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celtics534 · 2 years

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In Your Warmth I Forget How Cold it Can Be Chapter 3

Bring Me Some Hope

I’m very excited to post this chapter! I hope you all like it!

Read on: FF.net or AO3

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Ginny admired the cute little cottages as Harry drove them to his house. Everything had happened so fast. From being kidnapped, escaping, stealing clothing from a donation bin, to then running into a detective. She’d driven away from her kidnapper's compound fast and without any direction. There had only been one thought: get away. She had just floored it, not caring about where she would go. All that mattered was that it wasn’t there.

Finally, she’d arrived in a place she’d recognized, Sheffield. Her brother had worked in the city for a year before going abroad for an assignment. While Bill stayed in the city, Ginny had visited him many times. Being a teenager in a small village got dull fast, so visiting her brother in the city always felt like a treat. Her parents hadn’t minded because she would be with her brother, and Ginny loved it because Bill didn’t treat her like a child. He would actually talk to her rather than talk at her, like their mother was famous for.

Due to her explorations with Bill, Ginny had managed to find a clothing donation bin outside a thrift store, and she’d grabbed anything that would cover her. That had been in the early hours of the morning when no one was out to report a naked woman stealing. From there, she’d ditched the car. While driving down the dark roads, the thought had occurred to Ginny that her kidnappers would know the car she’d stolen and probably would have a way to find it. Report it missing or something. Ginny didn’t know what, but she had known that holding onto the car would be like a beacon to her kidnappers. So she’d ditched it and went out on foot… which led her straight into Harry.

Harry.

She still couldn’t believe how good Harry had been, how he’d somehow made her feel… safe. Ginny hadn’t wanted to trust him. Every part of her had tried to resist him and his reassuring words. She hadn’t trusted them to be genuine. But then there had been a moment while in that break room where Ginny saw his honesty.

It was in his eyes. Those deep green eyes that she had wanted to swim in the first time she’d seen them. While she had been breaking down and unable to control her mind from sliding into a deep hole, Harry had been there. He’d taken her hand and become a tether back to earth. There had been such warmth in his gaze that Ginny had felt like a blanket had wrapped around her shoulders. But then there had been the gentle squeezes to her hand and the sincere tone in his words.

Ginny had always prided herself on her strong gut decisions. It had been her gut that had encouraged her to ditch the car. It had been her gut that had told her she had limited time to escape her cuffs. And now her gut was telling her to trust Harry.

She turned to look at him in the driver's seat. He looked completely at ease like he drove strange women to his house on the regular. His hand was tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the nineties song playing on the radio. Harry was not how she imagined a detective. In the movies and shows, they always acted so serious and aloof. But in the little time she’d known him, Harry had been so gentle and thoughtful.

And now he was dancing in his seat. He glanced over at her and his lips curled into a cute, goofy grin. “This was my jam as a kid.”

Ginny couldn’t resist smirking at that. “Were you a Britney boy?”

“What do you mean were?” he asked, one hand rising to his heart in mock offense. “I’m still into her!”

When he proceeded to sing along with the teenage hit, Ginny felt herself sink further into the cocoon of ease he provided. How he could make her feel so comfortable while putting on an over-the-top, albeit off-key, performance of …Baby One More Time, was beyond her. But the fact was that when he pointed at her to take over his solo, Ginny couldn’t help but smile and pick up where he left off.

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Ginny stared at the simple but gorgeous cottage Harry parked in front of. It was exactly the type of place she was dreaming of purchasing for herself. It was the cottage out of a storybook, including the ivy growing up on the sides. The thatched roof was perfect and the little fence that lined the front garden was precious. But it was the little rose bushes laying under the window that hooked Ginny as soon as she slid out from the car. Their scent spread through the air, making the whole place feel enchanting.

Harry came around the hood as Ginny took in the cute cobbled walk path and kids’ toys littering the grass. “So this is the main house.” He gestured to the cottage. “And there’s my bachelor pad.” His hand moved to the left where a small stone garage sat.

“This place is adorable,” Ginny told him. “I’ve always wanted a place like this.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked as they slowly made their way up the path. They moved in sync, their arms in tandem. “I actually grew up here with Remus.”

“Who’s Remus?”

“He is…” Harry paused his lips thinning for a second before he let out a deep breath. “He was basically my father.”

And now she’d put her foot into her mouth. Clearly, Remus was a tough topic. Before she could apologize for being nosy, Harry bumped her shoulder with his elbow. His sweet smile set her nerves at ease. Clearly, he wasn’t offended by her prying question. “Remus married this wonderful woman when I was seventeen and they had Teddy when I was twenty-one.”

“So you became like a big brother to Teddy?”

“Yeah. I plan on being there for him. I’m his godfather and I plan on being what Remus was for me.”

Ginny turned to look at him. His soft expression and gentle smile made her heart flutter. He was incredible. Stepping up to help raise a toddler… she didn’t know many blokes his age who would do that. Young twenty-somethings were out drinking and focusing on having fun, but Harry chose to come home and become a father figure. Her respect for him increased ten-fold.

While her eyes were on Harry, Ginny’s too-large shoes caught on a loose stone and she started to topple over. Quick as a flash of lightning, Harry’s arm came around her waist steadying her.

“Wow there!” His strong arm pulled her into his side. “You alright there?”

From her new position, Ginny picked up the smooth scent of his woodsy cologne. That was just as intoxicating as the rose…. Ginny could feel heat spreading across her cheek and she straightened herself. “Yeah… I um, these shoes aren’t exactly my size.”

Harry took a quick look at her footwear and then raised a brow at her. “I’ll say. Those were definitely made for the jolly green giant, not a cute, petite thing like you.”

Ginny could feel her cheeks redden at his comment. Cute was an interesting addition to that sentence… Ginny cleared her throat. “I’ll have you know my sass brings my height well over six feet.”

His laugh rumbled through his body. “I believe that.” He gave her a gentle squeeze before dropping his arm away from her waist. Instantly Ginny missed his warmth as they started moving back up the path.

They were back in sync, their arms swinging in a steady rhythm. When hers started going backward and his came forward, they would meet in the middle. Every time this happened, Ginny felt warmth spread from the point of contact across her skin.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the heavy wooden front door. Harry didn’t hesitate as he pushed it open. “After you.”

Ginny stepped into the simple foyer where shoes littered the floor in front of a rack. The interior was just as gorgeous as the exterior. Handcrafted beams lined the walls and indented the ceiling. Then there was the lovely wooden floor that matched the dark coloring of the beams. Ginny adored large windows that opened wide to the back garden where she could see a little boy running after a ball.

“Let me just go tell Tonks we’re here.” Harry had sidestepped her in order to move into the house. His hand brushed against her arm and a shiver ran down her back. He toed off his boots beside the collection. “Make yourself at home.”

She watched him walk away, her eyes naturally drifting down his body, landing on his impressive backside. It wasn’t just his ass that was fit. Everything about detective Potter was lovely. Ginny mentally shook herself. She had way too much going on to get distracted by some attractive bloke… then again… what did it hurt to forget things for a moment to admire a work of art.

Ginny chuckled at her internal monologue. It was good to know that after everything that had happened to her, Ginny was still as barmy as ever. She followed Harry’s lead by taking off her shoes before moving into the sitting room. There were various photos hanging on the wall, but one, in particular, caught her attention. It was of a boy, maybe five or six based on the missing front teeth, and an older man with his arm slung over the boy’s shoulder. The boy was Harry, no doubt about that. The older Harry looked the same, just without the baby cheeks and much much taller. The man didn’t resemble Harry but looked at him with a fondness that made Ginny think of her father. The pride and love were obvious even through the fading of time.

“Those two were adorable, weren’t they?” a voice said from behind her, making Ginny nearly jump out of her skin. She whirled around to see a pink-haired woman smiling widely at her. “Hi, I’m Tonks.”

Ginny’s hand slapped over her chest and she could feel her heart racing. Taking a deep breath she smiled at the woman. “I’m Ginny.”

“I know, Harry told me about you and your… situation.” Tonks jerked her head towards the hall. “Let's go into my room and find you something to wear.” Without waiting for an answer Tonks took Ginny by the hand and led them to her room. Ginny was too surprised to do anything other than follow the woman’s lead.

Tonks opened the door to a spacious, yet simple bedroom. The walls were a gentle blue and the soft carpet felt wonderful beneath her tired feet.

“Why don’t you take a seat on the bed while I sort through some options,” Tonks suggested. “I’m guessing we're looking for comfort over style?”

Ginny chuckled as she lowered herself onto the edge of the mattress. “I always choose comfort over style.”

Tonks looked over her shoulder at Ginny as she made her way to a chest of drawers. “Aw, a woman after my own heart.” She winked at Ginny and then started pillaging through different options.

Ginny nearly fell backwards as Tonks started throwing clothing at her. Three different pairs of sweatpants, three t-shirts and a pair of socks and knickers. Tonks turned back to Ginny, using her hip to close the final drawer. “The knickers are new. I just bought a pack.”

It took a moment for everything to register in Ginny’s mind. “Right. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Tonks came over to her, taking a seat next to Ginny before gently squeezing her knee. “We’ve got you now. Harry is one of the best men I’ve ever met. And I’m not too shabby either.”

Ginny felt her throat close up as Tonks’ comforting words sank in. She might not know why this was all happening or what would come next, but she truly trusted these people. There was just something about them… especially Harry… that made her feel welcome and safe.

Tonks gave her another squeeze. “So, before you take a shower I would like to see if there is any trace evidence on you… from your kidnappers. Blood or skin cells if they got under your nails. Anything that can help us gather evidence against these bastards. I am a trained crime scene officer and have been trained in SANE procedures, so I’ll be able to get this done fast and efficiently. I can only imagine how much you want to shower”

Ginny blinked. She hadn’t even thought about anything like that. “I uh,” She swallowed. “What does that mean for me?”

Tonks’ smile was sweet as she explained the procedure. Ginny couldn’t comprehend most of it. Not in her current foggy state of mind. She understood that Tonks would need to ask some intimate questions and need to check over Ginny’s body, but past that it all sounded like mambo jumbo. When Tonks finished her spiel, Ginny simply nodded her consent and followed Tonks’ directions.

It hadn’t been a lie when Tonks said she would get it done fast. She’d already had her kit of tools sitting beside the chest of drawers and started working methodically across Ginny’s body. What saved Ginny from feeling embarrassed and awkward about the whole thing was Tonks’ easy chatter. She would ask Ginny questions about her job and family, peppering in questions about her kidnapping.

Once Tonks was done she sealed up a baggy with Ginny’s borrowed clothing and different baggies with different samples “And now a shower as promised.” She pointed to an ensuite to the left. “Take your time. Come out whenever you're ready.”

Tonks left the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her. Ginny let out a deep breath, taking a second to come back to herself before heading towards the door Tonks had pointed at.

Ginny stayed in the shower longer than she’d intended. The hot water had just felt amazing against her tired body. It had been like a cleanser for more than just the dirt and grime covering her skin. Putting on the clean clothing was like a holy experience.

When she walked out of the bedroom a half an hour later, she was greeted by a little boy running up to her with a big toothy grin. “Hi!”

“Hi.” Ginny could feel her own smile curling her lips. “You must be Teddy.”

He nodded enthusiastically. His little hand slid into her own, giving it a pull. “Come build!”

“Teddy, give her a moment to breathe,” Harry said as he started to rise from a recliner. He made eye contact with Ginny and mouthed an apology that she waved off with a grin.

She let Teddy pull her into the center of the living room where what looked like a hundred blocks lay scattered around. “I’d love to build, Teddy!”

The boy let out an excited cheer and he pulled her down onto the floor beside him.

“Can I build too, Ted?” Harry asked, coming to join them on the floor.

Teddy looked up at his godfather, his infectious smile growing wider. “Yes! A Casle?”

Ginny practically swooned at the cute baby speech. It made her think of her niece Victoire, who was just starting to turn babble into words. As she thought of the cute toddler, Ginny’s heart sank in her chest. She hadn’t made it to a phone to call her family and she wondered if they even knew something had happened to her.

“Sure thing, mate.” Harry ruffled Teddy’s hair and as his free hand started pushing blocks towards the toddler. Teddy clapped happily before starting to stack up random shapes. Harry put a rectangle down next to a triangle Teddy was trying to arrange when he looked up at Ginny. Ginny could see the concern enter his gaze as he scooted to sit closer to her. “You alright, Ginny?”

“I —” Her breath hitched as she tried to control the sudden rush of emotions. “I just.” She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “It’s a lot. It's all so much and I just can't help but wonder… wonder what my family has been thinking."

"Your family?" Harry asked gently.

"Yeah, my parents and brothers. I have six brothers and I just… they don't know." Ginny didn't know how to say it. How to say how much she wanted… no needed… to talk to them.

Harry came even closer, his knee touching hers. One of his hands slowly came to take hers “Hey, we’re gonna figure it out, alright? We’ll get you back to your family and you’ll be able to put this whole mess behind you.”

Ginny looked into his honest, open expression and felt the tension in her shoulders slowly fade away. Her breath came out in a little hitch and she squeezed Harry's fingers. "I — thank you, Harry."

His smile was bright. “Of course. So tell me about your brothers. You have six of —”

Harry’s question was cut off by an insistent toddler. “Haweeee, build!” Teddy demanded, his little hands pushing a block into Harry’s hand.

“Sorry, mate.” Harry took the block “I forgot we were building a castle.”

Teddy nodded enthusiastically before going back to his precarious tower.

Harry turned back to Ginny, laughing. “Looks like the boss caught me slacking off.”

Ginny picked up her own red rectangle. “Better you than me.” She placed her block beside Harry’s. “I wouldn’t want to be caught by such a tyrant.”

That made Harry laugh harder. “Nothing describes Teddy while building better than a tyrant.” He pulled over a random collection of shapes. “How about we work together; that way we avoid displeasing the boss?”

“I like the way you think, detective”

She and Harry fell into a peaceful silence as they started placing blocks. They worked rhythmically, taking turns building up their castle. Ginny felt for the first time in days a sense of calm. It was just so soothing, building with blocks and allowing herself to fully relax. It was such a homey situation: Building blocks with Teddy, and hearing someone out in the kitchen working on what smelled like chocolate biscuits.

“So,” Harry started as his yellow square lined up with a triangle Ginny had placed. “You were telling me about your brothers.”

“Oh, right!” Ginny smiled. “Well, there’s Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. I’m the youngest of the lot and the only girl.”

“Wow! That must have led to a lot of teasing.”

Ginny laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it. The first time I brought a boy home… the poor boy never stood a chance.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry added a blue block to the pile. “What did they do to him?”

“Well, Fred and George own a joke shop and they were testing out their new itching powder.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Oh no!”

“Oh yes!” Ginny shook her head but smiled at the memory of Michael Corner running out of her parents’ house, his arms scratching at puffy red warts covering various spots on his body. “Let's just say his skin resembled more of a tomato than anything else after the twins were done.”

“Oof!” Harry winced. “So what happened afterwards?”

“Oh, he moved on to someone else the next day.” Ginny shrugged. “He didn’t even break things off with me. I found out we were done when I caught him snogging another girl in the library.”

“No way!” Harry actually looked offended on behalf of her teenage self. “What a prat! How could he do that to someone like you.”

“Like me?” Ginny asked, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “What does that mean?”

“I mean — it’s just that —” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “You seem really great. Funny, strong, beautiful. I can imagine you were the same when you were younger.”

Beautiful. Well, that was a surprise. Ginny could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. “I — I mean, I think so but clearly Michael didn’t get the memo.”

“Clearly.” Harry shook his head. “Well good riddance about him.”

“The next couple of blokes weren’t much better,” Ginny admitted with a laugh. “Percy loves to ask very detailed and prying questions. Honestly, it made me stop bringing them round. I figure I’ll prep the next one with various pranks and intimidating questions to get him used to it.”

“The next one, huh?” Harry chuckled, his purple rectangle sliding into place. “Sounds like a rough gig. You sure you’ll have a next one?”

Ginny gave him a mock affronted look. She gave his shoulder a little shove. “How dare you, Harry. I’ll have you know I’m well worth dealing with itching powder in your boxers.”

“I don't doubt it.” The sincerity in Harry’s voice made Ginny look up at him. Their eyes met and Ginny felt heat spread through her chest. The way he was looking at her… it was as if he didn’t doubt her worth at all. Her throat tightened as her mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Ahhhh!” Teddy’s scream tore Ginny’s eyes away from Harry’s just in time for the toddler to come crashing into their tower. His little arms flailed as he knocked over every block he could reach.

“Teddy!” Harry laughed, his arms coming out to grab the giggling boy. He lifted Teddy into the air making the toddler laugh louder. “What did you just do?" Harry started ticking Teddy making him scream.

"I'd say he went Godzilla on our castle." Ginny smiled at the two of them. How a grown man playing with a toddler could be so cute was beyond Ginny.

"Was that it, Ted?" Harry asked, his fingers pausing their assault. "Were you being a big scary monster?"

Teddy beamed at his godfather before wiggling away. He went back over to the castle. Teddy looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Roar!" When his little foot kicked a square block it toppled over.

"Teddy!" Tonks' voice called from the kitchen. "Come get lunch!"

The toddler froze mid swipe, then seeming to decide food was the better option hurried off towards his mother.

"I've got lunch for you two as well!" Tonks yelled. "You can play with blocks later, right now come eat your apple slices."

Harry laughed as he rose from the floor. He offered Ginny a hand up, easily pulling her to her feet. " We best get in there before she uses her full mum tone."

“I fear that tone, especially from my own mother.” Ginny couldn’t help but smile as they walked side by side into the kitchen. Somehow in the little time she’d been in Harry’s home it had become a safe space.

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Ginny loved the lunch time entertainment Teddy brought. The toddler was a riot, chattering loudly. He would tell them about a bird he saw or a ball he’d played with early. Also the way he would use his food as props made it all the better. Ginny was particularly fond of his apple wedge smiles.

“Ted, love,” Tonks let out an exasperated sigh as another apple slice fell out of Teddy’s mouth and onto the floor. “I know you're excited to have a new friend, but you need to eat your food, not just play with it.”

“Ginny, look!” Teddy picked up a cube of cheese and squashed it between his hands .

“Oh no, Teddy,” Ginny leaned over and separated his fingers and used a napkin to clean up the mess. “It’s much more fun to eat it. Watch!” She took a bit of apple from his tray and plopped it into her mouth chewing it with a loud, happy noise.

Teddy looked at her dubiously but followed her lead, picking up another piece of cheese.

“You’re good with kids,” Tonks observed as she took a sip from her cup of tea. “Do you have any?”

“Just one niece so far, but another on the way.” Ginny leaned back in her seat once Teddy got into a rhythm of eating. “I’ve always liked minding Victoire. She’s maybe a year younger than Ted here and just as sweet.” She smiled at the toddler who reciprocated showing off his white baby teeth.

“Which brother has Victoire?” Harry asked.

“The oldest, Bill. He was always the most protective yet open with me.” Ginny bit her lip as a flood of emotion crashed through her. Homesickness wasn’t something she dealt with often, especially with family gatherings at least once a month, but at that moment Ginny’s heart hurt missing her family. She wanted to see Victoire running around the garden, to watch Fred try to prank Percy; even the idea of her mother asking when she would find a man wasn’t so daunting. Ginny wanted to crawl into her mother's arms like she used to as a child and just talk. Tell her about the last few days.

“Ginny?” Harry reached across the table and touched her hand which had become motionless on her mug. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath, trying to hold in the “I really want to go home to my family.”

Harry nodded. “I can only imagine.” His brow furrowed. “Do have any of their numbers memorized? You could use one of our phones to call them?”

Ginny shook her head sadly. “I haven’t remembered a phone number since I was a kid and calling my grandmum’s old house won’t do any good.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Harry ran an unconscious hand through his hair. “Well, how far away do they live?”

She shrugged. “My parents live down near Devon. So close to five hours.”

Harry winced. “Bit of a trip, and I need to head into the station this evening for a bit.”

“How about tomorrow?” Tonks suggested. “Do you think you could get the time off tomorrow, Harry? Ginny could spend the night here and you two could head out in the morning. It would let Ginny catch up on some sleep.”

Harry looked at Ginny, a smile curling at his lips. “How about it, Gin? Wanna go on a road trip tomorrow? I promise to play the best tunes.”

Ginny’s heart did a weird dance when he shortened her name. Normally she hated when people tried to give her a nickname. Her name was already a nickname, but the way Harry said Gin… she mentally shook her head, focusing on his question. “You don’t mind?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s been too long since I took a detour down there. It will be fun.”

How did she get so lucky to run into this man? He was… honestly he was perfect. Helpful, compassionate, and supportive. A little voice in the back of her mind shouted about his impressive body and sexy unruly hair, but Ginny ignored that addition.

“I couldn’t — I can’t thank you enough, Harry.”

His smile warmed her from the inside out like a good cup of tea. “I’m happy to help, Gin.”

There was that nickname again. Fuck, why did she like it so much? Before Ginny could dwell on that thought for too long Tonks clapped her hands together pulling Ginny’s attention. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled!” She moved over to Teddy’s booster seat and lifted the toddler onto her hip. “Did you hear that, Ted? Your new friend is having a sleepover.”

Teddy’s brow furrowed for a moment before he looked over at Ginny and smiled. “Where is she sleeping? With me?”

Tonks laughed, shaking her head. “Sorry, buddy your bed is a little too small for the two of you.”

That made the toddler’s smile fade. He pursed his lips, his eyes going from his mother, to Ginny, to Harry. His face lit up like he’d made a discovery. “Ginny sleep with Hawe! He’s got a big bed!”

Ginny’s eyes seemed to seek Harry’s like they were magnetic. His cheeks were tinged pink as he gave her a sheepish grin. “You are more than welcome in my bed.” His eyes went wide as he realized what he said, and the pink flush went firetruck red. “I meant that you are more than welcome to have my bed. Without me in it. You can sleep there and I will sleep on the sofa. We don’t — I didn’t mean —”

Tonks started laughing. “Oh how I love awkward Harry.” She gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. “It’s alright, luv. I think Ginny knew what you meant.”

Harry’s head landed on the table with a loud thud. When he spoke his voice was muffled. “I’m sorry, Ginny. Sometimes I’m an idiot.”

Ginny started laughing. She hadn’t assumed Harry was trying something with her in the first place, but his rambling explanation had been so cute. “It’s alright, Harry. I did know what you meant.”

He lifted his head. His cheeks were still bright. “Still, my bad.” A hand came up to run through his hair. “So… yeah… now that’s settled. I’m gonna head into the station.” His lips curled into a chagrined smile. “Hopefully by the time I get back I can look you in the eye again.”

Tonks and Ginny both laughed at that and this time Harry joined in. Teddy looked between all the adults clearly not understanding what was happening but loved the energy. His loud laugh bounced off the walls and he wiggled excitedly in his mother’s arms.

“Alright, Ted,” Tonks shifted to get a better hold on the toddler. “Now we’ve got bed arrangements settled, let’s get you off for your nap.”

Teddy’s shoulders sagged as he shook his head. “No, Mummy!”

“No arguing, Teddy,” Tonks reprimanded. “Maybe if you’re good Ginny will read you a story.” She looked over at Ginny who nodded with a smile.

That soothed Teddy’s woes. His grin grew wide again and he looked over at Ginny. “Three bears, Ginny?”

“Whatever you want, mate.”

The boy clapped happily as Tonks carried him off. Harry cleared his throat pulling Ginny’s eyes onto him. The blush still powdered his cheeks, but it had faded a lot. “I’m really sorry about that, Ginny.”

She shook her head. “Honestly, Harry, it’s fine. It was funny.”

A hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “I just want you to know… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I want you to feel safe. Here. With me.”

His words made her heart flutter in her chest. She stood up from her chair and moved over to Harry, pulling him out of his own seat. The surprise look on his face was the last thing Ginny saw before she hugged him tightly. “I do, Harry. I really do. Thank you.”

Harry’s arms slowly wrapped around her back, his hug tightening. In that moment, there in his arms, Ginny truly did feel completely safe.

#in your warmth i forget how cold it can be #hinny #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry and Ginny #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #hinny fic

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ultimatetrashgoblin · 3 years

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Blaire Reviews: Piama Season 1

Disclaimer: This is all my opinion, you are allowed to disagree with me. I encourage you to read this route and form your own opinions.

Additionally, I won’t be going into the Piama half-winter theory in this post, but I know @aquagirl1978 and @silverteresa have made a lot of great points about this topic and I implore you to check them out.

Thank you @onehopefuldreamer for the request!

