a while” you mumbled,

Faramir helped you back up the House of Healing, where he stayed by your side .  as you rested.  When you next woke, feeling so much better, you got up. Heading to the arches, that overlooked the city, you wanted to see it now when everything was okay,  you hadn’t expected to find Faramir there talking to Aragorn.  As you approached, you overheard part of their conversation,

“Y/N is a fine woman, I don’t need to threaten you to treat her right, she can take care of herself” Aragorn had said, there was no malice in his tone, in fact, it sounded light and cheery, you felt flattered

“I have no doubts in that” Faramir chuckled.  

“What’s this I hear about me?” you asked smiling yourself.

“It is good to see you up, I will leave you two” Aragorn smile,

“I am glad you are okay” Faramir turned to you

“I Simply needed my beauty sleep” you returned.  

“Anyone else would have to sleep a 100 years to even come close to your beauty then” He sounded so sincere in his words that it left you speechless.

“You exaggerate” you replied when you had finally regained yourself.

“If only” Faramir replied.  

You had barely got a chance to register what he had said before he was pressing his lips to yours, your lips were already moving with his before your mind had even caught up.  Even when it had and you had time to think about the fact that anyone could see, you didn’t care.  Neither of you did.

You could never have imagined something like this happening to you.  You had spent a big portion of your time traveling, mostly alone, to feed your curious mind, but now, you were planning on settling down.

Pulling away, neither of you could hide your smiles.  

“I love you” Faramir confessed.

“I should hope so after asking me to marry you” you joked, “But I love you too”

Faramir chuckled.  The two of you turned to gaze out at the city.  With his arms around you and your head resting on his chest.

#Faramir #Faramir x reader #Faramir x you #Faramir x y/n #x you #x reader #Faramir headcanons #Faramir imagines #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #Lord of the Rings The Two Towers #Lord of the Rings The Return of the King #The two towers #The Return of the King #gondor