First Impressions

I’d already fallen in love with Piama after seeing her in Xenia’s route, so I had very high expectations for this route. And our favorite flower princess did not disappoint!

To start off on a high note, Lady Vo is dead! (I’ve already talked about my theory of her being alive and revealing MC to be the long lost heir, but that’s a discussion for another day.) Despite my hatred for Vo, she does do right in arranging for MC and Piama to be married. (Enemies to lovers and arranged marriage? *chef’s kiss*)

Our first introduction of Piama in her route is very much what I would have expected from Piama and more.

Have I mentioned that I’m in love with this woman? Because I am.

The Reigning Passions routes earn a lot of (well deserved) praise for their first CGs, and Piama’s was no exception. (I’d go as far as saying her’s was my favorite of the RP LIs.)

In these first few episodes, the dynamic between Piama and MC is immediately apparent. Piama thinks very little of MC due to superstitions she’s been fed about the Wilds, and neither seem particularly happy about their arrangement.

I guess I’ll talk about the lizard smurf to get it out of the way. Gregory, I say this with the upmost compassion and sincerity: FUCK YOU. My main issue with Gregory is how his actions are so effective at hurting MC and (especially) Piama while being small enough that they couldn’t take any action against it (until later in the season). Allow me to elaborate.

Piama cares a lot about her reputation. She wanted to elevate her status among the other Spring princesses, and even tried to use magic to do so. Gregory writing slanderous articles about her, while not outright attacking Piama, damage her reputation, which has hazardous effects on her self esteem.

But the fact that he isn’t outright attacking her means that what he’s doing, while shitty, isn’t illegal. Meaning Piama couldn’t publicly retaliate without further damaging her reputation, and both she and Gregory know this.

While my wife Ruelle (criminally) hasn’t been in much of this season, we have gotten a lot of GalenXLyris content, which is always appreciated.

One of my favorite scenes from this season was when MC’s dress got ruined and Piama, who MC thought would be furious with her, was instead sympathetic of MC and helped her get cleaned up. It allowed us to see a more gentle side of Piama, which I really enjoyed.

Then there’s the trip to the Wilds, MC and Piama almost hooking up, and most importantly, Piama with her hair down.

Anyways, as I mentioned before, then Bitchy McSmurf Face decides to actually do something that could get him arrested and kidnapped Piama and MC, and bring them to the Wilds. Unfortunately for him, MC grew up in the Wilds, and Piama has a new taste for murder (good for you baby), and they scare him into leaving them alone for good.

Final Thoughts

LOVED this season. The dynamic between Piama and MC, the amazing writing, the character development of Piama that didn’t come way later than it should have like in other routes Cassius, this season was generally incredibly well done.

If I had to give any criticism, I feel like for as close Ruelle and Piama seemed in other routes, they hardly show her. She’ll be mentioned on occasion, but I feel like she deserves to be seen more. But at the same time, I’m worried that Lovestruck might try to villainize her/make a love triangle plot out of it. (But I’m probably super biased since I love Ruelle so please take this with a grain of salt.)

Overall rating: 9/10

Favorite CG

This was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Reigning Passions has some of the best CGs on the app (in my opinion), and it was difficult to choose since they were all gorgeous, but I decided to go with this one:

#piama of the spring #reigning passions #blaire reviews

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beautifulbows924 · 4 years

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Defending Beauty

Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Masterlist

(Set after Season 11- Jack doesn’t exist in this timeline, and Chuck & Lucifer have repaired their relationship to an extent. Lucifer is living at the bunker, and so is Gabriel (who was kidnapped by asmodeus, but was found earlier in this timeline). The archangels will occasionally help out on hunts when the hunters need a helping hand).

A/N: Hey everyone. Wow! I keep starting these little things I get inspired to write and then I forget about them or I don’t think they are good enough to post- but I swear I’m getting back into writing (FINALLY). I’ve been really into reading supernatural angel fanfiction lately, so this was born out of that. I should have some more fanfics up soon with other Supernatural characters (Castiel and Gabriel cough cough). Remember to feel free to request for Supernatural (or anything I write about really). I love you all! I’m so excited to be getting extremely close to 2000 followers. I’ll have to do some kind of Challenge or something once I reach the goal. As always I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave any feedback:)

Word Count: 1750+

Warnings: FLUFF, Angst?, Good guy Lucifer? (Reformed), Strong Language, Typical SPN Violence, and Suggestive Themes.

Summary: Reader has always been kind to Lucifer, who seems to be misjudged by everyone in his life. The Winchester brothers don’t like this, and have no problem letting them both know it.

“Why do you feel the need to defend him!? He’s the goddamn Devil!”, Dean yelled, face close to yours with his hands clenched in anger.

“Because Dean! Lucifer is real and he isn’t just some little red man with horns and a pitchfork tail. He is beautiful, because he’s an angel and he used to be God’s Favorite”, You paused to take a deep breath, venom seeping into your words, “Just because all you and Sam want to see of him is the devil- you can’t even take a look around and see him for who truly he is. He may be a fallen angel, but he’s the only angel I’d ever get on my knees for. Even GOD himself has forgiven him Dean, so don’t patronize me for agreeing.”

You glared at him, challenging him with every word.

“Well now I know why on every hunt it looks like all you want to do is suck his dick!”

“Dean enough”, Sam said softly from behind his brother. His voice getting louder when he started to address you, “We’re just worried about- how close you seem to be with him. I know you weren’t around for a lot of the apocalypse stuff, but he hurt us a lot. We don’t want to see that happen to you too”, He confessed.

“You don’t choose who I spend my time with. Gabriel has “hurt” both of you and yet neither of you have any issues with me hanging out with him. The only reason we are having this conversation is because you don’t like that I appreciate his help. Why? Because he’s the “Devil”. So what? He’s proved time and time again that he can be trusted. Hell he just saved Sam from Death yet again! But no, only you two get to choose who receives forgiveness- who gets a pass when it’s convenient for you. If I remember correctly Cas started an apocalypse too, so stop being hypocrites when it comes to Lucifer. He hasn’t even asked for your forgiveness, but the way both of you treat him is ridiculous. Grow the fuck up.”

You swiftly turned away from both of them, the sound of your heavy footsteps echoing off the bunker walls. You couldn’t believe Dean- all Lucifer ever did was help and he couldn’t stop treating him like some kind of monster. He had come immediately and helped save his brother’s life, but nothing was ever good enough for him. Either of them.

You scoffed at the thought of what Lucifer would think of this outburst. Sam and Dean hated how you viewed Lucifer, and it was obvious your feelings were more than just simple respect. You felt like such an insignificant human with a crush on a mighty archangel, God’s favorite of all things. Your door slammed shut behind you, and with a quiet sigh you laid down on your bed. Your hands pressed against your face in frustration of the prior events.

The fluttering of wings startled you, whipping your head around you turned to see Lucifer leaning casually against your headboard. Anyone else would have missed the slight narrowed look to his eyes and the left tilt his head made sometimes when he was trying to figure something out, but you weren’t just anyone.

“How much did you hear?”, You asked, hoping to get this conversation out of the way as quickly as possible.

He seemingly ignored your question, shifting closer to where you were seated at the edge of the bed.

“You know I never wanted to experience something as stupid or as dangerous as love. And to love a human? It’s simply beyond comprehension-”

“You don’t have to rub it in Lucifer, I understand”, You said, cutting him off before you had to bear the rest of your heart shattering in your chest.

You didn’t know what response you were expecting, but you jumped a bit when strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head leaned against your back. It was comforting and you allowed it, thinking it may be the last chance you would get to do so with the archangel.

“I don’t think you understand Y/N. I may be a fallen angel, but I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. It was never in my plans to let any of humanity into my heart- and if Hell were to see me now they would scoff at my sincerity”, Lucifer said, holding onto you tighter as if you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

You turned a bit to face him again, his arms still wrapped around you. He looked up, blue eyes meeting yours and you swore that you could make out a hint of vulnerability swirling there.

“Lucifer- I uh, I care about you quite a bit, and I don’t know if that’s what you mean regarding how you feel about me but-”, Your words were stopped suddenly at the feeling of cold lips pressed to yours. You were frozen at first, until you realized what was happening and returned the kiss passionately. A hand instinctively reached up and tangled into his hair tugging on it a bit. He groaned and gripped your hips pulling you into his lap. You gasped at the sudden movement, allowing his forked tongue to make its way into your mouth. You fought for dominance, but he quickly won against you. The kiss lasted for as long as possible before you needed to breathe.

You pushed on his shoulder with the hand that had been resting in his hair to signal for him to lay back against the bed. You laid down against him, your head on his chest listening to his heart beat, right hand absentmindedly playing with his t-shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

“Was that- I mean, What was that?”, You whispered softly to him, confusion seeping into your voice as you wondered if he could really feel the same way about you.

He laughed a bit, smiling down at you. “You are an odd little creature aren’t you, do we need to do a repeat of the last 5 minutes as proof of how I feel?”

You blushed at this, the way he was holding you almost felt like confirmation enough, but you couldn’t help your need to know for certain.

“I just can’t believe that happened”, You pressed further, “It almost feels like a dream”.

The hand that was still rubbing circles into your side, pinched your skin softly. “No dreams here, little human. Although, I heard a mention of you on your knees earlier, and that sounds like quite the dream to me”.

You laughed a bit at that looking up at him, “Sweet moment ruined”, you said.

“Me sweet? Never”, He said gesturing with his hand to himself.

You leaned up a bit to press his lips to yours again. He smiled into the kiss and you pulled back to see the brightest smile you had ever seen grace his features. You couldn’t help but smile back in pride that you had caused such a look.

“How long have you had feelings for me?”, You asked suddenly, curious as to when he realized it.

He looked away a little at that, you would swear he even seemed embarrassed at the posing of your question. You laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a tight squeeze in encouragement.

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “When I first came back to the bunker after my father helped me to reform my vessel. You were the one who would ask me to do things with you. You would read to me when I would sit next to you on the couch. I wouldn’t even have to ask- you would just suddenly switch from reading in your head to aloud as if it was customary. You would always have coffee ready for me in the morning when you realized that despite my angelic status I enjoyed it. And when it came to Sam, Dean, Gabriel, or even My Father himself. You would defend me, the devil, Satan- you looked past how everyone viewed me and truly saw me. I don’t know if I can ever make up for the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but I would like to start by learning to see humanity, angels, everyone the way you do. Kind and without any judgement. Somehow you’ve changed me, my little human”.

He breathed in shakily, before speaking again, “And earlier today when you prayed to me. I was terrified- me”, He laughed without humor, “I thought I might show up and find you dead, taken from me. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch”.

You could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of losing you, “I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon Lucifer, my angel”, You said softly, caressing his cheek with your hand.

He hummed in response.

“Since I first laid eyes on you, I noticed how lonely you seemed. How you would hide behind your hard stares and smirks. I wanted to treat you without looking through the eyes of others, especially knowing how well most of them judge character”, You laughed taking a pause, “I started noticing the way you’d gravitate closer towards me whenever we were in a room with others, and I liked the idea of us. A cherry red color became my fate when anyone would point it out, or notice it too. Because I never thought that you would want me as anything else other than a way to feel less alone.”

“I’m glad I was wrong”, You murmured softly into his neck, leaving a kiss there and continuing all the way up his jawline until you kissed his lips roughly.

“Me too”, He said, pulling away to look at you directly in the eyes, then settling you back into his arms.

You yawned quietly, your head resting on his chest again.

He laughed a little bit at the noise, but leant down to place his lips against your forehead.

When your eyes closed he told you, “Get some rest my little human, I’ll watch over you”.

He tried to pull away, but you snuggled further into his embrace and whispered, “Please stay”.

“Of course”, He responded quietly, knowing there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around you as he whispered sweet words of nothing into your ear, lulled you right to sleep.

True to his word, Lucifer watched over you all night.

And God couldn’t help but smile in the morning, when he saw you and Lucifer together. Lucifer finally trusting a human enough to sleep in their arms, even if he didn’t need to.

*Thanks for reading! Leave a Note or Reblog if you Enjoyed it* ~Rose💛

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 4 years

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Who is the Mole?

@dalekofchaos I’m not taking any chances, your Ask will be given the security it deserves, from the demons of Tumblr who have been eating my messages!

So, who is R’s agent? Well, let’s look at what we know. They’re apparently someone within the walls of Hogwarts, that this dark witch has regular contact with. It’s never established when the mole arrived, but MC seems to think that it was after Rakepick left, and that would make sense. Let’s narrow down the suspects.

It’s not Jacob. Make no mistake, he is shady and he always has been. But he comes and goes. They specifically talked about a mole being present at Hogwarts. Plus, why would the White-Robed wizard flee when Jacob showed up, if he was on their side? Jacob is clear.

It’s not Alanza. She simply arrived too late in the story. Why would R wait this long to have another agent planted at Hogwarts? One who could not slip in undetected, but would inevitably have attention drawn to herself by transferring? What’s more, Alanza declined to join the Circle and she admitted to knowing Rakepick. I know a lot of people think that it’s her, but if she’s a spy, she’s a pretty lousy one. Alanza is clear.

Of the younger characters, the only one who isn’t canon is Beatrice. With how much focus she’s gotten, it’s a possibility. But she’s almost always under the watchful eye of Penny, or hanging with Ismelda. The only time she wasn’t, she nearly drowned in the Black Lake. She can’t even go to Hogsmeade, no way she’s meeting up with R in secret. Not to mention, she would never be on board with having her mind probed if she was the mole. Beatrice is clear.

Regarding the rest of the Year 6 characters, Talbott and Chiara are both secretive and keep their distance from the group. But we already know why they do this, they have well-established backstories and character-based reasons for why they would. Beyond that, the mole should want to join the Circle. They should want access to that intel. Just like Alanza, Chiara didn’t even want to join at first. No, I’m gonna say Talbott and Chiara are clear.

I could go through every member of the Circle, but I’m going to streamline the process and say that I don’t believe it’s anyone who was introduced from Years 2-5. The way HPHM is written, the only characters who get major plot importance are the Year 1 characters,and the people who are “guest-starring” in the current year, who were introduced in that Year. I consider The Year characters to be possible suspects, but I’ve gone through why it won’t be them. Many people suspect Tulip, but when was the last time she was relevant? Or Barnaby, or Jae, or Badeea? Sorry, no way it’s anyone who guest starred in a past year. Let’s go through the Year One folk, because I believe it is one of them.

Penny has simply never had the relevance that Ben and Merula have had. She didn’t even have a connection the plot prior to Year 5, prior to Beatrice’s introduction. I’ve talked about this before, but assuming you chose not to bring her along on any adventures, she could, in theory, but cut from the first four years, without the story changing much. Which is not to say Penny isn’t important, just that I don’t think she’s the mole. Penny is (basically) clear.

Merula’s loyalty has always been questionable, even as a major of hers, I don’t deny this. I can believe that even now, she would work against MC. The only question then, is when did this start? Did Rakepick give her this job before the Portrait Vault? Was Merula in on that? It might explain why Rakepick told MC to look out for her. But we’re forgetting one key detail about this character. She’s a terrible liar. This has been well-established. Merula’s emotions get the better of her. She would have given herself away by now. If this theory is true, she would need to pull a serious long-con, and I just don’t believe she’s capable of doing that. Merula is clear.

Ben has always been suspicious. From Year 2 on, Rowan them-self suspected him. It’s abundantly clear that he’s keeping secrets. Who did he write that letter to, prior to the Portrait Vault? Why did he insist on coming? Does he remember the time that he was kidnapped, or not? Why did he panic upon seeing Rakepick for what we can only assume was the first time? He’s hiding something, definitely. However...Year 5 seemed to settle the question of “who’s side is he on?” by using Rowan to prove that R can and will Imperius people, and exonerating Ben from his time as the Red Cloak. What’s more...Rakepick aimed that curse at him. She tried to kill him outright, and she couldn’t have known that Rowan would rush in. She wouldn’t do that if he were the mole. Maybe Ben can be trusted, maybe not, but regarding this...Ben is clear.

But hold on, I said that I believed one of the Year 1 characters in the mole, didn’t I? And I do. I’ve talked about this before, but I sincerely believe that the Mole...is MC.

Now, I’m not saying that MC is pulling a long-con, that they’ve always been loyal to R, and that even the player didn’t know it. That would be one hell of a twist by itself, but people would probably hate it. No, I think that MC is the mole...without knowing it. I have on many occasions, expressed doubts about Moody. I know he’s canon, but like I said, R has proven that they can and will use the Imperius Curse. That would be a way to use Moody as a secret villain without breaking canon, and it’s not like we haven’t seen that done before. Seriously, the way he’s acting in this game, particularly his encouragement of MC’s revenge and blood-lust? This reminds me more of Barty Crouch Jr’s impersonation than anything else. We know from the Weird Sister TLSQ that the Cabal was planning to contact Moody and “see what he knows” about the Sunken Vault, and the Coral Key. (A quest that, curiously, has since been removed, and it seems like they’re not putting it back. I wonder why...) At the end of Year 5, not long after Rakepick abandoned her role as R’s agent at Hogwarts, Moody shows up and abducts MC. Swearing them to secrecy, almost always insisting that they not tell Jacob and their friends important information, or otherwise encouraging them not to. Think about it, what new information has Moody actually provided? Compared to the fountain of intel that MC has been providing him, for no real reason. MC told him about the Circle almost immediately. Now, Moody isn’t the dark witch, but suppose she was the one who Imperius’d him? If my theory about this is true, then MC has been passing information to R, without their friends knowing, for this entire year. That would make them a mole.

Of course, they have no idea. Which means that in this context, to call them a “mole” or a spy isn’t really accurate. It’s twisting the facts. But I firmly believe that’s the interpretation that we’re going with here. Which is a good lead-in to another phase of this theory that I have. Not only do I think R has been using MC as a mole, the way they’ve been using them as a weapon to open the Vaults this entire time...I also believe that R wanted MC to find out this bit of information. I believe that entire Infiltration was a trap, that R knew MC was there, and that it went exactly as they wanted it to. Setting aside my theory about Moody, I have to confess that the “advertisement” MC and Merula found at the Whomping Willow never made any sense to me, and felt like bait for a trap. Seriously, even if we ignore that the tip-off about The Whomping Willow being a secret meeting place was almost certainly referring to the Shrieking Shack, and not this...why would R do something like that? Leave a note like that out in the open, for any student or teacher to find? It’s not like dark witches and wizards are going to be prowling around Hogwarts that often. Wouldn’t it make way more sense to post that around say, Knockturn Alley? No, they wanted MC to find th at. Not to mention the tone of the note, “Dark wizards, come one, come all!” Please, if I’m a dark wizard, and I read that? My first thought is, “Well, this is clearly a sting. I’m not getting involved.” Not to mention, this wouldn’t be the first time MC tried to crash an R meeting based on written information that they supposedly left laying around. The Forbidden Forest was a trap, and Rowan paid the price. So why wouldn’t this be a trap? Sure, it seemed to go well...but I can’t help remembering the White-Robed Wizard’s line about how R would never let MC learn something that they didn’t want MC to know...

And that’s just it. They wanted MC to know that there was a mole. They wanted MC to tell the Circle that there was a mole. Moody instructed MC not to say anything about R wanting them to join and someday lead, but he didn’t tell them not to bring up the mole. Really, it isn’t so much that they wanted MC to know, it’s that they want the Circle to know. They want The Circle of Khanna to know there’s a mole. They want MC to find out about R’s plan for them, and they want MC to keep this plan from the Circle, so that when the time comes, R can drop this bomb. That MC is the mole, and always has been. MC can deny it of course, but what will they do when it comes out that they’ve been reporting to R (Through Moody) all this time? There’s a reason no one else is ever in those scenes - not even Jacob. There’s a reason Moody has been trying to put distance between MC and their friends. Imagine if The Circle finds out that MC knew R wanted to recruit them, and they said nothing? People have been speculating that MC losing a friend in an “unexpected way” might be referring to the mole, and how one of their friends is a traitor. But it could work in the opposite direction as well. If people find out that MC is a “traitor” I mean...how are Ben and Merula going to handle that news? Sure, some people might not immediately turn on MC, some people might believe them, or be uncertain...but R has been building up “evidence” of this for months, and Ben and Merula are both in a place of being so traumatized and unstable that they’d probably just buy it hook line and sinker. And they’re the co-leaders of the Circle. They might, at that point, kick MC out. Or at least call for a vote.

And what happens if MC is expelled from the Circle? The very organization they formed to honor Rowan? They wouldn’t be able to investigate the Vaults anymore, because they’d be working against two secret organizations, one within the walls of Hogwarts. The Circle of Khanna, presuming MC to be a spy for R, would never let them within fifty feet of their investigation - hell, they could be the opponent that MC has to face, from the Centaur’s prophecy. (Or it could be R’s leader.) The Circle, at least initially, wouldn’t take MC back or trust them. But the Cabal? Oh, you just know that they would open their arms to MC and welcome them to join, pointing out that they have nowhere else to go...not saying MC would agree to join them, but this could be R’s plan. This could be the big choice that MC has to make from the Centaur’s prophecy. Suppose Dumbledore was told by Circle members that MC is an R agent, and, oh I dunno...expels them as a result? We’ve all speculated than an expulsion arc is coming. If it is, that would be the perfect opportunity for R to try and get their claws into MC.

Thank you for sending me the Ask! This has been a lot of fun, and I’ve enjoyed getting all these suspicions out in the open.

#HPHM Theory #HPHM Spoilers #HPHM Cabal #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #HPHM Analysis #HPHM Jacob's Sibling #Ben Copper #Merula Snyde #Alastor Moody #Patricia Rakepick #HPHM Jacob #Alanza Alves #HPHM R #The Circle of Khanna

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umishiqu · 4 years

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Scarabia chapter is over and I’m screaming at everything rn hold on-

(sorry if I’m stuffing this rant down anyone’s throat, because I’m realizing people get annoyed with it and I’m sorry but,, scarabia brainrot ;;;...)

(spoilers for chapter 4 under the cut!)

Sad there’s no magic carpet :,( but oasis maker saves the day!! Still mysterious as ever as to why oasis maker is called a blessing other than um. Being a blessing to the Country of Hot Sands. But yes Azul enjoys it! (if you wanna hear me rant about oasis maker pwease dm cause I,, now have some thoughts and I can’t keep my mouth shut ;;...)

Also no mention of kidnapping happenings or poisoning in post-OB backstory but that means slow burn character development for Kalim possibly later on, so I’ll take it

Also Kalim’s guilt kills me on the inside :,,( guy says that he has anemia, but I’m wondering if that’s acc just Jamil giving him an excuse for his hypnosis. Mainly cause he himself says that he’s not bad at PE, which he really would be bad at PE if he really did have anemia,, but the anemia could explain a lot other things, other than that little tidbit,, either way, that means, again, slow burn character development! (But just,, his voice wavers, and how he says that Jamil can have the dorm leader position and Kalim will just go home is just,, Jamil you couldn’t talk to Kalim at all about this? Really?)

And scarabia duo is still killing me on the inside :,,,( Jamil wanted revenge cause of how he had to be below Kalim all the time and couldn’t objectify his hate to anyone but Kalim, but he also couldn’t sincerely hate Kalim for everything he is esp. when he’s the one who’s been encouraging him at all, all their time together. Jamil also loves his family apparently but in the way that he doesn’t like what they make him do but he also realizes that his parents are in the same position as him (hence why he screams, in his fit of anger, how he’s gonna free both him and his family). The only other person I can see that he personally hates but has to deal with is Crowley. I literally just see Jamil as a stubborn, kind of selfish tsundere,, Do I like Jamil more than I did before? I mean a lot of what I personally thought about him (not standing out so that Kalim is above him, having to adhere to tradition and such) was basically confirmed with the recent chapter.

But coming personally on my thoughts on Jamil cause he’s a contradictory character rn in the discord,, he is really really easy to sympathize and relate with, esp if you compare him to the less-realistic-outlook-on-life Kalim from Scarabia. And Kalim’s banquet fevers aren’t easy to deal with. My younger brother who gets more credit than me in,, literally everything drags me to play around on electronics sometimes and usually I just wanna sleep, but I can’t and usually just l just give up when playing with him cause I should look like he’s winning (fun thing is that he’s 2 1/2 years younger than me, and also a lot taller than me). I have to let him throw punches at me and when I do one little thing like tell him to stop, it’s into the dark room with me. So I can appreciate Jamil’s stubbornness for his plans and ideals to overthrow Kalim, esp cause I was more or less conditioned to be helpful to other people. Not that I’m complaining because beig helpful to others is something that I’ve noticed rewards you in a good way,,

With all that being said,, the way he acted and went about with this crossed a lot of lines. At first, I thought the reason why he would hypnotize Kalim so that Jamil could become dorm leader + the other stuff mentioned above is so that Kalim can be seen as having a personality/morale worse than him. Or at least, less cheerful. But then Jamil goes in and with Kalim’s happy personality, cheers up everyone and helps them wth their troubles while in the oasis. And I’m here and I’m just,, if you hate him for that personality so much why do something like that?? (He can’t admit that’s what people acc like about Kalim, and he decides to take one of his few positive qualities that gets people attached to Kalim and just,, wreck it. I was,, very very mad, but I didn’t rant about it cause I knew I’d yell unreasonably in the discord chat.) Revealed at the end, Jamil literally doesn’t want to be friends with anyone and I’m just,, sigh. And also,, the students only agreed with Jamil that Kalim was an incompetent dorm leader after Jamil hypnotized Kalim into doing all those things, not before. Before? They acc loved Kalim because of how kind and gentle and thoughtful he was to others, even though he can be kind of hopeless and random and a bit irresponsible to them sometimes. And these were all qualities that Jamil apparently hated, not because they were anything bad that’s supposed to be a front for secretly mocking everyone, but because he personally was confused as to why Kalim’s so freakin carefree as a character when Jamil himself isn’t. (As Azul said, it’s very easy for people to become envious of Kalim, and that’s already confirmed with how quickly the Scarabia dormmates’ opinion changed of Kalim after he takes them out to march to the oasis and after Jamil keeps mentioning the Asim family.)

Jamil’s had 17 years to harbour resentment against Kalim, but he’s also had 17 years to truthfully bond with Kalim, which he decided not to do because again. Stubborn. That’s why I can’t really say that Jamil’s just made one mistake (which was the entirety of scarabia chapter), especially the little hint drop that Jamil’s been hypnotizing Kalim even while they were younger and used anemia as an excuse for Kalim’s drowsiness. Anyway, the fact that Jamil’s been the one teaching Kalim magic, but even he didn’t know Kalim could summon a river and was genuinely surprised for a bit says a lot about how much of Kalim he can’t read, which he also mentions in his personal stories that Kalim is unpredictable. And fact is that Kalim can read Jamil’s emotions like an open-book, but couldn’t connect the dots until after he realizes how much Jamil’s hated him says something too. And when I say “realizes”, I mean “chooses not to ignore” how much Jamil’s hated him. Like,, it’s not like Jamil sleep-talked his backstory to Kalim while he’s passed out. Nor does anyone acc see the backstory except for the viewers + Jamil. And this can explain why Kalim didn’t really change how he interacts with Jamil at the end, if he knew the hate was coming but just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Then again, he does have limitless optimism here so there’s that.

But,, we’re talking about the only person Kalim’s ever trusted at all, betraying him and going off in one of the worse ways possible. I’m with the tweels here, I’m a bit mad because after what Jamil did, Kalim had no excuse to not get angry with him. He didn’t even get to punch him smh, but he did call him traitor so babey steps. Octavinelle teaching Kalim to be a little more harsher has me very very happy. (But miscommunication is strong in Scarabia, and with slow burn character development, I can see Kalim getting gradually more and more self-destructive poison anyone? chapter 5? and internally cynical and Jamil gradually regretting the time lost between them because, also according to the end of Scarabia, he doesn’t really mind an optimistic Kalim because like Kalim only had Jamil, Jamil really only has Kalim now after the tomfoolery he pulled in this chapter.)

So do I like Jamil more now than I did before? Kind of,. I had hopes for Scarabia (I’m sure a lot of people did with all the hyper analysis we did :p) But,, Jamil literally just got me angry this whole chapter. The backstory was nice, and Kalim praising Jamil and Jamil telling Kalim to stop (the way he screams ;;..) everytime gets me going. But esp with that piece of information, hating and blaming Kalim over something neither of them could change just,, recked them both. I can’t blame Jamil for building up resentment, but I can’t blame Kalim either for wanting to believe they were friends because he was trying to make the most out of their situation. Until Kalim realized the only way to do that was to just tell Jamil to stop being his servant and start off as equals to be true friends now. To which Jamil says no to the second notion profusely, but he also implies he’d rather be with Kalim than wth Azul, so. No more master/servant dynamics. And the ending was written off so sloppily but I think it was supposed to leave Jamil’s true feelings about Kalim end off on an ambiguous note imo. Again, sloppy, but sure.

Kalijami/Jamikali just seems really really toxic to me now, and I figured it would end up like that which is why I ended up reading other Scarabia ships (very into flokali and kaliver rn :p). I don’t usually see Japanese media fleshing out happy characters all too much, but with Kalim as literal Scarabia poster boy even tho he doesn’t represent the villain, I can see what direction they’ll take to develop Kalim now. Hopefully not how they developed Soma. (Ofc I wanted overblot!Kalim but,, I’m personally glad they didn’t do it rn, y’know? And the fact that we didn’t get introduced to an RSA counterpart for Scarabia at all has me,, thinking some things now...)

...dm if you want me to rant about oasis maker and rsa cause please I need to feed someone ;0;

#twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #ch 4 spoilers #scarabia spoilers #rant #my thoughts

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milkywaydrabbles · 4 years

Text

Together we will Live Forever

So this is my first commissioned piece, and the first thing I’m posting on my new Tumblr! I’m hoping to get a lot of prompts and drabble requests along the days but I’ll start with this!!! Hope everyone enjoys!

“Here… here! They’re over here!”

Sounds muffled, dust flew in their lungs, making it harder to breathe. Their eyes were glossed over, red and puffy. They can hardly remember why they’d been crying. It felt like years since they last saw sunlight, those damn ugly fluorescent lights burning their retinas day in and day out.

In reality, it’s only been about six months since the kidnapping. Though, they could be wrong with the time. They never left the basement. They never saw the sun. But hearing someone else’s — anyone else’s — voice that wasn’t part of the League of Villains was a miracle on its own. But this voice kept getting closer, and sounded more and more desperate with each call. Then multiple voices came.

They opened their eyes a bit wider, blinking away the burning sensation that they felt with the strain. Then they saw the faces of the voices.

There were heroes here .

After so long, after continuous torment and torture and sleepless nights there were finally heroes . They could have sobbed then, if their throat weren’t so raw from the strain. Physically exhausted, they didn’t even move, just prayed that the heroes would pick them up and take them away from all of this.

“Hey, stay with me honey—we’re gonna get you out of here okay?” They heard a female voice speak out. Sounded slightly familiar, Midnight, they thought. Didn’t matter right now. She reached out to touch them, noticing the immediate reaction was to flinch away and shield themselves with their lacerated arms. The female hero gasped, looking at the dirtied and infected lesions on the skin.

“Oh my god,” she gasped again, mostly to herself, before turning around and yelling out again. “ We need a medic! ”

They didn’t remember much after that moment, just more seemingly encouraging words amongst the chaos happening around the two of them. Then they nodded. There was a question there somewhere but they didn’t remember what it was. Maybe it was just habitual, with all the times the villains would ask them if they would be good and heal them .

Then it was black.

The next time they woke was a week later, hooked up to some IV drips in their arms and a breathing tube strung down their nose. Panic rose quickly, knowing the feeling of needles in their veins to keep them barely alive all too well. Bile rose with it, biting back the stomach acid that was boiling up their throat was difficult. The only thing that brought them slightly down from the extreme anxiety attack that was seconds away were the bandages that practically held their arms together. That was barely enough to keep them grounded to reality.

The league would never take the time to make sure the arms were covered . Ever anxious and ever suspicious, their guard was held high.

Then a man spoke in the room.

“You’re awake.” A very obvious observation, but necessary to bring the attention to him. Seemed as if he were there for the entire spectacle. He would have stepped in, if he saw their panic get worse than it was. But this situation was very delicate, he knew this. Six months filled with trauma and pain was enough to send a civilian into a frenzy immediately. Slightly surprised they were able to stop yourself before screaming into the void, he questioned them. “Are you okay?”

No, no no no nononono —

“Yes… I’m—”

Hurting, and scared, and always in pain. Not trusting of you, but it hurts so much. Please, please stop the pain please make it go away please help me please please pleasepleaseplease —

“—fine.”

That was a lie. They knew it as well as he did. But he wouldn’t comment on it. Whatever made them feel most comfortable. The man gave them a minute to recollect their thoughts, and calm themselves as best they could before continuing.

“My name is Aizawa Shouta, hero name Eraserhead. You were rescued a few days ago from the League of Villains.” He paused for a moment, seemingly uncomfortable at the thought. “You are currently in the Musutafu general hospital. Do you… have any recollection of your last six months?”

So it was half a year. They sat there for a moment, reliving every memory their brain brought up. They remembered everything, down to the gut retching stench in the foul basement they were placed in. The details would haunt them. Their face dulled, eyes losing focus. They were being pulled into a pit of darkness as the memories came back. He saw that.

Their face twisted into one of pain, feeling the lacerations on their arms throb with the memory. How they were forced to use their quirk, even though it wasn’t nearly strong enough to do what they needed to be done due to malnutrition and lack of sleep. How, day in and day out, there were different thugs brought to them with all kinds of wounds—from some fresh blood still sticking to their flesh, to others who had clearly waited much too long to get it looked at and now had pus mixing with whatever bodily fluid dried and crusted over.

They remember how, no matter how many times they yelled and screamed and sobbed, no one came. How their arms at one point felt like they would rip right off, and how they had to switch from injuring their own arms to their legs just to save themselves from mutilating their limbs to the point of amputation.

They remembered the mocking tones of all the villains that would come through, and how they would leave them alone only because they were so disgusted with the pools of blood and bits of flesh that were tearing off no one even wanted to be touched.

They remembered how those were their favorite days, no matter how much it hurt .

“Hey, hey, come back..” His voice was soft, soothing almost. The man— Aizawa — brought their attention back to reality.

“I...remember most of it. I don’t remember getting there...” Their voice cracked before continuing. “But I remember being there.” Being used, over and over and over —

His phone rang, breaking their daze again. They flinched away from the sound, he noticed, and turned away to answer. The call was short, with a few grunts of affirmation from the hero and a sigh. He turned back once the call was over. “With your permission, we would like to keep you with some heroes during your healing and interview process. To understand why the League needed you specifically. Do I have your consent?”

They nodded, a bit shaken.

He, on the other hand, shook his head. “I need verbal confirmation. Do I have your consent to keep you on campus of UA high with professional heroes for however much time is needed for your healing and interviewing process?” He asked again, this time with more detail. Aizawa needed them to understand fully what was at stake.

“Yes… Yes, I consent.” They paused for a moment, question dancing on their tongue. “Will you be...one of the heroes there?” They weren’t sure why they asked. They didn’t particularly care, as long as they stopped feeling so scared all the time. This was a goddamn nightmare .

“Yes, I will be with you most of the time.”

The thought made their stomach settle.

Days passed in the hospital, heroes came in and out—most of them already knowing who they were. Seemed they would all be interacting with them on campus. Some were more personable than others. Midnight and Present Mic—they learned around the third visit their names were Kayama Nemuri and Yamada Hizashi—were very chatty. Always trying to make conversation with them.

Even though it was rare they replied, rare they would even pay attention. The thought was nice enough for them though, even if they didn’t have it in them to interact. Other heroes like Snipe and Ectoplasm came to introduce themselves, but never stayed long. The air was thick with tension—and they didn’t know how to handle someone with heavy trauma. Usually the professionals didn’t have to stick around to see the aftermath of what happened to the victims who survived whatever they needed saving from.

It was finally time to leave, and although they were relieved to be away from the hospital bed, they were scared to go into the unknown. Then Aizawa came through the door, helping settle any of the fears that came into their mind. This made them feel off — they had no connection to this hero. There wasn’t a reason in the world to trust him any more than the other pros that had walked into their room.

But they never felt as safe with anyone else than with Eraserhead.

“There’s a car in the front of the building, a dormitory has been set up for you personally. Are you ready?”

They stuttered for a moment, grasping onto their arms that have finally begun to heal. Then, with a quick and less than audible yes they stood in front of the open door. And paused.

It was hard to step through, fear coursing through their veins. Two weeks in a safer environment than what they had had for six months was difficult to leave. Aizawa waited, more patient than they could ever ask for. Then he stepped through first, keeping the door open for them.

“It’s safe, I promise.” They’ve heard so many promises it’s hard to tell if this one will be kept.

They took a step through anyway, breath held in their lungs as they stepped under the door frame and into the hero’s personal space. The world was too big, too unknown, there were too many people walking around, too many faces they didn’t know , too many memories coming back —

They felt a hand lightly on their shoulder. Instantly, their arms flew in front of their face in a feeble attempt to shield away from the world and the man’s touch. No words came out of their mouth, just small whimpers and attempts of saying ‘ stop!’ , and so he did. He gave them time, standing off to the side away from their safe haven. He waited for the shaking to stop.

“I’m sorry, for touching you..” He apologized, and sounded sincere. They’ve heard sorry so much, usually followed with a cackle and absolutely no remorse that they almost felt bad for pushing him away.

“It’s...I’m—” There were no words that could possibly tell Aizawa how miserable they felt all the time and they wished they could use their healing quirk on their mental health to fix it and make this better . Letting out a frustrated sigh and tugging at the roots of their hair, they shook their head.

“I’ll follow you.”

He nodded, and walked through the corridors slow enough for them to remain as close or as far as they wished without getting lost. They stayed closer to him than he thought they would.

The car ride was quiet, no words exchanged except a ‘ thank you ’ for the car door being held open, followed by a quick ‘you’re welcome ’. They fiddled with the bandages, trying to unravel a piece and look at the flesh underneath.

“You should leave those on. From experience, looking at what’s underneath isn’t always comforting.”

They paused, and took a quick glance at the man next to them. He hadn’t moved, and still looked forward in the car. They sighed, but ultimately listened. The rest of the ride they kept still.

“This will be your new, temporary home. My room is right across from yours. If you need anything, you can ask.”

They nodded in thanks, not letting their lungs grab in their much needed air until they heard the door click behind them. The shock of the last six months hit them all at once, their mental walls crumbling down—along with their legs. They were left at the edge of the room, drained of all energy they had been using even for the short amount of time they had to be a human. Their arms still stung, months of abuse piled on top of each other without reprieve or proper healing, but that was in the back of their mind as they laid on the floor arms wrapped tight around themselves. They didn’t even have the proper energy to cry—not really . Broken sobs and airy wheezes were all that were heard in the room.

What they didn’t know is that the Erasure hero was still in ear shot, the weeping penetrating his thoughts as we walked into his own dormitory.

The next morning they woke still on the floor, limbs tucked tightly against each other. It was terribly uncomfortable stretching out, muscles sore from the way they slept on the ground. Their head was pounding, heart racing—they’d forgotten where they were.

The panic slowly dissipated when they took another look around the room: It was far too clean, and organized to be the basement of the league.

That’s right, UA dorms.... They sighed, slowly standing on wobbling legs to freshen up for the day. At least this was more of a studio apartment rather than a dormitory, with its own bathroom and kitchen.

By the time they were done with the as-scalding-as-they-could-manage shower, they changed into whatever generic clothing was given to them for the time being and really looked at their arms for the first time in weeks. Most of the wounds were scabbed over, healing hopefully properly. Some of them, the more infected of the bunch, looked like they still had pus oozing from some of the sides. Mostly clear liquid, so it seemed like the infection was slowly going away. They would have to get it checked out again soon...

A knock at the door startled them enough to gasp, eyeing the frame wearily. Then a voice rang out.

“It’s Aizawa.”

Their heart rate picked up, albeit for no apparent reason , and went to open the door after removing its many locking mechanisms. Seemed UA knew to take as many precautions as possible, and for that they were grateful. Their eyes locked onto the hero’s, and he looked almost as horrible as they did.

Bloodshot eyes, bags underneath telling a story that would have screamed ‘he’s been awake for days’ if they could recite words. They hadn’t noticed what rough shape the pro was in yesterday. They felt almost.. guilty, for being so focused on themselves.

Aizawa stayed at the door unmoving until he was invited in. Even with them moving off to the side, as an unspoken invitation, he stayed still.

“...You can come in.” Even those words sounded so forced.

He slowly walked in, bringing a bag and a to-go cup into their view. “I brought you a few things for breakfast, wasn’t sure if you had eaten today or..” Or at all within the last few months is how he wanted to end it. The unsaid question was louder than the words he murmured. “If you allow us, we’ll be having a recuperating session with Recovery Girl, that doubles as an interview. I’ll be walking with you to the session.”

It always astounded them how good with his words he was. If he ever became a villain it’d be very easy to manipulate people with how he chooses his sentences so carefully...

Stop it!

People were trying to help them, and here they were thinking the worst. The frustration must have shown on their face since he spoke again.

“We can reschedule this for another time.”

“ No — ” too forceful, they winced. They tried again, quieter. “... no. It’s okay. I’m... not too hungry.” Somewhat a lie. They were too scared to eat in fear it meant they’d be taken advantage of again, like every other time they needed their energy.

In any case, Aizawa held out a plain wrapped bun with a bottle of water. “At least have this, you look like you’re going to collapse.”

They sighed before agreeing.

The meeting overall was painless, mostly. Recovery Girl introduced herself with her government name, Chiyo Shuuzenji, before invading their personal space. That took time getting used to. They flinched for each smooch that came their way for most of the session. Then, after most of the wounds were noticeably better, not healed , the questions came.

“Now, my dear, what is your quirk exactly? The more detail the better.”

They swallowed the first few times they tried to open their mouth, silently thanking Aizawa for giving them that bottled water earlier. After a few more attempts at speaking, they got some words out.

“It’s… a healing quirk. I can… I can heal virtually any physical injury. I can get to internal bleeding also. I don’t have to imagine it, I don’t have to touch the specific area… as long as I touch that person, and I just think to myself heal — whatever they have that’s physical, I can make it go away.”

They paused for a moment. They hated being reminded of this part.

“But I… I get hurt. I get these cuts on me. I can, um, imagine where I want the cuts. So they can be anywhere on my body. I try to, um, keep them in the same area to… to uh… make it easier for me.”

To make it easier to disinfect one giant spot on their body than a lot of little spots.

“The bigger the damage I’m healing, the bigger the cuts get. And these last few months...” They didn’t want to continue.

Without them noticing, their body was going into a state of shock to be able to actually speak about what has happened the last few months. Even just speaking about their own quirk was triggering their body into panic. They began to shake, just a little, and they brushed it off as being cold. They knew better, but hoped that if they continued to talk themselves down from the attack they could just get over it.

The questions continued.

“When you were with the League of Villains, how often did they make you heal them?”

It was getting harder and harder to speak, shallow breaths were picking up. They pressed on, regardless.

“It was, u-um, almost every day. They kept coming—kept bringing in random people to heal. They pushed me, they kept-kept trying to get me to do more.” Tears were pooling in the corners of their eyes, they tried to blink the salty reaction away. It didn’t work.

“Then… then they—the Nomu—they were… I was—it couldn’t get better and I kept trying, and, and—”

The shaking became violent, and they pressed the heels of their palms into their eye sockets, rubbing viciously—almost as if they were trying to get the thought to go away

“Come on, you can do it — keep trying, ” the white haired one bit out. He was the leader, they learned at some point. They kept trying to heal the monster in front of them. It was missing half an arm and a full eye.

It’s been days of nonstop healing on their behalf. No food, barely any water, their energy levels were dangerously low.

“I-I can’t, it won’t — I can’t!” They cried out, hands shaking clutched onto the mass of arm that was dripping blood. The harder they tried, the deeper the lesions continued to become on their arms. They were almost like claw marks now, dark blood oozing over their own arms. It was hard to tell the difference between their blood and the beast’s.

They were healing — something . But it wasn’t enough to actually heal whatever was in front of them.

“This is useless,” one with black hair and damaged flesh spoke now. “Just have them heal everyone else before they pass out again.”

They wanted to cry, they didn’t want to heal anymore.

The white haired brat spoke one last time, “Fucking useless,” and left the scene. Leaving you to heal everyone else with the marred man watching over you.

They heard their name being spoken, almost yelled, in a frantic voice.

“—stay with us, come back to us! ” The masculine voice tried to reach them, and they gasped out trying to get air back into their lungs.

“I’m, I’m sc—I’m scared! ”

The strangled words sounded so pained , Aizawa didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t touch them, couldn’t make this any worse. He just wanted them better . He could only imagine the damage they’ve been dealing with mentally.

He spoke their name again, this time quieter—almost trying to convince himself it would be okay.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here—it’s safe here, with me, look at me—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence before they flung themselves into his grasp. It was the closest thing to them that would make them feel smaller. Aizawa was taken back by their immediate touch. Last time he attempted to do this they pushed him away. Perhaps this trigger was worse than the first, something they needed grounding for.

The hero wrapped his arms around them, feeling them grasp at the fabric of his clothing as they sobbed into his chest.

All he could do to console them was continue to whisper that it was safe there, that he was there for them , and he would protect them. Eraserhead himself wasn’t entirely sure how many of those were truths, but right now he had to believe it most for their sake.

It took a little under a half hour to finally calm them, back to having a pounding head and racing heart just like this morning.

The session ended after that.

Days turned into weeks at the school, and the “interviews” were more delicate. Aizawa was there for each one, and after a handful more with Recovery Girl making sure their wounds were only scars now, he conducted them alone. The hero always made sure they were comfortable, only asking more questions when he felt they could handle it. And when he noticed the shaking, he would either take a break or stop altogether.

That was in the beginning of their one-on-one sessions.

After two months there for the interviewing process, Aizawa turned into Shouta, taking breaks turned into reassuring hand holds, and stopping turned into much needed time in his arms. They still very much cried, a lot of the memories were more overwhelming than they initially thought.

But Aizawa— Shouta — was there. Shouta was always there. And if they couldn’t do a session that night, not mentally prepared for what was to come—he’d always be understanding. He’d never get frustrated, never push for them to speak.

They wanted to trust him so badly, with all their heart. They hoped one day, they’d be free of their mental prison.

The fourth month they were there they began speaking more freely. This time, it was over breakfast. It was a Saturday—Shouta had the day off from teaching. He had cooked for the two of them that morning.

“They burned me, once.”

He almost dropped his utensil on the ground, startled by the sudden admittance.

They pressed on, “They asked, if I… if I could heal myself. I don’t know why. But I said no , and it’s true. I can’t. It would be a vicious cycle of healing and hurting if I could. But um… the one with the white hair?”

“Shigaraki,” Shouta reminded.

They nodded in understanding. “Shigaraki, he didn’t believe me. He got the other one with the blue fire—” Dabi “—to burn me.” They paused for a moment, lifting their shirt just high enough on their side so he could see the blotchy skin that never fully recovered.

He could only imagine what it looked like when they first received it.

“When they realized I wasn’t lying, they… called in one of their paid off doctors.” The pain wasn’t any better , but they kept that information to themselves.

Shouta stayed silent for a moment, not knowing how to react. “Thank you for trusting me with this information,” was all he said before returning to their peaceful breakfast.

That night, after his patrol, Eraserhead couldn’t sleep. He was getting too close to them, he knew. It’s been nonstop attachment on both ends for four months. He understood they needed someone to help them through this counseling, and he was the best for the job at this point.

But he was attached. He could no longer tell the difference between talking them down from a panic attack because they needed it or because he couldn’t breathe seeing them in pain like that. It was selfish on his part, he knew that. He also knew that eventually, they would leave the dorms, go back to their home, and try to assimilate back to their own norm in society. There was a very big possibility that he would never see them again.

The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Four months of banter, four months of whispered stories and shared secrets. Four months of gentle, fleeting touches. Four months of building a trust that he would never break, not in his life.

Being the professional hero he is, he even thought about making up some sort of excuse as to why he wouldn’t be able to do this with them anymore. Something along the lines of, “The more people they have to interact with, the easier it’ll be for them to go back to the world.” It sounded nice, in theory—on paper.

But would he really be able to do it? Would he really be able to break apart that bond that they had built up so well together?

Not in his life.

Not that they’d ever allow it. They still had attacks, and night terrors they spoke to Shouta exclusively about. If he ever dumped them on someone else their whole being would be crushed. They would find him and scream at him at least once—and shut down completely. It would be a soul-crushing reminder that the world is a cruel and evil place, and that no one cares about each other—not really .

For their own sake, they would not, could not , let Shouta go.

Eraserhead thought about how he’d be able to disconnect personal from work, when he heard a thud coming from across the hall.

And then another.

And then another .

His hero instincts kicked in harder than ever before and ran into the hallway with his heart in his throat. He yelled out for them, banging on the door with each call. He heard sobbing, and warned them that he was going inside the room. He wasn’t entirely sure any of his words were getting to them.

The lock was broken with a kick to the door, and the sight in front of him was enough to make him cry. Their body was hunched over on the ground, head banging against the floor. Their tears were visibly hitting the floor, and the most gut wrenching of it all was and they seemed to still be asleep through this whole nightmare.

Shouta moved to their side on the floor, doing his best to lift their head in his hands and rub the tears away with his thumbs. He continued to call their name, giving them a little shake every now and again trying to wake them as gently as he could. When their eyes opened they were strained, vision blurred. He needed to ground them, still in a haze.

“Hey, I’m here—can you say my name? Tell me who I am, please .”

Their breathing was heavy still, eyes trying to focus on the body in front of them.

“Sh-Shouta,” they hiccuped, grasping at whatever article of clothing they could find. They calmed quickly after that, falling asleep, in his arms.

I’m a fool , he thought, for thinking I’d ever be able to leave them.

The next week or so, Shouta had been dancing around a question that’s been on his mind. It was ridiculous, completely illogical, but after the last night terror he had witnessed it seemed like the best course of action. Normally they weren’t very perceptive of things happening around them when the hero was around, they felt safe enough to not have to pay attention. But today...

“Shouta, are you okay?” Their voice was as soft as ever, almost fearful he was going to tell them that this was enough and that they needed to move on with someone else for protection.

He nodded, biting the bullet and spilling the question—well, statement really.

“Live with me?”

They paused, eyeing him. He couldn’t tell if they were going to laugh, or cry, or scream, or run away . His look was blank, as their look was one of shock.

Then they smiled.

“That would be nice, please.”

After that bit of excitement, the rest of the day was dull for both parts. They packed a small bag that had the more important clothing—they were right across the hall, as it were. But...it was a nice sentiment from the hero. Their anxiety had kicked in a few times throughout the day, thoughts screaming in their head.

He’s going to take advantage of you.

He wants you for your quirk.

He’s going to use you.

They had to shut those thoughts out.

Shouta came back in between teaching classes and patrolling the streets in the evening. He knocked lightly, this time he didn’t wait for them to let him inside. They had become so comfortable with each other the last few months that it was second nature to always be around their presence. Their arms wrapped around his waist, a hug so light it were as if they were scared he’d disappear.

What he didn’t know is that was, in fact, their fear.

He returned the embrace, firmer, before helping move the small quantity of things they had packed up to his studio apartment-esque dormitory and handed them their own key.

“If there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable, please, let me know.”

He saw their first, real smile.

They made themselves as comfortable as they could in their new home. Temporary as it may be, it was home . A safe space for them to be, to exist. It was time for bed now, though they still felt a bit weary trying to sleep knowing that Shouta was still out there being Eraserhead making sure the streets were safe.

So they stayed up...

And stayed up later.

And eventually, clinging onto themselves in the middle of the bed, heard the familiar click of a door being unlocked and saw the pro hero walk in. They almost smiled, until they saw the condition the hero was in.

Their heart dropped.

“Shouta,” his name was rushed out, and they unwrapped themselves from the sheets and ran to him, stopping short in front of him and hovered. He was stabbed in the arm, it seemed.

He shrugged, peeling off the capture scarf that he always had wrapped around his neck.

“It’s fine, I just need some peroxide.” His voice and breathing was so even it should have made them feel better about the situation. There was no panic, no real pain, he would be okay.

But it wasn’t enough for them.

“Shouta, please, please let me—”

“ No .” That was the first time he was ever forceful with them.

They flinched, having to tell themselves over and over again that he wasn’t mad at them, that he wasn’t yelling because they did something wrong, that he wasn’t going to throw them out.

He saw the immediate shift and sighed. He realized now how it could have come across. He called their name.

“Please, you have overused your quirk for so long. This is nothing, just a flesh wound. Please...please don’t.” His voice was at a whisper.

Their anxiety wanted to flare up again, so much. It was yelling in their head again, that he was a liar and that this was the way to get close and use them, use them, use them!

He was going to walk away to go clean up, and they moved without thinking. They had to help him, they had to at least give him something as thanks for the last few months. Their hands reached up to his face, caressing him. Eyes closed, the deep wound he once had on his arm slowly stitched itself together, patching up like nothing had happened. It felt slightly uncomfortable for him, now able to physically feel the healing process at an accelerated rate. But after mere seconds, the wound was gone. Nothing was left except the rip in his clothing.

And then their wound came.

It wasn’t as deep or as large as his, but very much visible on your arm. The blood oozed from the lesion that was created, dripping down their arm. They sighed, taking the pain as best they could before releasing the hero in front of them.

The two stood in silence for what felt like hours, a mixture of astonishment and disappointment written all over his face. They didn’t know how to react, and decided maybe it was for the best if they..left.

Not that he would let them.

He sighed, grabbing a hold of their hand like fine china and brought them over to the first aid in his— their —bathroom.

“That was irresponsible, you know.” There was no malice in his voice.

He worked silently, dabbing peroxide as gently as he could onto the wound and wrapping it neatly with gauze. It was finished up within a matter of minutes, and by the time he looked up their eyes were red and puffy, sniffling away—they were crying.

“Did I hurt you? Why didn’t you say anything?” He questioned, his turn to caress their cheeks.

They shook their head while rubbing away the stray tears.

“I just—” a hiccup “—I just want to say thank you, somehow .” The weeping became louder, no longer able to hold back.

“You have done so much for me, Shouta—too much. I’m always fucking scared, so anxious all the time. I cry all the time, I’m waking up in the middle of the night screaming. And you’re always there! You never complain, you never push me away. I don’t know if this is sympathy or guilt or, or—”

The rest of their words became jumbled in a mess of sobs and heavy breaths, trying to stay afloat in their mind.

They felt something on their forehead.

Shouta dropped his forehead onto theirs, hands moving from their face to caress their back. Their breathing hitched, still sniffling but attempting to keep it under control.

“You are not a burden. You were never a burden. Never to me. Getting to know you has been one of the best things that has happened in my life in a very long time, never think otherwise.” His voice was stern, but sure. No waver in his tone, they could tell he was serious and truthful.

Their now shaky hands were pressed on his broad shoulders, grounding themselves.

“ Why?”

It was a loaded question, they both knew it. Why keep them around? Why were they so special to him? Why did he take so much time even after the physical healing to help them? Why didn’t he go back to his normal routine? Why did he ask them to live with him?

Why, why why —

“Because it seems I have fallen in love with you.”

The rest of the night seemed like a blur, heavy emotions swirling in the atmosphere. There were more tears, on both parts. Confessions were spoken aloud. Bodies melded together on the sheets of their bed. One last I love you whispered in between shared, secretive kisses before finding sleep deep within the night.

It had been now seven months since showing up to UA, three months since they and Shouta had started a relationship together. Their mental stability had gotten stronger, and it seemed like the League of Villains had fallen deeper underground with little to no activity. They were finally in a safe place, able to go home without fear or repercussions.

Except they didn’t want to go.

And if Aizawa were being honest with himself, he didn’t want that either. But he understood that it was a necessary push for them to be free of the mental barrier they had placed on themselves. As long as they were here , in this school, they would be constantly reminded of the reason they felt so trapped. He needed to push them out to the world, just a touch, so they could become better for themselves.

The two stood uncomfortably by the gates of the school, all of their personal belongings, and whatever they wanted to keep that was given to them by the school, packed up. It seemed like a painful goodbye, spending all this time together with the heros and teachers, and eventually students, that they wouldn’t see everyday anymore. An even more painful goodbye to the man they found themselves loving more and more each day. Now that they wouldn’t be a constant in his home, he could easily forget about them. He could replace them with someone not so broken, someone who wasn’t as panicky, someone who he didn’t have to babysit .

“You’re thinking too much.” He broke the silence, and dissipated their doubts, if only by a little bit.

Aizawa grabbed them, just as delicate as any other time he ever held them, and pressed a chaste kiss to their forehead.

“You’ll be alright. You’ve gotten stronger in the last few months. You can do this, you know you can.”

They let out a shaky breath, nodding in agreement.

A month had passed since their departure from UA. The dormitories were missed, but their home was missed more than they thought possible. They spent most of their days cleaning up the place, and getting used to going back out into the world. Sometimes they’d still jump at the shadows. Other times they’d still wake up to the sound of their own screaming.

Other times, they’d feel the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders when a certain someone would remind them that they were doing something thought impossible in the beginning. They were alive , learning how to live again. They started to smile more genuinely, more often.

Tonight marked a month and fifteen days after leaving, and it was the first time Shouta would enter their home. It took a lot of mental preparing, he knew, for them to finally share the piece of their first life with him. This was now solidifying the trust they had been building over the course of the year. They would have a normal dinner date together.

He managed to squeeze himself out of the patrol he originally had thanks to a certain loud friend of his, and made it on time awkwardly holding a bottle of wine with a name neither of them could pronounce. He seemed so out of place at the door, and when they broke into laughter, all the tension was lifted from the scene. He smiled, the feeling reaching his eyes.

“Thank you,” he paused. For trusting me. For believing in my words. For letting me learn about you. For not shutting me out when I pushed you too hard. “For inviting me tonight.”

They smiled with a shake of their head, and led him deeper into their safe place--towards the dining room. “No, Shouta, thank you ,” For being patient. For teaching me how to love myself. For showing me I had the strength to overcome this. For reminding me that I’ll be okay. “For taking the time to come.”

The night was long, and filled with smiles and quiet laughs and shared secrets. The bottle of wine was empty by the end. Now, with their bellies full, the long day had come to an end and with their blessing, Shouta would be staying the night. Somehow, in their inebriated stupor, they had managed to wash up for the late evening and head off to bed.

The two of them stayed awake for a while longer to talk about whatever came to mind. They let out a yawn mid sentence.

“You feel okay?” More of a way for Shouta to see if they’d like to go to sleep.

They gazed at him, hoping that he could see every ounce of adoration and respect they had for him. They thought about the last eight months of their life, how it started off so broken and terrifying. They thought about how the man in their bed started off as a stranger that couldn’t even touch them , that the mere thought of him being too close made them want to claw at their eyes and peel away their skin.

They thought about the moments they wanted to take their own life, how they eventually shared those secrets with him. They thought about the times they didn’t say anything at all.

Then they thought about how over the months they grew, how they became better. How the once-stranger turned into a friend, and eventually, a lover. How he had always been there as an anchor, never overstepping any boundaries and giving them the space they needed whenever they felt unsafe, even from him.

How they learned to cope with the trauma, and learned to manage their panic disorder that was still very much with them due to post traumatic stress.

They thought about how, even though it was a hard and heavy process, they would be okay. That they had survived through hell and came back from it.

Shouta waited, as the gears turned in their head. He knew they were thinking too much, but this time it felt different. When their eyes unfocused the smile on their lips grew, though it was subtle. He let them be; patient as always.

“I’m fine.”

They were still growing, still finding themselves in this terrifying world. But they were managing all the same. They were mending themselves, with some help along the way. No matter how slow the process was, they were healing.

They’d be fine.

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in-tua-deep · 5 years

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So I’m curious as to how Alison is with Five in your Responsible Luther AU. Has she had Claire? And does interacting with a younger Five prevent her from rumoring her daughter or is that still the same? And is she as maternal towards a younger brother since she herself is younger? I just absolutely love this entire AU!

(responsible luther au posts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

Claire exists! I headcanon her as being about six during canon because that allows her the four years that Luther knew of her existence plus some extra years because I didn’t think she was four in that flashback at all SO because the responsible luther au takes place four years before canon…

Claire is in her terrible twos!! Allison is married and Exhausted and is now in contact with the squad a la skype/facetime, partially because Five absolutely insists and partially because Allison feels lowkey guilty about cutting everyone out of her life when she left home

the main difference between canon and au here is that Allison has a support network

She gets on skype and can vent and complain and ask for advice in a way that she can’t ask anyone else because her siblings know her, know her circumstances, and most importantly know her powers

I sincerely doubt that Allison confided in Patrick (their marriage had issues) and I doubt she breathed a word about her child soldier childhood with her actress friends and Allison was so very desperate to put it all behind, to be normal, that she was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. She felt like a failure constantly because she couldn’t handle an infant child, a job that is stressful for the best of people, and she didn’t know how to ask for help or advice and what knowledge she had to draw upon of disciplining a child made rumoring sound like a merciful option tbh

but the point is that Allison gets online and calls up the family and she has people who understand that her first reaction to most things is a violent one because violence was drilled into her bones, into their bones

so when Allison complains, the squad understand and are willing to brainstorm solutions that don’t involve violence OR rumoring, because Allison would absolutely admit her desperation or admit to rumoring her daughter into not crying or silencing a tantrum and all that, and, most importantly, she has people who would tell her no while understanding why she would jump to it

there’s no judgement (well only a tiny bit) but she’s talking with the people who remember her rumoring them to do really stupid and petty shit when they were kids. Diego still has the scar on his arm after the incident where Allison’s magazines went mysteriously missing that no one speaks about since Allison still gets that slightly crazy look in her eyes when it’s brought up (it was actually Klaus’s fault but Diego will deny it to his grave due to a very particular piece of blackmail between the duo)

Luther and Allison get close because Luther’s basically raising Five right now so they both compare notes on child rearing. Like yeah, there’s some differences but actually Allison’s advice on how to help your child sleep all the way through the night/soothe them back to sleep is alarmingly applicable with a traumatized Five who frequently wakes up not knowing where he is and thinking he’s either back in the apocalypse or locked up in their childhood home. And Luther’s advice on how to deal with a picky eater is pretty applicable to baby Claire, though admittedly Five’s wariness of certain foods which spoil quickly is fairly justified (Five still accuses raspberries of going moldy overnight which I mean. Luther can’t exactly argue with because he takes his eyes off the fridge for two seconds and suddenly the berries are fuzzy)

Klaus is somehow?? A baby whisperer? Small children absolutely ADORE him (Diego says it’s because he’s a child himself and Klaus always shoots back about being young at heart) so Claire can be a sobbing mess and Allison will facetime Klaus and then suddenly Claire is cooing at the phone and babbling about her latest imaginative story she made up while Klaus offers up critiques and suggestions for even cooler ideas and characters while Allison is gently irritated that Klaus can get Claire to stop crying faster than she can (but then again she’s also just relieved)

Patrick also chats with the whole squad now that Allison is actually back in contact with the family. Him and Klaus get along well, Patrick laughs at Klaus’s jokes and comments, though Patrick has already solemnly informed them all that if it comes down to it he’s legally obligated to take his wife’s side in every argument which they all respect

Allison IS maternal towards Five, but I mean,,, all of them are protective over their smallest and youngest sibling even though Five rolls his eyes and bristles under it half the time. Five survived the apocalypse! He survived thirteen years under Reginald’s regime! Honestly Five’s mood towards his siblings general being-older-ness is somewhat mercurial - sometimes he’s perfectly fine with it and even seeks it out and other times he absolutely rejects it and gets as prickly as a hedgehog

but for the most part Five is the one prodding everyone to call Allison and being absolutely draconian about everyone sitting down for family time because so help him god he spent months trying to get back here after finding his family’s dead bodies and dealing with THAT he’s very insistent on keeping an eye of everyone’s whereabouts and health (especially Vanya’s because he never did find her body)

honestly talking to Five actually helps Allison with Claire a lot because Five literally tells Allison to ask Claire things. Why is she crying? What upset her? Why did that thing upset up? What can be done to make it not be upsetting?

Claire adores Five because he takes her very seriously whenever he chats with her. He asks her very seriously about the status of some of her stuffed animals while she giggles into her hands. Five is willing to patiently wait while Claire introduces him to every single one of her toys, and he is also willing to memorize every single name given to him.

Allison gets therapy!! Mainly because Five is in therapy, and Luther is in therapy, and Klaus is in therapy, and Vanya is in therapy, and they’re all trying to convince Diego to also get therapy (he’s actually seeing someone but hasn’t told the rest of them because he likes being a difficult son of a bitch) and so everyone is gently confronting their child soldier childhood and the shit they went through so Allison gets to go to therapy as well

and Allison gets to learn some communication skills and is encouraged to talk with Patrick so their marriage doesn’t break down the way it does it canon (though I dunno I still think they probably get divorced but more of an amicable one)

Allison probably does fly down at some point, probably after a few gentle kidnapping attempts a la Reginald/Hazel/Cha-Cha who are after Five, leaving Claire in Patrick’s very capable hands (they facetime twice a day so that Allison can see Claire, though Claire is sulky the entire time because a, her mother is gone and b, SHE wanted to go visit all her cool uncles and aunt as well heck)

Allison, showing up: oh, oh no. i’m going to get everyone a new wardrobe what do you have my baby brother wearing?

Luther: j,,jeans? t-shirts? regular people clothes?

Allison: are these from walmart? don’t answer that. everyone is getting a new wardrobe consider it payback for all the missed birthdays and christmas gifts from when I, you know

Klaus: cut us out of your life like yesterday’s trash?

Luther: KLAUS

Klaus: hey man you can keep your grease monkey shirts to yourself I for one and THRILLED to go shopping on Allison’s dime

Five: can i get a hat? I had a hat in the apocalypse and i was fond of it

aww now I want to write a scene where Allison shows up but this is already getting to be a really long post hmm

is that going to stop me though?? probably not

So Allison arrives at the door with her bags after a long day at the airport (she’d told Patrick five times that you only had to be there three hours before for international flights but he could be such a worrywart) and knocks a quick ‘shave and a haircut’ tune just like she always did as a kid.

Immediately the door flies open and there’s a breathless looking Five who clearly jumped to the door to get their first and he’s got a smile on his face and yeah, she’s seen him through a screen with great frequency but it’s not the same as seeing him in person. Folding him into a hug is the easiest thing in the world. He’s so little, and skinny. Even skinnier than she remembered him being, and Five had always been a boney little shit with sharp elbows and a willingness to use them.

“I like your hair.” He tells her, hands fisted in the back of her shirt. He’s told her that about once a day since she let Claire pick out a color and she ended up with purple hair.

She looks up and meets Luther’s eye where he’s wiping his hands on a towel and making a face that says there is probably more to this love of her hair color than meets the eye.

(”He saw us dead.” Luther tells her, later, when the rest of the house is asleep on the couches while one of Allison’s movies plays softly. “Your hair… it wasn’t purple, when you died. It makes him feel safer. He shredded Klaus’s favorite coat right after he moved in as well, almost caused world war three.”

Allison presses her hand to her mouth, feeling tears gather at the corners of her eyes as she looks over her shoulder in the direction of the teen draped across Klaus with a dog drooling on them both. He looks so carefree and innocent in his sleep, it’s so easy to forget what he’s been through. What they’ve all been though.)

“Allison!” The cheerful greeting heralds the arrival of Klaus who stumbles out of the kitchen, mouth half full of a cookie. Freshly baked, from the smell wafting around the house. It’s easy for Klaus to brush past Luther and wrap his arms around both her and Five, swaying them side to side and making Allison giggle as he lays an exaggerated kiss on her cheek with a loud “Mwah!”

“Okay okay,” Allison says, prying both of them off of her so she can fully come in the door with her suitcase.

“Let me take that for you.” Luther says, coming forward and grabbing it out of her hands. He looks good, more relaxed that Allison has seen him in years. He reaches out to ruffle Five’s hair in an affectionate gesture familiar between the two, “And why don’t you go grab our sister a cookie before Klaus manages to eat them all.”

“You’re sleeping in Klaus’s room.” Five informs her, smile quirking his lips up. The reason for the mischief on his face is quickly explained by the outraged squawk that emerges from Klaus’s mouth.

“You can’t expect Allison to sleep on the couch.” Luther throws over his shoulder as he’s already heading deeper into the house.

“I’d be fine with the couch.” Allison shrugs, half because she actually was and half to stir up shit because that’s just what their family is like.

(It used to be if they weren’t in their rooms for bedtime, they would be locked out - because of course their rooms locked on the outside and not the inside, like in normal houses. Allison spent more than one night sleeping on the hardwood floor outside of her door, knowing that to be caught sleeping on one of the couches or other soft surfaces in the mansion was to invite further punishment.)

“We aren’t making our guest sleep on the couch!” Luther calls, out of sight.

“Diego sleeps on the couch!” Klaus hollers right back in outrage.

Five tugs on Allison’s arm, “Allison! Allison come on! You have to meet Mr. Pennycrumb.”

“I’ve already met him.” Allison informs her brother, because she has. Over the phone. Luther and Klaus are still yelling at one another, but it’s in a way that everyone knows that Klaus is going to end up sleeping on the couch.

“That doesn’t count.” Five insists, tugging on her arm again. Allison allows herself to be towed towards the kitchen where there is a half eaten tray of cookies on the counter, and a dog that looks like the very picture of patience laying in a dog bed in the corner. At their entrance, Mr. Pennycrumb raises his head and gives a few thumps of his tail but doesn’t get up until Five makes a ‘come on’ gesture with a hand.

Immediately the dog is at their feet, and Five’s hand is clamped around Allison’s wrist and offering her hand for said dog to sniff. “Mr. Pennycrumb,” He says, with great gravity, “This is my sister, Allison. Allison, this is Mr. Pennycrumb.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Pennycrumb.” Allison says with equal gravity. Mr. Pennycrumb finishes sniffing her hand and immediately sits and puts one paw in her hand. Allison, never one to be caught off guard, gives it a firm shake. At least having a toddler prepared her for this - this exchange actually reminds her of introductions to some of her daughter’s stuffed animals. Though she is never going to inform Five of this fact.

Five, for his part, looks exceptionally pleased that the two of them are getting along.

There’s a new argument echoing through the house, which from a quick listen reveals that it’s because of the state of Klaus’s room. Which, thinking back to their childhood, Allison is not so surprised. Though it seems to be only about clothes on the floor, which is far neater than their youth where scorch marks were commonplace. Klaus had been quite the little pyromaniac.

“Where’s the rest of the motley crew?” Allison asks, straightening up and swiping a cookie from the tray on the counter. It’s still warm, with gooey chocolate. Allison doesn’t even hesitate to pick up two more. Self preservation, really.

“Ben’s probably with Klaus.” Five says, shrugging, apparently not even realizing that Allison is choking on her mouthful of cookie. No matter how many times she heard about their deceased brother being an active member of the family thanks to Klaus, it never got any more bizarre to her. “Diego should be here before midnight, maybe? He’s never on time for anything. And Vanya’s gonna swing by after practice but she can’t stay ‘cause she’s got a lesson with the Brat early in the morning.”

“The brat?” Allison asks, already amused.

“The brat.” Five confirms with a nod, “Vanya says she won’t tell me a name ‘cause of teacher-student privilege but she’s awful. Thinks she’s the next coming of - of - of whoever is a famous violinist except for Vanya I dunno.”

Allison elects to not inform her younger brother that teacher-student privilege isn’t actually a thing. It’s probably safer for whatever young girl happens to be both spoiled and have the luck of being taught music by Vanya Hargreeves.

“You know, you calling someone a brat is a little like the pot calling the kettle black.” Allison informs her brother with a smile, scrunching up her nose and pulling a face at him. He makes one right back, and it’s so familiar that it feels like she’s being punched in the chest for a moment.

She’s known that Five is back for months, that he’s alive for months, but it’s not the same as him being there. Solid and real. He’s skinnier, cheeks more hollow and eyes more haunted. His hair is a bit longer than she remembers, though reportedly not as long as it had been when Five had made it back.

They’d never been close, her and Five. Not like he’d been with Vanya, with Ben, with the kids lower on the totem pole than Allison had ever been. Oh, their father hadn’t liked her, but she’d completed every task he set before her with ruthless efficiency and she was rarely punished. Too good at gaming the system. She’d only ever been close with Luther, too busy to deal with the others on a regular basis. But there had been times regardless where they’d all been together, as a family.

Five had been a firecracker of a kid, always explosive where Allison preferred to skirt around the rules, bending but not breaking. They both liked the spotlight, though Five had never seemed to begrudge her for her own time shining. She’d thought he was such an arrogant brat, but he was still her brother.

It’s different now, seeing mischief light up his face. Back then she would have rolled her eyes, felt irritated, maybe even tried to rumor him into being quiet for once (though he’d gotten alarmingly good at telling when she was about to speak a rumor over the years, and gotten even better at jumping away before she could get a word out). Now though, now she just felt affectionate nostalgia. Maybe it was because she was older, she was an adult looking into the face of a child who she knew had never gotten a real childhood. It was almost a relief that Five’s spark had never managed to be stamped out.

“Hey,” Five interrupts her thoughts. He’s on the floor, rolling Mr. Pennycrumb’s head between his hands thoughtfully, “Can we watch your movies? I’ve seen a couple but Luther and Klaus are always super weird about it.”

Allison’s mind scrolls through some of her more risque movies with scenes that she would much rather none of her siblings ever witness, especially her thirteen-year-old sibling. Or thirteen-year-olds in general, truthfully. “Uh,” She starts, but is thankfully interrupted by Klaus gliding into the kitchen to sweep up three more of the cookies, pouting while he does so.

“I,” Klaus pauses, bringing a hand up to gesture dramatically, cookie still gripped and sprinkling crumbs, “Have graciously decided to allow you to use my room - ”

“Technically it’s my room.” Five interrupts.

“You gave it to me!” Klaus rebuffs. It sounds like this is an old argument between the two, “You can’t just take back a gift! That makes it my room! You’re such a little brat - ”

The argument continues and Allison eases herself back to lean against the counters and watch as her two brothers snipe back and forth at one another with a smile. It’s the kind of controlled chaos that she’s almost used to. She can’t help the smile across her face. Even though she misses Claire like nothing she’s ever felt, that hurt is soothed just a little bit by being around these losers again.

Despite everything, she missed them. All of them.

It’s good to be back.

#ask me #anonymous #tua #the umbrella academy #far tua long #responsible luther au #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #claire hargreeves #tua claire #patrick hargreeves #tua patrick #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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hookedonapirate · 5 years

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The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.

WARNINGS: This story takes a dark turn, like fifty shades of dark. Trigger warnings for this chapter and the next include graphic scenes of violence, sexual assault, attempted rape, death threats, death, blood and gore. Some of these warnings involve main characters, but not death. The rest of the story will not be as dark, mostly this chapter and the next. I did my best to balance it out though with some sweet, sugary moments too. So please prepare yourself because by the time you finish this chapter your heart will be shattered into a million pieces, your teeth will be rotted and you'll probably hate me for the emotional wreckage I have put you through. You're welcome ;-) But seriously, this is probably the most fucked up content I've ever written and I basically had to banish any thoughts of possible negative consequences from posting this so I could finally share this chapter with you without changing anything, so please continue with caution. And no, nothing in this chapter is from Magnificent Century, this all came from my twisted mind. If you're not comfortable with reading about what I've mentioned or if you're unsure about it, please come ask me any questions you may have either in the comment section or on Tumblr under the same user name.

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4 l Ch 5 l Ch 6 l Ch 7 l Ch 8 l Ch 9 I Ch 10 I BTS

Chapter 11

Killian waits for Elsa to enter the room as he paces back and forth. He’s thought about this many times repeatedly but still doesn’t know if it’s a mistake or not.

Elsa enters the room, immediately prostrating herself at his feet. He bends down and gently takes her chin in his hand, urging her up. “That's unnecessary, lass.”

She rises and keeps her head bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He can’t see her face, but judging by her posture, how she stiffens at his touch, he knows she wishes to be anywhere else but here. She doesn’t wish to betray Emma.

And that’s what he was counting on.

A chuckle leaves his lips, and Elsa finally raises her head, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Is something of humor, Your Majesty?” Her voice is shaking, and when he looks at her joined hands, they’re also shaking.

Killian doesn’t respond and instead offers his hand to her. He leads her over to his bed. “Relax, Elsa,” he says in a soothing tone and points to the end of the bed. “Please sit.”

She does as she’s told, still unsure about this whole thing, but she takes a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. She waits for him to speak because that’s undoubtedly what she was told to do. Not speak unless she is spoken to.

“You’re a loyal friend to Emma, aren’t you?”

She seems surprised by the question, her mouth parted slightly as she nods. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Killian smiles and sits next to her. “I’m glad to hear this… because I need a favor from you.” Killian doesn’t realize what his words could’ve possibly implied until he sees Elsa’s cheeks flush as she looks away from him, her lips trembling.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She lowers her head, and he can tell she is on the verge of sobbing. “I will do whatever you wish.”

He swallows thickly. “And you promise to keep this a secret? No one must know what I’m about to ask you. No one. Is that clear?”

Elsa lifts her head again, and she’s even more confused than before. “Of course, but won’t they know what we’re doing in here, My Lord?”

“And what is it you think they will know?”

Elsa blushes once again, facing away from him. She doesn’t answer for a minute, but he can see the wheels turning, he can see the anger bubbling inside of her. “They will know you are with another woman. They will know you are not with Emma,” she murmurs.

“Exactly.” Killian grins and takes her hand in his, dropping a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

She immediately regrets her words and looks at him again, her features etched with apology. “I am sorry, Your Majesty.”

“No need to apologize. I am glad we are on the same page.”

She raises a brow at him. “Excuse my manners, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid we are not on the same page. I do not wish to betray Emma. She is my friend.”

“But you see, Elsa, we are on exactly the same page… I do not wish to betray Emma, either.”

Her mouth gapes open as she stares at him in bewilderment. “Then why did you summon me here?”

Killian's expression grows serious as his eyes meet hers. He draws in a deep breath, still holding onto her hand between them. It’s not so much of an act of affection, but a plea. His eyes and hands are pleading with her. “You will not say a word to anyone about this? I need your word... for the sake of Emma… for the sake of our child.”

Elsa shakes her head. But she still looks a bit confused. “I promise, Your Majesty. Whatever it is you have to say will not leave this apartment.”

Killian nods, and he feels he can trust her. He can see the sincerity in her eyes. And Emma trusts her, so he knows he can, too. “I need everyone to believe I am taking more than one maiden to my bed.” As much as the thought pains him, he needs to do this. To protect Emma. To protect their baby. “You will be moved to the apartment of favorites and treated as a Gozde in compensation for your cooperation.”

Elsa’s face twists in bafflement. “But why? You only want to be with Emma, so why do you need people to believe otherwise?”

“Because they won’t understand. You were taught the different ranks in the Harem, correct?”

Elsa nods. “Yes, there are Odalisques and Gediklis, and then there are Ikbals and Gozdes, who have gone to the Sultan’s bed. You can have as many of those as you want, but you can only have four Kadins and one Bas Kadin. I know how it works.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work. I am expected to have four wives, but I don’t want anyone but Emma. I had only one woman before, and she was murdered, along with our unborn child.”

Elsa’s features sadden, but she doesn’t seem surprised. “Milah,” she murmurs.

He nods. “Aye. The Sultan of Neverland is to take many maidens to his bed, not one, and once word spreads about Emma being my only maiden, people will react. And I don’t want her or our child to suffer because of my actions.”

“So, you want to summon me and pretend to take me to your bed?”

“I want people to think I am summoning you. They won’t know Emma will be the one coming to my chamber every night. Even when she is with child, I wish for her to be in my arms while we sleep.” He smiles at the image his own words create.

“But, what happens when I don’t get pregnant, Your Majesty? I’m still a virgin.”

“It doesn’t matter. If they find out you're still a virgin, they’ll think I chose you to pleasure me in other ways, but no one will dare question my actions.”

“But they will question you if you only take one woman to your bed?”

“They will. My mother especially.”

“And Regina.”

Killian arches a brow, his eyes narrowing at her. “Why would my sister question me?”

Elsa’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Killian gently takes her chin in his hand again, urging her to look at him. “Tell me, why would my sister question me? And how do you know of this?”

Elsa swallows thickly, fear swarming her eyes.

His voice remains calm and soothing. “Please, tell me. Remember, nothing we discuss will leave this room.”

She nods, and he releases her chin, waiting for her to speak. “Your mother invited me and Emma to her suite for a celebration of Emma’s pregnancy. Regina was there and she was upset because Kira kept referring to Emma as her daughter.” Elsa swallows thickly, hesitant about what she’s about to say, but he offers an encouraging smile.

“Tell me, lass.”

She nods and lowers her eyes, speaking softly. “Regina said she hoped Emma was poisoned like Milah and stormed out of the suite.”

A wave of anger washes over him. His jaw tightens, fists clenching at his sides. His own sister wished death on his wife and child?

“But please, you did not hear this from me, Your Majesty.”

“Do not worry, Elsa, our secrets are safe with one another,” he assures her in a gentle voice, but on the inside, he is fuming. How could his own sister betray him like this?

After Elsa leaves his chamber, Nemo escorts her to the Harem, but not before opening the doors for the enchanting woman whose face is hidden by a veil, apart from her dazzling green eyes. Killian had instructed Nemo to inform Emma what was going on after Elsa had come to his chamber.

As Emma steps into the room, Killian smiles, the sight of her instantly calming him. He has to put any thoughts of hatred toward his sister aside for the time being. He doesn’t wish to ruin his night with Emma by letting his mood set a dark cloud over it. He’ll deal with Regina later. Right now, he has more important matters to attend to. He approaches his beloved, removing her veil and pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes are full of love and warmth as she smiles at him.

“Emma…” he whispers, caressing her chin. “I’ve missed you.”

She laughs, her eyes dancing with amusement as her hands move to his chest, fingers combing through the chest hair poking out from the v-neck shirt he’s wearing. “You saw me only this morning, Killian.”

His smile fades, his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest as he swallows. “I miss you every second you are not with me, my love.”

She touches his forehead with hers, closing her eyes. “I know exactly how you feel,” she whispers.

He slides his hand through her hair and captures her lips. They kiss slowly, soon adding their tongues. His love for her consumes him. He knows he has to stop before he has the urge to take things further, for he doesn’t wish to harm their wee one. So he lifts her up, carrying her to the bed. And he just holds her in his arms caressing her belly as they talk.

He tells her about Elsa and what they had discussed. She will be summoned to his chamber, but Emma will be the one going to him every night. “Thank you for trusting me,” he whispers, brushing his lips along her ear.

“Of course. When Nemo came for Elsa, I had no doubts about your motives. I knew you were up to something,” she laughs, and he chuckles with her.

“I’m so glad my summons did not upset you. It’s the last thing I would want,” he says with sincerity.

She hums a response, her voice raspy with tiredness. In that moment, he realizes just how much she affects him. How much she influences him. He would do absolutely anything in the world for this woman. He’d kill for her, he’d even die for her gladly if she asked him to. Perhaps that’s why Neverland society frowns upon their Sultans having only one wife. He knows that’s why. But he doesn’t care. The traditions and customs of Neverland make him feel imprisoned, like he’s not able to think for himself or do what he wants. Even as the most powerful man of Neverland.

Emma makes him feel less imprisoned, less trapped. Even if his love for her makes him feel powerless. It feels like there’s this huge, conflicting war inside him. He hates feeling trapped, yet he loves being ensnared by the woman in his arms. He hates following his people’s customs, yet he’d do anything Emma asked him to. Killian smiles as he buries his face in her hair, letting her scent invade his senses. If he had to choose between being Sultan and being with her, he would choose her. He would choose them. Which is why he would rip someone's throat out if they dared threaten to destroy his future with her.

~*~

The next day, Elsa is moved to the apartment of favorites, next to Emma’s suite, and the palace seems to be content with the Sultan favoring two maidens of his harem. They don’t question the situation one bit. But, there’s still another matter Killian must tend to.

He promised Elsa their secrets would be safe between them and Emma, but he cannot live in the same palace as someone who seeks to harm his wife and child. So he goes to his mother to discuss his sister’s future... her future outside the palace.

“How can you do this to me!?” Regina screams as she storms into his chamber full of fire and rage.

Killian doesn't even flinch. He's facing away from her with his hands clasped together behind his back.

“How dare you send me off to be married?! I will not go!”

He lifts his head, praying that God will give him the strength to not murder his sister.

He spins around swiftly, flooded with hurt and betrayal when he looks at her. It’s as though she’d stabbed him in the back with a dagger, digging the blade deep and twisting it. “How dare you wish death on my wife and child?” He speaks calmly with a controlled tone, but there’s a raging storm brewing inside him threatening to break through the surface.

Regina’s mouth opens, her eyes wide with shock. As though she didn’t think he would find out about her betrayal. “Brother, I’m sorry, I didn't mean it," she says, lowering her voice. “I was only upset. Mother treats your Kadin like a queen. She adores Emma just because she’s having your baby. And you will soon have a family to love and cherish. I will never have that.” Her eyes are glistening with tears as she kneels on the floor, bowing to him. “Please forgive me, My Sultan.”

Killian chuckles darkly. “So, since you can never be happy, you wish for me to be unhappy as well?”

Regina quickly shakes her head. “No, of course not.”

He doesn’t believe her. He moves toward her, taking her chin in his hand, and lifts Regina to her feet, his expression hard and cold as she lifts her eyes to his. I want you to answer something for me, my sister.” He says sister with distaste and resentment. “If you don't answer honestly, I won't even send you off to be married.”

She sighs in relief but then blinks back at him in confusion. "But, how would remaining here in the palace, rather than being forced to marry some stranger, be considered punishment?"

He inhales sharply through his nose and walks away from her, trying his best to maintain his composure. But the thought of his own flesh and blood killing Milah or even wishing Emma harm makes him furious and sad. He could've had a son or daughter living and breathing if not for Milah's death, not to mention Milah would still be alive. But they were both taken from him, and if he finds out Regina had something to do with it, God help her. When he reaches his desk and turns around again, his expression remains stoic as he speaks. “I could consider it your punishment since you would no longer be breathing.”

Her face pales, eyes swarming with fear.

“If you are not truthful with me, I will behead you myself and throw your body to the bottom of the sea, is that clear?”

She nods. “Of course.”

He steps closer to her, holding her gaze with stormy, dark eyes. “Did you have anything to do with Milah's death?”

Regina stares at him heavily, her mouth agape, but doesn’t answer. Anger surges through him, his patience wearing thin. He wraps his hand around her neck and swiftly walks her backward until her back hits the wall. His fingers squeeze slightly around her neck to keep her in place as her hands try to pull him away but to no avail. Regina’s eyes widen with fear, as though she wasn’t expecting him to do something like this. This isn’t him, but when his loved ones are hurt or threatened, he’d do anything for revenge. “Did you murder Milah and our child?” he demands again.

Regina shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. “No, I didn’t. I swear!” Her words are strangled as he tightens his fingers around her neck, closing her air supply. Bright red colors her pale face as the blood rises to the surface of her skin. Her head wriggles, small, ragged gasps leaving her lips as her fingers claw at his hands, struggling to break herself free from his firm grip.

“Were you planning on killing Emma and our baby?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, barely able to get the words out, “I swear.”

He studies her intently, watching as she looks straight into his eyes without blinking. He can see she is telling the truth. A swarm of relief washes over him and he releases her. She falls to her hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air.

He feels a palpable relief wash through him since he doesn’t have to murder his sister. “I will find a suitable husband for you, you will run off and marry him and you may never return to this palace again, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she chokes out, breathing hoarsely, still trying to collect the air in her lungs.

“Good.” He leaves her sobbing on the floor.

~*~

The months pass and the nights grow warmer as the snow over the roofs of the palace slowly disappears. Gepetto retires and hands over his imperial seal and Killian gives it to James, who is shocked at first, but happily accepts.

Meanwhile, Regina remains in the palace, but only while Killian searches for a man suitable for his sister. Honestly, it's not his top priority right now. He's certain he'd frightened Regina to the point where she will not even think about harassing Emma or making idle threats or death wishes. So, his main focuses are Emma and his council meetings, which she attends most days from behind a carved screen.

On the days she is not secretly sitting in on council meetings, Emma is driven mad with boredom. Her bodyguards are always there wherever she goes. When she’s bathing, when she’s eating, when she wants to chat with her friends, when she wakes in the morning after she leaves her Sultan. They’re always there. The only time they’re not allowed around her is when she is in her Sultan’s bedchamber or when she is with him. Those moments are only theirs.

She enjoys the time with her Sultan. But she also enjoys the time away from her guards. They’re around her so much, she can’t breathe. So she sneaks away one afternoon and storms down the Golden Road, tired of feeling suffocated.

“I demand to see the Sultan,” she says firmly to his guards when she approaches his chamber. At the same time, she feels her baby kicking her insides. She groans, holding her belly with both hands.

“Are you all right, Sultana?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she snarls through gritted teeth.

One guard knocks on the door and requests permission for Emma to enter. Killian of course never denies her from seeing him.

“You may enter, My Sultana.”

“Thank you,” she mutters sarcastically and enters Killian’s chamber. She finds it rather ridiculous and annoying that she has to ask permission to see her husband.

“My love,” he murmurs as he looks up from his desk and sets down the goose-quill pen next to the parchment he was writing on. “You are certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

Emma blushes as she gazes at him from across the room, all the anger she had held seconds ago instantly vanishes. Just like that. She smiles and strides over to him, sitting in his lap. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her lips, his hand gravitating to her round belly under the creamy white satin chemise she’s wearing. “I can say the same about you,” she coos against his lips, curling her arms around the back of his neck. Her Sultan is devastatingly handsome, though his tired eyes are a dull shade of blue and his hair’s slightly disheveled.

“What can I do for my lovely Queen?” he asks with a warm smile, his hand making soothing circles around her belly.

She sighs. “Killian, I am losing my mind. I know you wish to protect us, but I feel smothered by the measures you have taken. I cannot even leave my chamber without getting permission from my guards.”

He glances at the doors with an arched brow. “Do they know you’re here?”

She shakes her head. “I snuck away,” she replies unapologetically. “I’ll have to chastise them later for not doing their jobs properly.”

He chuckles in amusement. “I’m sorry, Emma, but you and our baby are too precious to me.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, and when he pulls away, his expression grows solemn, eyes darkening at a thought. “If anything happened to either of you—”

“I can take care of myself. I can take care of us.” The baby kicks again, underneath Killian’s hand, and Emma laughs. “He has not been born, yet he’s already protective of his mother.”

Killian’s eyes light up as he watches her belly, seeing the ruckus their child is raising. “You think our baby is a boy?”

She shrugs. “I have a feeling. If so, he will be a strong warrior like his father. He’ll be Sultan one day.”

He smiles at that. Just then, the baby kicks again, causing her to groan as she holds her stomach. He rubs her belly, speaking in a soothing voice. “No worries, lad, it’s only your papa.” He leans down and kisses her belly.

Emma enjoys her time with Killian, but she knows he’s a busy man and has to get back to work, so she forces herself to return to the matter at hand. “Please ask my bodyguards to back off. I can’t breathe with them always around. At least allow me to bathe in peace.”

He sighs, his lips curving into a defeated smile. “I shall, my love. I am sorry I’ve been overprotective.” He lifts his hand to her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin. “I love you, Emma, and I want you and our wee one to be happy.”

“Thank you, Killian. We love you so much.” She smiles at him and captures his lips, running her hands through the scruff on his cheeks. The kiss quickly deepens and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. Her tongue sweeps inside his mouth, brushing against his. He groans, and she swallows the sound, sighing in relief. She loves this man more than she could have ever fathomed. She’s so glad she opened her heart to him. She’s so glad she’d put complete faith in him. If their baby is a boy, she hopes their son will be just like Killian. Honorable, loving, caring, protective. She hopes and prays he will find a woman he will love just as Killian loves her.

A knock on the door interrupts them, pulling them down from their cloud of happiness. Emma groans against her Sultan’s lips. She knows it's her guards on the other side of the doors.

“I will speak to them, my love,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead.

Emma nods and says a thank you before tearing herself out of his lap, reluctantly leaving Killian's bedchamber. But she’s smiling and completely flushed as she leaves, still feeling his soft lips on hers, his tender touches on her skin.

After that, her guards give her more space. They're still there, just not as much. Until there are only two full moons left of her pregnancy, and the doctor orders bed rest.

She grows tired of resting and knitting and paces her suite with her hands on her belly as they itch to do something that doesn't involve embroidery.

She opens her door to find her guards right outside. “I wish to go for a stroll around the palace grounds.”

Faraji nods. “Yes, My Sultana.”

Her other guard, Lancelot, doesn’t seem to agree, though. “But, Your Majesty, the Sultan asked you to follow the doctor’s orders and get some rest. You don’t wish to put stress on yourself or the baby, do you?”

Emma becomes irritated and clenches her fists at her sides. She doesn’t even know why she has two guards. Both are well built, strong and tall, towering over her. No one would dare harass her when one of them is protecting her, let alone both. Although, their personalities contrast one another to the point where it makes sense why they are both her guards. Lancelot is honorable, with warm, kind eyes and an honest smile. He reminds her of a knight from her kingdom. Faraji, on the other hand, almost always dons a cold expression and never smiles while remaining detached emotionally, avoiding any personal connections with his mistress. Normally, Lancelot is the one who’s more lenient with Emma, often showing her his soft side. The two make the perfect pair of bodyguards, and it’s most likely why Killian chose them, rather than based on their sizes and physical strengths alone. “I need to leave this apartment before I go insane.”

Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sorry, My Sultana, but we were given specific orders.”

Emma ignores him and storms away from her bodyguards, heading downstairs. If they won’t let her leave, she will go herself.

“Please stop, Your Majesty,” Lancelot calls after her, but she continues her trek. Faraji follows behind her as she marches through the harem, heading outside.

“The Sultana needs to stretch her legs. I’ll go with her,” she hears Faraji say to Lancelot.

“Fine, but make sure she’s back before the Sultan realizes she’s gone.”

“I will.”

The harem garden is shaded by high walls, the paths flanked by columns of white marble and overhung with cypress and willow. Emma wobbles along one of the cobblestoned paths, her hand resting on her protruding belly as she enjoys the fresh air. She’s wearing a gold kaftan, an emerald damask chemise and a crown of gold and emerald jewels atop her head, her long golden hair bouncing as she walks. Emma closes her eyes briefly, relishing in the cool breeze sweeping around her.

“How is the baby?” Faraji graces her with a smile that highlights his rich black cheekbones as he walks beside her through the garden.

Emma’s a little surprised by his question because during the few months she’s known him, he’s always been quiet and strictly business. Normally Lancelot is the conversational one, always regaling her with stories of his childhood. Usually, Lancelot is the one unopposed to walking with Emma through the garden. She wonders what has changed. “The baby is fine. We just needed to get away. Thank you for not stopping me,” she says gratefully. “I was dreadfully bored in my suite. Sometimes we need to get out for a while,” she says, gently patting her belly.

“It is not a problem,” Faraji assures her with a smile. “The Sultan is a little overprotective.” He looks at Emma, his eyes scrolling down her body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Though, if you ask me, he has good reason to be protective of a woman with your beauty.”

Emma shudders at his comment and the way he looks at her. The Sultan would kill Faraji for admiring his wife like he is.

“I’ve realized that you and I know little about one another, so I thought we should change that.”

Emma nods in agreement, so he tells her about where he grew up and about his family. His eyes glisten as he speaks of his wife and children.

“What happened to them?”

He looks blankly ahead. “Our village was raided, and my family was murdered in front of my eyes when I was captured. I was then sold into slavery.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmurs, her heart breaking for him. As they walk, a sudden question pops into Emma’s mind. How can a Eunuch marry and have children? He can’t. Which means either he’s lying or… he’s not actually been emasculated. Unless the slaver Killian purchased him from did the deed himself so the Sultan would buy his slave. Slavers resort to just about anything if it means someone will pay more for the purchase. Emma shivers at the memories of being stripped naked in front of all the possible buyers at the auction house. The memories of that experience still haunt her occasionally.

She suspects the details Faraji is divulging to her is why he's never engaged her in conservation, for fear she would ask about his past. So why is he telling her this now?

She's not sure she wants to solve that little mystery.

“I’m sure you are.” He looks at her, but this time, his gaze holds a much different disposition than before. This time he looks at her with disdain, as though he doesn’t believe her heartfelt apology. Emma gulps and averts her eyes from him, looking ahead.

Do not show fear, she tells herself.

“I was taken from my family too, and sold as a slave,” she says, trying to distract herself from wondering what his intentions are. “I was betrayed by a bodyguard I had trusted and was handed off to pirates.”

He scoffs. “How can you possibly compare yourself to me?”

Emma stops in her tracks and glares at him, placing her hands on her hips. “How dare you speak to me like that?” Her words don't intimidate him.

When he turns toward her and steps into her space, she loses a breath. “You live here in the palace and have everything you could possibly need. You have slaves tend to you, feed you, bathe you,protect you... all because you are pregnant with the Sultan’s child.” He regards her with a condescending sneer. “I would give anything to not be treated as a slave… to have my family back.”

Anger rises within Emma as she clenches her fists at her sides. “You think I wanted this life? My parents were King and Queen, and I was taken from them. Just so I could be the mother of the Sultan’s child! I did not ask for this,” she snaps at him. “I’m sorry you lost your children and that you will never have children again,” she adds, to see if he’s actually been castrated, but he gives no indication as to whether he was or not, “but there's no point in being mad at the world for what happened to you.”

Emma is taken off guard when she’s pushed back and slammed into the stone wall, a gasp leaving her lips as Faraji grips her arms tightly, pinning her against the wall.

She struggles against him, but his grip is too strong. “Unhand me!”

He laughs darkly, his fingers tightening around her skin. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he mutters disdainfully. “I am not mad at the world. I am only mad at the man responsible for murdering my family, and I wish to avenge them. The people who raided my village were Sultan Brennan and his men. Unfortunately, he is no longer around. But you know who is?”

Emma gulps, slightly shaking her head. Judging by the evil look on his face, she doesn’t actually want the answer to his question.

He leans in, his breath wretched as he breathes against her cheek. “His son.”

Fear surges through her entire body as he removes one of his hands, lowering it to her belly, and applies pressure. Emma draws in a sharp breath as though he is trying to suck the life from her, and she's trying to draw as much air into her lungs as she can.

“That’s right, your precious Sultan’s late father is responsible for the death of my family,” he snarls.

“But you can’t blame Killian for that. He is nothing like his father.”

“Is he not, though? All Sultans are the same. They only care about power and passing on their precious legacy.” Faraji presses the pads of his fingers deeper into the skin of her belly through her clothes, and Emma cries out in pain, her eyes wet with tears.

“Please don’t. My baby is innocent.”

“Oh, it’s certainly not. It’s the spawn of a Sultan.”

“My baby didn’t do anything to you, and neither did Killian.”

“You’re right, they didn’t. But Brennan did. And since he’s already dead, Killian must pay for the sins of his father. And what better way to punish someone than to hurt the things he loves the most?”

“Please,” Emma begs, on the verge of tears. “Don’t kill us.”

He laughs and speaks in a sinister tone. A tone that makes her skin crawl. “Relax, princess, I don’t plan on killing you. That would be too easy. Besides, what is worse than the death of a loved one?”

Emma can barely breathe, her head spinning as she tries to mask her fear. But the thought of losing her baby makes her numb. “What?”

“Oh, Emma, you should know this.” He smiles darkly and leans in, whispering in her ear. “Betrayal.”

She glares at him. “I would never betray Killian.”

“No, I suspected not. At least not willingly. But you’d have no choice if someone forced you to.”

“I’d rather die than do anything for you!”

He laughs again. “I’m afraid that’s not an option. You see, Emma, you were wrong about another thing.”

“What’s that?”

He reaches into his trousers and pulls something out. She peers down to see what he's doing and panics. His cock is throbbing in his hand as his eyes sweep hungrily down her body. She can't believe someone would be so stupid as to rape the Sultan's wife, but Faraji obviously has a death wish.

“I can have children again.”

She gulps, her face paling as she lifts her eyes to his empty ones. “But how? You’re supposed to have been castrated.”

“My slaver only said I was so the Sultan would purchase me. He was offering a large amount of gold and was too trustworthy and naïve to ask for proof.”

Faraji leans in, pinning her against the wall with his forearm pressed hard across her neck so she can’t escape while he retrieves a potion from his satchel. He pops off the cap with his thumb and drinks it himself before reaching into his satchel again, grabbing another potion. He holds it up and smiles, letting her know this one’s for her.

“No!” she shrieks and turns her head, screwing her eyes shut as he kisses her cheek.

He pinches her nose closed so she can’t help but breathe through her mouth. When she gasps for breath, he takes the opportunity to pour the potion in her mouth. Then he releases her nose and forces her lips shut with his hand, tilting her head back so she’ll swallow down the potion. She coughs and sputters, a small amount of it dribbling down her chin, but most of it ends up down her throat. He doesn’t know that whatever the contents are will have no effect on her or her baby, but she wishes to keep it that way.

“I will implant my seed inside you and then kill the Sultan's baby,” he whispers in her ear with a dark smile.

His threats enrage her; she can feel the blood boiling under her skin. “It won’t work, you pig! You can’t impregnate me when there’s already a baby inside my womb!” Or so she assumes.

He chuckles, and she can feel the sound in her bones. “That’s what the potions are for. The one I took will enhance my ability to procreate and speed up the process. The potion I gave you will cause your body to release an egg while you’re already pregnant. My baby will grow inside you at an exponential rate, soaking up all the nutrients for itself. By the time you give birth to the Sultan’s baby, it will be a dead corpse and mine will be a full-grown newborn, strong and healthy.”

A tear escapes her eyes as much as she’d tried to hold it back. Where did he even procure these fertility potions? He takes her chin in his hand and collects the tear from her cheek with his tongue. “I’m assuming our baby will be a boy because all my wife and I could have were boys.” He leans in, hissing in her ear like a snake. “And he’ll be black as night,” he whispers, enunciating the t, “just like me.” He moves his mouth to her cheek, his warm breath on her skin, making her tremble. He looks at her mouth, the pad of his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Or, seeing as your skin is pure white, maybe he’ll be mixed. Either way, the Sultan will know it’s not his baby.” His eyes dance with excitement and he lifts his gaze to her eyes as the palm of his hand slides over her cheek. “The Sultan will be so enraged that his precious wife betrayed him that I won’t even have to kill you. He’ll do it himself.”

“It won't work,” she mutters, her voice unwavering, thankfully, despite the fear surging through her. “I'll tell Killian what you've done. He'll believe me over you and he'll kill you.”

He chuckles, not even a flicker of fear in his eyes. “That's what I'm counting on. Do you think I want to live in this world without my wife and children? Revenge is the only thing that fuels my will to live. Besides, if you tell him, I'll just murder you in front of him. He will cut my head off afterward, but at least I will get my revenge first.”

Emma tries to move, but he presses her roughly into the wall and smashes his lips to hers, moving his hand to her breasts. Her eyes widen as she tries to pull away, but he doesn’t budge.

He takes the fabric of her chemise, rips it at the top and pulls it away from her chest so her breasts are exposed to him. He takes one in his hand, squeezing it, his thumb toying with her nipple. “Mmmm, there’s nothing prettier than a soon to be mother. With skin glowin’ and tits big and ripe. He lowers his head and takes her nipple in his mouth as he holds her hands against the wall.

Emma thinks she might vomit, and it has nothing to do with being pregnant.

He spins her around, pressing her against the wall, one hand returning to her breast and the other reaching for her skirts to pull them up.

Once he has her skirts pulled up, she reaches for the leather strap around her thigh and grabs her dagger. He’s unaware of what she’s doing because he’s too busy lining up the head of his cock against her entrance. He pushes her against the wall, his hands gripping firmly around her hips. Before he thrusts into her, she jabs the blade into the side of his leg.

He cries out in pain, releasing her. She quickly turns around and stabs him once again, this time in the stomach. She looks at him in disgust as he grips onto his stomach, and she removes the dagger and does something she’d never imagined she would ever do. But he tried to kill her baby.

She swipes the blade twice at him so he can no longer have children. His screams are unusually high in pitch, and with both hands, he grasps at the area where his testis are supposed to be, falls to his knees and joins his testes on the ground in a pool of his blood.

Emma is staring blankly, still gripping the handle of the blade in her hand as though it’s a life source.

“Emma? What happened? I could hear the screaming from inside the palace!”

She’s in too much shock, too numb to look at Lancelot as he gently grabs her arms, observing the other guard who’s balled up on the ground in his own blood, wailing.

“My Sultana, are you okay?” The words sound so far away even though Lancelot is directly in front of her as he turns his head to face her again.

“He tried to murder my baby,” is all she can manage, her voice now weak and shattered.

He helps her back inside and calls for the doctor.

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake @teamhookook @onceuponaprincessworld @nikkiemms @followbatb @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecuriouscurious @snowbellewellsw @artistic-writer@ultraluckycatnd @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @lovepurplepumpkins @kiwistreetswaneetswan @therooksshiningknight @deathbycaptainswanaptainswan @tiganasummertreeasummertree @superchocovianovian @emeraldwitchestches

#cs ff #captain swan #please read the trigger warnings #attempted rape #violence #attempted murder #death threats #dark!killian #the princess and her sultan #my fic

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theclaravoyant · 4 years

Text

the luckiest man in the world

AN ~ hi all! in case you haven’t got round to it yet, here is my entry for Open Fic Night 2019! enjoy x

Relationships: David x Patrick, David & Patrick & Stevie Rated: T Set between Cabaret and the after party

Read on AO3 (1700wd)

the luckiest man in the world

When the lights go out, David claps so hard for so long that his hands move past stinging to aching to numb and back again. He claps and claps, and whistles when the company bows, and he’s not used to feeling this full-hearted excitement – this pride – after watching someone put themselves out there like that. (Let alone someone associated with him, someone he’s close to, someone he loves). But here he is.

And when Patrick eventually emerges from backstage with a change of clothes and an admittedly rushed attempt to clean off his make-up, the feeling doesn’t fade. If anything, it becomes even more intense; so much so that David’s chest almost hurts as Patrick lets loose a string of excited post-show babble. His brief greeting kiss leaves a little smear of lipstick and face paint on David’s cheek, but David doesn’t notice, caught up instead in trying to follow the highs and lows of the night’s performance as recounted by Patrick and the dolled-down Kit Kat Klub dancers at an uncharacteristically breakneck speed.

“- I think that was my favourite part, what was yours?”

Patrick pauses at last; hesitation flicking across his features as he remembers that this isn’t really David’s thing. But by this point, there are tears in the corners of David’s eyes, and as the rest of the cast begins to dissipate into the crowd, David pulls Patrick in for another, gentler and more lingering greeting. Patrick smiles into the kiss, but before he can take the opportunity to smart-mouth David about it (“- and don’t say the parts where I was on stage, because I was on stage the whole time -“), David speaks.

“You really like this, don’t you?” he asks, and he can’t help but sound a little incredulous. “The whole, getting up in front of people, telling other people’s stories or whatever… thing. Like, genuinely.”

“Yeah,” Patrick replies, still a little breathless from the show, and because he hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it. “Yeah, I do.”

David squeezes Patrick’s hand in encouragement, and tries not to think too hard about how grateful he is that Patrick is able to so thoroughly embrace what makes him happy, and has brought that vulnerability and joy into his life too – and dare he add, with the golden rings on this very hand, had promised to keep it there forever.

“Congratulations, honey,” David croons, and bites back a smile, because at first he had started using that pet-name ironically and so help him, he’s actually starting to like it. “I’m proud of you.”

The two of them decide to sneak in one more kiss, before Moira or Jocelyn or someone can come and whisk one or the other of them away, but at the last second, Patrick notices Stevie slip out from behind the backstage curtain. She looks a little uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and while that’s not unusual for her in a crowd like this, something makes him swoop away from David to collect her before any of their adoring public can put her any more on the spot than she already feels.

“Speaking of proud,” Patrick cheers, “you got it, Stevie! That scene – it was incredible! What tipped you?”

Stevie picks at the corners of the long-sleeved plaid she’s all too happy to be wrapped back up in.

“I had a chat with Mrs Rose.”

David cringes. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

“No,” she assures him, “it was- kind of good, actually.”

David presses his lips together and his hand crosses over his heart. It’s only for a moment, but enough for Stevie to notice, and it tells her that he’s experienced the strange balance his mother keeps as well. The glint of the rings on his fingers as they cross briefly through the light also reminds her that she had promised herself to yell at Patrick earlier, and now seems as good a time as any, so she slaps him on the arm.

“Oi!” he yelps. “What was that for?!”

“You didn’t tell me you were getting married!” she exclaims, by way of explanation, and then jabs a finger at David. “I had to find out from your boyfriend this morning and drive to Elmsdale on opening night!”

“It’s not like we eloped!” Patrick returns. “It was just an engagement –“

“Just an engagement-“ Stevie objects, but then David cuts her off by pointing out –

“His fiancé. You found out from his fiancé.”

That brings the blush back to both Patrick and Stevie’s cheeks. They smile at each other, and then at David, who takes another moment to fawn over his rings.

“I did, didn’t I?” Stevie acknowledges, and damn it, her cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. She tries to school her expression, and for the most part fails, but she raises an eyebrow nonetheless.

“So, who’s a girl gotta bribe to get a best man request around here, then?”

They both open their mouths at the same time, so Stevie frowns and adds – “You know what, I take it back. We all know David’s gonna be a bridezilla so Patrick, bribe accepted, I’m in.”

They each touch their own noses and point at each other, grinning, and David doesn’t even have time to accuse them of unbalancing the social dynamic with in-jokes from his mother’s improv exercises, because he’s already too busy with an eye-twitch and a rant -

“Uh, stereotyping much?!” he blurts. “Just because I might pronounce words correctly and-“ painfully aware of the way his hands are flying, David leans on the word – “gesticulate more than Patrick, does not mean I’m going to be a ‘bridezilla.’”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Patrick adds, keeping his expression frustratingly innocent in David’s defence, despite his sarcasm. “Have you met David? He’s totally cool and chill and can absolutely handle stress and unexpected change with grace and dignity.”

Glaring daggers, David smiles at the co-conspirators opposite him. “Okay. Well. I hope the two of you are very happy together.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Holding-Back-Tears,” Patrick says, and doesn’t actually sound sorry at all. “Speaking of which, don’t these people have somewhere to be?”

“Shit.”

David dives for the nearest chair and climbs up onto it, and to the crowd’s delight, announces that champers and nibbles is on at ‘the Rose suites.’

(“Where’s that?” Roland asks, and Jocelyn elbows him.)

People obligingly filter out, and David tries not to glare too hard at the ridiculous number of them who are gossiping about his and Patrick’s engagement already. So help him, he decides, he’s going to get his proper announcement, even if there’s only one person left in this place that hasn’t heard it. It’s already hard enough not to run to the nearest rooftop and yell it out – in fact, he probably would have done that already if it weren’t for all the stairs.

He climbs down from the chair, and starts running through lists in his mind of drinks and nibbles and where it all is and how long it will take to finish setting up. He’s behind. So much for being a good host. Damn that surprisingly engaging performance. And damn his fiance’s poorly-timed romantic gestures.

David’s eyes narrow as he sets his sights on Stevie and Patrick once more, in between his more pertinent, host-lier thoughts.

“We’re not done,” he warns. He’s not in the mood to be sassed by these two troublemakers right now – like Patrick said, he has somewhere to be. But before he can bustle past on a mission like the busy-yet-egregious picture of popularity he now is, Patrick reaches out and takes his hand.

David takes a deep breath, and lets his sense of urgency fade. He moves as easily as water when Patrick pulls him in, pouting gently with his baby-blues shining in the stage-lights. Further delays to champagne and cheez-its be damned, David thinks; as always, Patrick is right. He’s going to treat himself to enjoying this. After all, isn’t this the whole reason he’s been so worked up about the announcement in the first place? Yes, of course it may be partly because he’s something of an artist (and perhaps also a little something of a control freak) with these things – but more than anything, it’s because he’s about to marry this man. This man – this incredible man – wants to marry him. And he can certifiably say that his best friend is going to be there to witness it. And sure, yeah, his family or whatever, with whom he now has a more wholesome relationship than he has had in a long time, possibly ever. And he can blame the show and Stevie’s song and bridezilla all he likes – which is another thing he has to admit he’s totally kidding himself about – but in this moment, David Rose feels like the luckiest man on earth.

Patrick kisses his cheek again, right at the corner of his lips, which despite both valiant effort and lifelong habit, surrender to another blossoming smile.

“I love you, husband-zilla,” Patrick vows.

“Love you, too,” David grumbles, and he wants to roll his eyes, but he’s blushing too much for it to have the intended effect.

“Aw,” Stevie croons, and for a moment, she thinks about following it up with something heartfelt and sincere. But her stomach is growling, and she was promised wine and cheese, so she clears her throat. “Come on, lovebirds. You can be adorable later – let’s get you to this party before all the crab cakes are gone.”

“Nobody ever eats those things,” David protests.

“But,” Patrick adds, “maybe we should make an appearance before Mrs Rose finds out her son has kidnapped the stars of the show.”

Right on cue, David’s phone starts ringing.

Patrick pulls his keys out of his pocket, and hoists his bag onto his shoulder. Eyeing him, Stevie does the same.

“Hiiiiiii,” David greets, hoping the longer he makes it, the more manageable it will be. But his mother’s voice is no less of a potent combination of proud-hurt-scolding when she interrupts with a signature –

“DA-vid!”

Her voice shakes the tiny tinny speaker, and David winces as he holds it away for a moment and mouths – “Run.”

Patrick and Stevie don’t need to be told twice.

#david x patrick #schitt's creek #schitt's creek fic #david rose x patrick brewer #david rose & stevie budd #david & stevie #clara's fic tag

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Text

Forecast's for Bitches

Prompt by: @smodernlife : I just got caught in a rainstorm I should have been prepared for and now I'm loving the idea of Cas and Dean in a rainstorm and Cas refuses to share his umbrella and raincoat because "if you insist on making fun of my weather preparedness you shall suffer the consequences".

Except, this isn't a rainstorm. It's just rain.

***

"For fuck's sake, Cas," Dean groaned, glaring at his boyfriend, as the rain flattened his hair unbecomingly, as it bounced off of Cas's stupid Oscar-Wilde-quotes umbrella to hit Dean precisely on the head. "You're in a trenchcoat, and you have an umbrella." He sucked in a breath. "I have neither. Sharing is caring."

"Dean," Cas declared, definite and smug. "Despite what they taught us in preschool, sharing - at least, right now - is to spoil you by encouraging your deprecating sarcasm. Not making fun of my weather preparedness is caring."

"You're kidding, right?" Dean blinked, and raised his arms in annoyance. "I'm getting soaked, and you want to nag me for making fun of you, instead of being a gentleman and protecting my ass from the rain!"

"When the rain threatens to kidnap you and somehow doubles your student loans, I promise to intervene for the sake of your ass." Cas shot back, sure of mind. "And, by the way, hand over your phone and wallet."

Dean feigned shock. "You won't share your umbrella with me, and you're trying to mug me?"

"Your possessions shouldn't have to pay the price for your assholery towards my weather-cautious attitute," Cas elaborated, and pocketed the articles Dean handed over submissively. "So, I'll keep your things safe. You, on the other hand, are encouraged to get drenched in the rain, Dean."

"You're such a dick, why do you also have to be McWordy Worderson?" Dean whined, kicking a pebble, and continuing to walk - still getting drenched from the downpour, his clothes sticking to his skin.

"You calling me that just brought the already marginal chances of me giving in, down to nil." Cas stubbornly informed Dean, earning himself another ferocious roll of his eyes.

"Marginal, my ass." Dean muttered. "You were so not gonna give in yet. I know you, Cas, I've been dating your stubborn-frigging-ass for too long."

It was Castiel's turn to roll his eyes. They went on walking, Cas comfortably holding the umbrella over solely himself while Dean drudged along his side.

"By the way, would you be okay with me finishing my draft before we resume watching -" Cas had begun, perfectly casual, but Dean glared at him incredulously.

"What, you think you can just make conversation, right now?" He barked, at the slightly smirking man. "The least I can do to retaliate is take away your privilege of getting to talk with me."

"You're not supposed to retaliate to my retaliation, you're supposed to learn a lesson." Cas informed Dean, pursing his lips.

"Oh, is the lesson going to be that death from pneumonia is painful as fuck?" Dean mocked.

"I have faith in your immune system, Dean." Cas simply replied, looking utterly pleased with his boyfriend's predicament.

Dean huffed.

"And what about the fact that I'm wet and getting wetter by the second, honey?" He egged on.

"I like the sound of it." Cas deadpanned.

"Cas, you dirty sonuvabitch," Dean couldn't resist. "But I didn't mean for you," He teased. "What about the girls who're gonna see me all drenched and faux-naked and alone, since clearly if I were walking with my boyfriend who has an umbrella, I wouldn't be in this state, and what if they offer me a ride or their coats or -"

"I have an umbrella." Cas stopped him. "And I won't hesitate to use it."

"You can use that thing to poke away kind, helpful chicks who approach me, but not to provide me shelter?" Dean protested.

"Exactly." Cas agreed, unperturbed.

"That's it." Dean grumbled. "I'm not talking to you."

Cas gave him a look. "You propose we walk home in silence?"

Dean, true to his word, didn't reply. He took a longer step than usual to cross a puddle, and focussed his attention on the ground solely.

"Alright." Cas said, partially annoyed. "Let's not."

There was silence for barely a moment before Dean spoke up again.

"Where's the fun in me bitching about you, if you're not here to listen to it?" He declared.

Cas nodded.

"And, for the record, I propose that we walk closer - near enough to share the umbrella and then I propose you kiss me under it." Dean crossed his arms on his chest, a drenched mess now. A stray droplet landed on his forehead, and trickled down the left of his face.

Cas narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you try to be -"

"What? That wasn't seductive or anything." Dean excused himself before he'd even been accused. "You mind me being a cliche lover of romantic tropes, now?"

"No, I like that fairly." Cas scoffed. And then, on a seemingly unrelated note, he went on. "You know, you haven't even apologized yet." Cas finally admitted

"What for?"

Cas gave him the universal in-a-relationship look for If I have to tell you, you don't deserve to know.

"Is this still about the stupid weather forecast thing in the morning?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together in a frown. "Or, are you projecting? Is this a bigger issue? A larger dick move on my part?"

A car zoomed past them. Dean got splashed, and swore at it. Cas was already speaking.

"No, this isn't something big. The 'stupid weather forecast thing' is all this is about." Cas sounded offended. "It's that small. If something is of the slightest import to me, you cannot - you can't just up and diss it, Dean."

"Oh -"

"I don't enjoy being mocked. And it isn't as if I was cancelling a wedding because my horoscope said so. I was carrying an umbrella because the news said it'd rain. Meteorology is a science."

Dean was taken aback. There was silence for a while.

"Can I just say that I honestly didn't know it meant a single thing? If I was a jerk, which I bet I was, now that I think of it - I'm sorry. Won't happen again. I didn't mean it like that." He finally uttered, in a rush, sounding embarrassed, and genuinely sincere.

"I know, Dean," Cas nodded. "That's why I'm not 'mad' mad."

"You're stuck in the 'passive-aggressive' mad zone." Dean helped.

"Just like you're eternally stuck in the not-exactly-but-somehow-an-assbutt mode." Cas served back, continuing to walk.

"Exactly like that, yeah." Dean grinned, the temporary drop and the tension resolved. "Hey, so, that being said and sorted..?"

"I suppose we could follow through with before mentioned kiss in the rain." Cas was being a little shit on purpose, Dean recognized the humor in his tone, and leaned in nonetheless.

Just as Dean was close enough to be sheltered by the umbrella, he was close enough to be pulled right up against Cas. With a hand on his back, almost against his skin through the layers of fabric, Cas shuddered, and almost pulled back. "Whoa, you're soaked."

"You're the one doing laundry," Dean retorted. "I'm gonna stink of rain."

"Rain doesn't -" Cas pulled back to say, but Dean closed the gap, putting one damp palm on Cas's face, to position them correctly. Their lips fit against each other familiarly, soft brushes and swirling tongues, and Cas held the umbrella over them as Dean held them together.

"You're more handsy than usual." Cas laughed, pulling away, his face almost as wet as Dean's, because Dean had made it a point to touch.

"What do you mean - I'm always into you, sweetheart." Dean winked, mischievously.

"You haven't found my forehead worthy of your attention in quite a while." Cas explained, smiling as well.

"That's a lie, I think you've got a really sexy one." Dean laughed, and Cas mirrored him. "You know, I had half a mind to pull away the umbrella and let you be the one getting drenched while you were caught up in the kiss. But," he dramatized. "It's like you held on to it on purpose. You have messed up priorities, Cas."

"I just anticipated it, because as you say, I know you, I've been dating you for too long. And, choosing to hold the umbrella over you was a one-time-thing, I promise." Cas told him, sliding an arm around his waist, wet or not. They resumed walking, and well, Cas' had always been a generous, forgiving spirit. He shared the umbrella, but kept it mostly over himself, because push comes to shove; two men, six foot tall and enough wide, cannot really share an umbrella that well.

The next time, Dean doesn't laugh at Cas for taking an umbrella and his coat on a sunny day, but it turns out to be one of the brightest days of the year.

The one after that, lesson forgotten, Dean has to actually walk the whole ten blocks home in the rain, while Cas doesn't deter from his promise to not share his Oscar Wilde quotes umbrella at all, even when Dean - admittedly adorably - swallows raindrops and tries to be endearing while skipping over a pothole. Castiel is a man of his words, with an awfully cute boyfriend.

***

Taglist alert: @ctrl-alt-destiel @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @moderatelypanickedbisexual @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ladywaywarddsc I'm really sorry for the super-late fic, dear taglist! It's been a weird-ass month. Sadly enough, I dunno when the next one will be, though I'm constantly thinking up stuff :( Anyways, do leave a note, and maybe some words. Thank you for reading. Have an awesome day!

Edit: I realize the plot is kinda all about the place and doesn't make much sense now that I got it pointed out to me, but I'm gonna keep it posted just so because I need to get back to Trig. Just ~ if you don't like it, please don't read. I wrote after very long and I'm sorry if it sucks. Hope you smile.

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shivae · 4 years

Link

Finished it at 9 chapters and 23k words. I still have last lines to write, but I’m done so posting a celebratory update today. :D

Obsession

Under the effects of the love potion, Bog stays with the fairies, with Dawn treating him like her new best friend and Marianne irritated that such an awful fairy is their guest, until he does a few things that make afar better impression on her.

Dawn twirled around the room Dagda offered Bog, a guest room on their family floor. The room was next to Dagda’s room, and he gave him explicit instructions not to leave the room until morning. Bog looked around the brightly lit room, finding the lighting harsh and glaring. In his own castle, the lighting was soft, warm, welcoming.

“Do you need anything?” Dawn inquired politely.

“No.” Bog smiled at her, but his eyes held a troubled light. “Is yer sister back?”

“Do you want to talk to her?”

“I would like to see her, yes, to say good night.” Bog fidgeted with his fingers.

“I’ll go look for her!” Dawn bounced out of the room, leaving Bog by himself.

Bog clasped his hands together, trying to sort through his thoughts. He could only think about Dawn and Marianne. Trying to think about anything else made his ears ring, and his head buzz like it was a hive full of bees. His ability to hold onto any thoughts outside of the two princesses was impossible. He wanted to see them, talk to them, just be around them.

He had a difficult time remembering who he was. Bog ran a hand over his head and down the back of his neck. This was wrong. It was all wrong. What was wrong? A voice was screaming somewhere deep inside that this was wrong, and now that the princesses were out of sight, he could hear it. What was wrong?

Bog racked his brain, thinking hard, but the only thing he could think of was it was wrong that he couldn’t see either of the princesses. They were both gone, and he needed to look for them. They could be in trouble.

Marianne scowled at her sister, angrily eating a piece of fruit. “Marianne, go and tell him good night.” Dawn pleaded sweetly. “He’s so sad!”

“I don’t care,” snorted Marianne in response, taking a bit bite of the berry in her hands.

“Why are you being so mean to him?” Dawn pouted. “He’s our guest.”

“He tried to kidnap you,” groaned Marianne.

“Okay, I’ll tell him not to expect you,” grumbled Dawn, turning to leave.

“No. I’ll go see him and let him know how things are going to be.” Marianne rose, wiping berry juice off her face.

Bog was pacing when Marianne stepped through the open door to his room. His wings buzzed behind him, and he looked upset. Marianne cleared her throat, letting him know she was there.

“Marianne!” The amount of glee in the Bog King’s eyes when he looked at her was disarming. He seemed truly happy to see her as he turned and bowed. She stood in the doorway, staring at him, uncertain about what to do.

“My sister said you wanted to say good night, and I have a few things to say to you.” Marianne strolled into the room, hands clenched into fists, her voice stern.

“I love ye,” stated Bog, rising up to his full height. “I love ye, Marianne.”

“No, you don’t.” Marianne rolled her eyes at the proclamation. “It’s the love potion, Bog. You don’t even know me.”

“I would like to get to know ye.” Bog bowed his head politely, tucking his hands in front of him, curling his fingers in an effort to make himself less threatening.

“You’re our guest until this works out of your system,” stated Marianne. “You’re too easy to manipulate, and I don’t want to do that to you. You’re probably going to be furious when this is over.”

Bog nodded slowly, gazing at her. He gave her a drunken smile, “Ye are beautiful.”

“I am not,” groaned Marianne. “It’s just the potion making you blind. Trust me, you would not be attracted to me if it wasn’t for the potion. Nobody would be.”

“How, how can ye say that?” Bog gasped, eyes widening. His voice dropped low, in a soft growl. “Yer hair is like a ripened field of wheat, wild and golden. Yer face, is a vision, with yer amber-lit brown eyes, eyelashes so thick and dark. And yer mouth, it’s…” Bog stopped himself, barely. Despite the fact he could see he was making Marianne uncomfortable, he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, while a voice inside screamed at him to stop talking.

Marianne’s mouth gaped open at him, her eyes wide and staring at what he was saying. She coughed and licked her lips, backing away from him. “It is the love potion, Bog King. That’s all. You do not love Dawn or me, it’s all fake.” Marianne took a deep breath. “I apologize for what I had you do earlier. It was wrong to use you like that.”

“Use me?” Bog looked bewildered, as though he couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. “I will always protect ye and do whatever it is ye need doing, evening rose.”

Marianne groaned, running her fingers through her hair and tugging on a lock. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Bog. Maybe you’ll be over this in the morning.” She motioned to the bed, backing out of the room. “Good night. I’ll be down the hall, but please, don’t bother Dawn or me until morning.”

“Good night,” whispered Bog, reverently lowering his head.

Marianne closed the door, grimacing at the way Bog looked at her. She didn’t have any experience with love potions, but that look on his face, it seemed so sincere, and his words. They were all lies; however, they were unintentional ones. The Bog King had no control over what he was saying or doing, and it was sad.

Conflicting emotions ran through Marianne, the need to be polite to their love-stricken guest, at the same time, he kept looking at her with those bright, shining blue eyes. Hours before, she had wanted to drive a sword through his chest while he cockily walked around, taking over the elf festival.

What she was seeing wasn’t really the Bog King any more than his feelings of love were real. He was a vicious, selfish monster. There was not an ounce of kindness beneath all that armored plating, teeth, and claws. This was all fake, a reaction to the potion telling him he loved her and her sister.

Marianne entered her room, her thoughts swirling around their problem. She closed the door as it hit her, a thought rising up and pointing out, love potions don’t change a person’s personality. It locks them into a dream state where they act exactly like they would if they were in love. Most of the stories were comical, about fairies doused with the potion giving the object of their affections smothering attention, only able to think of that person they saw first. Typically, anyone who used them regretted it immediately.

This was actually how Bog would be if he were in love with someone, and it was a bizarre thought. It didn’t fit everything she knew about him from the stories and official reports. He was known to be cold, calculating, aloof, not wanting anything to do with fairies. The only kindness he displayed was just to keep on good terms with his neighbors.

Still, those words he said to her in that soft growl, his eyes shining with passion. And he was incredibly polite and considerate. This was what the Bog King really was. He couldn’t lie about who he was under the effects. It was impossible, and it bothered Marianne. Her preconceived notions might be wrong.

He had the capacity to love, and he was ridiculously cute about it.

Bog didn’t sleep.

He tried, but the bed was too comfortable, and his nature told him he should be awake, protecting the two females he loved. Instead of sleep, he went out onto the balcony, where he could see everything going on outside the rock. The night was silent, and there were guards on the king’s balcony nearby. He caught the scent of more guards, Dawn and Marianne, wafting on the breeze.

Bog tried to tell himself they were fine. They had guards. He needed to sleep like Marianne told him to. He perched in one of the balcony windows and remained there until morning, catching a few minutes of sleep here and there.

The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when he heard a rustle of wings coming off one of the balconies and spotted a pair of violet wings gliding away from the rock. Bog stared after her, his wings rustling with the need to follow her. However, he would be leaving Dawn unguarded. He thought the problem over quickly. Dawn was safe here. She had guards. Marianne might not be. She did not have any guards, but she did have him. Bog stepped off the railing and flew after her.

Marianne kept to her usual routine. She was up before the sun rose and out of the castle, flying to her favorite training area, a stout log crossing a stream near the castle. She had her sword strapped to her hip and had tied a white piece of cloth over her forehead.

The morning was invigorating, crisp, with the first brilliant colors of dawn streaking over a dark sky. For the moment, she could forget about their little problem a few doors down in the castle. This early in the morning, the people of the Fairy Kingdom were just beginning to stir. She was alone, and she preferred it for her morning practice.

Folding her wings, Marianne landed on the log and pulled the cloth down over her eyes. She began going through practice moves with her sword, a well-rehearsed routine of moves she had picked up observing the soldiers practicing. Over the last year, this was how she had learned to use a sword. Female fairies were never trained, and truthfully, she was the only one who had wanted to learn.

Marianne tried to get the sword trainers to take her in and teach her, but none of them wanted to defy her father, who didn’t forbid it but also didn’t want to encourage it. No, her father wanted Marianne to get through this ‘phase,’ as he called it, come to her senses, and prepare to be a queen and all that entailed. Marianne felt it was a little unfair, but she loved her father. When she eventually became queen, she would change things, at least for herself.

Twirling, jabbing, parrying a fake sword away, Marianne moved up and down the log, blindfolded. Occasionally, she lifted into the air, always coming back down onto the log perfectly. She had done this long enough she could dance up and down the log blindfolded for hours and not slip once.

Marianne struck out as hard as she could, spinning in the air, and her sword hit something with a resounding clang that made her falter as she came down. She corrected by back winging in the opposite direction, a scowl on her face. Someone else was here.

“Ye got good power, but yer form needs work,” stated Bog, reminding her he was around.

Marianne made a face at him, lifting the blindfold up, over her forehead. “I am self-taught.”

“In that case, yer doing quite good,” Bog smiled at her, hovering a few feet away with his staff held out in front of him. “I mean no offense, princess, just that if yer going to use a sword, ye might want professional instruction.”

“Princesses don’t need swords,” snorted Marianne, scowling at him.

Bog blinked, stating the last thing Marianne expected, “Why would anyone say that? Royalty always needs to be able to protect themselves. Ye can’t be expected to wait on someone else to protect ye in a bad situation, can ye?”

“That is what I keep telling my dad!” Marianne exclaimed, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Would ye allow me to spar with ye and not be offended if I give ye instruction?” Bog landed on the log, twirling his scepter.

Marianne stared at him for a moment, landing in front of him. Someone wanted to spar with her? And not just anyone, but the King of the Dark Forest, who was known to capably wield a number of weapons, including swords. Nobody had ever offered to spar with her, let alone instruct.

“I understand.” Bog took a step back, lowering his head at her hesitation. His wings drooped, and Marianne sighed.

“Let’s spar.” Marianne smiled, pointing her sword at Bog. “Teach me.”

The smile that lit across Bog’s face was astounding, making Marianne wish he wasn’t under the effects of the love potion. It sent a small ribbon of warmth through her chest that it was her words that put that smile on his face.

The effects of the love potion were still strong on Bog, his mind focused on Marianne and Dawn. Continually, he had to push thoughts of needing to return and check on Dawn away. Giving instruction to Marianne was more critical. She wasn’t bad with the sword, actually, she was quite impressive for someone who hadn’t been formally taught, but a few words of instruction from Bog and she was even better, and she knew it.

For Bog, his entire world was Marianne and Dawn, but something was nagging at his thoughts. Occasionally, a voice broke through the fog, telling him he should get away from the princesses, that he did not want to be in love, that he despised the emotion with his entire being. They faded as he interacted with Marianne.

His memories were clouded, but if it was something Marianne needed, those thoughts became clear. Marianne needed instruction, and all of his memories of being taught how to fight erupted within him. This was love for him, teaching the woman he loved to defend herself.

Marianne was in far better spirits than she had been the evening before, most of which was forgotten by Bog. By the time they were done, the sun was well over the horizon, and sweat glistened off both their bodies, and they were breathing hard from the continual sparring, but both had smiles on their faces.

They were finishing breakfast in the castle when Dawn got up and sat next to Bog, looping an arm around one of his, “Okay, so you spent time with Marianne this morning now I want you to spend time with me!”

“Okay.” Bog smiled, glancing at Marianne as if asking if it was okay.

“Go ahead.” Marianne made a face at them, swirling her spoon around in a bowl of hot breakfast porridge and fruit. “I’ll be in my room.”

Dagda frowned, not at all comfortable with Dawn being alone with Bog. “Keep your door open and remember, Bog, you are too old for her, and she is too young for you.”

Bog actually looked insulted. “I am not like that.”

“You are still under the effects of the love potion,” groaned Dagda. “How do I know what you are and aren’t like?”

“I would never take advantage of a lady,” snorted Bog in response, rising from the table. Dawn giggled, walking out of the dining room, arm in arm with Bog.

“I believe him.” Marianne tilted her head to her father.

“Why? I saw the two of you come in together, Marianne. What were you doing?” Dagda turned a curious eye to his daughter.

“Sparring.” Marianne smiled. “He taught me a few things.”

“Just what I need,” groaned Dagda, biting into a pastry with a note of anger.

“Love potions don’t alter a person’s personality, they just amplify it and direct it,” stated Marianne thoughtfully. “He can’t think about anything but Dawn and me, but he wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t normally do, and well, he hasn’t been anything but nice and polite.”

Dagda stared at his daughter in disbelief. “You like him.”

“Haha, no, I do not!” Marianne’s laugh was nervous, her eyes evading her father’s. “I don’t even know him. Not really. But maybe after this, he won’t be as bad?”

“I don’t know,” grumbled Dagda. “I don’t see why he would change his ways, especially not after being embarrassed about this whole situation.”

“Maybe if we’re just nice to him,” mused Marianne, running her fingers over her chin. “Maybe he never wanted much to do with us, because he never got to know us. Maybe he’s… afraid.”

“I doubt there’s anything the Bog King is afraid of,” snorted Dagda. “When it wears off, he’s going to vanish back into his forest and act like it never happened. At least, that’s what I hope happens, because I do not want to deal with an enraged Bog in my castle.”

“Dad, I don’t think he’s going to be like you think he will. Whatever social inhibitions he has, have been temporarily wiped clean by the love potion.” Marianne drummed her fingers on the table. “I remember how he was the last time I saw him, all rigid, stern, and no-nonsense. Maybe that’s a front he puts up to keep everyone away from him and his kingdom.”

“Marianne, take care,” warned Dagda. “You are walking down a path that could lead to disappointment. We do not know Bog at all.”

“But we can,” stated Marianne with a small smile. “Even if he doesn’t really love me, I think we might be able to be friends.”

Dagda blinked at his daughter, taken off guard by the statement and the strange look on her face.

#strange magic #fanfic #Misdirection #alternate universe #bog king #love dusted bog #marianne #dawn #king dagda #canon divergent au

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drizzydoodles · 6 years

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i just saw your last ask and i realized you shipped kacchako. katsuki was so abusive to izuku, i saw you agree with that. so why would you ship someone like that with ochako? dont be mad ok? i just really want to understand any katsuki relationships tbh

nah, i’m not mad! i’ll gladly try and explain as best as i can (u.u i’m not very good at it, but i’ll do my best.) i’ll also try to avoid saying any spoilers.

i’ll just get this out of the way.

what bakugou did to midoriya during their childhood is NOT OKAY. 10+ years of bullying/abuse is such a horrible thing to do to a person. even his friends and teachers encouraged his toxic behavior (which in NO WAY excuses his actions). no one really stood up to him or told him that it was such a shitty thing to do, so he just kept doing it without thinking of the consequences because of that mindset of “i’m awesome. i’m the best. and everyone who isn’t me (and all might) are weak.”

when i first started mha, i didn’t care for bakugou at first. he’s a loud, offensive, abrasive brat that looked down on everyone, especially to midoriya. but when both of them began to enroll in U.A. things started to really change for him.

first, being his utter confusion of how a quirkless boy suddenly manifested a quirk and got into one of the most prestigious hero schools in the world.

second, he’s starting to realize that he isn’t the best. there are those who are as strong as him if not more and are capable of defeating him (like midoriya and todoroki).

third, with his kidnappings. he was saved not once, but TWICE, which is a big strike to his ego.

“i didn’t need saving! they’re looking down on me because i got kidnapped! i’m supposed to be the best! everyone else is weak compared to me! i’m going to be number one!!”

that toxic mindset and behavior has stood solid, until now. everything that he’s known and believed in isn’t as he thought, and so he’s responding in the most childish (even violent) way, because that’s how he deals with it. it’s the only way he KNOWS how to deal with it.

he needed a hard reality check (quite a few, actually), to get him off his high horse so that his toxic behavior doesn’t get worse and to make him rethink everything he’s ever known.

to break everything down and try again.

this is exactly what the series is doing. it’s taking bakugou and forcing him to learn the hard way. that words and actions have consequences. to put more trust and have faith in his U.A. peers.

of course he’s not going to turn into this super friendly guy overnight, because it takes so much time to unlearn all of his bad tendencies. but he IS making progress, no matter how small it is. he IS learning, and he will continue to learn as the series progresses.

what he did to midoriya when they will children will ALWAYS be a constant reminder to how shitty he used to be. there is nothing he can do to take back all of terrible things he’s said and done to him.

he will always remember that and continue to grow for the better alongside his friends. he’s still a kid, and he’s got a long way to go.

i believe that if a person acknowledges their mistakes and is sincere in wanting to change and be a better person, they should be given a second chance. in my opinion, this is where bakugou’s character development is heading.

i hope that helps! you can find other posts about this on tumblr too that can explain it way better than i can… =u=

#ask

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stylinsonlibrary · 6 years

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HISTORICAL AU FIC REC

50+ fics set in the past

A Word We've Only Heard (6k)

So, where are you headed?” Liam asked, not wanting to sit in awkward silence for their journey. It was twelve hours to Chicago, and that was far too long to sit and not chat with his fellow passenger in front of him.

“Chicago,” he answered, his blue eyes meeting Liam’s own. “It’s home. Been on the road for quite some time now, it’s the first time I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed in almost a month.”

Liam whistled. “You must be pretty excited.”

The man gave a soft smile, which made him look younger than Liam initially expected; he might even still be in his twenties. He wondered what kind of a life this man had led to look so tired until he smiled.

Or, it's 1951, Harry is the owner of a music shop, and Louis is a traveling salesman making his way back home.

I'm Ready to Fall, Love (9k)

Louis doesn't like Harry, except for the fact that he really does.

(Basically: A royal AU with Prince Harry and Stable Boy Louis.)

One Day You'll Say These Words (11k)

Growing up together in Yorkshire has led to a lifelong friendship between Louis Tomlinson, the future Marquess of Rotherham, and Harry Styles, the heir to a viscount. When Harry suddenly inherits his uncle’s title and estate much earlier than expected, Louis must watch his friend struggle under the weight of these new responsibilities, including searching for a wife with a dowry large enough to save his estate. However, sitting idly by as Harry looks for a bride brings some unexpected feelings to the surface.

A friends to lovers story set in the Regency era.

feel my heart beating (12k)

‘90s AU where Louis’ addicted to matchmaking and Harry’s just playing along.

lead me out on the moonlit floor (12k)

In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance.

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.

Autumn at Fairbridge Hall (14k)

It is October 1817. Mr. Louis Tomlinson hosts an Autumn Ball and a Fox Hunting Party at his estate Fairbridge Hall, with the intention of finding suitable husbands for his younger sisters.

A Regency AU where Louis does not want to deal with marriage proposals, a stubborn sister and unwelcome guests. The only things he really wants is peace and quiet and..., the handsome Mr. Styles.

To Honor (14k)

Commander Styles leads his men to victory, but at what cost?

Manifest Destiny (15k)

Harry and Louis had fallen into bed together again that night, mouths greedy and hands needy. And now every time Louis stops at Fort Kearney, even if it’s weeks in between, he and Harry spend the night together. The nights are always filled with heat and passion, and it gives Louis something to think on fondly as he rides across the western territories carrying sacks of mail.

They’ve never talked about it, and they’ve never kissed. Louis doesn’t know if he wants either of those things to change, but he knows that his presence in Harry’s life is sporadic at best. Probably best to leave things be.

Or, Louis is a Pony Express rider and Harry runs a station along the trail.

Howls Like A Beast (You Flower, You Feast) (16k)

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

Break Me Down, Build Me Up (16k)

America, as it’s been told, is the world of riches. Men and women alike can come to the land of the free and achieve the American dream, regardless of their background. He wanted nothing more than to create a better life for his sisters, for himself, and perhaps for his future. Harry Styles was never a part of the plan.

[or: Louis moves his family to America to try and find a better life. Harry finds him instead.]

The Man I Love (17k)

It's the Roaring Twenties, a time of blissful prosperity, overflowing champagne flutes, adrenaline-filled dancing, and the rise of the Jazz Age—and Louis Tomlinson absolutely abhors it all. A stickler for modest classics, jazz is the bane of Louis' existence.

Coincidentally, Harry Styles is the bass player for an underground jazz band.

Or The 1920s AU where Louis is a hardworking, no nonsense paralegal, Harry is in love with the greatest city on earth, Zayn is the enigmatic leader of the band, Niall's just there to make sure everyone's having a good time, and Liam is the barber who started it all.

The People's Playground (17k)

It is 1900 in New York City, and Harry Styles has recently immigrated to America from England. His sister encourages him to take a day off from his life as a factory worker and Harry decides to take a trip to the infamous Coney Island where he literally runs into Louis Tomlinson. It looks like Coney Island will be more than Harry bargained for.

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart (19k)

Louis and Harry had been childhood best friends, but had been separated by evacuation as the city they grew up in was destroyed around them. Now, twelve years later, they are both back in London, and through chance they meet again. In a time when you can't admit to being gay, for fear of arrest, admitting to your best friend that you love them seems like an insurmountable obstacle.

Featuring boxer Harry and mechanic Louis, much pining, and a lot of post war Britain

No One Like You (19k)

Dear Niall,

I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.

Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.

Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.

Are you up for a trip to France?

Sincerely, Liam Payne

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield (20k)

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

threadbare (20k)

Harry Styles was eight years old when Louis Tomlinson kept him from falling into a machine in a Manchester textile mill.

He was 18 years old when nothing, not even the threat of death, could keep Harry from falling in love with Louis.

Un Verso Que Hiciste De Mi (20k)

Harry froze as he looked up to his handler’s face. He found himself staring at the most beautiful twin pools of blue he’d ever see, and had to take a second to breathe before he remembered what to say.

“Please, don’t kill my friend,” he whispered.

Louis looked over at the red headed man. “You are to go back to your manor, and tell his family he will only be brought back if my ransom is met.”

or a Scottish Borderlands AU where Louis is a laird that kidnaps his rival’s betrothed, and Harry just happens to be that betrothed.

Damn the Dark, Damn the Light (20k)

“Why is this face of beauty ringing so true?” The genuine confusion in Harry’s voice causes Louis’ chest to painfully twinge. “You’re a complete stranger in my eyes, William Shakespeare, but not in my heart. How is that possible?”

Louis wants to live out every romance plot he has ever written in his own life. He wants to be the protagonist of his own narrative, the hero who finds true love and gets his happy ending. Instead, Louis is stuck with only dreaming of such wild fantasies and writing them down. He can create entire romances in his dreams, yet he can never live one.

let it shine under the morning star (22k)

It's the summer of 1891, and Bruges has significantly more angry swans and accidental Irish revolutionaries than Harry was anticipating being faced with on his summer holiday.

the dead things we carry (25k)

September ‘49

He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out.

This is the man who saved Louis’ life.

For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself.

“Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight.

This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real.

“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

Is it too much to ask for something great? (26k)

It is the dawn of the sixties and the whole sexual revolution may as well never happened since Harry still has to muffle his groans in the pillow when he fucks. God forbid neighbours would caught on. But maybe he wants to scream, maybe he wants his moans to carry through the wall and maybe he even likes to think that they would irk the person there somehow, but no. No such thing happens with Louis, because apparently he is the only person on the planet who doesn't care who you fuck. Being a fag in Greenwich Village is great, lots of fun, being a fag who is in love with his painfully straight best friend Louis? Torture. He should just let the whole thing go. Louis doesn't care for his moans, he produces a lot of them on his own, and those on the other hand haunt Harry's dream, and he's pretty sure that ten days on the road with Louis and Louis alone is actually going to kill him.

And he doesn't even like Beach Boys.

Box of Rain (26k)

that in his free time informally works as a ring boy. Somehow he manages to always get tangled on the ropes and at the same time charm the pants off of all the fighters and patrons. They meet in Manchester in 1977 and, even though they don't seem to have much in common, they... Well, they just sort of click, really.

The one with a friendship ruiner game of Monopoly, Harry always ending up in jail for wanting to save the world, Louis face to face with his archenemy and way too many references to 70s music.

Also staring Zayn as a brooding anarchist punk rocker, Liam as the nerdiest and nicest boxer in all Britain and Niall as a bookmarker that can easily convince people to bet fortunes, but can't make his friends realise their mutual crush on each other.

autumn leaves (27k)

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

What Happened to 'Never Say Die'? (28k)

The 80s were one of the best decades to be a teenager in America. Just ask anyone who's seen a John Hughes movie. Louis would beg to differ. At least today he would, while he was stuck cleaning out his family's basement - part of his grounding after a senior prank gone wrong. But when he finds a box containing details of the biggest unsolved crime in Luna Hills, he and his friends decide to sneak out for one last adventure before they're all off to college. That is, as long as the mayor, who also happens to be Louis' mother, doesn't stop them before they discover the truth.

Or, a coming of age American AU inspired by classic 80s movies like The Goonies and Stand By Me where everyone has a secret and no one wants to get caught.

the beginning of everything (30k)

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

Our Stable Heart (30k)

Louis Tomlinson had it all. A beautiful mansion in the country-side of London, a well known job in the heart of downtown, and a lovely fiance he would soon marry...

But what happens when Louis' world is turned upside down just from gazing into a pair of dreamy, green eyes?

Something Louis could never have imagined himself...

i could marry that smile you're wearing (34k)

Louis is lost in his thoughts. Harry has found his new purpose in life. Both meet very unexpectedly and it is all full of cliches you can expect.

Ancient Greece AU - Louis as a member of aristocracy and Harry as a common slave.

what this world is about (34k)

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Gem and the Hunters: The Treasure of Babylon (34k)

Louis Tomlinson wished, for one thing, his whole life: to find the ancient city of Babylon. After one failed attempt, he swore to never again attempt a search for the city. His friend, Niall Horan never pushed the issue, but when his family finds themselves in trouble, Niall’s only option is to convince Louis to try and find Babylon again.

Niall enlists the help of two famous treasure hunters: Harry and Gemma Styles and their friend Liam Payne. Harry and Gemma love ancient cultures as much as Louis and would give anything to find Babylon. Liam is just along for the ride, running from a shade in his past.

The five embark on the adventure of a lifetime… and find much more than any of them bargained for.

The Boy with the Red Scarf (35k)

It’s 1925 and Harry has left his small home to chase after his father’s footsteps. He wants to be a movie star, make money to keep his family comfortable just like his mother had told him his father had. But when he makes it to Chicago, he finds that people aren’t what they seem. The parties are grand, the women charming, and the money rolls. What he doesn’t understand is that behind that beautiful mask of a city there is something lurking in the shadows.

Starring Harry as a struggling actor and Louis as Al Capone.

If we meet sometime in the after years, my darling, I trust I will find your love still mine. (38k)

1970s AU.

The boy at the dinner table isn’t as much of a stranger as Louis thought, and somewhere between the diners, concerts, and the way the moonlight falls just right, the summer is enough time for realizing just that.

Felt the blood rushing through my veins, I still remember (42k)

Harry is the heir to his father's estate and wealth and he knows he is the most eligible bachelor in all of England. Louis is the stable boy who everyone loves and adores even though he can be a touch too bitter sometimes. They can't stand each other, and the pride of one and the prejudice of the other disallows any other feelings they might have.

Coeur du soleil (48k)

After assuming the throne when the Cardinal dies, Louis becomes King of France in 1661. He thinks he has everything under control and is determined to prove himself the leader he knows France needs, but his plans are quickly thrown aside once he meets a curly haired English Ambassador.

Harry's only job was to observe the King, and he ends up observing a little closer than expected. Featuring Captain Payne of the Royal Musketeers, Ambassador Malik from the Ottoman Empire, and Lord Horan from Ireland.

We're What's Right In This World (48k)

“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”

“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.

The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”

“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”

“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.

the last person on earth i could ever marry (50k)

A Pride and Prejudice AU, where Harry is fed up with rich men and Mr Tomlinson is a very rich man.

For the Sake of Propriety (52k)

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.

Back To You And Tennessee (57k)

Louis Tomlinson rises to rock and roll fame at age twenty three and is thrown into a life of luxury and excess, but being on stage isn’t easy for a boy who has always stuck to the side-lines, and Louis struggles to deal with his new fame as he joins the Grand Ole Opry and is sent out on tour with names like Liam Payne and Elvis Presley. His life takes a turn, however, when his childhood role model, Harry Styles, joins them on tour, and the two become closer than two men in the spotlight are allowed to be.

OR, the one where Louis is Johnny Cash and Harry is June Carter

I Hunger For Your Beautiful Embrace (57k)

Legatus Harry is governor of Capua and Dominus of his estate. He governs with a firm and harsh rule and has never been known to be soft. That is until Louis comes into his life. A beautiful slave who creeps into Harry’s house and heart.

But in the times of Ancient Rome, when sex, wars, and death are the entertainment of the times, life and love are rare commodities.

Paint The Sky With Stars (62k)

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

Life Had Just Begun (63k)

Stand up. Breathe. Run. Survive.

Back on his knees, Harry can wipe the blood from his eyes and see again, blurred and in slow motion, but he can see. He doesn’t think, he just moves. He gets to his feet, stumbling as his brain goes white in time with the lightning strike.

Run. Run. Run.

It’s 1985. All the cool kids are wearing Members Only jackets and acid wash jeans. The gay rights movement might be gaining traction around the country, but for a small town in Colorado, even listening to Queen is an invitation for a beating. Louis Tomlinson’s life is turned upside down when he comes face to face with the afterlife, and is given one seemingly simple mission: save Harry Styles.

The Art of Being a Gentleman (64k)

Out of all four of the Styles children, Harry has always been the most adored. He is the handsome, intelligent, and oh so charming golden child of the family, the perfect son who will soon be married to the perfect woman, a beauty queen named Victoria Astaire. Despite how loved he is among all who reside in the affluent town of Alton, his siblings absolutely despise him. In order to stain his squeaky-clean reputation and get their traditional, old fashioned parents to despise him as much as they do, they devise a plan that involves Harry’s giving nature, the desperation of a mother and father, and a mischievous boy who doesn’t give a damn about what’s proper.

Such Good Luck (66k)

Louis smiles at Harry’s words, leaning into his touch. “Tell me again.”

Smiling, Harry takes Louis into his arms. Pressing gentle kisses to his face, Harry murmurs, “In six months’ time, I will have my twenty-fifth birthday. On that day, my portion of the inheritance will become legally mine. And I plan that very day to announce to my family that I have found love.” Harry chuckles as he runs his lips lightly along Louis’ cheekbone. “That, in fact, I found love when I was twenty-one years old, and that I have loved and been loved every day since.”

Or, an Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

Adore You (66k)

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

The World Turned Upside Down (71k)

In September 1984, Harry Styles starts at Manchester Polytechnic with two goals: to take pictures and to join the Lesbian and Gay Society. He’s never paid much attention to the news, but everyone he meets in Manchester supports the miners. He realises how right they are when he meets Louis Tomlinson, a striking miner who flirts with him. A month later they are both at the founding meeting of Manchester Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, trying to bring down the government. Through letters and visits they build a relationship, in a world very much not of their own choosing.

Manchester and Doncaster in the 1980s are grim, hopeful and alive. Niall is president of the Young Labour club, Nick Grimshaw is in love with the singer of an up and coming band, Fizzy wants to know more about the women of Greenham Common and Harry and Louis are brave.

A Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners/Pride AU.

modern love (72k)

It's August 9th, 1985. "Shout" by Tears for Fears is the top song on the Billboard charts, Back to the Future has been the #1 film in the country for five weeks straight, and Harry has just moved to what he believes to be the shittiest town in the Midwest.

Louis has been wasting away in East Chicago for over five years, Harry is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, and both of them are hiding a dangerous secret from their best friend: they're, like, totally sprung on each other.

Chasing Empty Spaces (79k)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

This Feels A Lot Like Love (80k)

Harry didn’t expect for his senior year to be filled with a blue-eyed boy with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper tongue. Then again, he didn’t expect to fall in love either.

Closeted romance, false promises and stolen kisses ensues. Set in the 90’s era.

Victorian Boy (81k)

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Atlas At Last (83k)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

And down the long and silent street (86k)

The year is 1881 and if you’re alone in this world you might as well be dead, because starving dogs have no mercy.

Or: Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

Coax the Cold (86k)

England, 1897.

English Professor Louis Tomlinson’s passion for the occult has been a source of mockery and derision for most of his life. When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers. The summer he spends undercover working on the show, however, gives him much more than that.

Here In The Afterglow (88k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Resist Everything Except Temptation (100k)

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

Butterfly Gun (100k)

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.

1940's AU. Even after six years apart, they can't forget their shared wartime childhood.

Through Eerie Chaos (102k)

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Landslide (143k)

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

Love Endless (series; 3 completed works/1WIP; 696k)

The year is groovy 1973, and eighteen-year-old Louis Tomlinson is perhaps the gayest teen to ever grace the gloomy, hateful town of Fortwright. Would be fine if he wasn't so viciously bullied at both home and school for such a "harmful" sexual preference.

Yeah, yeah, we've all heard this story, haven't we?

Believe him, Louis didn't think he was anything special either.

Until he found the mansion. The notoriously haunted mansion hidden deep within the forests of his tiny blip of a town in Bumfuck Nowhere, Idaho. No one with a brain ever goes near it, but Louis could use a little excitement in his life...and possibly a Band-Aid or two.

After discovering the mansion was less abandoned than he'd thought, he's now left with the most riveting mystery of a lifetime; every new finding leaving him with more questions. Who is this elusive owner, and why won't they show themselves? Why is there a set of journals in the same handwriting that span over centuries? Why in the world is there a padlock on the refrigerator...and who the hell is Alexander?

#larry stylinson #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fic rec #stylinsonlibrary #historical #masterpost

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dailyironfamily · 7 years

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day 11 - medieval au

Day eleven of the November Fic Challenge is a medieval AU! Which I tweaked slightly to make a medieval fantasy AU featuring prince Rhodey, knight Pepper, and dragon Tony. There’s about 10k worth of ideas shoved into 3k of fic but I had to wrap this up if I wanted to post it on time.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a King and Queen, just and fair, who ruled over the people. They had three sons, the youngest of whom was named James. James was an inquisitive child, mostly left to his own devices, as the eldest brother was set to inherit the kingdom, and the middle brother to inherit control of the Royal Guard. As he grew, he became more adventurous, dabbling in the sciences, venturing out into the kingdom on his own, and generally getting himself into trouble. His parents loved his daring, but they worried for his safety, and appointed him a companion from the Guard.

Sir Virginia Potts was young and inexperienced, but she had been friends with Prince James since her days as a squire, and the King and Queen hoped she could encourage some restraint in their son. Virginia took her job very seriously, but she did not have much success in tempering James’s venturesome spirit. More often she was roped along into his schemes, and the two could be found running from a pack of angry trolls or irritated castle staff.

This continued for several years until, on the eve of his twenty-third birthday, Princes James was kidnapped by a dragon.

Virginia swore to the King and Queen that she would return their son safely to them, and set off to the dragon’s rumored stronghold: an abandoned castle in the mountains. It was a long journey, taking two weeks on horse and then by foot. The keep was ancient, not recorded on many recent maps, but Virginia collected information from people in the area and compared her findings to the maps she had. Soon enough the castle was revealed to her, and she drew her sword and strode up to the doors.

As she called out to the foul beast to show itself and return the prince to her, she was surprised when the doors opened to reveal Prince James himself. He grinned sheepishly at her, inviting her inside, and Virginia wondered what he had gotten himself into this time.

“I’m sorry, you what?” she asks, unsure she was hearing this properly.

“I wasn’t kidnapped. I ran away,” James says again, though it’s as ridiculous hearing it the second time as the first.

“Why would you run away? Without telling me?”

“Because you’d try to stop me.”

She can’t say that’s untrue, but it still hurts, knowing James hadn’t even confided in her about his plan. “Your parents are worried sick, James.”

James does look ashamed about that much, at least. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I couldn’t exactly tell them I was leaving either.”

“What did you do, James? And what about the dragon who’s taken this castle?”

The doors to the dining hall open with a loud creak, and Virginia’s hand goes to her sword, instantly on alert.

“James? Who’s our guest?”

The man who speaks is handsome, dark-haired, maybe a couple years older than them, but there’s something unsettling about his eyes, and Virginia keeps her hand firmly on the hilt of her sword.

James shoots her a worried look and says, “Virginia, this is Anthony. He owns the castle.”

Anthony’s eyes shimmer, snake’s eyes for a tenth of a second, and Virginia gasps and draws her sword.

James explains everything once he manages to calm Virginia down enough to stop attacking the man. Anthony is a dragon, yes, (his real name unpronounceable by human tongue), but he never tried to kidnap James, or harm him. James ran away with him because they’re in love. Virginia listens to this explanation while glaring at Anthony the whole time, waiting for him to try something, though he never does.

Despite this, she’s not about to just leave empty-handed. If James won’t return home, then Virginia will stay here with him as his protector until such a time as he comes to his senses and returns with her. Anthony bristles at the arrangement, but James agrees, just glad that no one is getting stabbed or set on fire.

No one else lives in the castle, which is understandably in disrepair. James shows her to quarters that are mostly still intact, and she spends the time asking him questions about Anthony—how strong is his magic, how did they meet, is he the dragon who’s been attacking the neighboring kingdoms. James answers what he can, but he promises that Anthony hasn’t been ransacking any villages lately thanks to him. Virginia scoffs at the thought of a reformed dragon, but she doesn’t argue any further. Soon enough James will see his mistake, and then she’ll be able to take him home.

She doesn’t spend any time alone with Anthony for the first few days, making sure to stick by James’s side as much as possible. James chafes under her strict watch, however, and finally shoos her away. Hurt, she takes the opportunity to explore more of the castle, and stumbles across a lab in a high tower with the largest telescope she’s ever seen. The tables are littered with books and pages of notes, and she glances over them before going to check out the telescope. It’s pointed at the stars, sparkling dots visible in the inky black sky, and she stares at them in wonder through the telescope.

She jumps when someone behind her clears their throat, and she quickly steps back from the telescope. Anthony stands in the doorway to the lab, handsome as ever, but now she knows it’s just magic making him look that way. Still, only very powerful dragons can hold a human form for long, so she knows not to underestimate him.

“I am glad to see you enjoying yourself,” he says, either unconcerned with or unaware of her suspicion. “I could show you how to change the angle of the telescope, if you wish.”

“A dragon who studies the stars,” she scoffs, brushing him off. “I didn’t think your kind were interested in anything other than treasure.”

“Science is a treasure,” he says so sincerely she almost feels bad for mocking him. “It’s one of the reasons I like James very much. He understands.”

She falls silent, because it’s one of the reasons she likes James too. He always wants to discover something new, something that he then shows her.

“Well, I’ll leave you be if you don’t want my help,” Anthony says after a moment, nodding at her. “You’re welcome up here any time. Or to the library, if you’re interested. Some of the books are very old, but they’re legible.”

He turns to leave without waiting for her response, but she mutters a “Thank you” before the door closes fully. She never does find out if he heard her or not.

Virginia glowers over her dinner a few evenings later, trying to ignore Anthony and James. The dragon had admitted over supper he doesn’t know any forms of human dance, and James had eagerly leaped up to teach him. Anthony had fetched a music box to play a tune, since they had no actual musicians, and now James was trying to walk him through some simple steps. Unable to help herself, she watches Anthony blunder around for a few minutes before she sighs and drops her napkin on the table, standing up.

“James, you’re trying to get him to lead while you’re already leading,” she says, interrupting their latest attempt.

James looks up, letting Anthony go, and motioning for Virginia to join him. “Then why don’t we show him how it’s done first?”

She hesitates, not meaning to get involved, but historically she’s always been bad at saying no to James. She takes his hand, and as Anthony resets the music box, goes through a few simple dance steps with James for him to observe.

“It’s quite simple,” she sniffs when they’re done, but the subtle insult goes right over Anthony’s head, who just nods seriously. They switch places, and she winds the music box for them. This time, Anthony follows James’s lead much better, with minimal stumbling.

James smiles widely, an expression of pride on his face. “Of course, there’s usually more than two people on the floor, and you switch partners and such throughout the dance.”

Anthony looks over at Virginia, and James laughs.

“Three’s still not enough. However…” James gives her a contemplative look. “Ginny, come dance with Anthony, let him try to lead this time.”

Virginia frowns. “What? No, why would I dance with him?”

“Because I asked,” James replies with a cheeky grin, and Virginia huffs but goes over to them, holding out a hand to Anthony.

“If you get too close to me I will stab you,” she says pointedly, and Anthony nods, polite as ever.

James starts up the music and Virginia lets Anthony attempt to guide her through the motions of the dance. She resists at first, but the look of concentration on his face is almost endearing, as if he’s doing his absolute best to get every step correct, and she finds herself helping him along, the two of them dancing until the music box trails to a stop. She stares at him and his peculiar eyes (they’re very, very blue, when they aren’t flickering snakelike slits of gold), until James claps them both on the shoulders and tells Anthony he did a wonderful job. Virginia draws her hand back, wondering what sort of spell had come over her just then.

The weather warms up and James wants to take them swimming in the lake by the castle. Both of them balk at the idea; Anthony says dragons don’t swim, and Virginia’s half inclined to agree knights don’t swim either. James shrugs and says he’ll just go on his own, and that’s more than enough for both Anthony and Virginia to readily agree to come with him. She can’t have come all this way and spent all this time just to let James drown in a lake, after all.

Virginia doesn’t wear her armor, though she brings her sword. It never hurts to be prepared. Anthony brings a book with him, and James rolls his eyes when he sees the two of them standing on the edge of the lake.

“You two are impossible,” he mutters, already stripping out of his clothes.

Virginia glances away, though it’s not as if she’s never seen him shirtless before. It just seems...odd now, with Anthony watching as well. What James and Anthony have is something she doesn’t want to intrude on, even if she still doesn’t understand why James would give up his life with his family to be with a dragon and she’s trying to break them up so James can come home anyway. She’s got some principles about the matter.

Left only in his undergarments, James makes a run for the lake, jumping in with a splash. Anthony sits down under a tree, its leaves just starting to sprout again, leaving Virginia to stand there, undecided. Well, if Anthony won’t have any fun, she won’t leave James disappointed. She turns away from him and strips to her last layer as well, dropping the rest of her clothes on the grass and running into the lake.

James waves as she swims over to him, then splashes her as soon as she gets close enough. Sputtering, she splashes him back, igniting a splash war that lasts several minutes until James concedes defeat. Virginia feels like they’re kids again, back when she was in training and she and James would run around all over the castle. Times were simpler then, she thinks with a sigh. James wasn’t running off to court any dragons back then. She misses the way things were.

“James...” she starts, trying to figure out how to put these thoughts into words. “Do you really not want to come back home?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he answers, floating in front of her. He looks over at Anthony, still sitting under the tree with his book. “I miss my family. But I’m a third son. I didn’t have any real responsibility at all except to be spoiled. When I met Anthony, it’s like...a whole new world opened up to me.”

Virginia frowns, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “You had me. Wasn’t that enough?”

Whatever James’s answer, Virginia never hears it. An ear-piercing shriek rends the air, and she whips around, looking for the source. Something large and scaly is flying across the lake, and for a second she thinks it’s Anthony finally showing his true colors planning to eat them both. But the creature’s coming from the wrong direction, and it’s too small to be a full dragon.

“Wyvern!” James shouts, diving for the shore where their clothes are. “Anthony!”

Virginia scrambles after him, but the lake slows their movement, and the wyvern is too fast, it’s wings making waves on the still water. She curses herself for being such an idiot and leaving her armor back at the castle and her sword on the grass, it’ll be all her fault when James gets eaten—

A loud roar answers their yelling, the sound even more heart-stopping than the wyvern’s shrieking. A huge red dragon unfurls its wings underneath that budding tree, the kickback from it taking off nearly knocking Virginia backwards. Anthony shoots across the water, crashing into the wyvern in the air.

Virginia grabs James by the hand and runs the rest of the way out of the lake as the two creatures grapple. The wyvern puts up a fight, but Anthony is larger, his four legs outclassing the wyvern’s two, his claws and teeth strong enough to tear even the strongest of enemies to shreds. Eventually the wyvern goes limp in Anthony’s grip, and the dragon flies to the far side of the lake to dump its body on the shore before flying back to the two shivering humans on the other side.

Virginia has her sword in one hand, James’s hand in the other, and she brandishes the blade at him when he lands, her expression a fierce line of determination. Anthony merely folds his wings back and takes a few wobbling steps before the transformation magic overtakes him, body shrinking and scales disappearing until there’s nothing left but a naked human covered in blood. Most of it is blue, the wyvern’s blood, but Virginia spots a splash of red at his side, and then Anthony’s on his knees, falling forward into the grass.

They carry Anthony back to his room in the castle, and Virginia tends to his wounds. She has more experience with medicine than James, but even she’s never taken care of a dragon, and she’s unsure if what she can do will be good enough. The gash in his side is the worst of the injuries, and Virginia wonders if he wouldn’t heal faster if he had stayed in his dragon form instead of using up his magic turning back into a human. They can’t do anything until he awakens, so Virginia does the best she can, and then they wait.

She sits vigil with James, not wanting to leave his side. He worries the whole time, holding Anthony’s hand, brushing his hair from his forehead, making her check his bandages more often than she really needs to. Virginia doesn’t protest, just does as asked, surprised to find that she’s worried about Anthony herself. But it’s to be expected, she thinks. He did save their lives fending off that wyvern.

Anthony doesn’t wake for two days, but when he finally does, all his wounds are completely gone.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” he says, voice a little weak, but otherwise sounding just like he had before. James hugs him tight, and Anthony soothingly runs a hand over James’s back. “I just needed to rest to give my magic time to heal everything. There was no need to worry.”

“Yes, well, we worried anyway,” Virginia snaps, and Anthony looks up at her in surprise. She clears her throat and corrects herself. “James was worried, and I was worried about James.”

“Of course,” Anthony says softly, kissing James on the forehead. Virginia doesn’t think he sounds entirely convinced.

Nothing changes after that day, and yet, Virginia can’t help but feel like something’s different. She’s not sure if it’s her, or James, or Anthony, but things seem...tense. They go about their days as normal, but sometimes she catches James and Anthony whispering to each other, only to have them clam up when she walks in. She doesn’t even see Anthony for an entire day, and when she asks James what’s wrong, he says there’s nothing wrong.

Dinner that evening is a suspicious affair, Virginia glancing between the two men. She’d been trying to give them extra space since the incident with the wyvern so they can spend time together without her, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Where were you today?” she asks Anthony straight out, not wanting to step politely around the issue. Anthony jumps, startled, and looks to James, who nods. Virginia’s confusion only ramps up at that odd gesture.

“I was...working,” he admits, setting down his fork. He pulls a box out of his pocket, then gets up and kneels beside Virginia’s chair. “In the hopes that you would accept this.”

He opens the box, revealing a golden necklace with the biggest emeralds that Virginia’s ever seen. Her eyes go wide, taking in the gift, then Anthony’s anxious expression.

“What is this?” She looks between him and James, because surely this didn’t come out of nowhere without being discussed with James.

“I wish to ask you to stay here with James and I,” Anthony says, sounding more uncertain than Virginia’s ever heard him. “This is a courting gift.”

Virginia feels incredibly faint. A dragon is presenting her with a courting gift. A dragon who just so happens to already be courting her best friend, who is (was?) a prince.

“And you’re all right with this?” she asks James, looking at him again.

James nods. “I suggested the emeralds, actually. The necklace is from me too.”

“You too,” she squeaks, then shuts her mouth and clears her throat. “This is...”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Anthony says hastily, still kneeling beside her. “You are free to leave at any time. But James and I would be very happy to have you stay.”

She should do as he says and leave. She was only here to get James back in the first place. But how could she return to the King and Queen without their son like she’d promised? She would be disgraced. And if she thought about it...she’s enjoyed her time here. Even if Anthony is a dragon, and the castle is hundreds of years old and starting to fall apart. They’re resourceful people. Maybe they can even put the place back together.

She reaches out, gently touching Anthony’s hand. He looks up at her, waiting, and she nods.

His nervousness fades away into a bright smile, and he stands, taking the necklace from the box. She holds her hair out of the way while he clasps the necklace around her neck, reverently laying the emeralds across her chest.

“Welcome home,” James tells her gleefully, getting up as well and moving around the table to take her hand in his.

Virginia looks down, brushing her fingers over the necklace. What a life she led, and it was all James’s fault. Still, as Anthony helped her stand and James wrapped his arms around her to give her a tight hug, she supposes it could be much, much worse.

#pepperhony #pepper potts #james rhodes #tony stark #pepperrhodeytony #fanfic #au #*mine #november fic challenge #sorry this one didn't get proofread either

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